A/N: Wow, I am so amazed! Thank you all so much for your support. This story has already gotten over a thousand hits and so many follows, favorites and more reviews than I would have thought.
Thank you all so much, especially those who reviewed.
This chapter is a bit fillerish, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Sorry that it is out later than I had hoped.
Again, this story isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
xXx
Chapter Three
Hermione sat at her desk in her flat, and pulled at her hair in stress. She wanted more than anything to shove her pencil straight through her ear, but that would not end well. Currently, she was continuing her research upon Riddle, how he could possibly exist, how he could remain young, in appearance, and how he was so…human. Yet, she was at a standstill. All the horcruxes were destroyed, and there was no other evidence of precautions for his conquest for immortality. It was not fair how he could still wander among the Earth while so many were buried under it because of a lone spell from his wand.
She heard keys in the door of her flat jingle, and the doorknob turned. She whipped around from her papers and watched as Ron entered the flat.
"Hey, Hermione," he greeted with a smile and a bag of Chinese food in his hands. "Got the food."
"Great," Hermione said as she shuffled through her papers and stuffed them inside her portfolio. She maneuvered towards Ron as he entered the kitchenette and began taking out utensils as Ron took out the food.
They began eating, and Ron savored every taste of the Chinese food. These days, neither of them had any time to cook, so they preferred investing in delicious take-out, and Hermione's favorite was Chinese.
"So, whatcha doing at work these days?" Ron asked through bites.
"Oh, you know, secret stuff," Hermione muttered.
"Right, 'unspeakable' things," Ron said, and the both of them chortled. "Anyway, after work I went to see my mum today, and I finally told her about the engagement."
"Oh, what'd she say?"
"She's thrilled, almost started weeping, so happy to have another Mrs Weasley in the family," Ron replied with a wide toothy grin.
"Oh, erm, actually Ron." Hermione paused, and her eyes diverted towards the food on her plate. "I reckon I'm keeping my last name."
Ron was silent for a moment before he replied, "Yeah, yeah, that's fine, I mean I don't care whether or not you take my name, just as long as we're married, y'know."
Hermione beamed. "I was worried that you'd, well…"
Ron chuckled. "We're not in sixth year anymore, Hermione. I've matured, y'know."
He then proceeded to lean back in his chair, spread his legs and tickle his armpit to elicit some humorous reaction out of Hermione. Hermione giggled, and Ron straightened and began to discuss with her his most recent arrest with Harry today. They had apprehended a witch who had tortured her Muggle husband with the Cruciatus; the man had been defenseless, but Ron assumed that the man had betrayed her, yet there was no excuse for using the Cruciatus. There never was.
"Anyway, back to the wedding," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione perked her eyes up. "How soon do you want to get married? We should discuss the basics."
"Soon?!" Hermione squeaked, reiterating Ron, and his lips spread into a large smile.
"Soon!" he repeated excitedly. "Yeah, yeah. Mum will be more than happy to help plan the wedding, since I know it's not really your thing, and she helped Audrey, Fleur and Angelina before."
"Right," Hermione blurted.
"Great. Fantastic," Ron chirped. "So, Hermione, can I stay the night? It's late, and we may as well get used to it," Ron asked her, puppy dog's look in his eyes. She smiled.
"Of course, Ron, it's not like you haven't before, and I suppose we'll get a house soon, like Harry and Ginny," she suggested as she began to throw away the garbage.
"Right, yeah," Ron agreed, and he approached her, and turned her around from the sink. "I love you."
"I love you too, Ron," Hermione conceded with a half-smile. Ron leaned down and softly pressed his chapped lips against hers, running his hands against her sides. Hermione gulped as she prevented tears from prickling her eyes.
xXx
Hermione sat in Kingsley's office, her thumbs twiddling and her legs crossed as she waited for Kingsley to return. He had summoned her here before she was to go down and supervise Riddle once more. Nott was supposed to have a meeting with Kingsley after she would relieve Nott of his duties for the day. The door to the office opened and shut with a sharp click, and she listened to the sweep of Kingsley's cloak resonating through the room.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," Kinglsey greeted, and sat down at his desk, facing her with a smile.
"Good morning, Minister," Hermione reciprocated as she faced him, glimmer of sweat trickling down her forehead.
"No need to be nervous, Miss Granger," Kingsley said, "I just have some updates about Riddle."
"Of course."
"Results from my confidante at St. Mungo's returned yesterday night, and Riddle is shown to be human through it, yet with traces of lingering dark magic within his blood stream," Kingsley informed.
"Are you aware what the dark magic is?" Hermione asked.
"No," Kingsley responded flatly. "My confidante did any and all tests as she could, but there was nothing to be revealed except for the traces."
"It could possibly be remaining horcrux magic within his system," Hermione suggested. "I've being doing countless research, but there was nothing plausible that I could find that would be able to sustain both his youth and immortality. It's quite mystifying. There also remains the fact that it isn't him, instead some sort of creation by one of his followers."
"I'm afraid I must disagree with that option. I believe that it is him, as I said, he is human, but with remnants of dark magic," Kingsley replied with a bleak sadness in his dim eyes.
"Of course." Hermione sighed and bit her lip. "Then the Auror Department needs to know. It's imperative."
"I was worried it would come to this," Kingsley stated. "I wish that he was not back. This was a peaceful time with no wars or strife to harm our world, but with him back, I do not know anymore. All I wish is for the community to be safe. Once the tests at St. Mungo's are officially done, I will tell the Auror Department. It is necessary to have these tests complete and prove that, that man, is indeed Riddle. There is no need for the world to go into panic otherwise. Once the Auror Department knows, it will leak to the Daily Prophet, and then it is all over for us all."
"I am aware, but we have him in custody, and we can do what we'd like. He deserves a death penalty for his crimes against nature and against the world," Hermione said urgently, leaning closer to Kingsley, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. "We can't have any more unnecessary deaths."
"And what if he comes back again?" Kingsley pointed out. "We need to keep him alive or around as long as necessary to define how he returned once more, and destroy its root. I need you to question him, Miss Granger, to the best of your abilities. Define who he is, and then we can destroy him."
"Will Nott be receiving the same assignment?" Hermione asked.
"No. Riddle refuses to speak with Nott and myself, it's just you Miss Granger. He likes you," Kingsley remarked. "You need to access his core and figure him out."
"But, what if-" Hermione began.
"You're a remarkable witch, one of the best that I've seen, and I would not be surprised if this is your office one day, so I don't wish to hear any what ifs. You can do this. You're a Gryffindor, there's no need to let him get to you, or let him make you fear him," Kingsley reassured. "Now go, and begin now. He will speak to you, I'm sure of it."
"Yes, Minister," Hermione muttered, feeling heat rise to grace her cheeks.
"I have prepared some questions for you to get your started today, as this is last minute," Kingsley told her, handing her a sheet of parchment paper. Hesitantly, Hermione grasped it and slid it inside her bag. "Though, feel free to ask your own questions."
"Yes, Minister," Hermione repeated, and she stood from her seat and strode out of Kingsley's office, pressing her bag against her side.
Before, all she had to do was supervise the irresolute git, but now… it was all on her. She could picture Riddle laughing at her, the whispering voices in that room teasing her, leading her to his mocking and vile grin, pulling her towards the darkness before she could say a single word. And she was not even downstairs yet.
With the troubling thoughts circling around her mind, her legs were shaky, as though a Jelly Legs Jinx was cast upon them. As Kingsley said, she's a Gryffindor, she should not be afraid of a defenseless man without his wand. But that defenseless man killed, strove to eliminate her kind, one who even attempted to murder a one-year old baby.
It was not fair that this vile man could return whilst those he killed rotted, and while those he wanted to kill, or those whose family members he killed, cried themselves to sleep at night in fear that he would return. And here he was, young and smirking. To her, he is the anti-Christ with a Chesire, tantalizing grin.
Yet, an important lesson she had learned throughout her years on alive, life is simply not fair.
So there she was, knocking once again on the door that began to haunt her nightmares, waiting for Nott to open it again.
In an instant, a relieved Nott was at the door. "Good you're here. I have a date tonight, and I really have to go."
"Oh," Hermione said, a half-smile pressed against her face. "With who?"
"Uh, you remember Daphne," Nott said, his hand reaching behind his head.
"I do," Hermione replied. "Have fun then."
"Thanks," Nott muttered, holding the door open for her. She entered, and Nott swept away before she could bid him farewell.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward once again into the empty, isolated room of nightmares. The wards flowed around her body as she walked through, and she felt his eyes almost immediately upon her.
"Good evening, Miss Granger," Riddle greeted.
"I'm surprised you know the time of day," Hermione retorted as she saw him once again sitting upon the steel chair.
"It isn't difficult, you see. I can tell from how dark your eyes can be during the morning, and how Nott flinched at his watch the whole time he was here today, tracking down the endless time, waiting until he can leave and fuck his date." Riddle smirked.
"You're vile," Hermione snapped. Riddle said nothing as he watched Hermione walk into the room and sit down in the opposite steel chair. "But I would like to ask you a few questions."
"No, you may not," he responded without blinking an eye.
"But you're under custody-," Hermione started to splutter.
"And that does not mean I have to say a damn word, does it?" Riddle sneered, his dark eyes glowering at her.
"I-I suppose not, but I will pose the questions nonetheless, and you can feel free to answer," she informed him, unconsciously adjusting her posture as she pulled the questions out of her bag.
"Might I say my congratulations, or are they really in order?" Riddle said, and Hermione blinked.
"For what?" she questioned, her heart racing.
"The ring on your left hand, wouldn't that mean you have a forthcoming engagement?"
"Oh, that," Hermione muttered as she began twisting her small, but elegant, engagement ring.
"No thank you?" Riddle mockingly gasped and pressed a hand against his chest. "I'm appalled. I thought that you were the polite one of your little, pathetic trio."
"Enough," Hermione groused, and she held the questions from Kingsley in front of her face.
"Fine, on with your stupid questions, on one condition," Riddle said, waving his hand.
"What condition?" Hermione asked, her foot beginning to tap against the ground.
"I get to ask you questions in return for each one you ask me," he informed, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
"Why? Why would you want that, of anything?" she questioned.
"Oh, is that your first question? Then I suppose the game is on." Riddle smirked at her victoriously and continued. "Because I need some sort of prize, and there is not much the Ministry or you could offer me is there? And I require entertainment from this boredom. The voices within the confines of this room are becoming tedious, full of annoying drivel. I've heard it all before, and now I desire to know something new."
"Fine, onto my first question," Hermione began.
"No, it's my turn. What you said before, that was a question, it counts," he snapped. "Who are you engaged to? If it's Potter I may vomit."
"No, it's not Harry. His name is Ron," she replied, but Riddle waved his hand for her to elaborate. "Weasley, Ron Weasley."
"Ah, the freckled, ginger Weasel, I remember him well. He seems quite like your subordinate," Riddle remarked.
"Excuse me?! Ron is not my subordinate. Only you have subordinates," Hermione countered. Riddle said nothing, but gave a simple nod of his head, beckoning her to continue.
"Right, my turn. How long have you been back?" she asked.
"Hmm," he pondered. "I have no idea."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, it's my turn," Riddle reminded, and Hermione grumbled. "Why don't you wish to marry the Weasel?"
"How do you-?" Hermione began to ask, but once again she was cut off.
"My turn," he reminded once more, his nostrils flaring.
"Right," Hermione mumbled. "I suppose because I don't love him the way I should."
"How disappointing," Riddle commented, and stood from his seat and began to pace around.
"Why don't you know how long you've been back?" Hermione repeated, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground.
"You should," he stated. "It's however long I've been locked in this room."
"Oh."
"Do you like being a Mudblood, Miss Granger? Does it please you in some strange way, make you feel superior to others in some sick way?" Riddle suddenly asked, shocking her.
"I am proud of my background if that's what you're referring to," Hermione snapped, and she felt her anger pooling to her head.
"Not the answer I wanted, but it'll do," Riddle muttered.
Hermione suddenly groaned, and Riddle pursed. "I have enough of this shit. These questions are shit, and it's not like you'll respond to any of them properly or subject yourself to Veritaserum!"
"Tsk, tsk, profanities, not what I had expected from Potter's little golden girl," Riddle teased, strolling closer to her chair.
"One thing I'll give you is that you're intelligent, very intelligent. I've studied your file thousands of times, your Hogwarts records, records from the orphanage, everything! But yet, there's nothing!" Hermione exclaimed, standing from her own chair, turning her back on Riddle as her hands ran through her hair. "Screw you! Screw you for returning!" And she flipped back around, her finger prodding against his chest. "Screw you for ever existing in the first place!"
They were a breath's length away from each other, and neither spoke a word, though his dark eyes glanced down at her ring, and his finger drifted over it, as if daring himself to touch it. But Riddle's breath kept growing thicker as he glared at her, his dark eyes piercing through, as though he could read her thoughts, read into her soul. A shiver ran up her spine as she watched as he raised his hands. In a blur, he pushed her against the closest wall.
"I recommend," Riddle sneered, "that you don't say another fucking word."
His grip upon her grew tighter with each second, and her side began to flare up again, a small pain hidden within her. Hermione reached for her wand and blasted him away from her. He slammed against his chair, and fell to the floor, unconscious, but unfortunately still breathing.
"Fuck you," Hermione growled, and while he was still unconscious she kicked his stomach, but he didn't react. "Fuck you!"
She fell to her knees next to him, and her hands went to her head as she grew breathless. Her throat grew tight, and she could feel the tears in her eyes.
"Fuck you!" she screamed, and the tears flooded. She slammed her head against his steel chair, his scent pushing inside her nostrils, but Riddle did not stir.
Now she no longer cared, because he existed. He was cognizant and so was she, yet this time around she was the failure. All she had was the familiar pain in her side reminding her of all that she has ever done wrong.
xXx
Riddle's eyes blinked open as he became aware once more. He did not know how much time had passed. Had he slept? No, the cold floor underneath his face told him otherwise. He never slept anyway. Groaning, he propped himself off of the floor as a sharp pain flared on his back and in the crook of his neck.
His eyes looked up towards the bushy-haired brat, sitting in her damned chair in the corner. She did not care to look at him, and suddenly he remembered what had happened. The fucking minx!
He refused to grant her the pleasure of him groaning in pain anymore, so he furtively sidled himself on his chair, and stretched out his back, willing the pain away. It was a damn powerful stunning curse she had used on him. No matter her dirty blood, he knew she was powerful, a strong force, the perfect thing to feed off of. She would never notice how useful she is to him. He wished someone else could have been in her position. Even the Weasel; his blood was at least pure, and he would not be thinking these thoughts.
'The weasel,' Riddle wished to snarl at the thought of him. Disgusting little, idiotic brat, and he was engaged to that powerful witch. No matter how much Riddle detested those who brought him down the second time, she was powerful, and the Weasel did not deserve to feed off her intelligence and her power.
Her power belonged to him, and she did not even know it.
The minx glanced up from her paperwork and had the fucking nerve to smirk at him as she recognized his pain. Riddle noted the dark circles under her eyes, revealing her tired state. She would not even dare to take a small nap while he was unconscious. Though, he also saw a wetness lingering underneath her eyes. She had been…upset? How strange. Riddle could not even remember if he had ever even cried. There was no use to it, but of course, she is female.
Her eyes drifted back down to her paperwork, and she refused to say another word. No more pathetic questions that her superior drew up. She had been correct in saying that he would not answer her, at least not properly or truthfully. He would only eat or drink food Nott delivered to him. Even if the minx gave him something, it would be laced with potions. Nott was too feeble minded to even do that.
"I'd like to continue the questions we did before, but you must ask me your own questions instead of the Minister's," Riddle suddenly said, knowing exactly what he desired. Her delicious, brown, doe-like eyes looked at him with innocence he knew she did not possess.
"Fine, once I come up with some," she replied, and returned to her work.
Riddle smiled, and it went without her noticing.
No, she did not know how useful she had been.
Oh, but how he could use her.
xXx
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Things will pick up more in the next chapter. This was a bit of a filler as you can tell.
Please leave a review J
Again, I would love to thank you all again for your support. It means so much!
Love,
Montley
