Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and this lovely world belongs to her.
*This chapter is a bit long!
Ten
The witch stepped out of Slytherin House to find Burke tying his shoe. It was such an odd thing to catch him doing that she froze, slightly mesmerized by the sight of him crouched low to the ground, strawberry hair falling around his eyes. As he pushed up, it was clear that he hadn't heard her by the surprise that etched onto his face for the briefest of moments. Although she was still quite uncomfortable around him, she'd learned to read him a little better, gaining a better understanding of his facial ticks and speech patterns. She'd felt obsessive about it at first, wanting to learn everything she possibly could about the boy, but decided that it benefited her to be cautious around people she knew little of in the future.
Tom had personally seen to beating him like a Muggle upon learning of his crude words and accusations toward her, and it was obvious that Perseus being punished was far from ordinary. Since then, no Knight had even seemed to think wrongly in her direction (not that they had before), furthering her status before them, but Burke's dislike only seemed to increase and the ice the pair was on only seemed to be thinning. Now, the only thing that bothered her greatly was the dark looks he cast her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, and Hermione was sure it was only a matter time before he decided to push his limits again. For now, he kept himself carefully away from her unless their nearness was required, or in moments such as these, as it's hard to avoid people when you run in the same circle and live in the same space.
"Lady Granger," he smiled tersely. "Sneaking out, are you? Going to meet a secret boyfriend?"
She pursed her lips and blinked slowly, making her being unamused clear. "Non, Monsieur. I hoping to find someplace quiet to plot demises."
He eyed her carefully, as though weighing the value of her words, eyes darkening in consideration.
"Oh, Monsieur. Lighten up," she laughed nervously. "I was going to visit Oncle Albus."
He looked as though he wanted to tell her it seemed like the same something. "Sweet," he spoke instead. "I'll walk you there, the castle is no place for a Lady to be on her own so late in the evening."
She looked at him curiously, glancing around for anyone he may have been with. The last thing she felt like doing was keeping up appearances right now. She wanted to make it to her meeting and get it over with, because meetings with Dumbledore had turned so greatly into a chore that she actually contemplated blowing him off completely. Anything that hindered her getting it down quickly was incredibly upsetting. However, her curiosity toward what he was up to stopped her from declining the offer. Tom wouldn't turn down a chance to learn about is enemies, and she wouldn't either.
"Only if I may ask you'd offer to walk up Gryffindor?"
"A Lady should not walk about alone so late in the evening," he told her measuredly before pausing. She looked at him skeptically and he smirked her. "Gryffindor witches have needs too, dear."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at his comfort in calling her something other than her name, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he offered her his arm, the humored look in his eyes never disappearing. She accepted Burke's arm with a bit of hesitancy. "I see. Are we lowering our standards already?"
He shrugged, "There are many a lovely witch in the tower, Lady Granger, though none quite such as yourself."
The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck rose to attention as they climbed the staircase. Fortunately, she'd yet to tuck her wand up her sleeve, and twirled it casually at her side, ready to use it at any moment. He was acting too strangely for her. "And who, pray tell, are tonight's victims?"
The strawberry blonde wizard settled his hand over hers on his arm, allowing a satisfied smirk to fall over his features as Hermione eyed him carefully. He was up to something, and incredibly chatty, which frustrated the witch terribly. Playing nice wasn't on her to do list tonight, but Hermione found herself drawing into the roll she playing.
"I can assure you that its very pleasure."
Hermione coughed a bit, having not been prepared for just how vulgar his words would be. Sure, she'd heard fresher statements, but she expected them in the 90s. Now, she was just incredibly confused and very much bothered. Alphard had been right to say nothing suitable ever came from his mouth.
Curiously, she wondered if he was the dirty old man that ran the Borgin and Burke's during her time, but decided that it didn't really even matter. She'd never encountered him truly in her proper time, and didn't plan on doing shopping within the store when she returned.
"Well, good on you, Monsieur," she replied lamely, tensing as he laced their fingers together in the crook of his arm. What the hell? As gently as she could, she pulled out of his grip, and switched the side her bag was on so that he couldn't reattach himself to her. There was nothing normal about his behavior, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
"Really, whenever you're interested-"
"Thats enough, Monsieur. I understand."
He hummed thoughtfully as they started up the final staircase. "I am no less suspicious of you."
Great, she thought, this again, and resisted laughing. "When I was a child, I went on a trip via Muggle train with my family. They had a very interesting program on ze radio, about love and obsession. Would you like me to tell you about it, Monsieur Burke?"
He frowned disgustedly, "I can't imagine how you would have learned anything from Muggles."
"They're are quite interesting persons, you know? All they've accomplished without magic, it's all very impressive."
"Sure. Though, I must admit that I'm more curious about your family."
Hermione sighed. "I don't speak of the dead, Monsieur. It's not polite to call them back to the earth."
He looked confusedly at her, obviously thrown off by her response, and Hermione found herself thankful for all of the anthropology books that lined the walls of her childhood home. Being able to call on such information really helped her survive in this time, even if the beliefs weren't relative to European wizards. Smiling sweetly, she looked to find him shaking his head of whatever he'd been thinking, hands clasped behind his back in the way Tom did while he was ranting. It was an action she'd seen many of the Knights complete when they weren't in the presence of their Lord, as though they were seeking comfort and guidance through things he did frequently.
She shivered at the thought.
"No matter," he finally said, "I have no such belief, so please forgive my lack of care for their discussion." Her look of distaste went unrecognized as he pulled together his thoughts. "It's curious, really, Lady Granger, that you appear so suddenly, with such a convenient story. Such a lovely witch, with Dumbledore as your Uncle; of course no one would question a thing.
"But, you didn't budget for myself. I see right through you, and I want you to know that. I will discover your secret, and reveal it. Believe you me, Lady Granger."
The witch didn't linger on how he may have tied all the strings together before Tom, and instead focused on reacting. There would be time later to analyze the situation. "Itsreally amazing how dimwitted you could be, Monsieur. Per'aps you are unaware, but there is a war going on, on the continent. My own country was not safe, and I did what I had to do to get out. You will not make me feel bad for befriending someone I can relate to."
The pair stopped ahead of the small alcove before Dumbledore's chambers, Hermione standing with her back to the entrance to finish their conversation before entering. He rolled his eyes, and acknowledged nothing of what she'd said. "You prance around with that little emblem and all your grace, sitting in on meetings before running off to your Uncle to out us. I know, Lady, as I am not blind to your charms."
Hermione frowned. "Do you hear what I say? Monsieur Riddle est mon amie. He means too much to me to do what you're accusing me of." She stamped her foot, and wanted to shake herself after doing it. The sinking feeling that she was saying too much was slipping into her mind.
He shook his head in disbelief, eyes narrowing and lips pursing. "You're nothing but smoke and mirrors, and I will gladly show our Lord the light.
"You may have some of his most trusted Knights eating out of your hands, but I am not one of them, Lady Granger."
"Then I am happy your thoughts lie only with the your Lord," Hermione told him evenly, watching the wizard carefully to make him see that he most definitely not focused on his Lord. "I'll be sure to mention your dedication."
He scowled. "Let's keep this between us, Granger. You really don't need your boyfriend fighting all your battles, do you?"
Hermione gave a smirk worthy of the man of the hour and turned to start up the few steps to Dumbledore's door. Her time with Burke had gone from uncomfortable to quite informative, and for as unsettled as she was about his keeping tabs on her, she was glad to know what he was up to. He was a talker, much like the Dark Lord of the future, and Hermione found herself thankful.
"Don't put all of your eggs in one basket, Monsieur," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.
Dumbledore was waiting for her at the top, frowning curiously. "What was that, dear?"
"Nothing," she replied while slipping into the room.
"If he's discovered you, Hermione, we can't sit idle," he warned after shutting the door.
"Don't worry, Professor. I believe we're dealing with Burke's fragile ego more so than me being discovered too greatly. If push comes to shove, we'll forge some documents." She looked around to find a tea service set up on his desk before turning to smile at the older wizard. "Let's get to it, then."
.
"Two months," Dumbledore sat on the edge of his desk, hands laced in his lap as he studied the witch before him. They'd discussed her progress and success with her role, and completed two extra services of tea. The witch had hoped there would be little more to discuss, but it was clear that he wasn't near to being done.
However, she wasn't disappointed. She was grateful that she'd dragged herself from the dungeons to meet with him; somehow, the air closer to Gryffindor Tower was cleaner, and it helped to clear her mind of the fog she'd filled it with by falling into a comfortable routine with her Slytherin family. Being recognized by the professor, who obviously saw how deep she'd been drawn into Riddle, forced her to remember who she was.
Hermione gave a small, nervous smile and watched him through her lashes. "Two months," she repeated, and twirled the snake ring Orion had talked her into wearing again. Having realized it wasn't the magic within it that caused her to feel the sinking, suffocating feeling, she was more open to sensations it caused. Now, it was comforting and reassuring –especially in the presence of the wizard that charmed it. "Feels much longer," she admitted. The actual amount of time she was spending in the forties had never been discussed, and it wasn't something she actively thought about. Despite everything, she was just completing her seventh year.
He looked at her quizzically, "Usually enjoyment causes time to pass more quickly."
She frowned, "Enjoyment is subjective." As Dumbledore considered her statement, she found herself doing the same.
It was a strange realization, but Hermione Granger felt so far away from the girl she was now that it was weird to even consider them together. Feelings and beliefs that plagued the witch of the 90s meant nearly nothing to her now. She felt numb to what it meant, but understood that the closer she got to Tom, the farther away she'd feel from who she truly was. Whoever that was, these days. Every day furthered her connection to Mimi Granger, nee Montague. Nearly every moment of her time was spent with Tom and his Knights or with the Lady Slytherin, forcing her to solidify herself al little more.
From sitting before his Knights every week to baring witness to their solitary punishments, she felt her resolve weakening and slipping away. Wednesday evenings had turned into Ladies Night in Slytherin House, and Hermione played her part as she hosted the cheerleaders of the Dark wizard's cause. As much as she didn't enjoy gossiping and carrying on like a brainless house-witch, she quite liked what Tom was doing when he decided she should have them in the sitting room weekly. He'd even gone so far as to think up a room specifically for them (which Hermione had felt comfortable enough to tease him about, though it earned a few hours of silent treatment).
For as power-hungry and maddened he became in her time, he was proving himself to be incredibly deserving of the title that declared him one of the greatest, most intelligent wizards of his time. Every moment she spent in his presence furthered this belief, from learning his more radical ideas behind magical theories to seeing how efficiently he worked on his personal and academic tasks. Even the way he carried himself and their 'relationship' privately and publicly was near genius.
What was surprising was that he obviously didn't hate Muggleborns at this point in his life; he simply didn't understand why they didn't make the effort to thrive in the world they were entering, rather then just exist in it. She understood this, and wondered when his views had become too twisted and dark. It was frightening to see how similar they were, and how easy it was to agree with and like him.
She felt as though she were standing near the edge of a building, staring down at the life she were creating for herself here, where she understood and related to the Dark Lord, rather than remembering all the shit he was causing in her proper time. It was still clear in her mind that Voldemort was a bad guy who deserved something even worse then a painful death, but he wasn't that man yet. Right now, he was Tom Riddle, maybe a budding politician or educator, but definitely not a psychopath, and it was lovely to watch and grow with him. It was dangerous and upsetting, but she'd done exactly what she'd hoped she wouldn't, and found it too difficult to return to the task-oriented girl she was upon arrival. Now, she wasn't worried about pulling Abraxas in too deeply to Mimi Montague's charms, or concerned about how bad her future could be if she got too close the future Dark Lord. Right now, she was learning more than she ever thought she would, and found that Mimi quite enjoyed the popularity that came with being a Slytherin attached to the Head Boy. The old Hermione would have scoffed at the notion.
For these reasons, the moment of clarity she got with her earlier statement frightened her. Before Dumbledore, everything made sense: her task was clear and achievable, and she was able to differentiate between the person she was and had to be. With Tom, the lines blurred and everything became a quite confusion that spurred her to thrive in her environment. Not sure whether it was a good thing, she voiced her worries to the professor, who nodded his understanding.
"We should consider this a defense mechanism. Your mind and heart are protecting themselves, and allowing you to complete your task as thoroughly as possible. Allow me to worry about to results of these actions for you," he got up and walked around his desk. "I still want you focused on learning about and influencing Tom completely."
"Yes, sir," she told him, and let that line of conversation die out. "Tom's not all that bad."
Dumbledore looked blankly at her, "He's killed at least two people, Hermione."
She blushed, "Yes, well. That obviously leaves plenty to be desired of him, but beyond that. He had great potential. It's sad to know it goes to waste. It makes me wonder what it would have taken for him to be normal."
"I believe it beyond our capabilities."
She tilted her head at the thought. "So, you believe some people are inherently evil?"
"I believe some to be more susceptible to it. He wasn't born shouting Unforgivables, my dear, but he was born mad, and with quite a bit of magic. Being in a Muggle orphanage for the first part of his life didn't help to nurture anything that would have molded his life into righteousness. They avoided and belittled what they didn't understand, which only fed his hate. That sort of passion towards something is no good when the darkness is lurking.
"That being said, if his mother had lived, well she wasn't exactly sane, Hermione. He may have been less dangerous than he will become, but the potential to get taken by the darkness would still be there. Maybe closer even, if he grew up in the Gaunt House. It's unfortunate to lose a great wizard to the Dark Arts; it hurts those close to them more truly and painfully than anyone else could imagine. I know. That's why I'm here for you."
Hermione swallowed down the hollowness in her throat after a few tries. The way he spoke about the Dark Arts as though it was a virus one could catch was frightening. More bothersome was that she hadn't considered Dumbledore's support of Grindelwald similar to her current relationship. She and Tom didn't grow up together; they weren't planning the end of a race in the sitting room; she had nothing to do with his goals and aspirations, not really. But, the older wizard found a connection in them that she would never be able to forget. She had grown to care for the budding Dark Lord, quite a bit, even. It wasn't clear what exactly the emotions growing in her meant, but it caused her to invest part of herself in him. For as hard as he'd have it when she finally left, she'd return to her proper time feeling as though she'd left something behind.
It was more than she'd considered before, and it was the last thing she wanted on her mind. Lacing her hands in her lap, she sealed that part of herself off. "Have you made any progress on what it's going to take to send me home?"
"No," he said quickly, and Hermione straightened in her seat. At her curious stare, he sighed. "Has Tom mentioned anything to you about Grindelwald?"
She nodded, "He's in Ireland."
The professor stroked his beard. "Yes," he spoke measuredly. "I've been tracking him relatively closely. I believe he's looking for you."
Unsure that she'd heard him correctly, the witch blinked a few times. "Pardon?"
"One of the Montague's was actually my godchild, Hermione, the eldest of the twins. It was decided before news got out about what sort of power lied within the family…when Gellert and I were attempting to get back on speaking terms. I mentioned it in passing, as it was good news for myself. You know, tea talk. I never planned on having children, you see, so it was quite the honor to have a godchild. The point is, my dear-"
"He knows," Hermione whispered with wide eyes. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to need- the witch took a sharp breath in.
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You are protected here, Hermione. Not only by myself, but your wizards in Slytherin as well. You've done well with your power and beauty. Too many are interested in your hand to allow any danger to come to you."
She frowned disgustedly, and he did too. "I suppose it was too soon after informing you of the danger you were into mention that you've had many a proposal."
"Maybe a little."
"Please excuse an old wizard's thoughtless information then, my dear. Just know that you are well protected within the grounds of Hogwarts. Gellert didn't attend this school, and has never visited. He has no way of accessing it."
Hermione nodded, "Perhaps we could continue this conversation at a later date?"
"We could meet every Tuesday afternoon. You could leave your art course a little early and we could have tea before dinner."
His excitement at the thought caused her to nod in agreement. It'd be helpful for her to have time to clear her mind once a week. "I'll be here."
He clapped his hands and stood. "Very well, Hermione. I've been hoping for this since we dined together before term." As he moved before her, he smiled sadly down at the witch, "I want to apologize for my actions as of late. I didn't mean for it to seem as though I was shunning you. I'm nervous for you, and I'd hate to not be a rock in your presence."
She gave him a soft smile, and stood up as well. "I was afraid you thought I was a lost cause already."
"Never, my dear. Know that you will always have my trust, love, and support. Even when we have to do what is necessary." He watched her imploringly and she nodded understandingly. "I suppose you should be on your way back now, before your boyfriend sends out his hounds." Dumbledore patted his pockets in search of something.
"Knights," she told him as they walked to the door. "He calls them his Knights."
"Befitting," Dumbledore mumbled. "Do they harass you often?"
"No. Most adore me."
He looked proud, which caused her to blush. "Well, why wouldn't they?"
"I could give you a few reasons," she told him sadly, reality sinking back in.
He sighed, "Don't worry too greatly over Grindelwald, dear. Everything will work itself out."
Hermione took the handful of offered lemon drops and left.
.
.
.
Tom didn't look up as the witch entered her room, opting to keep his eyes on the text he was reading. Since noticing the increased amount of books on her shelves about Black Magic, he'd been reading through them as quickly as she, hoping to learn something more. However, the tomes were nearly thousands of pages of the same information, with little add-ons here and there made by those who'd practiced the Art. However, nothing had ever been published publicly by practitioners, which left the wizard incredibly upset and half ready to simply force his witch to attempt it. She was lucky the risks greatly outweighed his curiosity -for now.
"You've been to see your Uncle," he stated as she leaned on the desk, the citrus scent of candy filling his nose. She was quiet for long enough to get his interest, but he get kept his eyes glued to the text, scanning the words for something new, knowing she'd tell him sooner or later. It was likely some threat to stop seeing him, which he cared very little about. Granger was too closely tied to him to leave now, he'd seen to it.
"And I ran into Burke; he walked me there."
"Should I have another chat with him?"
"Oh, I don't know, Riddle," she replied distantly, lacing her arms over her chest. "'e is a bit fresh. It is not appropriate, you know?" She continued thoughtlessly, which caught his attention. "Perhaps around those he's sleeping with, but not me."
"I'll mention it to him, Miss Granger." He told her measuredly, not bothering to look up at her. He was no longer comprehending what he was reading, though; instead, he found himself trying to work out what was bothering her.
"He doesn't like me."
It was a loaded statement, with backstory brimming to the top. He waited patiently, but it never came. "He knows better than to disrespect you."
"At least he has the utmost respect for you, my Lord."
He looked up at her words, but not at the witch. Instead he stared at the wall, analyzing the smile that was heard in her voice and considering how it made him feel. It was so different from the tone of everything else she'd said since entering the room, so far away from anything he'd expected, that he fought to resist smirking, as well as asking her to say it again.
Inhaling deeply, he refocused on his book, hyperaware of the girl beside him. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and fiddled with the tip, nerves seeming to take back over. Silence fell between them and the wizard decided not to linger on her. There were more important things to consider, like where they'd have to look to find more informative books on Black Magic. As of right now, there was nothing of importance in the Black or Malfoy libraries, and although Burke and Avery were also searching theirs, he was sure that they'd come up short.
"Grindelwald is looking for me."
He tilted his head, "We know it's a possibility, Miss Granger. One you shouldn't worry yourself about."
"Please look at me, Monsieur."
The tone of her voice, the fear in it, was another drastic change he hadn't expected, and it forced his eyes upon her. He stood up quickly, moving in front of her before allowing his hand to cradle her jaw, fingers lacing through the loosely braided hair at her nape. "What is it? Do you need more promises, my dear?"
She tilted her head to peer into his eyes. "He knows, Tom. Grindelwald knows that a Montague is Dumbledore's godchild. He's in Ireland for me."
His name felt like spikes against his skin, and he reveled in the sound he so seldom got hear from her. She trembled badly under his hand, causing him to draw circles on her jaw with his thumb. Slowly, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his chest. He didn't tense at the action, but her seeking comfort from him was new, and he wasn't sure about how he should treat it. Sympathy wasn't something he understood, nor strived to. But, sometimes allowances needed to be made.
He didn't change the way he held her to increase her comfort. But, he didn't push her away either.
Her fear felt sweet, and it wasn't something he wanted to end. However, fear in another Dark wizard wasn't something he wanted her to have. He frowned slightly, realizing that he didn't want her fearful of him either.
Well, he thought to himself, but there was nothing further to acknowledge.
Her shaking increased and his frown deepened as he pulled away to study the witch. Thankfully, she wasn't crying, just shaken.
"All those Prophet articles and photos. Slughorn and 'is big mouth. I would have come here for nothing. To die! I don't want to die, Riddle. Not here, not now." She looked close to hysterics by the end.
Without considering it further, he pulled her against his chest, and let his fingers to slide further into her hair as his free hand moved to rest on her waist. "Put your trust in me, Mimi," he told her quietly, thumb drawing circles behind her ear. "Nothing will happen to you. I won't allow it."
With her head buried in his chest, she didn't notice Burke standing in doorway, but Tom did. He inclined his head in recognition of his follower, curious as to how he'd gotten through the wards that should have closed behind Granger. Fortunately, he hadn't been too intimate with her, but they'd mentioned her status as a Montague clearly enough that he would have been able to hear it, if he'd been there long enough.
Without any further adieu, the Knight nodded at his Lord and disappeared. The Burke's had always been a shady, slimy lot, but Tom began to understand his witch's feelings of distrust toward the other wizard. His invasion of their privacy wasn't proper and couldn't be allowed. Pursing his lips, he decided that his previous warning really hadn't done a thing to clarify that anything to do with Granger was none of their concern. The more prestigious of his Knights seemed eager to question her, be it friendly and callous. She'd have no reason to rely on him, or believe in his power, if those he was supposed to trust didn't even listen to him.
Ill behavior and casual disregard for rules wouldn't be allowed. Not even from his preferred followers. He'd have to call a small meeting after she went to sleep.
.
.
"Shut your mouth, Burke," Abraxas spoke from his seat at the other end of the table, his eyes turning to slits as eyed his fellow Knight.
Opposite him, Tom sighed inwardly, relaxing into his seat and pressing his index finger into his temple as his thumb rested on his jaw. After treating his follows like children, allowing them the speak in turn about their worries about and feelings towards Mimi Granger, he'd explained to his supposed best Knights –for a second time- that she wasn't, and would never be, one of them. She was simply a powerful witch that he chose to align himself with, which is why he'd expected nothing but respect given to her.
Out of the eight boys seated, the majority seemed to be at ease with, or even more so now, the situation, but Burke's continued worry forced them to remain early into the morning. The Lord was aware that some of his lesser Knights also had mild reservations, but he believed them mostly out of fear of being under her wand, like Avery had been all those weeks ago. It may have been Perseus' problem as well, but it was such a petty thing to be worried about that Tom truly hoped there was more to it. Besides, he wasn't interested in having her teach any of his men any more lessons- he much preferred her to watch, instead.
Realizing the pair was in the middle of a heated argument, Tom looked around to see that everyone was relatively zoned out. "Burke," he spoke evenly, gathering everyone's attention quickly. "What are your true worries?"
The young wizard turned his eyes to him angrily, "That you are blinded by the charms of a girl, my Lord. You haven't been yourself since the start of term."
"I've never felt more like the wizard I plan to be in my life, Knight," he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "However, I must be doing something incorrectly if you believe me to be so weak minded that I would allow a little slip of a girl to blind me." Tom spoke as though he was joking, but with his eyes locked with his follower's, it was clear he was beyond upset. "Please, how might I return to the person I was last year? Advise me."
"My Lord," Burke looked down at the table, his face flushing, but the man at the head of the table knew better than to believe his false embarrassment.
"Oh, no, Perseus. Please don't hold back. Let myself and your brethren become aware for your worries. Let us try to alleviate them."
He either didn't catch the sarcasm, or didn't care, which would have amused Tom if he weren't so livid. Every moment drew him closer to understanding why Granger disliked him so greatly. He didn't want to raise his wand to someone who'd been the very first to recognize his power, but great wizards did a lot of things they didn't necessarily want to do.
"I am only worried of her involvement. She showed up so conveniently, placed under your hall, no past to speak of. On top of it, related to a Dumbledore. We get here, and she's already got you wrapped around your finger. She's brainwashed Malfoy into believing they're related. What am I supposed to think? Only that the person who is supposed to be an example to not only his Knights and Slytherin House, but the school as well, isn't thinking at all. At least not with his brain."
"Pray tell, what am I thinking with?"
"Your cock! Like a filthy Mudblood!" Perseus shot up from the table, fist slamming against the wood as he stared at his Lord. It was only then that he seemed realize just how much he'd said, and that Tom wasn't happy at all. The rest of table sat in shocked silence, Abraxas brewing in his seat.
Without even lifting his wand, the Dark wizard had his follower writhing on the ground; his cries hushed and jaw clamped. He stood slowly, looking over the rest of the young men without lifting the spell. "I will always allow you all to speak your minds, as your thoughts are quite dear to me. I care quite a bit how and what you are feeling. However, disrespect will not be tolerated. Lack of attention to orders will not be tolerated. And acting as though you are anything less than a fine gentleman of Slytherin House will leave you privy to a fate similar to Burke's.
"You will heed my words and will. You will not disobey me. And you damn sure will not treat Lady Granger with anything less than the same respect you'd show me. She is purer and more valuable than anyone in this school, and will be honored with great care." He paused to let the information sink in, "Do I make myself clear?"
A chorus of 'yes, my Lord' rang sweetly in his ears.
"I couldn't hear you, Burke."
"Yes, my Lord," he rasped out from under the spell. Tom smirked at the pain he was in, a feeling a satisfaction slipping into this bones. "I trust you will make my desires clear to anyone that isn't present."
Again, they agreed, and it was like a balm. Idly, he felt the wards around his hall change, and assumed it was the cat. As he settled back into his seat, he released the spell temporarily. "And if you believe me weak because of who I choose to align myself with, or because I choose to align myself with anyone at all, please recall the first meeting of this term. I believe Lady Granger showed everyone that she was quite capable of holding her own with any of you. If you have any doubts, ask Avery how long he was…influenced by her lesson." Tom smirked, "If they continue after that, I can help to ease you of your uncertainty."
He observed them briefly, giving Burke a few more shocks of his fever spell. "I enjoy her company," he admitted by way of being relatable. "But I would be just as strong as I am now if she'd never made it to Scotland. I am still your Lord, here to guide you to greatness. That will never change, I assure you. You're dismissed."
They filed out quickly, Avery being the one to help Perseus from the room, likely going straight to their dorm rooms to collapse into sleep. He relaxed into his seat, allowing Abraxas to set a glass of Fire Whiskey down before him as the table shrunk to accommodate he and the Black's easily. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the Malfoy sighed loudly.
"Fucking Burke. What does he think he's doing?"
"His worries are valid, Abe. Miss Granger's appearance was sudden and unexpected. Perhaps I thought to highly of my Knights to open their arms to her as you did," Tom closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair.
Cygnus laughed coldly, "Burke and his lackeys are the only few who object her, my Lord. They've never been the brightest of the lot." Silence fell around them as they drank.
"You like her," Orion finally accused, his eyes wide as he watched his Lord. Cygnus frowned confusedly at his cousin, as though he didn't understand the point of the statement, before looking to his Lord.
"Don't you?" Abraxas asked with a look of confused disgust on his face. Tom was proud at his Knights for their honesty, eyeing Malfoy and the younger Black with a smirk before looking curiously at the elder one.
"Of course I do; she's a lovely witch. I am only shocked at your continued interest, my Lord." Orion told him, bowing his head slightly to show his respects.
Tom found himself preening at the action, and nodded to the boy as he lifted his head back up. "Would you let go of something so precious?"
"Never," he replied quickly, and the Dark wizard made a gesture that ended the conversation.
"Go to bed, gentlemen, and continue to be examples of how one should carry themselves. It seems a few of your brethren need continued help."
They listened, Abraxas being the only one to linger briefly. Tom stood and walked with him to the door, allowing the room to morph into its standard sitting room. "May I ask what occurred?"
"She doesn't feel comfortable around Perseus, of course. His disrespect toward her is inexcusable, really. But how can I favor her over my Knights?"
"You just did, my Lord."
The words caused everything within his to come to a standstill, an eerie silence stretching him from head to toe. The blond was right, and it was difficult to digest. When had she come to actually mean something to him? He blinked slowly to clear his mind, eyes reconnecting with his Knight's.
"There is nothing wrong with it, Tom," Abraxas whispered familiarly. "I told you, she's worth it. Mimi is worth everything."
He inclined his head. "I wouldn't say that."
"Sure. Goodnight, my Lord," he slipped from the room without further thought, and the curly haired wizard stepped into the hall as well, climbing the couple steps to find both his witch and cat in the hall.
He frowned, "Why are you awake?"
"I realized something," Granger whispered, cuddling Mashki closer to her chest for comfort that the animal gave readily.
"I did, too."
She leaned against the wall, peering curiously at him. You just did, my Lord. You just did. Youjustdid.
"Go to bed, Miss Granger."
"Mimi," she moved to straighten herself out. "Please just call me Mimi, Monsieur."
Tom gave sharp nod, pushing the door to his room open. "I'll consider it."
"Would you consider sitting with me for a little while?"
He simply stared at her, allowing a longer silence than comfortable before finally pulling his door closed and moving down the hall. As she lay down, he sat himself on the opposite side of the bed, kicking his shoes off before folding his long legs carefully. Despite having defended her before his Knights, an upsetting worry crept into his mind. He'd have to search her rooms more thoroughly, question her more carefully. He didn't doubt her, per se; he just didn't have any room to leave anything to chance, in case she was the one in the wrong.
Her fingers brushed his knee in thanks as the cat curled into his warmth. By daylight, he'd know exactly where he stood with the witch. For now, he'd sit quietly until she fell back asleep; perhaps consider what the truth about the situation could be.
Instead, he felt her touch against his clothed skin for hours.
A/N - As always, thank you to all of my lovely reviewers/favoriters/followers. It means so much to see all of you.
To Atleantean Diva (and anyone else how may have felt the same), I'm sorry it got confusing for you! I've gone back and attempted to clear things up, but I'm not sure it helped any. From how on, I'll try to make any transitions very clear.