Notes: I completely agree with the reviewer who said that Hermione doesn't seem to have any friends. It's actually bothered me more than I may have let on, because I wanted to keep the parent story of this AU focused on Hermione and Tom, rather than Hermione and a female OC. I just couldn't think of a way to add to the plot with that, and I wanted the plot to remain tight and mostly filler-free. Even in canon, though, she is not shown with any female friends other than Ginny (and that doesn't seem to be very close), and she comes off to me as a distant second-place friend to both Harry and Ron (one of the many reasons I consider the DH epilogue as only a suggestion—a view that IMO JKR herself has endorsed via the ridiculous thing known as "The Cursed Child"… but I digress).
Hermione just seems to have difficulty developing ordinary friendships, which I can relate to… so here is one. This is also a snapshot of work in her organization.
This piece occurs before Tom becomes Minister as well, some time in the mid-1950s.
Chapter Nine: Patronage
Hermione did not mind attending most of Tom's photo ops. Although she could not support all of his actions toward other people in his pursuit of his ambitions, she recognized politics as being a brutal field, and—for the moment, at least—she usually had little to complain about with his actual policies. Most of the photo ops were about policy triumphs: the Minister's signing of his wizarding adoption law, with him standing near her and smiling; the famous picture of two little orphans from behind the Iron Curtain being brought to a wizarding family in Britain; the handshake between a werewolf—in human form, of course—and the Magical Law Enforcement Head whose Wolfsbane Law allowed them to be enfranchised members of magical society.
The most recent photograph, however, she had to turn aside from in distaste.
The release of Roland Lestrange from St. Mungo's long-term resident ward was not heralded with the kind of press fanfare that a political event would be, because nobody wanted much coverage for it. The blood-purist Isolationists did not like any reminders of one of their most shameful moments, when Arcturus Black and his cronies manipulated two schoolboys—including the unfortunate Lestrange—into abducting the Law Enforcement Head's then-fiancée. The Head himself didn't want a to-do about it because he had been the one to wipe out years of his classmate's memory—by accident, of course.
The Prophet did not even cover the story, but the Quibbler, currently run by Xeno Lovegood's uncle, did. "Lestrange Released from Hospital! What Does—or DID?—He Know about the Riddles and Blacks?" the headline blared. Lovegood had run a photograph of Lestrange meeting with Tom.
Averting her eyes from the picture, Hermione skimmed the story. There were no facts in it, just inaccurate speculation. Lovegood believed, apparently based on an analysis of Tom's pale visage, that Tom was a vampire and had silenced Lestrange to cover that up. The Lovegood family always wants to think someone high in the Ministry is a vampire, Hermione thought in amusement. Lovegood also thought that Lestrange had information about how Pollux Black had supposedly been poisoned by someone in the Isolationist faction, and that he had been set up to be Obliviated by Tom to silence him and harm Tom—though the latter had, of course, failed. It was sleazy tabloid rubbish, and Hermione found herself longing for the days of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and heliopath armies.
But despite the ridiculousness of the Quibbler article, Hermione found the photograph—which was real—distressing. She set down the tabloid and picked up Wizarding Britain Weekly, a gossipy social magazine that carried a legitimate take on the story along with the same photograph. For this magazine, Tom had given a brief statement, making sure to express his pleasure that his old schoolmate had re-learned his magical education and was once again able to function in wizarding society…
…And how Tom felt it was his responsibility to recommend his old pal for the clerkship at Borgin and Burkes.
The photograph was even snapped inside the shop. Lestrange's face was set in a mild, sincere smile that was utterly unlike anything Hermione had seen on his face during seventh year. He wore a little pin with the store logo, identifying him as an employee. Borgin and Burke stood in the foreground next to their new clerk. Tom stood in the background, a smile visible on his face that Hermione immediately recognized as his classic smug smirk.
It was disgusting to her, and the more she thought about it, the more disgusted she became. There were only two people in the world who knew the alternate-timeline significance of Borgin and Burkes: Tom and herself. Lestrange sure doesn't get the "joke," Hermione thought. Although she did not doubt that Tom had enjoyed the privately sadistic triumph of sending an old minor enemy to work at the menial job he otherwise would have held, Hermione had a strong suspicion that Tom had aimed this primarily at her. She was the only one who would "appreciate" it.
Instead, it infuriated her. Why would he imagine that she would think it funny? Surely by now, he at least understood that she didn't find sadistic humor amusing, even if it made no difference to his own sense of humor.
Hermione scowled and tossed aside the magazine. Tom was going to be finished with his morning routine soon, and she would need to put on a calm face for him. There was no point in arguing at this time of day. She could confront him about it later.
At Tom's urging, Hermione had chartered her organization so that she had veto power over any decision that the board of advisors made—a perpetual controlling share, as it were, though it did not actually have ownership shares. It would prevent her vice presidents from defying her overall vision or removing her from her position in a hostile takeover. She had not entirely liked investing herself with such power, but she saw his point on days like today.
Hermione's board had important news for her, though it was obvious that none of them thought it important. She surveyed the private meeting room that she had called them to. Her current Vice President of Research, Caroline Prewett, wore a contemptuous smirk, and her Vice President of Human Resources, Justin Hargrove, was trying hard not to chuckle aloud.
"So," Hermione said, "did you determine the truth of the rumors?"
Prewett's smirk widened briefly. "There is certainly a person who has modified the Wolfsbane formula without decreasing its effectiveness, and she claims it ameliorates the negative symptoms. Analysis of her custom formula does indeed indicate that it could do what she says. However…." She trailed off, exchanging a knowing look with Hargrove.
Hermione leaned forward, frowning at them. "What's the problem, if her recipe looks valid according to Potions theory?"
They exchanged looks again. "Madam President," Hargrove began, "this girl is not even out of Hogwarts. She is a sixth year who earned three OWLs, and, well…."
Hermione glared stonily at them. "Do explain to me—me—why being in Hogwarts disqualifies her from being a prodigy. Do you think she's lying and stole the recipe from someone else? Does she not have an OWL in Potions? Is that it?"
"No, she earned an Outstanding in that subject…." Hargrove said. "But, Madam President—"
"Her appearance and manner do not lend credibility to her," Prewett said primly. "She may be a prodigy, but her presentation is simply deplorable."
Hermione attempted to control her temper at such narrow-mindedness. These people meant well, she supposed, and this girl—whoever she was—might very well be difficult and unpleasant. Eileen Prince? she wondered briefly, before immediately realizing that it probably wasn't. Eileen Prince would have been out of school by now, and she had never come across anything to indicate that she had the Potions talents that her son would.
"I would still like to meet her," Hermione finally said. "She did improve Wolfsbane Potion, apparently—of course we'd want Research to confirm that—but if it is what it appears to be, it would be a wonderful thing… minimal long-term organ damage instead of the current estimates…. Anyway, she may very well be impossible—though I'd like to form an opinion for myself about that—but she still should be compensated for her work if it does this. What's her name, by the way?"
"Catriona Dagworth."
Hermione took down the name. "That's all, then. Thank you for researching this, but I'll make up my own mind about what to do for her."
After the meeting broke up, Hermione wrote a letter to the young witch, addressing it to Hogwarts. The surname seemed somehow familiar to her, but she could not explain how.
Hermione heard back from the girl swiftly, and a meeting was set up. With only three NEWT courses on her schedule, Catriona Dagworth had plenty of free time, and the school faculty had been willing to let her meet—privately—with Hermione to discuss her "extracurricular project." In the meantime, Hermione had done a little research of her own. Catriona was a Gryffindor. Her OWL scores were an exercise in high and low: Outstandings in Potions, Charms, and Herbology; Poor and Dreadful in everything else. Hermione's first impression was of a student somewhat like Fred and George Weasley, or like Harry for that matter—one who was incredibly gifted at what she cared about, but who did not even bother with anything else. But unless her personality was atrocious, Hermione hoped to be able to work with her. Sometimes all that people like that needed was a positive mentor.
The project had overtaken Roland Lestrange in Hermione's mind, at least for now. She had not confronted Tom about that, and he had not brought up the subject to her. It would happen eventually, and she hoped that when it did, she would have a patronage story of her own—a real one—to tell to him.
"Madam President—Catriona Dagworth," said Hermione's assistant.
Hermione looked up from her desk. The assistant was trying not to smirk. Hermione frowned at her employee, and the expression vanished from her face.
The girl was ushered into Hermione's office. The assistant closed the door behind her, leaving Hermione with the girl.
Hermione quickly sized up Catriona. Her brown hair was tied into a loose ponytail. Her school robe was completely open in the front, revealing her clothes underneath—and they were definitely not the Hogwarts uniform. Instead the girl wore a pair of blue jeans, a black turtleneck, and a black leather jacket. She also wore a sneer on her face—which rather put Hermione off, but she suppressed her disapproval. Her personal staff had probably made their contempt known to the girl.
"Please, have a seat," Hermione said, gesturing at the chair in front of her desk.
Silently Catriona shuffled forward and sat. She stared at Hermione with a look of deep cynicism. There was also a hunted, defensive look to her, but it was beneath the surface. The cynicism seemed to be a shield of some sort.
"Catriona Dagworth?"
The girl nodded. "Pleased to meet you," she got out.
"I heard about your improvement to the Wolfsbane Potion," Hermione said kindly. "That, of course, is why I wanted to meet you."
"I'm not distributing it to anyone," Catriona said at once, her tone defensive. "And the person who's taking it—well, she wanted to. I'm not doing anything illegal. I checked."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Miss Dagworth—"
"Just call me Catriona… Mrs. Riddle."
Hermione wanted to laugh and shake her head at the juxtaposition, but she supposed she could not expect this girl to call her "Hermione." "Very well," she said. "Catriona—I didn't invite you here because I thought you were breaking the law! This organization is not an arm of the Ministry. I invited you because it is a wonderful potions breakthrough and I hoped to do something for you."
For the first time, Catriona looked hopeful.
"I was wondering, though—what are your plans after you complete school? You are a sixth year, I understand."
Catriona scoffed. "I don't have any plans. I figure I'll just scrape a NEWT in something and get a job somewhere."
Not so much like Harry, then. He had a very clear ambition. This girl, Hermione thought, seemed almost… beaten down.
"What do you want to do? What do you like doing?"
Catriona didn't meet Hermione's eyes. "I have a Muggle motorcycle and I like charming it," she muttered.
Hermione was suddenly reminded of Sirius Black. "Oh? What have you charmed it to do?"
"Nothing illegal."
Hermione leaned forward. "Catriona, I promise you, nothing you tell me will be repeated to anyone else if you don't want it to be. I don't report to my husband. This is my office."
Catriona hesitated, apparently coming to a quick decision about something. "It can fly," she said. "When it takes to the air, there's a charm that makes it look like a helicopter to Muggles."
"That's very impressive," Hermione said, legitimately surprised. Even Sirius hadn't managed to disguise his motorcycle.
Catriona shrugged ungraciously.
"You're quite gifted with Charms and Potions. And Herbology, of course—but that makes sense, given your Potions aptitude. I see no reason for you to have to 'scrape a NEWT and get a job somewhere.' You are very talented."
Catriona shrugged again.
"Catriona, what's the matter?"
The girl sat upright. "May I speak plainly?"
"Please do. As I said… nothing you say will be repeated if you don't want it to be."
The girl paused for a moment. "Mrs. Riddle, my family doesn't support me. I know, I know, you've probably heard that sort of thing before from people my age—but they really don't. They think I'm a disgrace."
"Why?"
"It started when I was Sorted into Gryffindor. All my family have been Ravenclaws, and they didn't think anyone could be really smart without being one."
Hermione felt a pang. That attitude was far too common in the wizarding world, and it seemed endemic to all the families with a strong House affiliation. It was probably the reason why most seemingly hereditary Sortings even occurred: children telling the Hat where they wanted to go.
"Then… well, as you can see, I don't dress the way they think a 'young lady' should. I get that everywhere, though," she muttered. "And they don't like my motorcycle. They think it's not wizardly enough. I don't like brooms, though."
Hermione chuckled. "I don't much like brooms either. I was never any good at flying."
"And my family… well, my great-great-uncle was this great potioneer, right? The only great thing the family actually produced," she muttered resentfully, "but it's all I've heard about, the amazing Hector Dagworth-Granger."
A jolt seemed to go through Hermione at this name. Yes—she had heard it before. Slughorn, in her original time, had wondered if this person was an ancestor of hers. She had assumed not at the time, but in light of the research about Muggle-borns….
Is she a distant cousin? Hermione wondered, gazing at the girl. It seemed very possible.
"You're quite a good potioneer yourself, though," Hermione finally said in a mild voice. "Families often do want a specific thing for their children, and House prejudice is unfortunately very widespread. I don't think you should limit yourself based on their opinions—or anyone's. You like to experiment with magic. Have you experimented with Potions before the Wolfsbane?"
Catriona grinned. "All the time. I love it. I don't really know why I wasn't put in Ravenclaw…."
"I do," Hermione chuckled. "You're quite Gryffindor—and that's no bad thing."
"Well, I made some potions to, uh…."
Hermione raised an eyebrow as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Well, there's this club Professor Slughorn has—but I'm sure you know all about it…."
"The Slug Club, yes."
"Of course you were a member. Well. It was probably because of old Great-Uncle Hector, rather than anything I did myself, but so was I. I mean, I guess I still am, but I haven't been to a meeting since the first month of school."
"Oh, you should go to them. He's really very helpful."
"Well, anyway… people like to drink at the meetings, right? You know all about that. Even the professor. And this potion… it isn't just a Sobering Potion, I mean, it goes into the drink itself and prevents you from getting drunk, or more drunk. So I'd, well…." She reddened a bit but grinned defiantly. "I'd sneak it into people's drinks after they'd had about three. They were plenty tipsy enough by then."
Hermione laughed. "That's a pretty good idea. There have been times when I wish I had a potion like that around."
Catriona managed a laugh too, but then her face changed. "Well," she said, her tone suddenly morose and cynical again, "I can't make a job out of that. I could do research, I know—I could go to work at St. Mungo's—but they always make new people do apprenticeships first, for several years, and I've heard you don't get to innovate much, and it's just… I mean, I will be done with being a student after seventh year. I want to actually do stuff."
"I understand completely… and on that subject, if I may, I'd like to discuss your Wolfsbane improvement. This wasn't just experimentation for its own sake, you said. You made it for someone. Who is the werewolf?"
Catriona looked shifty, the moment of openness gone. "It's not me. It's someone who is on the Werewolf Registry. A… friend of mine."
Hermione could do very basic Legilimency. She felt a bit guilty about this, but if the girl was lying about this particular issue, that did matter. She met Catriona's eyes and performed quick surface Legilimency on her—just enough to detect that she was indeed telling the truth. Catriona was not a lycanthrope. There was a friend… or rather….
"A classmate of yours?" Hermione probed.
"It's supposed to be a secret from the parents, because she's still in school. Please don't tell. The bite came from that werewolf Greyback, the one the Ministry is trying to catch…. Lila takes the regular Wolfsbane, as the Ministry requires, and my formula as well. I expect the symptoms would be even less if she took only my formula, but I didn't want her to break the law…." For the first time in the interview, the tough façade was down. Catriona looked… emotional.
Hermione was pretty sure she understood the situation. "I see. Your family doesn't approve of her either, I'm guessing?"
Catriona looked at Hermione, surprised. "They… no. They don't like the fact that she's a werewolf now, of course, but even before… they thought… well."
"I really think I get it," Hermione said gently, "and it doesn't matter to me."
Catriona subsided.
"What do you say to something better than just 'getting a job'?"
The girl's eyes widened. "You want to buy the formula from me?"
"I was going to propose something else, actually," Hermione said. "You may, of course, sell the formula for a lump sum, but I would actually recommend holding it and letting us act on your behalf. You would get a royalty from every sale from every apothecary… and you would own the formula no matter what."
Catriona was hanging on every word.
"And… if you earn NEWTs in those three subjects, you would have a guaranteed job in this organization in Research after your seventh year."
Her eyes widened. "A real researcher, immediately?"
"Immediately. You would make enough money to get your own apartment. And you can come to work on your motorcycle, dress exactly as you wish, experiment to your heart's content, and keep your werewolf girlfriend."
Catriona looked up sharply at that. She was very pink. "Mrs. Riddle, please don't spread that around—I mean, I know you said you wouldn't, but please don't."
Hermione gave her a very serious look. "It's not my secret to share, Catriona. I gave you my word, and that means something to me."
The girl rushed forward. "Thank you," she whispered as she shook Hermione's hand.
Just as I hoped, Hermione thought in satisfaction after the girl had left. The staff were just prejudiced against her appearance and brusque manner and didn't know how to get her to open up.
She considered the girl's surname. It really piqued her curiosity now. Did she have wizarding relatives alive today? There were Dagworths, obviously. She would have to research this Hector Dagworth-Granger and see what had happened to the "Granger" part of the line. If they became Squibs and there was even one male who would pass on the surname, it seemed extremely likely that they were related to her.
It was a terrible pity, Hermione reflected, that she could never tell Catriona about it if that turned out to be the case.
That evening Hermione told Tom about the Wolfsbane improvement, keeping secret the personal parts that Catriona had told her, as she had promised. He looked pleased.
"That's funny, her spiking Sluggy's drinks. The man is a sot, of course… though it came in handy on occasion, when I wanted to know things from him."
Hermione scowled, pretty sure she knew what he was referring to.
He raised a knowing eyebrow at her and cleared his throat pointedly. "Well," he continued, swirling his glass, "she'd better not try it with me. This is a marvelous potion… I'm calling it a Fiery Old Fashioned… and it is further evidence that we can improve whatever the Muggles come up with." He raised it as if to toast Hermione—or perhaps Catriona—before continuing. "As for the Wolfsbane improvement, it's great news. There has been a bit of grumbling against the Wolfsbane Law," he said, "because of the documented ill effects of the potion. Not much opposition, granted—but you know how the most radical of the Reformists can be. This ought to shut them up."
Hermione shook her head in amused exasperation.
"If your organization can verify the effect, she ought to get the Order of Merlin for that. Third Class, I think. Though it'll look odd to give it to her when you wouldn't accept it—"
"I didn't invent the potion; I just pretended to. She actually did improve it. I suppose that in the old timeline, it wouldn't have been invented yet… and she would have… hmm. Probably not amounted to anything," Hermione said unhappily. "But… she has the chance to amount to something now."
"I know why you refused the medal. I still think it'll look odd… but I'll decide on that later. If you're giving her a job, contingent on her NEWT scores, that might be enough."
Hermione decided that this was a good opportunity to confront him over the issue that had been bothering her for a while. "Yes," she said with a touch of asperity, "I'm giving her a job if she earns her NEWTs. I'm offering her patronage."
Tom noticed the change in her voice. He set down his drink glass and raised an eyebrow at her.
"I saw the news about Roland Lestrange."
All hints of mirth fled his face. "What of it, Hermione?" he asked mulishly.
She peered at him with narrowed eyes. "Borgin and Burkes, really? What was that about?"
"I don't know what you're asking."
"Oh, I think you do. You must have had a reason for recommending him to that shop in particular, and I doubt it's because he has extraordinary aptitude for being a clerk. There's only one person in the world who knows what Borgin and Burkes would otherwise have meant, and I'm that person." She glared at him. "If you did it for my benefit, I really don't find it amusing. I find it rather sadistic, in fact—and not towards him, but myself."
Tom stared at her. "I didn't aim the 'joke' at you, and I didn't expect you to find it hilarious. Ironic, yes, but not funny."
Hermione's irritation settled a bit. "So why'd you recommend him to the shop?"
"Because he has to work somewhere, and I imagined that you would find it much more ghoulish and sadistic if I had him working for me. Borgin and Burke still owe me favors."
She relaxed further. That made sense.
"Besides, his new personality is a bit too mild for politics." A crooked smirk formed on his face.
Hermione finally laughed, though the subject was grim. "I guess he probably is, just out of St. Mungo's! All right. If you really didn't do it to give me a good laugh—"
"I know what you find funny. I might have had a good laugh if I'd had the personal knowledge that you do, but I really did it primarily because Borgin and Burke owe me and I wanted Lestrange out of the public eye. It's sordid and not the sort of headlines I need right now, even if everyone does think it was an accident. The irony came second."
Satisfied, Hermione helped herself to a glass of water. "Oh—before I forget. I think Catriona Dagworth may be distantly related to me." Briefly she explained her theory about the possible mutual ancestor.
Tom looked contemplative. "It does seem like she might be," he remarked. "You could probably find out, or research enough to form a very good guess. We've built a good library, and Sluggy would let either of us into Hogwarts to use the library there if need be."
Hermione smiled. "I never thought I would research my own hidden wizarding ancestry, but I'm really curious about this."
He smiled knowingly. "If you need assistance, I'm something of an expert on the subject."
She gave him an arch look. "I know."
A few weeks later.
Hermione slammed the genealogy book shut in triumph. She had easily traced the Dagworth line, as it was an extant wizarding family. Sure enough, Hector Dagworth-Granger, Extraordinary Potioneer, was related to Catriona Dagworth. His father—also the father of Catriona's great-grandfather—had been a Dagworth. His mother had been a Granger, and apparently, the last magical member of that family to bear the name. She had had a brother—the great potioneer's uncle—but the genealogy implied that he had been a Squib. After the one-off generation with the hyphenated name, the Dagworth-Grangers dropped the "Granger."
Hermione would have to turn to Muggle books to find out for certain, but she was almost positive that she was descended on her father's side. Her mother almost definitely had a wizarding ancestor too, but that could be harder to trace.
She could never tell Catriona about it, but it was still nice to know. As she put the book back on the shelf, she realized that she finally understood why Tom had been so determined to trace his family. In a life in which Hermione still sometimes felt adrift, it was another anchor of belonging.
End Notes: I know that OCs can be hit or miss, so this lady greaser won't be extremely important in this AU—though she will make another appearance. Still, the Hector Dagworth-Granger thing is just too suspicious to me in light of JKR's later statement about Muggle-borns having wizard ancestry.
The next chapter will jump forward again with Tom as Minister.
As an aside, I do modifications to dolls to make custom, one-of-a-kind ones. Recently I altered a pair of dolls to look like Tom and Hermione from this AU. If you'd like to see the details of that, check it out here: betagyre-penname DOT tumblr DOT com /post/147865534449/ooak-custom-dolls-tom-riddle-and-hermione
