A/N: Thanks for reviewing and following the story!

I got a very long and detailed review from a guest reviewer who urges me to rethink the story, as the reviewer thinks the story glorifies abuse. I would remind everyone that this is a work of fiction, rated M, and the rating means there will be disturbing themes. I would also think the pairing Tomione is a warning in itself, that such themes might be at play.

While I'm thankful for the time and effort "Concerned adult" put into the review, I am not going to change the story, because: Tom Riddle/ Lord Voldemort isn't a good guy. It's kind of his nature. And yes, Hermione's reaction to him is intentional, even though "Concerned adult" seems to think I wrote around forty thousand words (and more still on my computer) without realizing that Hermione's emotions are in conflict.

Unfortunately, bad romances do exist in the real world. I do not condone people acting like Tom Riddle/ Lord Voldemort in real life (seriously, who would!?), but enjoying writing or reading fiction that pushes boundaries and/ or contains disturbing themes is another matter. Fanfiction is full of it – which is one of the reasons I love the site. (If you, "Concerned adult", wish to discuss how works of fiction may influence attitudes in real life, I'd be happy to join you on a discussion site of your choice. I think that's a very interesting question with no straight answers.) So, if you IRL know anyone who even remotely resembles Tom Riddle/ Lord Voldemort, I suggest you either a) run b) join your local Order of the Phoenix or c) well, join you-know-who at your own risk. It's your choice, as well as what you choose to read. Now, on to the next chapter, sorry about the long and rambling note. :-)

Blackmail

The following morning, she felt almost queasy. She rose very early, not being able to sleep, and she really didn't know what to expect. What would he do? Kiss her, ignore her or anything in between? For herself, she didn't really know what she wanted. She had to admit that physically, he had blown her away. She wanted him. But that feeling waged a war with her fear and hatred for him. Yes, she could reassure herself that she still was determined to kill him – no matter what her body wanted to do. The mix made her feel a trepidation before meeting him again. Asking for a cup of tea and a biscuit in the great kitchen, the House-elves were happy to oblige her. At all costs, she wanted to avoid the Great Hall, not yet feeling up to conversations.

Her fervent hope, that going to the library very early would postpone meeting him, was squashed, as he was sitting alone at in the library, reading the Daily Prophet. The early morning rays of the sun gave a soft glow to his features, defining his cheekbones, playing on his dark hair and giving his pale complexion a slightly golden sheen. She stopped for a moment, thinking. He was just impossibly handsome. All the insecurity that Walburga had prodded at the night before came back in full force. Why would anyone looking like THAT even bother to kiss her? She just couldn't understand why, unless it was a power thing. Yes, it had to be. He just wanted to conquer everyone, it had absolutely nothing to do with him being interested in herself. Somehow, the realization didn't make her feel better.

She sat down on the other side of the table as quietly as she could. Riddle looked up from his paper, and gave her a nod. "You're early," he remarked.

"Yes". She couldn't find anything to say to ease the awkwardness she was feeling.

"Couldn't sleep? You're not usually an early riser". He gave her a small grin.

Hermione blushed, as if he knew anything about that, but come to think of it, he usually had breakfast with her, so he would know her routine. "Umm, well. No, I woke up, couldn't find my sleep again," she said, looking down in her bag, looking for her books.

"Me neither," he said. He Summoned another copy of the Prophet, and gave it to her, hands touching briefly. She felt her skin tingle, but he merely retracted his hand. They read in silence, and she was enormously relieved for not having to keep up conversation. After finishing her paper, she rose from the table. He stood up, following her wordlessly. On the way out, he slung his arm around her shoulder, giving her a brief squeeze, before he took off in another direction.

It left her just as confused as before meeting him, but at least, that first, awkward meeting was history.

Xxxx

In the days that followed, he acted like nothing had happened, but suddenly he spent more time in the dungeon in the evenings, sitting close to her, or joining her in the library doing homework on a daily basis. While he seemed normal enough, she was deeply disturbed by the fact that people had started to refer to her as Riddle's girlfriend. He did nothing to quash the rumors, rather the opposite, and no one seemed to believe her when she told them it wasn't like that.

"Could you ask your boyfriend to help me with my Potion essay?" The small, skinny boy that was Orion Black looked imploringly at her, while his right hand plucked absentmindedly at a pimple on his chin. "You see, my family will skin me alive if I don't up my grade. I really need his help."

Knowing the Blacks, she rather thought the threat might be real, but instead she latched on to what he was asking. "My boyfriend? I'm not sure what you mean, I don't have a boyfriend."

Orion Black gave her an exasperated look, like she was so impossibly daft, and replied: "Riddle, I mean. He's your boyfriend, right? Would you please ask him? He'll listen to you!"

Blinking, she just shook her head. "You should do your own homework, Black. But why don't you ask Walburga? She's quite good at Potions."

"Umm, well, I'd rather not. She's the one who threatened to skin me." Orion looked a little uncomfortable.

Hermione almost had to laugh, but she said adamantly: "I'm not asking Riddle for favors, you can be sure about that. Go ask him yourself."

Later in the day, two Hufflepuff girls in her Herbology class whispered to her: "You're sooo lucky to be Riddle's girlfriend." The girls giggled, rather acting like fifth years than seventh years, Hermione thought. The three of them were in storeroom of the greenhouse, gathering fertilizers for their Asphodel pods.

"I'm not really…", she started, politely, but one of the girls interrupted her: "You're so modest, just like he said you would be."

Gaping, Hermione only stuttered out "Excuse me…?"

The girl smiled at her, saying: "He told us earlier in the lesson, saying that the two of you were together, but that you were likely to deny it due to modesty".

She didn't know what to say, just gathering up her fertilizer and walked back to her Asphodel pods. There was no way he had said that, she was absolutely sure. This was probably a stupid example of girly mind games due to jealousy, designed to make her look like a fool if she was stupid enough to confront him with their statements. Digging into the damp earth with vehemence, she actually for once welcomed physical labor as she spread out her fertilizer.

Xxxx

She decided to spend her evenings in the dorm to be alone. It was too disturbing: One one hand, there was a perfectly normal Riddle, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary, and on the other hand, there were any number of people asking her about him or worse, telling her that he told them that she was his girlfriend.

On the second night Joanna and Mariette asked her to come downstairs, but she wouldn't budge. They sat down on her bed, closing her books and putting them away without listening to her protests.

"Is this because of Riddle?", Joanna asked. "You never told us what happened at the Slug club."

"I wondered, you left all of a sudden, and he did too", Mariette said.

Hermione felt like she should have been crying. She wanted to tell her sweet, caring friends about her worries and fears, but she couldn't without telling them what he would become. After all, if she hadn't known anything about his future, she'd probably have fallen into his arms without any qualms. Instead she offered: "It was a game, you know, we were only pretending to be dating at the party. There is nothing between us, but all evening he made people believe that I was his girlfriend, even his fiancée. And then he suddenly started to act like it, trying to…", she blushed deeply, "trying to do things to me. When I danced with another man he became really scary and angry."

"Things? What did he do? I didn't see anything," Mariette said.

"Ah, well, you know, he pulled me down into his lap, remember? And then I felt his, his…", she stuttered. What in the world would a girl in the forties say? Did they say cock, or penis, or willy, or…? Hermione really didn't know. "His you-know-what", she finished lamely, mentally berating herself for the silly allusion to his future nickname.

"Oooh," Joanna breathed. "You turned him on, and in public at that!"

"No, I didn't turn him on, he did that all by himself! But then I left, and he came after me, kissing me." And now her tears were actually falling, for once, and she lowered her head, hiding behind her curls, sniffling: "And he was so scary, saying no one gets away, and he always gets what he wants."

Eyes round and shocked, Mariette exclaimed: "He didn't do that to you? Did he rape you?" She put her arms around Hermione, hugging her.

"No, no, he didn't. I kissed him back, but it was still scary," she said shamefacedly. "Someone came, or else I don't know what would have happened. And now he's pretending that nothing happened, but I don't trust him. As everyone keeps telling me, his relationships doesn't last. And I'm certainly not his girlfriend, whatever he's telling people!"

Joanna and Mariette shared a look.

"Hermione", Joanna said gently. "Do you know that to our knowledge, he has never, ever chased after a girl? And he most certainly has never named anyone his girlfriend. This is unusual."

"Yes", Mariette nodded. "As you know, he sometimes picks up a girl that's chasing him, and then suddenly he cuts them off. No one tells, but I think it's a safe bet to say," her voice lowered to a scandalized whisper, "that he has sex with them, and when he's done he tells them to leave. Usually this happens after a day or two, a week or two at the most. So, whatever he's doing to you, it's different."

Hermione felt almost like she couldn't breathe. She wanted him to notice her, to trust her, but she definitively didn't want any other kind of attention from him, never mind the way he looked. Shaking her head, she said vehemently, not believing her own lie: "It's because he's curious about the future. He wants to know what happens to him. There is nothing else."

"Except that he wants you", Mariette finished drily.

XXXX

She needed to be alone. To escape him, she stopped reading in the library. Instead she studied in the Room of Requirement for one, blessed, peaceful week, staying there until curfew each night. She tended her Polyjuice, though she didn't quite dare to use it – she would have to find a perfect occasion when he was sure to be away.

One evening he waited outside as she left. "You can't hide forever. It was easy enough to have someone following you to find out where you've been." He took her arm, walking her down the corridor. "This won't do, you know. As my girlfriend, you need to be with me outside classes. From now, you'll be studying with me as usual in the library, and spending time with me in the dungeon."

Stopping, she told him eyes blazing and her fears temporarily forgotten: "I'm not your girlfriend!" Her magic crackled around her, making the tapestry of an exceptionally ugly wizard caressing a Mermaid move as if in a breeze. But he just smiled.

"Are you quite sure about that?", he quipped.

"Yes!", she yelled.

"I'm not", he chuckled. Exasperated, she tried to break free, but his grip was too strong.

"I don't do leftovers, Riddle!", she gritted out.

His brow furrowed. "Leftovers? What do you mean by that?"

"It's not like people haven't told me about you going through all the girls in school", she snarled. "I don't want people to think I'm merely one in a long line of girls for you. Especially when it isn't true."

His eyes darkened, but then he laughed. "Are you jealous, Hermione?"

As they heard footsteps, he pushed her into the wall and kissed her, taking her totally by surprise. Before she could react, he broke off the kiss.

"Kissing in the corridors? My, my!" Slughorn smiled. "If it were any other than the two of you, I'd withdraw points. But run along, I didn't see this. Just remember to invite me to your wedding!"

Riddle had the nerve to pretend looking embarrassed, but then he said brightly: "Of course, I'll make sure of it, professor. You'll be on top of our list. Come on, Hermione!" And then he pinched her bottom. She jumped, scowling at him, and Slughorn laughed as he moved on.

"What the hell was that," she hissed, "you can't continue to spread rumors about this!"

He gave her an amused glance, but made no comment. Instead he told her: "You know, I have a lot of people willing to do me favors. They'll look after you when I'm busy. I don't want any more attacks on you from angry Gryffindors. You can make this easy by doing as I wish, or we can do this the hard way."

"Are you threatening me?", she answered, feeling both anxious and angry.

"Why would you think that? I'm only taking care of you and making sure you are safe – at all times". His smile was chilling. Hermione realized: To get closer, I may have to do this. I will not be a conquest, but I can't go around antagonizing him at all times. I need to go along with this for a while. The whole thing left a sour taste to her mouth. The thought of the poor Ravenclaw fifth year and all the other girls that might have experienced something similar made her feel awful. But at least he's starting to show me his true colors. The snake inside has reared its ugly head. It's just that now, when it has happened, I wish the evil side of him had remained hidden.

Xxxx

She just couldn't explain her apparent change of heart to Mariette and Joanna. First and foremost, she didn't want to scare them with his veiled threats. Second, she couldn't tell them why it was so important to her to get close to him that she'd even pretend to be his girlfriend, even though she didn't want to. So she opted for a lie, letting them believe that she had fallen in love with him. But her pride was smarting badly.

"It's ok, Hermione", Joanna said softly to her with a warm smile. "We knew, and we've known that for quite some time. After all, there isn't a girl in Hogwarts that hasn't been in love with him at one time or another."

"Yes", Mariette agreed. "There was no way you'd be unaffected, with all the attention he showered on you. It just took some time for you to admit it. I hope you'll be happy, and I guess he'll be his usual, nice self when he isn't as jealous as he was."

And their words hurt her. They were her friends, they should have known something wasn't right.

Xxxx

She studied with him, ate her meals with him, walked to classes with him, talked to him and his friends. The strain of being with him at all times was taking its toll on her, and she had never slept less in her life. Staring at the ceiling at night, afraid to fall asleep and lose herself into horrible nightmares, she was even more frightened by the fact that not all dreams about him were nightmares. Some of them were simply ordinary dreams, and some of them were good dreams. Having Lord Voldemort as such a routine part of her life that he even appeared in her dreams doing normal things was just too terrible to contemplate.

In their spare time, he'd order her: "Come and sit here, Hermione," patting the seat beside him. Slinging his arm around her shoulder, he would crush her into him, sometimes nuzzling her hair like an affectionate boyfriend, even giving her light kisses on her cheek or neck. But she was sure she had struck upon the reason for his odd behavior: It was all an act, and it was all for power. He obviously wanted to repair his image as the nice Head boy by pretending to care about her. She firmly believed that his goal was to make everyone think that his behavior on the Halloween feast was due to heartbreak and jealousy. And his strategy worked wonders. Everyone thought their "love story" was amazing, and people told her that she should be deliriously happy, having the model student, everyone's favorite Head boy, the good, kind and promising young man falling in love with her. She just smiled weakly at them, but she tried to avoid all intimacy with him as much as possible. After all, she wasn't sure if she could trust herself. And he wasn't satisfied.

"You need to kiss me, Hermione," he told her one afternoon just after their Potions class.

"Why?" She looked at him with surprise. Really, was he ordering her to kiss him? He couldn't seriously expect her to follow up on that.

"You're my girlfriend. Or else people will start to wonder when and where we do our snogging, and why it's out of sight." He winked at her, making her blush.

"Right. Let them wonder." She just stared straight ahead, not meeting his eyes.

"You'll kiss me. Tonight, in the dungeon, in front of everyone. At least one kiss initiated by you in public every day. And you won't object if I kiss you either."

Shaking her head at him, she said: "You can't seriously mean that you want to make a deal with me about snogging."

He frowned a little, and pulled her aside in the corridor. "It doesn't look like you're going to do this of your own volition, as you shy away from me whenever I try to get close to you. I think you need some conditioning - we'll make a habit out of it for you to help you come around."

Staring incredulously at him, she hissed at him: "Conditioning me – like I'm Pavlov's dog, or something? You've certainly got a nerve! And you've totally convinced me – I won't be kissing you!"

He sighed. "I was afraid you might react like this. Remember, I told you we could do it the hard way." Leaning in, he whispered in her ear: "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your friends. I know Edward Goyle fancies Mariette. In the dorm, we're frequently forced to listen to him moaning her name. Of course, that's simply because he doesn't know how to cast a proper Muffiliato. But who knows what he can do to her if the circumstances were right, and there was no one to stop him."

Her eyes suddenly glued to his face in fright, she whispered: "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Just kiss me, Hermione. You might enjoy it".

Xxxx

She hid in the grounds instead of going to supper, feeling very insecure after his threats. She couldn't risk Mariette's safety – she knew all too well what he really was capable of. But it made her wonder if he was close to reveal himself to her, because no sane boyfriends made threats like that. Was he giving up on his pretentions? And after all, her plan was to get his trust, and that meant getting to know the dark side of him too. Maybe she was succeeding.

Xxxx

In the evening, she entered the dungeon with a heavy heart. He noticed her immediately, his lips quirking into a small smile. She felt as if she dragged her feet after her, but still she made herself walk up to him. He looked expectantly up at her. Feeling repulsed, she still grabbed hold of his shoulder and made herself smile at him. "Hey Tom," she said softly, using his first name for the first time, and she leaned down and kissed his mouth. It was not quite a peck on the lips, but it certainly wasn't long. He obviously wasn't satisfied, so he pulled her down into his lap and gave her a long, deep kiss, only stopping as Abraxas Malfoy began to whistle. Her cheeks burning, she couldn't meet the eyes of Mariette and Joanna.

The next morning, it was even worse. He kissed her at breakfast in the Great Hall, and all of Benjamin Darnsbys Gryffindor friends shoot glares at her. There hadn't been any more attacks, but she rather suspected this was due to her being in his presence almost all the time. Apparently, most Gryffindors had too much respect or fear for Tom Riddle to openly hex his girlfriend. It galled her, because she was absolutely capable of defending herself. Why didn't the Gryffindors show as much respect to her? She had proven herself to be a very good duelist!

In the girl's bathroom before Transfiguration class, Muriel Weasley hissed at her: "I thought you were different, not leading on a good lad like Benjamin just to use him in one of your little dirty Slytherin ploys. You've proved it now, you were only using him to get Riddle on the hook! It makes me mad, because I actually thought you were nice and rather cool, with your fight against the stupid Householding course. Granger, you are such a slut!"

She didn't have a reply for this, because after all: What could she say? To tell the truth was out of the question. Instead, she decided to play her part as a Slytherin, saying a little callously: "I hear you and Abraxas are coming along splendidly. He has a lot to tell about you in the dungeon." It was only as Muriel's face became a deep shade of beet red, she understood that her comment had struck gold.

Xxxx

After class, Dumbledore asked her to stay behind. Tom was waiting at the door, and he most certainly didn't like it when Dumbledore said: "Run along, Tom. Hermione will be just behind you".

As the door closed, Dumbledore looked searchingly at her. "Are you alright? This relationship of yours with Tom Riddle, it surprised me."

She nodded. "Me too,", she said curtly. "But it's necessary for my mission."

Dumbledore looked away, starting to speak several times, stopping himself before it came out: "Is it, no. Is it, the one you're trying to stop, I shouldn't ask you, but is it… Is it Tom Riddle?"

Hermione met his gaze. Those blue eyes had not one speck of his usual twinkle. "I think you already know the answer to that, professor," she said slowly.

"Do what you must, Hermione, but be very careful. Don't put yourself in danger."

At that she smiled. "I'm always in danger, professor. But thanks for the warning."

Xxxx

"Today's lesson is the Patronus Charm," professor Merryweather said. "It is a difficult spell, and many adult wizards cannot do it properly. Can anyone tell me about the Charm?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air as usual, but she noticed that, for a change, Tom sat quietly. She rattled off her knowledge, and professor Merryweather smiled at her: "Five points to Slytherin. Tell me, miss Granger, have you succeeded producing a Patronus?"

Beaming, Hermione said: "Yes, my Patronus is an otter."

Abraxas Malfoy snickered, but Merryweather shut him up with a glance, saying: "A Patronus is in the form of an animal, and all species have been known to be produced. Who knows, Mr. Malfoy, your Patronus might become anything between a rodent and a dragon." The Hufflepuffs, who had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins, roared with laughter, and Malfoy reddened. Ferret-boy, Hermione thought, maybe I'm not the only one who think the Malfoy men look like rodents?

Merryweather turned back to Hermione, asking her with a kind look: "Would you like to demonstrate your Patronus to the class, Miss Granger?"

She nodded, standing up. She thought hard about her happy memories – they seemed somewhat faded, the memories weren't quite anchored in her body like they should be, but she chose the memory of how she felt when Harry, Ron and her saved Buckbeak. Saying "Expecto Patronum" in a clear, ringing voice, her wand emitted a weak puff of greyish smoke. She stared at it, shock permeating her very being. It wasn't even a uncorporeal Patronus. Someone laughed, she thought it was Walburga, but it was suddenly cut short.

"Would you like to try again, miss Granger?" Merryweather asked.

"Umm, yes. Maybe the memory wasn't happy enough," she offered weakly. But it should have been. Thinking about her relief after waking up from the basilisk induced petrified state, she couldn't even make her wand give off smoke. Shaking her head at Merryweather, she said in a low voice: "I don't know what happened, professor. I swear, I wasn't lying." She felt ill, not knowing what was wrong. Why had her Patronus failed?

Merryweather nodded kindly at her. "It isn't uncommon to experience problems with the Patronus Charm when something big happens in your life. I imagine being stuck in another time is one of those changes. Rest assured, miss Granger, I believe you. You're not one to brag. Let me think, Tom, would you like to demonstrate your Patronus? As I remember, you produced one already in your second year."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then he said: "If you'd excuse me, professor Merryweather, I'd like to escort Hermione to the Hospital wing. She looks a bit ill."

"Why, of course, you're right. She does look a little peaky. How considerate of you, Tom. Off you go!"

He offered her his arm, and she took it. She wasn't ill, but she didn't feel good. Maybe it would do her good to rest a little, giving her time to think about her Patronus.

In the Hospital wing, she got a Pepper-up Potion, and madam Fitchwitch told her to lay down for a while to rest.

"Can I stay with her, please?" Tom asked. Oh, he used those dark eyes expertly, Hermione thought. Madam Fitchwitch didn't stand a chance. The mediwitch just nodded and beamed at him.

He found a chair, sitting down beside her. "So, what happened to your Patronus?", he asked conversationally, his eyes boring into her.

She squirmed a little, but said truthfully: "I don't know."

"When was the last time you produced one?"

"It was sometime before I ended up here," she replied.

"And you had no trouble producing it at that time?"

"No. What's up with the interrogation?" she asked him, a little irritated by his questions.

He looked at her, with a speculative frown. "There are any number of reason why one could lose one's ability to produce a Patronus. Most of the time, it will be temporarily. In some other cases, it could be permanent. What do you think, Hermione, will be the case for you?"

Staring at him, she wondered: What was he aiming at? Thinking through it, she realized that you could, of course, have trouble with your Patronus because of experiencing a crisis, just like Merryweather had said. But you could also lose your ability to produce one if you somehow had crossed the line into darkness. Narrowing her eyes, she understood. "Temporarily", she said with determination. "Not permanently."

He smiled at her, but obviously he wasn't convinced. "If you say so," he said. "You're the one to know."

"What about you?", she asked shrewdly. "When did your Patronus fail?" Because it must have happened, at least after making his Horcruxes.

"Why do you think it failed?", he asked quickly, too quickly, masking a brief, troubled look.

"Or else you would have produced your Patronus before escorting me to the Hospital Wing. You're a showoff", she said, winking at him.

He smiled a little, but his eyes were cold and considering. And then he struck up a discussion about the detrimental effects of abusing Pepper-Up Potion. As he slowly and deliciously stroked her arm, she lost herself in the sensation and the argument for keeping use of the potion to a bare minimum. But, she noted, he obviously wasn't comfortable with losing this ability. And neither was she.

Xxxx

After a few weeks, she felt like she had gotten used to his touch, just like he had intended. She thought a little bitterly: He was grooming her. She realized his success one evening, when she was about to go to bed. She told him good night, and then she puckered her lips expectantly, waiting for his kiss. Merlin, what am I doing? The realization suddenly flew through her mind – she had gotten into a habit of kissing him. She could see the flash of triumph in his eyes – due to her own realization, she understood. He knew that she knew she was expecting his kiss, and that made his victory even sweeter.

Xxxx

Walburga was sitting on her bed, reading, and finally, Hermione had the opportunity to talk to her alone.

"Hey", she said, sitting down on her own bed. Walburga only lifted her eyebrows in recognition, still locking her eyes on the book. Hermione knew that feeling of being disturbed: When you're deeply immersed in a book, and someone tries to drag you back into the real world. Oh, it was an infuriating experience, but she really needed to talk to her.

"You know, I thought I could ask you about the advice you gave me after the Halloween feast. You seem like you know Riddle well."

"I don't see why you have to ask. You took my advice, and as far I can see, it worked splendidly". Walburga didn't raise her eyes from her book.

"I mean, you told me he's a bit different, that he's not what he seems. What did you mean by that?"

The corners of Walburga's mouth curled up, and she replied: "I can't tell you more than that. If you stick around him, he might tell you himself. It's not my place to tell you."

"But you basically told me he'd rape me if I didn't go along with his wishes."

Now she had Walburga's attention alright, as her green eyes locked on Hermione's brown.

"I didn't say he'd rape you. I said he'd take you. There's a world of difference between those two, Hermione, when you have his level of magical strength. He would take you, body and soul, and the physical part might be the easiest. But as I said, you gave in, and he's happy. What's more to say?" She scowled at Hermione, reminding her that Mariette and Joanna had told her that Walburga loved Riddle.

Slowly, she answered: "But I haven't given in, at least not in the way you think. We've only kissed, nothing more."

Walburga's eyes narrowed, and she closed her book with a bang. "Liar!", she hissed, stalking out of the dorm.

Xxxx

One day in December, Slughorn offered Tom a chance to visit the Ministry.

"I'd like you to meet some influential friends of mine in the Department of Mysteries – and you will be able to do your Christmas shopping at the same time, m'boy. How about something special for Hermione?" Slughorn winked at him.

He jumped at the invitation, of course, telling Slughorn how grateful he was for the opportunity, adding: "And Hermione deserves something special for Christmas, you're right about that, professor!"

She on the other hand, smiled weakly, seeing Slughorn nudge Tom with his elbow, smiling slyly. She sincerely didn't want to know what was on Slughorn's mind. But Christmas presents? She hadn't thought about that, but it stood to reason that a girl would give her boyfriend a present. But she didn't really feel like giving Christmas presents to him. He was, after all, Lord Voldemort. Besides, what would she buy for someone like him? Oh well, next weekend was a Hogsmeade trip. She would have her chance to buy a present then. But him leaving the perimeter presented her with another opportunity.

As Slughorn and Tom left for Hogsmeade to Apparate a few days later, Hermione kissed him goodbye, and sprinted to the Room of Requirement to ready her Polyjuice. Putting his hair into the vial, she watched it turn into a putrid black, with fierce, red streaks, like flowing lava breaking its crust into a red inferno.

The taste, however, was bitter and spicy. Not entirely unpleasant, she had to admit to herself with a grimace. The transformation was painful, but suddenly, she stood there in front of the mirror, tall, broad-shouldered and handsome - dressed in a skirt and her school shirt which was literally bursting at the shoulders. Even though the situation called for efficiency, speed and some measures of gravity, she had to giggle, quickly transfiguring the clothes. Everything felt unfamiliar. She was too tall, it felt like she had no control over her limbs and her voice came out as a squeak. And, that totally alien feeling in her pants, of something that shouldn't be there was decidedly odd. Smiling a little to herself, she promised herself that she'd try this again later, just to see how that thing – worked. Trying out his voice, she managed to lower the register to something alike his natural voice, and then she put on a menacing scowl. She actually jumped a little, feeling threatened by the sight in the mirror. Shaking herself, she gave a bark of laughter, stopping short as it came out as a high, cold, chilling sound that raised the hair on her arms. I'd better be going. If I can scare myself, then I can intimidate my way through Hogwarts for an hour.

Hurrying down the stairs, she met a few people, but the scowl on her face kept everyone away, like she had predicted. Entering the seventh year boys' dorm, it was luckily empty. Stepping up to his trunk, she reached out her hand, shaking a little. Yes, she managed to touch it, the wards parted to let her touch it.

Quickly, she opened the trunk, starting to rifle through the contents. Damn, everything was placed so neatly and precisely. He'd be bound to notice that someone had moved his things around.

Putting everything out on his bed, she realized that neither the diary nor the ring was in the trunk. Only books, clothes, school things - nothing out of the ordinary. Not even a single book on dark magic - everything was perfectly normal, except a certain lack of personal items. Unless, there was a hidden room…? Poking at the trunk with her wand, she thought she caught a glimmer of a spell stuck at the bottom. Yes, there it was! Cleverly hidden, too. It reacted to her prodding with a sinister, red glow, and she quickly removed her wand. Instead she tried with her finger, and got small, but fierce scorch mark as a reward. Clearly this ward was different, not attuned to his body, but something else. She just had to… Hearing footsteps behind her, she whirled around, seeing Abraxas entering the dorm. She quickly hid her wand – it was a dead giveaway.

Abraxas gave her an odd look, seeing the contents of the trunk on the bed.

"Are you looking for something in particular, my Lord?" he said, lifting his eyebrows.

She gave him a stare she hoped was cold and haughty. It worked, as Abraxas flinched. "I meant no disrespect, my Lord," he said. "I was merely surprised."

She nodded, squinting her eyes menacingly at him. Did she dare try speaking?

Abraxas continued: "I thought you were going to Diagon Alley with Slughorn? Was there a change of plans? If so, do you wish to hold the meeting we postponed? I can get everyone ready in a short while, my Lord. Then we wouldn't have to wait for the next weekend."

Oh. She didn't quite feel up to holding a Death Eater meeting, or whatever this was. Clearing her voice, no – his, she said gruffly: "No. Slughorn and I will be departing shortly. This…" she pointed to the contents of the trunk on the bed, "is just a bit of tidying."

Just as the last words left her mouth, she realized that this was indeed the wrong and stupid thing to say. Lord Voldemort didn't explain himself. And he probably had a nifty spell for keeping his trunk so tidy anyway.

Abraxas stared at him. "Are you coming down with a cold, my Lord? Your voice is a little off, and you look feverish."

She busied herself with putting his books, clothes and other stuff into the trunk again, aiming to replicate the neat order in which she had found it. Slamming it shut, she turned to Abraxas, growling: "I'm not ill. I'm leaving now for Diagon Alley. You watch your mouth, Malfoy!"

Seeing Abraxas blanche, she hurried out of the dorm, almost crashing into the door frame. Really, this height and the width of shoulders would take more than an hour to get used to. She bounded up the stairs from the dungeon, marveling at the length of her stride and the strength of her limbs. It felt good, but at the same time, she was a little worried, experiencing the difference in physical strength between her own body and his. Magic aside, he could easily harm her if he wanted to. She wouldn't stand a chance.

Entering the Room of Requirement, she sat down in her chair, feeling that the transformation back to her own body was imminent. She sincerely hoped Abraxas wouldn't mention the encounter to him.

Xxxx

Late one evening, he held her back in the dungeon as everyone went to bed. "You know, Marvin Crabbe so wants to know if Joanna's size makes her different from other girls. I mean, he thinks it would feel differently when she's that small."

Shaking her head wearily with a disgusted frown on her face, she said: "What do you want now? Do you seriously enjoy threatening your so-called girlfriend?"

"I want you to tell me two things from my future."

"You know I can't, it might destroy reality itself", she said, shaking her head.

"Just two things that I've been wondering about. One: You told me when we first met that I will make a name for myself. Does that mean I'll be powerful? Two: Do I actually take the Ministry? You acted so weird before the Slug Club, I can't help wondering."

She mulled it over, before looking at him. "It'll probably change things, but if you promise me that you will not hurt Joanna or Mariette, I'll tell you."

"I promise".

"Yeah, right", she scoffed. "YOU need to make an Unbreakable Vow. I don't trust you. Unless you do, you'll just make other threats to them later on."

Riddle stared at her. "Ok. I'll get a bonder." He left the room, and came back after a short while with a tired Abraxas Malfoy in his pajamas, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Presided over by a yawning, but pleased-looking Malfoy, the Vow was made. When Hermione thought about it, Abraxas had seemed to be in a very good mood lately. Quite cheery, even happy. Maybe he and Muriel really had hit it off? Oh dear, both Ron and Draco would rather have scratched their eyes out than acknowledging something like that.

As Malfoy was commanded back to bed, Riddle turned to her, expectant.

"Ok. You're very powerful and everyone knows your name. Yes, you took the Ministry," she blurted out.

His eyes narrowing, he said with impatience in his voice: "Knowing my name, is that in a good way, or in a bad way?"

"Err, well, not in a good way." She didn't look at him, but she could feel him staring. He moved closer to her, his fingers playing with her hair.

"And why is that?"

"Well, as you can imagine by the fact that you broke our government, people think that you're kind of… kind of…", and then the word rushed out, and she looked him straight in the eye: "dark".

"I'll be a dark and powerful wizard?" His eyes filled with glittering triumph and glee.

"Yes. Definitively".

Instead of saying anything, he took her head between his hands and gave her a long, slow, deep kiss. Nudging his leg between her thighs, he ground against her, and she could feel him again, getting hard for her. His hands roamed her hips, squeezing her buttocks, pressing her closer to him.

When she finally broke free, she just turned on her heel and left for her dorm. She would not acknowledge the burning, clenching sensation in her stomach. Not ever.