Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is a little bit shorter, but… Well, I'll just let you read it.

Hermione's POV

Tom was staring at me while I put on the new robes he'd bought for me. I was still getting used to the 1940's fashions, but what Tom had given me to wear was nice. He seemed to consider my appearance a point of personal pride. That was further evidenced by the book on cosmetic charms that he'd given me with the strict order to "learn them". I belonged to him, and he wanted his possessions to be nothing less than coveted by anyone who should see them.

The part of me that absolutely rebelled at the very thought of "belonging" to anyone was becoming louder, I noticed while I tried to pretend that I didn't feel the weight of his gaze on me. Watching me dress seemed to have become a hobby of his.

He always seemed to be either watching me intently or pointedly ignoring my existence.

I could almost feel his thoughts when they were focused on me as they were now. I had no idea the direction of those thoughts, but I knew that I was the object of his consideration, and I knew that he was thinking rather hard about something. I ached to ask about it, but I dared not. I knew that he'd take that poorly. He always took it poorly when I took any initiative beyond that which he gave me. I made his meals and warmed his bed – the latter of which made me want to shiver with desire at the very thought. I did as I was told.

Our bond had grown stronger since I'd arrived here. Indeed, it was stillgrowing stronger, I thought. I needed him in the same way I needed oxygen. I wanted him in the same way I wanted my magic. And I hated him for that very necessity. I hated him for the way that my insides ached when he was gone. I grieved for the loss of him even when I knew he would return shortly.

As much as I truly loathed it, Tom Riddle had become the focus of my entire world, quite apart from the fact that I was lost in a time not my own.

"Ready?" his quiet, commanding voice inquired when I'd completed the charm to fix my hair into an elegant twist along the back and left side of my head.

And that simple word brought the reality of the situation crashing down on me again. I could no longer avoid the truth of what we were going to do. I also knew that I could not refuse. Even had I been able to tell him no, logic dictated that this was necessary – another hated necessity. So, I pulled in a bracing breath and nodded to him.

Without another word, he turned and left the cottage, leaving me to follow as we both knew that I would. As I always would.

He drew his wand, stared at me for a moment with something like unease concealed behind his expressionless mask, and then he turned and disapparated.

I followed at once, certain that he would not be pleased if made to wait for me. I appeared right next to him just outside the gates of Hogwarts with a soft pop. He lifted one black brow at me and I sensed that he was impressed.

I felt my lips twitch in a stillborn smile that was gone before it could truly form. It was an awful reality that I was pleased to have impressed him.

He checked his pocket watch, then lifted his arm at his side. My arm curled around his without thought and we started toward the gates together. They opened for us and I failed to repress a shiver as we passed through the wards and started toward the castle that had been my home for so long. The last time I'd been here had been right after the funeral. Dumbledore's funeral.

What should have been my seventh year had been spent running and hiding, making no real progress toward the goal of destroying the horcruxes. It all seemed so pitiful now. Three foolish kids trying to take down the most powerful dark wizard to ever live. As though we'd ever had a chance. As though anyone, Dumbledore included, had ever understood Lord Voldemort well enough to have the slightest hope of defeating him.

No, Voldemort was always going to win. I still didn't understand precisely why he'd sent me back – particularly as he had prevented himself from plundering my mind – but perhaps it would be possible for me to temper the damage he would do. At the very least, I may be able to mitigate the effect on muggleborns. That was something that he personally did not care about, so perhaps if I could find another way to appease his "followers" in the years to come…

I hated myself for even considering these things, but I did not know what else to do. My predicament seemed untenable. I was attached to this man, and I suspected that I would be so for the rest of my life. All that I could see to do was to pick my battles and make what difference I could while trying to remember who I was and what I cared about beyond the man next to me.

"What are you thinking about?" Tom asked intently.

"The last time that I was here," I replied quietly.

"Tell me about it," he commanded.

"It feels like a lifetime ago," I explained. "I was a different person. When I left here… I was determined to destroy you. Even if it killed me, which I suspected it very well may." I shook my head, "I never could have imagined ending up here." I tightened my hold on his arm briefly to accentuate what I meant by "here".

His free hand slipped over mine where it rested on his arm and I felt his soul embrace mine the smallest bit in a comforting caress. I wasn't sure if he really meant to do that or not, but I suspected that it had been an unconscious gesture. His ruddy soul treated me better than he did. Whatever philosophy may be gained about him based on that observation was beyond me.

We walked all the way up to the seventh floor together without meeting anyone else in the nearly vacant school.

"Commonality," Tom said when we reached the gargoyle.

I frowned as it moved aside. It bothered me to hear such a password for this particular office even though Dumbledore wouldn't be dead in this time. Tom's lips twisted into a smirk that was probably meant to be agreement with my frown though he couldn't know the source of my particular distaste.

We reached the top of the revolving staircase and I watched as Tom rolled his shoulders briefly before fixing his face into a pleasant mask.

I took a short breath and worked to mimic his transformation. I'd been practicing in front of the mirror during the hours that I spent alone in the cottage. I had no doubt at all that lying was one thing I needed to become proficient at if I was going to be spending time around Tom in public.

"Yes, come in," an unfamiliar male voice called in response to Tom's knock.

Tom opened the door and held it for me to precede him like a perfect gentleman. Considering that the headmaster was watching, I withheld the urge to give him a significant look and simply stepped into the office as though Tom did that sort of thing all the time.

I tried to keep my gaze merely politely interested in the décor of the office rather than grimly disappointed at the utilitarian space, so very different from what it had been – would be – when it belonged to Dumbledore.

"Ah, Tom," Dippet smiled as he rose behind his desk to greet them. "And you must be Miss Granger, my dear," he added, extending his hand to me.

"Oui, Monsieur," I replied in the flawless French accent that I had been practicing all week with Madame Tourneaux. That little memory charm we had discovered frankly scared the shit out of me. The fact that Tom couldn't work it on me was small consolation as he seemed keen to use it on absolutely anyone else – rearranging memories to suit his whims. Madame Tourneaux was under the impression that she'd been hired to tutor me in my French. I was already fluent, but she'd been working to correct my accent. She was a former professor at Beauxbatons, and we'd both explored her memories to learn what we needed.

The blessing of the Dominus spell was that it allowed a very neat alternative to Obliviating, which left rather obvious gaps in one's memory, or murder, which I knew that Tom would not hesitate to commit if it served his purposes. Still, the possibilities of its uses in his hands disturbed me greatly.

"I am Armando Dippet, Headmaster here at Hogwarts, as Tom has no doubt told you," he continued to smile as he accepted the folder that Tom offered him containing my forged transcripts. "Please, have a seat," he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk as he resumed his seat.

"You didn't say in your letter, Tom, how you and Miss Granger came to know each other," he noted curiously.

"I spent some time in France over the summer holiday," Tom lied flawlessly. "Hermione is an orphan like me, so I took it upon myself to watch over her when she made the decision to transfer here."

"I lived in England when I was young," I supplied. "With the war becoming so heated in France, and me being of age, it seemed a good time to leave."

Dippet nodded sympathetically. "That was very nice of you, Tom. And I understand perfectly, Miss Granger." He turned his attention to the folder in front of him and began to flip through the pages. "I must say, however, that I am surprised. A seventh year transfer, particularly one with marks like these, is a rare enough thing that I'd have thought Headmistress Renard would have sent me an owl, or at least enclosed an explanation…"

Tom rose, "Actually, sir, I believe that's mentioned… Just a moment, I'm certain that I saw it." He walked around the desk as he spoke and began shuffling through the pages while he drew his wand discreetly and twirled it in his fingers behind his back.

I watched as the portraits of former headmasters dozed off almost as one. His spell had worked perfectly, though I wasn't greatly surprised. Tom had seemed convinced that it would work, and I was willing to bet that he was rarely wrong, particularly when it came to spells.

Well, it was now or never. Tom's little ruse about an enclosed note would not keep Dippet distracted much longer. Banishing my misgivings, I drew my wand and cast the spell quickly with a quiet, "Dominus mentis."

Dippet's eyes glazed and his mouth gapped as I slipped easily into his mind. I took my time and worked carefully. I could not afford any mistakes, and I needed to conceal my modifications seamlessly. It was Azkaban for us both if we were caught in this. Of course, I had faced much worse than imprisonment many times in my life. It didn't really frighten me, particularly considering my current situation.

Working off his own memories for authenticity, I inserted a memory of receiving a letter from Headmistress Renard. I then went through his memories between that time and now, adding little bits here and there to corroborate his knowledge of my arrival, including his receipt of Tom's letter setting up this meeting, and finally altered his memory of this meeting so far.

Tom had brought home a different witch or wizard for us to practice on every day all week. He was good at it, but I seemed to have a lighter touch for blending the memories seamlessly with those around them, which was why I was doing this part.

When I drew out of the headmaster's mind, Tom was sitting next to me once more.

Dippet blinked, then smiled at us while the portraits began to awaken. "Well then, Miss Granger. Everything seems to be in order," he declared without suspicion. "Let's just see about getting you sorted into a house."

"Thank you, monsieur," I smiled as an odd thrill coursed through me at my success even while my stomach turned with guilt. Part of me suspected that I was going to need to get over feeling guilty about stuff like this. Another part greatly feared that I just might.

I heard laughter as soon as the hat settled onto my head.

Oh, that was very naughty, Miss Granger, very naughty indeed, the hat said in my mind, its tone indicating more amusement than reproach. Using an illegal memory charm on the headmaster, the chuckling continued. You have the nerve of a Gryffindor, without doubt, but the cunning and ambition of a Slytherin. And, of course, there's the connection to Salazar himself. Oh yes, this is the easiest decision I've made since I sorted Mr. Riddle.

"Slytherin!"

I had expected to be sorted that way. It didn't seem possible that one could use such a spell on the headmaster and be sorted anywhere else. The mention of a connection to Salazar surprised me, but I could only imagine that he was referring to something about my bond to Tom, who was Slytherin's heir, after all.

"Ah, splendid," Dippet concluded, and Tom's small smile looked pleased. "As I'm sure you know, Miss Granger, Tom is in Slytherin, so I'm certain he'll be able to make you feel comfortable here."

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, the picture of politeness.

"Yes, that reminds me." Dippet fished into his desk and handed something to Tom. "You've earned it, dear boy."

"Thank you, sir," Tom smiled wide as he accepted what I realized was a headboy's badge.

The meeting ended shortly, after Tom had shared a few meaningless pleasantries with the headmaster, and we headed toward the exit once more, neither of us speaking.

We were nearing the Transfigurations room when none other than Albus Dumbledore entered the corridor in front of us. He looked first at Tom and then his eyes found me before flicking down to our linked arms. "Hello, Tom," he said politely, but with a wariness in his eyes that was foreign to me.

"Hello, Professor," Tom replied smoothly, though I could feel his distaste for Dumbledore.

"And who might this be?"

It was at once remarkable and incredibly unnerving to see Albus Dumbledore looking so young. Unlike Tom, who may have almost been a different person for how little he and his elder self had in common, Dumbledore hardly seemed change at all. Fewer wrinkles and more colorful hair were the greatest differences.

"Hermione Granger, sir," I responded. "I'm transferring to Hogwarts for my final year."

Dumbledore actually looked a little surprised by my introducing myself. I wondered if that was a period thing or if it was more personally related to Tom. Would he expect any woman of Tom's to not be allowed to speak without permission? Silly question, I chided myself when I noticed Tom's irritation.

"A pleasure to meet you, my dear," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling the smallest bit. "I see you've already met our head boy. What brings you to the castle, Tom?"

"I am escorting Miss Granger," Tom replied amicably, though I could feel his irritation slowly mounting.

"Ah, I see. May I ask how you know each other?" Dumbledore questioned with nothing but polite curiosity evident in him.

"I'm sorry, but we really should be going…" Tom said, beginning to lead me away.

"Tom, darling, don't be rude," I said, our linked arms stopping him as I refused to follow. "The professor only asked a simple question," I chided even while I internally recoiled from the fury I felt expanding hot and biting inside him. I turned my attention back to Albus in time to see the surprise in his eyes quickly wiped away. "Tom has been kind enough to look after me since I've come to Britain," I explained.

"That's very nice of him," Dumbledore replied, looking at Tom now with barely concealed suspicion.

"He's the perfect gentleman," I smiled, a bit astonished at my own performance. Tom was clearly rubbing off on me. I only wondered if that was a mundane thing or a magical one. "I can't imagine what I'd have done without his generosity."

Tom softened outwardly though his temper had not cooled. "You shall never need to imagine such a thing," he said gallantly, lifting my hand from his arm to press his lips lightly against my knuckles.

I blushed at the depth of his possessiveness suddenly warring with his anger.

"We really should be going, my dear," Tom continued in that soft, utterly fabricated tone. "It would not do to be late."

"Of course," I replied with a soft smile of my own before focusing on Dumbledore again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Professor."

"Likewise, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied kindly though I could see the questions swirling behind his very blue eyes.

Tom and I left the future headmaster in our wake and walked arm in arm all the way out through the gates without another word.

He apparated us both.

We appeared before the cottage, and my only warning was the fury that I felt spiral out of control before I was shoved to the ground.

I winced as I landed hard on my elbows and tailbone, and my mind irrationally began searching for the charm to remove grass stains even while I looked up into dark, rage-filled eyes. A wand pointed at my face.

"What was the meaning of that?!" he demanded, trembling slightly beneath what I could only imagine was a strong need to curse me into submission.

"You're welcome," I ground out rather unwisely. Perhaps his anger was baiting my own. Or maybe I was just getting sick of being afraid of him.

"Crucio!" he snapped.

Agony. It felt like my blood was on fire. It felt like I was being torn limb from limb. It felt like…

It stopped.

I gasped for air, closing my eyes against the late morning sunlight.

"Tell me why you defied me in front of Professor Dumbledore," Tom grated, his voice slightly breathy.

I swallowed some blood and realized that I'd bitten my tongue. "He doesn't trust you," I groaned.

"I know that," he snapped. "How was it helpful to show him that I couldn't even control a woman?"

"Not that you couldn't," I sighed, trying to ignore the tingles of pain still stabbing through my extremities in response to the brief curse. "That you didn't. He thought me a victim. Now he doesn't know what to think."

"So we've confused him. As much as that amuses me, I still fail to see how it is helpful," he said, his tone far from amused.

"He wants to see the good in everyone, Tom," I breathed wearily before pushing myself up to a sitting position and looking up at him. "I've just given him the idea that you may have a soft spot."

"For a woman," he sneered.

"A weakness, Tom," I pointed out, which caused his anger to flare dangerously. "A perceived weakness," I corrected. "One that Dumbledore may seek to use against you."

His anger faded as he finally seemed to consider the possibilities. "Interesting," he finally admitted. His eyes fell to me again after a long moment. "Get inside and clean yourself up," he ordered with little real interest.

Tom's POV

I watched Hermione wince as she stood and flicked my wand to close the door behind her once she was inside. When I was alone, I paced slowly over to the old oak on the next hill, feeling more disturbed than I had in a very long time.

The Crucio may have been a bit more than was necessary, I admitted to myself. Listening to her talk back to me in front of Dumbledore of all people had been infuriating, but I'd been willing to hear her explanation when we were alone. When she'd all but mocked me though… No one treated me like that without consequence. The fact that part of me had actually thrilled at her gall had made it much worse.

When I'd cast that curse though… For the very first time, I'd felt something dangerously akin to… Remorse. It had been literally painful for me to harm her. Like I could feel an echo of her pain in my very soul. That was greatly disturbing. Perhaps I should try to use that curse on her more often. Surely I can learn to ignore that feeling if not destroy it entirely. I just need practice.

I just need to not feel my stomach turning at the very thought of it!

I gripped my wand very tightly as I turned to lean against the tree so that I could look at the cottage. I wanted to kill her. My older self must have made a mistake. Maybe I'd simply underestimated her? Clearly something had gone wrong. She was supposed to be attached to me. It was not supposed to work both ways. That didn't make any sense. Why would I do that?

Clearly, I was incredibly powerful in the future. I had the skill to forge this bond with her. I had the power to send her back fifty-five years through time. It bothered me though that it was so difficult to understand the reasoning that had led me to do this.

I stood under that oak for hours as the sun moved across the sky, just staring at the cottage where I could occasionally see signs of movement within. She'd defied me today. She'd done it to help me with one of my biggest problems to date, but she'd also done it completely independently. She'd defied me in front of Dumbledore and she had not seemed the smallest bit contrite upon our return – not even after the Crucio. She handed the complex Dominus spell with evident ease, even improving upon my own tact for it. She was powerful, intelligent, and very brave. I… I actually seemed to care about her.

She was a greater threat to me than maybe even Dumbledore. The bond that I felt to her seemed only to be growing on my end – influencing me increasingly – was it the same for her? What if it wasn't?

With a sigh, I made a decision. There really was only one logical course of action for me. Hermione Granger was too much of a threat. I had to kill her. I had to do it now before I lost the ability to do it at all.

With that firm conviction, I gripped my wand more tightly and started back toward the cottage.

Mean cliffie, I know. Sorry. I'll try to get the next chapter put together as soon as I can. I love you all, and will be accepting verbal floggings in the form of reviews at your convenience. :-D