AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know that Charlus Potter was actually James Potter's father, but in this story, he is Harry's. James and Lily will not be in this story. I know Dorea Black was Narcissa's Aunt, but in this story she is her sister. Also, sorry if I didn't make it clear before, this is a non-magic fic.

A special thanks to all my reviewers: deator11, gemini-rose16, Squishysib,melbruth, Guest, Mademoiselle Dara, Guest, Guest, ellebelle12. I'm glad you guys like it :)

Let me know what you think! Keep the reviews coming:)

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I own nothing.

England 1534

Sub-Kingdom of Slytherin

Tom caressed the thick parchment of his letter, building up theories for his upcomming trip to court. He cursed himself for thinking of the positive result: potentialy gaining the throne, before thinking of the negative: his dear cousin summoning him to court, only to execute him. Tom paled, thinking about the execution method of being hung, drawn, and quartered. He had never witnessed it, but his uncle had once vividly described one he witnessed:

An eight year-old Tom knew his uncle was drunk by the way he spoke to him. "You see, Tommy, the greatest punishment for high treason is to be hung, drawn, and quartered. Have you any idea the process my boy?" Tom stared at the sweaty face of his uncle. Anxiety poured through Tom at the thought of a few glasses of mead leaving his uncle in such a state.

Seemingly satisfied Tom hadn't answered his question, Morfin continued." Well, you see, this type of punishment is special. It was created by sick fucks in high places, so naturally, that's who it's reserved for. Basically, only persons who have a title may receive a punishment such as this. The punishment begins with the drawing of the offender from the prison to the place of execution upon an hurdle or sled, where they are hung by the neck till they are half -dead, and then taken down, and quartered alive; which is the process of peeling the skin off. After that, their members and bowels are cut from their bodies, and thrown into a fire."

Tom felt sick. What kind of animals would engage in such an act? Tom scoffed. "Uncle, it was those Gryffindors wasn't it? There the only one's who would ever behave as such, they probably take turns doing it to-" Tom was unable to finish his sentence as Morfin's fist connected with his jaw. Leaking blood dripped down his chin, and tears leaked from his eyes. Morfin stared at Tom, his nostrils flaring as he tried to control his rage.

Taking a deep breath, he replied in a shaky voice. "You know, I've seen an execution such as this before. Mind you, it was only once, but one can never forget it. Almost as if it becomes etched in the brain, especially when it was performed on someone you call a friend. As you know, people around our area don't have friends. It's every man for themselves. Values aside, this man was one I truly called brother, though we are not of the same blood. He was certainly more of a sibling than your filthy-whore of a mother."

Tom's eyes narrowed as Morfin continued. "Anyway, Charlus accused my friend of treason, because he wed and bed Charlus's secret mistress, who also happened to be the sister of the Queen Regent, Dorea. I aided my childhood friend and he evaded the king for nine months, until they were found and brought back to court. Lucius was tried for high treason, and endured this awful punishment. Narcissa was with child, and convinced the king to let her live and, to keep her transgressions a secret. The king agreed, and made it public knowledge that Lucius was murdered in his family home of Malfoy Manner, while Narcissa raised her only child at court. The king never revealed his obsession for Narcissa Malfoy, but he did declare the day of her death seven years ago, to be a day of mourning throughout the kingdom. As for her son," Morfin tapped a finger against his chin before continuing, "Let me see, what was his name again? "A few seconds of silence went by and Morfin's expression changed from thoughtful to triumphant.

He exclaimed, "Yes, now I remember, Draco. Lucius and Narcissa's son is Draco."

Swallowing his unease, Tom unfolded the letter, cautiously beginning to read:

Son of Thomas Riddle Sr., of the house of Riddle, the Marquees of Salisbury, and Merope Gaunt, of the house of Gaunt, the former Duchess of Norfolk, Ward of Morfin Gaunt

Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr.,

Your distant cousin, his majesty the king, requests your presence at court for the upcoming season. As you may know, the marriages of senior nobles, such as yourself, are usually a matter of the state, and it is the king's duty to choose a match that would prove beneficial to you. However, his majesty has graciously allowed you to choose for yourself upon your arrival to court. The king sends his deepest apologies for the short notice, but the carriage will arrive in two days time to escort you to court.

In addition to yourself, Lady Hermione Warwick-Granger, daughter of the Viscount Hugo and Countess Rose of Warwick will also be making the journey to court. As this will be your first time at court, I beseech you to heed caution. Safe travels.

Respectfully,

Draco Malfoy, of the House of Malfoy, Archbishop of Canterbury

Head of his majesty's diplomatic duties

Upon completion of the letter, Tom hadn't noticed his mouth had been silightly open. Closing it, he cursed his imblicle of a cousin. Did Potter really think he wouldn't know? Tom was blatantly aware of the laws.

If the current king passed away without an heir, the next in line would have to be unwed when corrinated as king. The law was put into place in order to lower the chances of dukes and dutches attempting to concieve an heir for the crown before the current king died. Such an heir would be deemed bastard, and the throne would fall to the next family in line, the queens family, which in Tom's case would be those disgusting Weaslys.

Tom's momentary panic ceased as he remembered the writer of his letter: Draco Malfoy. He couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy would be as willing to do the kings bidding if he was aware of his father's death by the former kings hands? Acording to Morfin, Draco was Slytherin-bread, and Malfoy Manner is located in Slytherin.

Yes, Tom would not wed, until his carcass was firmly planted on the throne, and even then he was wairy of the task. Sure Tom had women, quite a few actually, but he never thought of marrying them. Marriage was so final. Tom had a precise plan, and marriage was not part of it. Women already threw themselves at him without marriage. Perhaps when he is crowned, he can keep his wife in the bed chamber shackled to the bed, where she would certianly annoy him the least. It would be slightly entertaining.

Tom wondered if Lady Warwick-Granger would entertain him, it is going to be a long trip to court. After all, it was common knowledge that all wicked things sprout from innocence. The Warwick-Granger name practically screamed innocence. A smirk slid on his face at the thought of corrupting her.

Tom's thoughts returned to Malfoy. He could use this to his advantage and gain the Malfoy heir as an ally. Revenge was in the blood of many Slytherins, and Draco would seek retribution from Potter. Tom felt confident he could resurface the Slytherin hidden deep within Draco Malfoy. After all, manipulation was a form of art.

Pleased with himself, Tom started packing his belongings for his upcomming trip.

England 1534

Warwick Manor

"Darling? Are you well? What did your letter say?" Hermione's nails dug into her palm as her mother's shrill voice echoed through the manor. She let out a sigh as her thoughts centered around regret toward her failure of opening the letter sooner. Two days simply wasn't enough time. She would have to tell the carriage upon it's arrival, that she just couldn't make it. Yes, that would be a perfect solution! Her smile faltered at the thought of her mother forcing her to depart anyway.

The countess is absolutely ruthless. Perhaps she could feign illness? No her mother would see right through her. The loud bang of her door closing forced Hermione from her thoughts. Snapping her head up, she saw her mother proudly basking in the center of her room.

Her mother's superior posture always intimidated Hermione. It served as a constant reminder of her lack of elegance. Hermione summoned all of her inner courage and approached her mother. Preying her voice remained neutral, she replied, "Mother, I'm sure you're itching to know if I've been asked to court, are you not?" Hermione's smirk slid firmly in place as her mother's face held an expression of shock, before returning to it's usual look of indifference.

Her mother's voice leaked malice as she responded, "Well, have you? Your father's asked me to send the request in the first place. You can take it up with him, I'm sure he has hours of free time on his hands reserved just for your incessant squabbling." Hermione's eyes narrowed as she maintained her neutral tone, "The carriage to court arrives in two days. Apparently, I won't be traveling alone either. The kings cousin and I are to share a carriage." her mother's eyes widened, creating a gaping hole in her flawless demeanor.

She softly asked, "A Black or a Weasly?You know the Earl of Nottingham wouldn't be a bad match for you, Ronald I think his name is. Darling you have to start thinking about your future, I mean, look at you. Seventeen and no husb-"

Hermione deliberately cut her mother off, "No mother. The Duke of Norfolk, a Riddle." Her mother's face fell. Reaching for the crumpled up letter in Hermione's hand, she skimmed through it, her expression changing from indifference to awe. Hermione continued to stare at her mother, wincing when she saw the rare crease in the Countess's eyebrows. As a child she had seen the crease a handful of times. The tiny lines of wrinkles had only appeared between her mother's eyebrows when Hermione had broken a rule, and there would always be punishment. She had come to think of the crease as an omen of consequence. Subconsciously, Hermione sat up straighter in hopes of appearing unafraid in front of the Warwick-Granger matriarch.

Her mother's voice was shaky when she spoke again, "Darling, it appears they've made a mistake. Perhaps I'm wrong, but when has Draco Malfoy ever set foot near anything that wasn't a direct matter of the state? I don't believe the customs have changed since I was a courtesan, but when I was your age: if one was accepted as a lady in waiting, the queen or one of her current ladies would have written this letter, not the head of the kings diplomatic duties." Hermione released a breath of air she hadn't known she was holding.

Why would a meager mistake such as this upset her mother? There was a slim chance of the countess's reaction being solely for the mistake of the sender. Why would it matter if the head of the king's diplomatic duties signed the letter? The Queens ladies could have been busy. Maybe the king, being the misogynistic pig that resembled most men, didn't believe a woman knew how to read or write. Hermione mentally snorted at her notion. She knew how to read and write, rather well in fact. Unlike most annoying twits who couldn't carry on a conversation to save their lives, Hermione held knowledge above all other things. Although, what was knowledge if one was unable to use it?

Sighing to herself, her thoughts drifted back to her mother. Hermione knew the Countess would never break her facial mask of indifference for anything. What had upset her so? Thinking back to the contents of the letter, Hermione's eyes widened. Thomas Riddle. Her mother tried to cover up her fear of the Duke of Norfolk, with an insufficient detail.

Hermione wanted to laugh at her mother's inability to admit her fears to her only daughter. The countess had always referred to the descendants of Cadmus Peverell as the seed of Cain. She tried to drill the idea in Hermione's mind that they were all capable of supreme acts of evil; and the desire of obtaining power was rooted in their blood.

Clearing her throat and ending the uncomfortable silence, the countess's voice was barely audible. "Well, I'll leave you to your packing. Get to it darling you don't have much time." The mask of indifference slid back into place, as her mother stood up and made her way toward the door.

Forcing her vocal chords to cooperate Hermione spoke in monotone, "Thomas Riddle does not intimidate me, mother. I beseech you to set aside the notion that evil is in the blood. One is not born evil. Do you truly believe a child could know if they wish to torture, maim, and kill before learning of the worlds evils? Blood is merely a sustenance for life, it does not decide who you are. Our blood runs as red as Thomas Riddle's." Feeling the familiar flutter in her stomach she often got when speaking her mind, Hermione tried to gather the courage to look her mother in the eyes.

Her throat ran dry as heard the familiar shrill voice ring out, "Hermione, my darling, if your definition of evil is limited to torture, maim, and kill; I'm sorry to say you will have an awfully difficult time at court. I will not repeat myself so listen well. You think I'm cold? Ruthless even?"

The countess waited for Hermione's expected nod, before continuing, "My child they will they will eat your heart out. The only thing that matters at court is power. Though many consider them lucky, those favored by the king are in a precarious spot. His affections leave as quickly as they come. Do not give yourself to the king, and don't feel as though you have to. There is always a choice. If you choose to do so, the queen will make it as though you live in purgatory. Queen Ginerva may seem to be a friendly woman, unaware of what goes on around her. She is not. More importantly, she has eyes and ears everywhere, nothing goes on without her knowledge. Do not attempt to form allies; every woman there will seek to get rid of you, they all wish to eliminate the competition. Every man will seek to bed you, but you must maintain your virtue until marriage. Don't let them get inside your head; if they succeed, I have no doubt you will learn the true meaning of evil. The customs of court are very different from what you have experienced and one's reputation is all they have."Before Hermione could blink, the countess disappeared, forcefully slamming the door.

Tears blurred her vision at the realization of why her mother is so cold. Her indifference had saved her at court.