Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, just a fan (unfortunately).
*This is a long one
Thirteen
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione looked up to find Minerva McGonagall staring at her curiously, if a little hesitantly. It wasn't a secret that the Head Girl cared very little for her, and the Slytherin witch found odd that she was even bothering to speak with her.
"Yes?" She asked, wiping at her face. It'd dried from the harsh air beating through the bridge, and felt tough against her fingers. Even though she'd bottled up enough during her time here, she was happy she hadn't been caught crying. In all honesty, it was stupid and ridiculous, anyway. Crying about her situation wasn't helpful or productive, and witches from her House weren't so easily emotional, anyway. If she'd been caught crying, oh goodness.
"Are you, um, alright?"
She allowed her look to turn cold, "Of course I'm alright, little Gryffindor. Why would I not be?"
"You're sitting on the cold ground in the middle of the night. Now, you can either tell me what your problem is, or I can dock points and give you a week's worth of detention," McGonagall replied primly, reminding her very slightly of the woman in the future. Her nose was slightly turned upward, lips tense and eyes completely serious. The familiarity was oddly reassuring, in a way that Tom could never be, and it pleased her enough to lighten up and smile shyly. If she could still find comfort in things she was accustomed to in her proper time, then all hope wasn't lost for her.
"I was going to visit my Oncle, and I just…decided to sober up."
For what it was worth, the Gryffindor looked completely scandalized, "You're drunk, Miss Granger? Twenty-five poi-"
"No! Please, Mademoiselle, do you really think a lady of my stature would allow 'erself to be seen so indisposed?" Hermione pushed herself up and smoothed her hands over her Alpaca cloak, watching as the other witch eyed it strangely. It wasn't a popular blend in the Wizarding world, but it was warm as hell, and she couldn't bring herself to wear the fur-lined ones she'd been sent away with.
"I simply meant zat was feeling a little down, and didn't want to alarm him anymore than showing up at nearly midnight would. I believe his rooms are on the way to your tower? We could go together, if you'd like."
It was clear that McGonagall didn't believe her even a little bit, but she turned and motioned for Hermione to come with her. "Well, it is my duty as Head Girl to ensure the safety and well being of my fellow students, so I couldn't leave you out here, anyway," she said by way of excuse.
Hermione sighed, and wondered lightly if that was what she sounded like when she'd gotten her Prefects badge…or just in general. Deciding she didn't want to talk the walk in silence, she folded her arms over her chest, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her cloak, and peaked curiously at her one day Head of House. "I 'ear that you are very excited about the Ball this week."
"I'm sure those aren't the words you're intended used, but yes. I am quite pleased with how it turned out. He has quiet the eye for detail."
My intended? Hermione resisted choking. Being called his equal by Abraxas and hearing that other's thought they were betrothed was too much to take in one day…or ever, for that matter. For as much as she liked and was enchanted by the dark wizard, she wouldn't be anywhere close to marrying him, let alone becoming engaged. She'd be gone long before than, anyway.
"Yes, he does. Though, I can't say 'e's very good at furniture transfiguration. Hopefully, you didn't leave him in charge of anything like that."
McGonagall gave an incredibly tight smile, as though she didn't want to find anything Hermione said humorous, but couldn't help it. Admittedly, it felt nice to be able to see her falter from the shell she kept herself in, and the Slytherin witch decided to try just a little harder to at least be on speaking terms with her.
"Of course not. Even if he was capable, it's my forte."
Hermione giggled, drawing an interested look from the Head Girl as they finally reached the warmth of the castle. "I can tell you he wouldn't be very pleased if he heard this right now."
"I can't imagine he would be."
Sensing that she was about to close the line of communication, likely from becoming too friendly with a Slytherin, she switched gears. "And it's a masquerade, non? I am so very happy to attend one. At Beauxbatons, we usually have one for New Year's Eve."
"I didn't realize you attended Beauxbatons," she said curiously, and Hermione could tell she was fishing for more information.
She frowned. "Well, what did you think? I was home schooled? My family has more means then that, assure you."
"I meant no harm, Miss Granger. We received very little information about you, I simply assumed," her voice died out as they started up a staircase. "Anyway, yes, it's masquerade. I debated giving the Yule Ball that theme, but Riddle thought a themed Yule would be tacky."
"Oh, I don't think so. Perhaps masquerade themed, but something like Winter Wonderland, or –oh my, Miss McGonagall, I would love to help you with ideas. Something like A Christmas Carol or The Nutcracker would be so lovely."
McGonagall looked skeptically at her. "The Nutcracker is a Muggle play, Miss Granger."
"Art appreciation knows no bounds, thank you. Any Pureblood who believes otherwise isn't someone you want to be friends with."
Silence fell between and they drew closer to Dumbledore's rooms. Finally, after Hermione had grown sure that McGonagall would never talk to her again, she said, "I'm sure the Head Boy wouldn't mind throwing away his Yule duties, Miss Granger. I'll inform you when I begin planning."
As they stepped in front of the alcove, Hermione gave her the smile that had worked on her Slytherin, and watched as she seemed to relax a bit. "Oh, merci beaucoup. It will be so lovely to work with someone less obnoxious than those Ravenclaw witches. And you may call me, Mimi. I don't care for formalities too much." Pushing the envelope, Hermione leaned in and gave a very careful kiss to both of the Gryffindor's cheeks.
"Alright," she said stiffly, obviously unsure of a lot of things.
"Thank you for walking me here, as well. Hopefully we can chat again soon."
McGonagall didn't quite smile as she walked away, but Hermione was sure she had just gained a new acquaintance. One separate from anything she had brewing in Slytherin, at that.
"You'll have to add Lion Tamer to the list now, won't you?"
She turned to find Dumbledore standing in the shadows of his steps, and gave him a small smile. "Is it such a bad thing?"
He chose not to answer her, instead saying, "I was wondering when you'd arrive. How are you feeling, truly?"
The witch pushed by him to get inside, attempting to fight the tears from her eyes. Honestly, she felt like everything was unfair and she wanted him to send her home this very moment. But, that wasn't possible or constructive. Instead, she pulled off her cloak and collapsed into his couch, kicking off her shoes before putting her feet up on the soft cushions. "I pulled the short stick, honestly. Focusing on my situation is hard, so I want to know what Draco and Snape are doing. I want to know how Harry and Ron are fairing. I wonder what it would be like if I'd gotten to be Head Girl instead of getting sent here. And then, I just don't know anymore, Dumbledore. I didn't think it would be like this. I'm still not very sure that your future ideas on time travel are accurate, and I'm afraid so much has changed."
"Is it the future you'll return to you're afraid of, or the fact that you've changed?" He sat down across from her, and it was only then that she realized he was in his pajamas. It was sweet, and made his sting a little less potent.
"I know that I'm different. I'm not afraid of myself because I'm doing my job; I'm Mimi. Anyone else would have changed, too. I'm afraid of the future. Not only does Voldemort know me, but he could have changed because of me. I know Tom now, and he is so far away from the man he is in my time that I'm worried I'm screwing everything up."
He considered her. "Have you read my papers on the theories of time travel?"
"I read the overview, I drew my on conclusions on where you pulled your theories. They made sense, but now…it doesn't feel the same."
He nodded. "I told you before that I'll worry for you, my dear. I know it can be tough, constantly having to change gears and think on both the offensive and defensive, but you've proven that you're the best-suited witch for the task. With him, you're everything you need to be. And here, you're everything you should be. It's interesting to watch, but it shows me that you're going to be fine."
"Thanks," she smiled, not quite sure he understand what she was telling him. A tea service appeared, and he prepared for the both of them. "Can the box really only be opened by a Pureblood?"
"I believe so. We should have gotten Septimus to open it while he was here, but alas…I don't think it's wise to. The contents of the box don't matter. It only matters that he was able to send it."
"I suppose," she said, smiling her thanks as he passed her a cup. She sipped it slowly, admiring the taste. For some reason, it always tasted so lovely with him. Everything about being closer to Gryffindor felt lovelier, and she felt it was a sign that Hermione was still under there somewhere.
Still, she was going to get that damn box open. She needed to know what was inside it. Yes, it was important that it'd gotten to her, but Hermione was so sure that there was more to it.
"Sir, is it true that Lord Montague mentored Lord Malfoy?"
Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "It's a special case, my dear. I was sad when I learned he accepted you as a Malfoy; grateful, but sad, and a little nervous. He knew the Montague's children, so I was worried he'd see through you. But, like I told you, you favor the family.
"Anyway, yes, it's true. Septimus even lived with the Montague's as an apprentice for about a year after Hogwarts, while he was courting his wife and what have you. Massimo was an incredible politician and, less known, very talented with the Art of Potions. He used many influences that British wizards continue to frown upon, such as Asian and Native American. He was an amazing man, your father."
"My father was a dentist," Hermione told him, a look of disgust coming over her face. She couldn't help it. If Dumbledore started considering her truly a part of the Montagues, she wouldn't make it past next week without falling pray to everything she was faking.
"Oh, sure, sure," he smiled and sipped his tea. It was the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever done, and Hermione downed her tea in hopes to not call him on it. Obviously, he was up to something, and she'd let it play out accordingly. She was losing sight of the reason she came up, anyway. She'd already decided that she'd ask Abraxas about his father's feelings toward the Montague family, so she moved on to her next line of worry: Tom.
"Sir, forgive me if I'm stepping over boundaries, but I have to admit that I'm shocked at the way you handled everything this morning. Calling Lord Malfoy and myself here, and allowing Tom as well. Shouldn't it have been just you and I?"
"Yes, well, as it is, I've found Septimus to be quite helpful in terms of determining how to best handle your reappearance. He is from a well-to-do Pureblood family; he will know the customs and what's appropriate better than I would. Plus, you've already attached yourself to the Malfoy family, I've simply built off of that relationship. As for Tom, well, it was evident he was going nowhere. You two are attached at the hip."
"That's incredibly untrue," she said quickly, unable to help the flush covering her face.
"You're both very sweet on each other, Hermione, whether you'd like to admit it or not. There is nothing wrong with it, dear; it makes your betrayal all the more sweeter, if you ask me. And, having him focused on your keeps him from killing fellow students or corrupting his housemates."
She didn't bother correct him, or even find value in his words. It wasn't sweeter that she was growing on him, and visa versa. It was dangerous. Really, she couldn't make it any clearer for him. "But, you agreed with him, Professor," she said instead. "You got along and even stood behind him."
"Should I have belittled him instead? Forgive me, but I may have done that the first time around, and it could be the reason you're here now."
"So you believe you're future theories to be wrong?"
He paused. "I really don't know, my child. I can only hope that what I'm doing now is enough. That everything will turn out the way it should in the end."
"We didn't really get anywhere with the plan," she replied, hoping things would start to make sense for her. So far, she was feeling as though she'd been better off out on the bridge.
"I didn't think you were paying too much attention," he smiled. "During the meeting, you know that we decided to push you forward a bit, and give Gellert a reason to be after you. After you all left, Septimus returned, and we decided to go ahead with Tom's plan. We're going to locate one of his more meaningful followers, or a son of one, and you're going to do what you seem to do so well."
"Why don't we do nothing?"
"Pardon?"
Hermione shrugged, "I don't want to make myself available to someone else. I know I'm just a pawn here, but I really don't care to be continuously passed around."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Hermione."
She ignored him, keeping her voice calm and careful. "Stop tampering with the wards, let them go off and attract the attention of the Board, they'll ask questions…and I'm willing to kiss-up to whoever I have to keep the fact that I'm a Montague secret, in exchange for protection.
"Tom pointed out that if they knew, they'd up security. They wouldn't risk losing old blood, Dumbledore. If we play our cards right, it could be someone who is also a part of the Ministry who we tell, which is a risk I'm willing to take if it means I'm safe enough to do what I came to do."
He looked at her for a long time and then nodded, "I'll talk it over with Septimus."
She nodded, swallowing the hollowness in her throat. Instead of asking why he was truly so buddy-buddy with the man, she gave him a small smile and continued on with her plan. She felt it was stronger than the crap they'd thought of, and laughed quietly at seeing the trio of men sitting around discussing her in private. "Just think: ignoring him will piss him off. More so than killing some random boy. He'll get reckless and careless, and you'll be able to kill him."
"I'll be able to kill him?" Dumbledore asked so quietly that Hermione wanted to hit herself for the mistake. It wasn't worth lying about, and she leaned forward to prepare them both fresh cups of tea. Deciding it was best to be gentle, she passed him his cup and a small plate of lemon cookies.
"I think you've known for a long time that you're going to be the one, Albus," she said familiarly, finishing preparing her cup and looking up at him. "One day you'll realize it, that you're more powerful and qualified than anyone else, and I'm going to be very honest in telling you that I'm not envious of you're situation."
They sat in a long silence, drinking tea and considering their situations. She was suddenly grateful for the awkwardness that had initiated her visit, though she couldn't really point out why. The heaviness of both of their situations was intense.
"I wouldn't be able to kill him," Hermione finally admitted, making it the most honest statement since her arrival. She looked at Dumbledore slowly, an emptiness brimming within her. It was the beginning and the end of everything.
.
.
.
Hermione pulled her thin, Beauxbatons cloak over her shoulders just as a knock sounded against her door. Knowing it wasn't Tom, who would just waltz in without any consideration, she peeked out to find Alphard and Abraxas standing on the other side. Instead of greeting them readily, she gave them both a very secret smile, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, it's always so lovely to find such 'andsome wizards on your doorstep."
Alphard had the decency to color at her words, obviously embarrassed, and Hermione resisted the urge to hug him. The rest of Slytherin could learn something from him, if she were being honest. Modesty was a great tool, after all. "Not as lovely as you," he said, lifting her hand to his lips.
"Oh, come off it, Alphie," Abraxas wrapped one arm over the younger wizard's shoulder and rubbed his knuckles into his curls, causing the witch to laugh happily. "He's in love with you, I'm afraid. " the blond explained as he let him go.
Both adjusted their masks and righted their attire, which gave her the opportunity to observe them. The Black was dressed, very subtly, as Zorro, which caused her to like him even more than she had before, and Malfoy wore an all-white suit with a light cloak over his shoulders. His mask seemed to be made of glass, and she couldn't help but stare a little longer at him as Alphard produced something from his robes.
"We brought you something," the brunet explained as he produced a small box. "Riddle mentioned you were wearing white and blue, and we saw this mask in High Diagon and well," he shrugged, and Hermione was again struck by how sweet he was. It almost hurt.
"You're making us sound weak, Alphie," Abraxas shoved him and took the gift away. "We're Knights." He righted himself and squared his shoulders, "Here's to being grateful that you fell into our pit."
"And you're making fun of me?"
She smiled her thanks before they could start bantering, clutching the flat box to her chest as she hugged each of them. "Oh, merci, mes amis." It was a sweet thought, and although strange to be coming from the both of them, she was rather grateful. She wasn't sure where Draco had gotten the masks he'd given her, and at the risk of being seen in something the Malfoy's currently own, it was smart to wear whatever she'd been given. "This is so sweet, I cannot believe you all are so kind to me," she continued to smile as she moved over to her desk and pulled the ribbon carefully. Opening the box, she discovered an incredibly beautiful mask. It was almost too amazing to lift to her face, and she stared at it with her hand over her chest for longer than she should have.
"It's a Blue Jay mask," Burke's voice suddenly sounded, absolutely ruining the moment. "You're going to look so beautiful beside our Lord tonight, Lady Granger. Please, allow me to fasten it," he moved into her room before anyone could stop him, and because neither Alphard nor Abraxas knew the true extent of their dislike for each other, neither stopped him.
"I think he's the one who's actually in love with her," Alphard mumbled as he watched the Knight lift the mask and weave it into her hair to hold.
Hermione stood perfectly still, both upset and appreciative that he hadn't used his magic to fasten it, because she didn't exactly appreciate him touching her hair either. As he finished, she turned to study herself in the mirror, shocked by how much the golden beck, which sloped prettily over her nose, caused the brown of her eyes to stand out. The shades of blue around her eyes brought out the coloring of her cloak and the makeup she'd used, and she couldn't help but admit that she did look incredibly lovely –far better than she would have looked if she'd worn the white and silver lace mask she'd planned on.
Burke filled the space behind her with a quiet elegance, a handsome smile on his face as he watched her reflection. He took the time to put on his own mask, which seemed to be made out of metal and covered the majority of his face, slopping from just below his nose to the corners of his jaw at an angle. His blonde hair spilled over the top and around his face, and Hermione found herself frozen in shock. He looked so much like a Death Eater that she was sure this is what started the trend of wearing masks, or at least the design of them.
"We look marvelous, don't we, my sweet?" He asked quietly, a smirk falling over his lips.
She smoothed her hands over her hair, which she'd combed into a large bun for the evening, in attempt to ignore him. Fortunately, Tom stepped into the room and frowned at his follower until he moved away from her. Producing a bottle of Fire Whiskey from his suit pocket, Hermione watched as he conjured five shot glasses and poured them each a glass. Deciding it'd be more appropriate if she sat down, she moved to the bench at the foot of her bad and laced her ankles, smiling in thanks as he passed her one.
"To a fun night," the Head Boy announced night, and they all repeated the chant –the witch opting to say it in French- before downing the liquid. "One more," he spoke relatively cheerfully, topping his Knights off before moving over to her.
The way he stood blocked them from view, and she smiled seductively at him from behind her mask, her position allowing her to see his confident smirk from under the muzzle of his as he filled hers to the brim. She held it away from her, worried about spilling it on the satin of her gown.
"To you, my dear," he said as he boys laughed happily and clinked their glasses behind him. The pair kept their eyes locked as they knocked back the second drinks, and she felt far surer of herself than usual. Her smile grew, and his eyes seemed to brighten as it did. "I'll see you boys in the Great Hall," he said, without room for question, and the sound of the door clicking shut filled the air. Tom vanished the glass, and bowed grandly before kissing her hand.
"I didn't think you could be more beautiful," he said lowly, pulling her up, and Hermione felt her insides fall apart. It was the most tender thing he'd ever said to her.
Very forcefully, it hit her that things were going in the wrong direction, even if she was sure they were both faking it, and that she needed to pull away now. But, it felt so nice to know this secret part of him. So nice that just by thinking about it drew a blush to her face.
"You look quite nice as well, Monsieur," she told him, lifting her free hand to touch his curls. The witch watched as he blinked slowly at the action, which was one she'd never made, before lifting a hand to grasp her own as she studied his mask. It was made from deep, black wood, with well-defined ears and the upper part of a muzzle, complete with real teeth. With gold lined eyes and ears, the intricacy and quality made it as stunning as it was scary, especially when he pulled her back toward the mirror and spun her around to face it again. It was as though he'd truly shed his scales for the evening.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, inhaling the scent of her skin before pulling away slightly to comfortably rest his jaw on the curve of her neck. The action hid his mouth from view, highlighting just how dark his eyes were as they watched each other. She left herself relax in his hold, and reveled in how easy it was. "We should just be Tom and Mimi, don't you think?" He asked, lips brushing her skin. She felt his smirk as she nodded, and he continued as if being this close was actually normal for them. It'd grown increasingly so during the last week, but not to the point where either should be incredibly comfortable–though, she rarely saw him uncomfortable with anything he decided to do.
"You smell like lavender," he commented, and she watched as he closed his eyes.
"I was feeling nervous," she admitted.
He hummed in response. "No reason to be. You're the most important witch in the castle." His words were casual and warm against her skin, but she knew he understood. It was everything, still pressing upon her like stones, and for as much as Dumbledore attempted and Abraxas tried, it was only Tom that seemed to understand.
Before she could reply, he whispered, "It's my favorite scent."
His eyes were still closed, face covered beyond recognition, but she didn't need any of that to get it. He was opening up, trusting her, and it didn't matter whether it was done consciously or not. Once was all it took to start something. The success was less satisfying than it would have been a month ago, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it in other ways. Her heart pounded dangerously in her chest as she let her fingers lace with his on her hip.
"The Knights will want to dance with you. If it's all right with you, it's all right with me. It'll give me the chance to mingle with the Professors and students. I won't be too far away."
"I can play nice," she told him, and felt another smirk against her skin.
"We should get going, my dear." He opened his eyes and left a kiss against the curve of her jaw before pulling away. Back in his sights, she felt like prey, and realized that he got his wish of them matching. It was subtle, but at the end of the day he was a wolf and she was bird, and it spoke volumes about their true relationship.
"If you insist," she told him, accepting his offered arm on the way out of the room. "Is your suit blue?"
"Would you decide to go with Burke if I said yes?" He asked, looking very amused and humored by himself.
She resisted laughing at his light-hearted behavior, curious as to how long it would last. "No. I was just wondering."
"It's called midnight, ma cherie, and I would think a French lady would know about current fashions," he said seriously, looking at her as though it were genuinely something she should be aware of. Unable to resist, she began to laugh, and did so all the way to the Great Hall.
A very shocked McGonagall stood on outside to doors, glancing between the laughing witch and her obviously amused wizard with confusion and awe. Beside her stood Camdus Potter, who looked greatly like his grandson, but also a lot like the Malfoys: incredibly entitled. It forced Hermione to remember that the Potter's had once been a pureblood family, and an important one at that. He gave her a suggestive smile that caused her to frown, drawing closer to Tom, before smiling beautifully at the other witch.
"Bonsoir, Minerva!" She spoke happily, feeling Tom tense slightly as she leaned in to kiss at the Gryffindor's checks.
"Hello, Mimi. You look lovely."
Under her mask, the Slytherin witch blushed at McGonagall's appraisal. It was a step above the look she'd given her while observing her cloak from a few nights ago, and it felt like a victory. More so, feeling and seeing the shock of both of their wizards was incredibly satisfying. It made her want to very childishly shout 'girl's rule and boys drool,' as she hadn't seen too many Slytherin and Gryffindor witches publicly acknowledge each other so familiarly. As far as she was concerned, it should have signified the dawn of a new era.
"Oh, merci, my dear! You're looking so beautiful, as well. Way to give a good smashing to 'ouse rivalry," she pounded her fist to her palm for emphasis. "Green is truly your color," she finished honestly. It was the truth, and McGonagall did look beautiful in her sweetheart gown, all forest green and creamy white. Her mask looked like poison ivy, and Potter's looked as though he were a vulture, dressed in all black as he fitted his extravagant mask into his face. Hermione was a bit upset she and Tom hadn't thought of such great looks, but swallowed it down. Everyone likely had amazing masks and attire, and it'd be pointless. She'd be the only one with the well-known shade of Beauxbatons blue, and there with Tom, which was satisfying enough.
She was incredibly sure that he wouldn't have had a date at all if she hadn't been there.
"We're late," the Head Boy finally announced, motioning for McGonagall and Potter to lead the walk in. Earlier, he'd explained that while they wouldn't be announced, they were required to arrive together timely.
They stepped arms length away from each other just before he led her in, hand in hand. As they came to a stop, he bowed grandly and lifted just as confidently, stepping closer as he took her hand. The smirk was clear in his eyes as he looked down at her. In the silence, he whispered, "We have to dance now, and the professors will join in to help open the night. Then, we'll greet the Board of Governors personally and sit to eat with some of the Knights."
"What if I can't dance?" She questioned with a small smile.
He looked slightly amused at her horrible attempt to lighten the mood –he was obviously curious as to how she'd grown so chummy with the Head Girl-, and the students clapped just before the music began. It was a slow, haunting melody that she was sure they'd gotten help with. "It's a slow waltz, my dear," he continued.
Fortunately, she'd left the 90s as a professional in any style the Wizarding world could throw at her, and they'd learned a few of the "Classics," in Home Economics.
As he twirled her around the dance floor, Hermione lost sight of anything important. Even her tasks seemed silly and irrelevant in his arms, so close to his body. By the end, her head was pounding from both the turns and the feelings clouding her thoughts, but she greeted the governors as expected, schmoozing Septimus Malfoy and his wife while allowing herself to be incredibly happy that she wasn't required to lift her mask yet. Although her classmates knew who she was, as well as the professors, none of the extra guests had a clue.
As she ate dinner, she thought about the unveiling at the end of the fifth dance, which would signify the end of formalities and allow the students a bit more freedom (though she doubted it meant anything more risqué than the foxtrot). So far, she'd been told that she looked greatly like the Montague's, and although no one who was unaware of her status had yet to figure it out, she couldn't be sure that it would stay that way. If anyone on the Board happened to be a supporter of Grindelwald, they would know, even if they hadn't been informed about what he was in England looking for. They would see her in person and simply know. Suddenly, agreeing to join Tom didn't seem like such a nice idea at all, and there was very little she could do about it.
Wrapping her arm behind his waist, she tucked her hand into his and decided not to worry about it, silently reveling in the fact that he subtly moved closer to her as he gripped her hand in his. It was an odd realization, but her finding solace in him was coming more frequently and easily than she'd ever imagined, and her aversion to it was practically nonexistent.
Deciding not linger on the thought, like she did every time something similar filled her mind, she leaned toward him and pressed her mouth into the back of his shoulder. "I want to dance," she whispered, interrupting his conversation with Burke. The other wizard expressed his displeasure at her cutting in with a sharp look, while her's turned very slightly toward her. Due to her position, she could see him wet his lips and smirk handsomely, which was incredibly endearing. She lifted her free hand and rubbed it along his spine, smiling when he didn't tense or pull away from her attentions, and murmured, "S'il vous plaît?"
The table had discreetly taken two more shots after sitting down, and she would have been lying if she told anyone she wasn't feeling a bit buzzed. The witch's confidence seemed to skyrocket, and she lifted her chin to place a kiss against the back of his neck.
"Someone's feeling fresh," Greengrass commented, earning a disgusted look from Abraxas, and a frown from his Lord.
"That's enough," he said, standing to turning without letting her hand go. Smirking at her again, he pulled her up and lifted a hand to run over her collarbone. "Perhaps you should check on your own witch, or sister, for that matter. I do believe she's beneath the Ravenclaw seeker's table."
Hermione allowed him to pull her away from the table, smiling all the way, and danced respectably with her wizard before Abraxas cut in. Nodding her consent, she blushed under her mask as he pressed a kiss to her hair before moving away. The blond raised his eye brows before bowing, "Something you'd like to share, Little M?"
Deciding she liked the nickname better than any he'd used before, she allowed him to lead around the floor. "Oh, non. You know, it's 'armless."
"It's armless?" He grinned, and she found herself laughing as well. "He seems serious, Mimi," he said stoically. "I trust you; but he's, well, a like a stray spell, you know? I never expected all this."
"I think he just wants you all to know that 'e is serious. Don't worry, Abraxas. I know he sees me as a possession. It's alright, for right now."
"You realize how that sounds?"
"Would it be different with anyone else?" She looked up at him and he sighed. "I really like him, when he isn't been big, bad Riddle."
"When the hell is that?" He asked genuinely. She wondered what he thought Tom was like when it was just the two of them, and decided she'd never imagine that he was the way he was. It was reassuring that he wanted her enough to not wear all of his armor when it came down to it.
"You'd be surprised."
.
.
Tom walked away from Abraxas and Granger cautiously, eyes connecting with Septimus' before nodding toward the Professor's entrance. He was sure that his witch was in good hands, he simply wasn't too happy to be leaving her. It wasn't something he wanted to think too much about, so he didn't. Too much alcohol had already gone to his head, ruining his plan to always be incredibly sober with her.
Propping himself against the wall, he waited for the blond's emergence before sighing dramatically. "Have you heard their new plan?"
"Was it Dumbledore's?" Septimus asked, motioning for the younger wizard to follow him. After cutting a few passages, they ended up on a terrace, and he offered a cigar before lighting one for himself.
The Head Boy tucked his hands into his pockets, "No. She has a point, I just…want her to be safe."
"She's the last Montague, young Riddle, we all want a lot of things for her."
He looked over at the Malfoy, "I know that you don't approve of my starting a relationship with her. Not only is it not proper, but I'm sure there are many Purebloods who are interested in her, without even knowing what we do.
"But I do feel deeply for the witch. She's like fresh air," he said honestly, looking over the edge of the castle at the ocean.
"I only want what's best for her. I don't care about the blood of the wizard that she marries, only his magical ability. You're young, so full of potential, and I know that you are heir to our old House," Septimus grinned. "I do believe you are more than qualified, despite what old Dumbledore thinks."
"Charms and intelligence mean little to him if you're not of his house. Are you all actually friends?"
"I prefer him to Dippet, for what it's worth. But, friends? No. I do believe he wishes I never showed interest in Mimi. But, how could I not?"
Tom hummed in response, waiting for the older wizard to finish his cigar. "I do think Grindelwald will be upset about her ignoring him. It's smart."
"Until she steps out alone."
"She won't. Abraxas barely lets her out of his sight these days. I'm surprised he's not living outside her rooms."
"I hear you keep that hall pretty well protected."
He ran his tongue over his teeth. Septimus was right in saying that. The wards had been tight when he thought he'd be alone on the hall, but upon finding out who his neighbor was, he'd taken a few extra measures, issuing three extra sets to the original. The heaviest two rested at the foot of the steps and a few feet from her door. However, due to the castle's natural charms and protections, he couldn't completely keep students from accessing her, especially if the older wards deemed them nonthreatening. "Not as well as I'd like to," Tom admitted, noticing the puffs of air that made itself visible as he spoke. The realization made him realize that he was cold, and he suddenly regretted letting the older wizard take him out.
Easily, he cast a warming spell. "What do you know about the Burkes?"
"Slimy lot," Septimus shrugged.
"Runs in their veins, I reckon."
"He wants to marry her. His uncle mentioned it the other day. Said that the Monday after term, the boy seemed to be smitten."
Tom frowned, and stored the information away. "I should probably get back to my witch."
"Have a good evening, young Riddle. Finish term strong."
He nodded, "Thank you, Lord Malfoy. I'll talk with you soon."
Slipping back inside, he made his way to the boy's lavatory and locked himself in a stall. It wasn't the most mature thing he'd ever done, but he needed to process the information he'd been given before heading back to the ball. He couldn't say he was shocked to learn of Burke's interest, but he could safely say that he wasn't impressed. The Monday after term meant that Burke had seen the witch sit before him, and torture his brethren because his Lord willed it. Tom understood having a crush on her, it was a natural thing to like the person out of your league, but to go so far as to ask for her hand?
He sighed and kicked at the wall just as the doors opened. The sound of Abbott and Orion joking around could be heard, and he stilled, placing a hand on the lock to announce his presence.
"I can't believe you made such a mess, Abbott. Way to be discrete."
"Just help me get it off, Orion," came testily. After a few minutes of water running and magic permeating the air, Abbott pathetically spoke up, "Granger is looking beautiful tonight, though. Do you think she'd dance with me?"
"I don't know. Ask her, she'll probably pity you enough to say yes."
"I don't see you doing it, O. What happened to sharing is caring, and all that jazz? Your Lord not feeling it anymore?" Abbott asked over the running water.
Tom's eyebrows lifted beneath his mask, shocked at the usually very submissive wizard's choice in words. It was something he'd have to deal with.
Orion laughed harshly, "It seems our Lord is rather fond of this one, he doesn't even care to join me with our ladies, anymore. I'm sure his interest will die down soon enough, specially when he see's what Burke and I have planned for his birthday. Anyway, it's not like he can marry her, no matter how cozy they get. I've already asked my father to secure her hand."
"You think you'll get it over the Malfoy's?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Black asked, obviously secure in his status.
"They both seem pretty fond of her, is all. And Dumbledore likes Septimus a whole lot," the lesser wizard said strangely, almost as though he were fishing.
"I'm sure she knows who she'll go farther with," Orion boasted. "She's very comfortable with myself, she has been since the first day."
"Black, forgive me, but what if our Lord is interested in her hand?"
The silence was heavy as he considered the question. "He wouldn't. Tom isn't interested in things like that. He's just having fun right now."
The water shut off.
"Yeah, but what if he wants her? What would you do then? Would you duel him for her?"
Orion sighed, footsteps echoing off the floor. "There is more to Lady Granger than we're ever going to know, Abbott, not as mere Knights. But, if I were her husband? I'm sure that I would be satisfied with what I learn. I'm sure that she would be worth it."
"Worth what?"
"What do you think, man? Do I need to fucking spell it out?" His voice was farther away now, as though they were near the door.
"Everything, then? Don't you think our Lord feels the same?"
The sound of Orion jacking the other wizard up against the wall could be heard. "Listen, Abbott, I already fucking told you. She's going to be mine; I don't care what I have to do to make that happen. And this doesn't go any further than right here, do you hear me? I will kill you this gets out."
The doors sounded as they shuffled out, and Tom continued to stand in the stall. He wasn't upset, not even furious, about the fact that his Knight was trying to take what was his. Instead, he felt a very strange emptiness all over his body. The Blacks, and even the Malfoys, were both wealthy, more powerful Wizarding families that could offer Granger more then he ever could. He relied heavily on them not only for his own success, but her protection as well. Not to mention, she was rather fond of all of them. If they were to bid for her hand…well, the dark wizard wasn't sure if Dumbledore would stand by his promise to allow his goddaughter to make her own decisions, or force her to marry the family that would offer her the most.
It was disappointing, and he couldn't really think of a way to remedy the situation.
Swallowing a few times, he tugged out the neck of his suit and pulled his mask off. Self-doubt wasn't a normal feeling for him –not that anything past amusement and disappointment was something he experienced regularly-, and he wasn't sure what his next move was. Hearing that Black didn't believe his interest to be genuine or long lasting made Granger free range for anyone who thought himself worthy of her, and there was little more he could do to show that he meant it. He'd already done so much out of character in the hopes of convincing both the witch and his Knights of his transparency and commitment. All that was left…he took a deep breath and put his mask back on before stepping out of the stall and toward the mirrors to readjust himself.
The walk back to the Great Hall left him feeling fuller by the moment. There was nothing wrong with what he was going to do. He'd already decided that after years of believing there was no one for him, she was it. She walked in exactly when he needed someone to elevate himself in a way that he'd never be able to do with mere followers, and he would kill her with his bare hands before he let go. There would never be any action too great or undermining for him to complete. Black had been right in saying that there was more to her, and that she was worth everything.
"May I cut in?" He asked as he reached her on the dance floor, barely looking at the wizard she was dancing with. She smiled prettily, reaching for him instantly, and he found himself topping off. The song was relatively upbeat, but he found rhythm in one instrument and moved them slowly around the dance floor, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"I think I'm a little drunk," she said dreamily, and he chuckled as she buried her head into his chest. "But I'm always 'appy with you, Tom Riddle."
"That's a first for me, I suppose," he told her with a smirk, resting his chin on her head.
"Oh, I'm sure," the smile was clear in her voice, and he looked around to see that people were watching them curiously. The song ended, and he pulled away before bowing grandly. "One more. This is the unveiling song, non?"
"I believe so," Tom said, offering his hand again. The song picked up and they proceeded with an up-tempo Wizarding waltz. Their conversation ceased as they twirled around, students filling the space around them as they prepared for the unveiling, and he was grateful they neither of them were so drunk that they were embarrassing themselves.
As the song ended, he again pulled away and bowed, smirking as she curtsied appropriately. Righting himself, he realized how strange it was that this was the same girl he was shoving into walls and threatening at the start of term. For as many allowances as he'd made to sway her, Granger had made just as many to soften herself and accept both he and his Knights into her life as though she'd ben doing to for years. It was admirable, and he found himself rather proud of the witch in front of him.
Slowly, Tom pulled his mask off, vanishing it to his room in one fluid motion. She lifted her own carefully, conscious of her hair and seemingly the people around them. It was as though she were nervous about someone recognizing her, and he realized that with so many older wizards being a part of the Board, she was risking a lot being face to face with them. However, she didn't shy away from pulling it off, and vanishing it away as well.
She smiled prettily at him, "Surprise," she laughed, and he found himself no longer weary of what he was going to do.
Lifting his hand to her face, he smirked, "Surprise, indeed, little witch," he whispered before leaning in and kissing her.
Swallowing her gasp, he waited a moment before moving against her mouth, his other hand coming to rest on her hip as she melted against him. It was more than inappropriate, but he ran his tongue along her lower lip for entrance and felt everything fall into place as she allowed it. Over the happy chatter and clapping of students celebrating the holiday, a few wolf-whistled sounded from people he knew were his Knights, and she pulled away with a big smile and an appealing blush on her cheeks, which were shimmering with glitter from her mask.
Without really thinking about it, he leaned in and pecked her lips again. It was the easiest thing he'd ever done, and in a very odd moment he wondered why he'd taken so long to do it. However, it passed quickly, and a feeling of satisfaction fell over him. The entire school had been able to glimpse an intimate moment between them, and would no longer question what their relationship was based off of and whether it was real or rumored.
"Un plus," she said, and Tom chuckled as the music began to play. The bands had swapped out, and the music changed from typical ballroom music to more upbeat, fun pieces that allowed the students more freedom, efficiently forcing all the stuffy Board members and professors from the dance floor. The wizard was interested in leaving now too, but decided that one more turn around wouldn't harm his image.
Leaning in one more time, he kissed her mouth quickly and pressed his lips to her forehead. Granger was officially his, and there was very little anyone could do to change that. If she was forced to marry someone else, there would never be a moment that Black or fucking Burke wouldn't be thinking about this, and they would still be within his hold as Knights, which meant that she would still be near enough to remain-
"I don't want to dance anymore," she said, pulling him away from his thoughts. "I'm ready to just go," she was stepping closer to him, eyes focused elsewhere, and he looked around to determine what had fixated her. Hesitantly, her arm wrapped around his lower torso, and he felt her lean into habitually. It was a small victory, showing that she'd begun to look to him for support, but he wasn't able to fully celebrate the moment.
There was an unfamiliar wizard watching them from the Head's table, seemingly speaking with Madam Hausready, whose gaze was also focused between the pair. "Maybe she's unhappy that one of her students is behaving so inappropriately. Really, Miss Granger, publically snogging young men?" He teased, and she smiled very thinly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her out of sight.
It was a slow and fuzzy memory, but he recalled hearing that the Home Economics professor had been born in Germany, with many a brother that had attended Durmstrang. Frustrated with himself for not remembering sooner, Tom took one glance over his shoulder to get a better look at the stranger, and walked his witch out of the Ball. The Head Girl would likely be upset with him for leaving, but there were more important matters, and both Dumbledore and Dippet would understand.
"I know that man," she said lowly, as though she was genuinely shocked to have seen him.
He looked down at her as they walked down the steps, continuing to keep her close to his body. "As a Montague? Or a Granger?"
"Granger," she whispered, and there was an unexplainable terror in her voice. "Sort of. He thought I was dead. What is he doing in England? Oh gods, Monsieur. I need to go," she began to pull away from him, and the wizard felt as though a rope were tightening around his neck at the thought of her seeking refuge with someone else. "Seigneur Malfoy is still here, I can-"
Tom stopped walking and turned to the witch, gripping her shoulders to keep her in place. "What have I been telling you, Mimi?" He asked, searching her eyes slowly. Carefully, he lifted one hand to her face, lacing his fingers through the hair at her nape and caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I understand your need to protect yourself, to not want to die, more than you'd think. I can help you. I even want the same things for you as I want for myself, okay? I just need you to trust that I can do that."
She watched him like she always did: as though she didn't believe him, like she was waiting for him to realize something and change his mind. Only this time, Tom decided to not let it bother him. He'd accepted that despite having a relatively phenomenal support system, she was an orphan that relied heavily on herself as well. The surface most likely hadn't even been scratched in terms of what she was capable of, and he didn't want to risk losing someone so valuable.
As tears swelled in her eyes, he felt a mild satisfaction over her continuing to let him in. Remembering that he'd already decided to do whatever necessary, he thumbed away the few that spilled over and leaned in to kiss her head. As she hugged him, he inhaled sharply, hesitating before wrapping an arm around her shoulders again.
"I don't understand why you're so good to me," she mumbled into his suit, and he sighed inwardly. "I do, but I don't. Zere is nothing in it for you."
"Power," he told her, seeing no reason to lie. She knew more about him than the simple truth of the two of them.
She made a sound somewhere between and sigh and a laugh, squeezing tight before letting go and starting down the steps to the Dungeon. "Money, too," she said lightly, obviously deep in thought.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he wondered if she'd meant to admit access to the Montague vaults. Not that it mattered; he'd come into what was left of the Gaunt fortune when he'd turned 17, and he'd get the Riddle wealth in a few months. Despite having been a ward of the country, he wasn't hurting for very much. Not with two separate residences, and a substantial amount of young, Pureblood Lords under his thumb.
However, it wasn't something she needed to know completely just yet, and he instead smirked at her confidently. "Save it for a rainy day, my dear. I'm just interested in power for now." The reached their House and started up the staircase to their rooms before the wizard paused on the steps. Tilting his head, he looked over his shoulder, "Did you let Mashki out for the evening?"
Watching as she attempted to move her way through the wards for whatever he was feeling, he was impressed to find that she could do so easily. A pout of a frown formed on her lips, "No. 'e was in the bathroom when we left."
He let his wand fall from where it was secured in his sleeve discreetly, reaching his free hand behind him for her own. She accepted it quickly and they continued up the steps, toward her room. Before they made it, she stopped in front of his.
"Tom," she breathed, looking at the placard on his door. Where his first name was usually engraved laid his initials, as bold and proud as day in their standing.
He let go of her hand and moved down the hall to find her placard changed as well, the quartet of Ms smudged in blood. "You're fucking kidding," he mumbled, using his magic to push her door open. The box she'd been sent from Grindelwald laid open on the floor, contents emptied onto the fur carpets. It was photographs of the Montague family and staff being murdered, and even the young Dark wizard had to frown at the distaste. Even more unfortunate, the Siamese laid dead on her bench, his neck slit open and blood staining the fabric.
"What's wrong?" He heard her ask, and he held up a hand for her to remain where she was.
"Go in the sitting room and summon your Uncle."
"Tom," Granger whispered, obviously nervous, and he tore his eyes away from the scene before him long enough to look at her briefly. However, the rather innocent expression on her face caused anger to bubble within him, and he kicked the wall harshly, cussing loudly in frustration. Whoever had gotten past the wards had been smart enough to make themselves seem as though they were simply looking for the pair, and trusted enough to even make it past the wards on the steps. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it meant that his Knights were the only people who could have accessed the rooms, and both Abbott and Orion were high on the list of suspects.
Walking over to her, he gave a weak smirk and smoothed her hair down thoughtlessly. "I'd rather you didn't look at your room right now, my dear," he said, steering her down the few steps and into the sitting room.
"Was it really zat bad?"
He sighed and forced her to sit on the couch. Slowly, everything changed around them, morphing from the comfortable living room into the Morning room that she'd first walked into a month earlier. "We can always get a new kitten, right? You two hadn't bonded too greatly."
She leaned away from him, eyes widening at the realization of what he was saying. He hummed thoughtfully, lifting a chain over his head and slipping it over hers. Carefully, he made sure they she was holding the pendant properly. "I'll call your Uncle, okay? You handle that."
"'andle what?" She asked as he turned to the fireplace, and Tom cursed inwardly at his mistake. The witch had no idea that he'd marked his Knights, and could summon them via the Slytherin emblem, but she'd know now. Perhaps not all of it, but she was intelligent enough to get the gist.
He turned his head over his shoulder, but didn't look at her. Confidently smirking, the wizard spoke lowly, "Summon the Knights to the Room of Requirement in half and hours time, my dear. I do think its time for them to properly meet their Lady."
A/N - As always, a big thank you to all of my reviewers! I'm happy that you all enjoyed the previous update, because I was really nervous you guys would finally rebel on me and hate everything. It truly means a lot to read that you're all enjoying things so far and reading your thoughts/guesses on whats going on is really the best (though I have to admit it's a bit nerve-wrecking as well).