A/N: Sorry about the long wait, and a million thanks to those who've reviewed! I've experienced a bug in the publishing system on the site, with new chapters showing up in html code in the editor for close to three weeks... Finally, I gave up on waiting for the bug to be fixed, so I cleaned the text up manually in the editor. *sigh*

Then for some good news: This isn't the last chapter after all! I had to split this part and the next in two, or else it would have been one juggernaught of a chapter... So, there's this, one more to go plus an epilogue. As for sequel - I don't know - yet. Depends on what happens in the story, doesn't it? *grins*. Please leave a review!

Oh, and a warning for a scene where Tom kind of does his "thing" at the very end of the chapter. I aimed for gruesome.

Xxxx

"Would you dance with me, Mrs. Riddle? You look so lovely tonight." Gramen Duximon smiled at her, bowing politely. His brown hair was slicked back across his head, and his blue eyes appraised her.

Hermione felt Tom shift behind her, clearly irritated, and she smiled a little to herself. Gathering her green silk dress in her left hand, she laid her right lightly on Duximon's arm. "With pleasure," she said and stepped forward.

As he swept her out on the dance floor, she could see Tom's eyes narrow as his brooding glance followed their every movement. This was playing with fire, she knew it, but still fun. And she wouldn't let it go too far. Besides, Tom was stunning in his black dress robes, and she had to check herself to be sure she wasn't drooling. She was very much aware that quite a few witches in the room sent him both smoldering looks and whispered innuendos.

"You and your husband were very impressive at the Sorbonne testing," Duximon said. "Unfortunately, I fell ill and couldn't find it in me to complete my test, as you know."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, glancing up at him beneath her lashes. At the edge of the dance floor, Tom positively glowered at them. How many before he snapped? Oh, she wouldn't test him for real, but seeing his irrational jealousy was a thrill. It was another proof of the way he apparently … felt … about her.

It was the graduation feast, the evening of the Sorbonne test, and this was her seventh dance with a fellow student. The Great Hall was decked out in flower arrangements, swarms of fireflies lit up the corners, and the graduating students and their families filled the Hall with bright dress robes, chatter and laughter. Between the tests, the aftermath and getting ready for the ball, there had been absolutely no time to talk about what had happened. But somehow, she felt powerful, strong and excited. And, to her great surprise, she also felt beautiful, caressed by his eyes following her hungrily as she swirled in the arms of prats like Duximon.

"Never mind," Duximon said, eyes smiling almost warmly at her, but she could see a small tick on his chin, a sign that he didn't take his abysmal performance at the testing lightly. "The two of you deserve to go to Sorbonne. I'm just sad that I didn't get to show my skills to the Ministry officials."

"Oh," she said, and something clicked in her brain. That's why so many had applied, though only five made it to the testing. Her school mates wanted to show themselves off to the Ministry! She had wondered why anyone bothered with the testing, because it had to be so obvious that Tom would be the one to win the scholarship, as he indeed had done.

Duximon's arm twitched a little, and he pulled her closer to him. "As I said," he murmured into her ear, "you look particularly lovely, and you surely are bright. We've wondered all year why you weren't Sorted to Ravenclaw. We would have taken good care of you, I can assure you that. Your husband is indeed a very lucky man." His breath coasted the shell of her ear, and she could swear his lips almost touched her hair. Oh no, this was skirting a little too close to danger.

"If you don't mind, Duximon, I'll have my wife back now," Tom said icily behind her. The boy froze, but released her quickly, bowing to her again and moving away. Tom's arms came around her, turning her, and he pulled her into him as a slow dance started, one hand splayed possessively at the small of her back. "How do you manage to find all these pathetic excuses for wizards at every single party?", he demanded. "It's like you're a magnet for stupidity."

She snorted. "Thanks for the compliment, husband. They only want to dance, it's called polite behavior. There's nothing to it, and you are unreasonable." Looking up at him – she almost had to crane her neck back when he was this close – she hid her smile as he scowled at her. The hand at her back – his wand hand – twitched, as he grumbled to her: "The last one at least wasn't all that interested in dancing. He was close to groping you."

"You might be right," she conceded, "but he didn't do anything."

"Nevertheless, he's going to regret that." He smiled into her hair, and she felt his magic gather before it released.

"Tom! What did you do?" she said nervously, peering up at him.

"Not much. Let's just say he's going to exit this feast in … three, two, one." He was grinning down at her, eyes flashing with a hint of red as a yell broke out from the buffet table. Everyone turned around, staring shockedly at Gramen Duximon who had, inexplicably, pulled down his trousers and urinated on the food. He was frantically trying to cover himself up, holding his pants together as he ran out of the Great Hall. House-elves popped into the Hall, squeaking, and the Headmaster rushed to the tables, followed by several teachers.

"That was rather childish," she scolded him, but inwardly she was rather relieved that he hadn't done anything worse. She supposed, it was bad enough, but he could have used the Imperius in a much more evil way, making Duximon attack someone in public or showing sexually deviant behaviour, using a curse that would hurt him physically, or destroy his mind, scare him with visions or… And the ease which she came up with possible ways to humiliate and hurt someone, was actually scary.

""I'm not laughing," he said with a dead serious face. Again, she looked up at him, but there it was, a slight tugging at the corners of his mouth. She shook her head, and he continued: "I also thought that this year's graduation class from Hogwarts could use a couple of new scandals to make people forget ours."

Ours, she thought. It most certainly wasn't "our" scandal, he had directed that singlehandedly to get what he wanted: Their marriage. And then it hit her: "A couple of scandals?" She stared at him, incredulously.

"You'll see," he whispered, hands caressing her back. Anxiously, she tried to watch her fellow students, but it became harder as he pressed her into his chest. She was nowhere near tall enough to peek over his shoulder. His presence, the familiar and still delicious smell of him, and the steady thump of his heart close to her ear relaxed and soothed her. Mind drifting, she thought about the aftermath of their Sorbonne testing.

At first, Headmaster Roulet had shook their hands, congratulating them in person, as the first in line of the Sorbonne teachers.

"Never mind the rules, boy, you'll get your four minor subjects," he had said gruffly, while Tom had thanked him solemnly. "Those three spells you did there with the Dementors, destroying one, forcing three to do your bidding and Vanishing one, that isn't the run of the mill-approach. I'll look forward to teach you." Lifting an eyebrow, he said to Tom: "And I suppose you know that I haven't taken a Dark Arts student in twenty-one years? My standards are high, but I'm confident you'll make it."

She was sure Tom already knew that, but still he looked pleased to no end.

Turning to Hermione, Roulet said with a smile: "And I suppose you would want to have three minors as well, Mrs. Riddle?"

"Yes, I would love that," she had replied excitedly, and the old Headmaster chuckled.

"I think we can manage that, but we'll need to discuss what you should major in. Our Arithmancy Professor would like to give you a chance, if you're interested. Go and see your new professors, my dear, I'll just have another chat with your husband about our… mutual interest."

She felt incensed at the obvious dismissal – as if she was not important – but she was also excited to talk to her new professors. After a while, the French professors gathered to Apparate out from the Great Hall. She overheard professor Merrythought whispering with an affronted look to professor Kettleburn: "Those stuck-up University professors demanded that Dippet lift the wards on Apparating directly into Hogwarts, because those prudish snobs couldn't be bothered to stay and share a meal with us. Did you know, those social inept braggarts actually said that they'd rather starve than having to eat British food? And we had planned a great feast at the graduation ball tonight!" Her ire was so great, that Hermione almost wanted to laugh, though she felt insulted on behalf of the Hogwarts' House-elves too.

Her quiet remembrance was suddenly broken by another yell. "Oh, no you don't, you bastards!" Headmaster Dippet shouted, lunging forward behind a column. A Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor boy were clustering around one Ravenclaw girl, fondling her more than propriety would allow, her dress pooling around her waist, baring her chest. Both boys and the girl blushed furiously at their discovery, and adult witches and wizards who had to be their parents ran towards them. The girl squeaked in fear, as she fell trembling into the arms of her mother, while her father shouted incomprehensibly at the boys, who in turn were scolded by their own parents.

"Poor girl," Hermione said softly, thinking about her own brush with the value of a reputation in the wizarding world during the forties.

"I've never liked her," Tom said dismissively. "Neither did I like those boys."

She almost rolled her eyes at him, and replied: "You can't go around playing God, Tom. Do you think at all about what this means for the future of that girl, those boys?"

"I know what I did, and I did it for a reason," he said. "It'll be better for us. They are of no consequence to me, darling."

In another corner, another shout broke the uneasy mutterings of the party goers, as a strapping young Gryffindor brandished his cock at Abraxas' mother, Imelda Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy stared icily at the boy, as he shouted "I know you like boys the same age as your son! Look at this, is it big enough for you?" Shocked gasps filled the room, and Hermione rolled her eyes at Tom, just as a fight broke out between two Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws and three burly Hufflepuffs in the middle of the floor, before it turned out into a melee, with several boys entering the fray. Girls stood on the side, screeching and cheering on their Houses.

Tom had plastered his perfect Head Boy expression on his face, looking astounded at the behavior of his former, fellow students. It was obviously payback-time for a lot of slights today, she thought. This graduation ball might just go down in the history books as sporting the most deviant, public behavior of all times in Hogwarts' history. And who would have thought that Lord Voldemort ended his years at Hogwarts by taking petty revenge by destroying people's future reputation – oh well, maybe it wasn't that odd, she conceded.

Xxxx

The ball ended in chaos, Dippet sending all parents home, ordering students to bed. Most students were going home on the train tomorrow, but a few opted to leave with their parents straight away.

Hermione followed Tom to their room. Well inside, he warded the door, casting a Silencing spell, before he threw himself down on the sofa and laughed.

"You just love to destroy things, don't you?" she spat, feeling as she should scold him, though she felt more along the lines of being exasperated by his actions and discomforted by his glee. "I think this was awful. You destroyed the serenity, the happiness and the pride of so many people tonight. Poor Dippet, he's going to get hell from the Board of Governors, don't you know?"

"Yes, yes," he said nonchalantly, "that may be, but the main point was to create a bigger, social scandal than us being found in that storage room at Slughorn's party."

"Why?" she said. "You orchestrated that too, you must have had some thought about how such a thing would be received."

His face became serious, and he looked at her, before saying: "I don't like the fact that I had to tarnish your reputation. You're my consort, and no one should speak ill of you. That's why these people had to act out tonight. Believe me, I didn't put any ideas in their heads. I merely … freed them from their usual, social restraints."

Shaking her head, she scoffed: "You mean this was a service to me? I'd be quite happy with a nice ball, dancing with you and eating food that no one had urinated on."

He rose from the sofa, and pulled her into his arms, saying: "This isn't important, Hermione. It was just a diversion". She could feel him swallow heavily, before he buried his face in her hair.

He whispered to her: "Today, I almost lost you to that Dementor, and it was my fault. You could have protected yourself, but I hadn't taught you the incantation to evoke the spell from our wedding night. I was planning to, but I thought we would have time after Hogwarts. Hermione, I … I… I feel bad about this."

She stilled, shocked to her core. Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, had just apologized to her. She had no idea that he was capable of remorse or feeling sorry. After a while, she said, her voice almost a sigh: "It's ok. You did protect me. I survived. And I suppose neither Roulet nor Dippet would have allowed a Dementor's Kiss in the Great Hall."

He snorted. "Dippet couldn't stop a Dementor even if he knew how, and Roulet? I'm not so sure he would do it, though I'm certain he can. But the thing is, Hermione, this whole test was rather taxing. I was on the verge of not being able to fight the last one. It took all I had. But what if…" his voice dropped to a faint whisper, "... it hadn't been enough?"

"Don't deal in what ifs," she said firmly. Still, he clung to her, holding her tight to him, his breath uneven and his heart thudding against her.

"No," he breathed into her hair, "you'll be targeted as my wife, and I need to make sure that you are protected. That no one will be able to kill you or harm you. I don't know what to say, except… I'll do better from now on. And if you ever need me and I'm not around, call me through the wedding ring. I'll be able to find you."

She looked up into his eyes, seeing a haunted, serious expression, worry etching his beautiful features. Was it just his worry that losing her could mean a loss of power in the future, or did it mean something else? Could she really allow herself to even think that him … caring for her… was even possible..?

Swallowing heavily, something broke loose inside her. Hands reaching up, she pulled him down to her in a searing kiss, letting her tongue run along the seams of his lips, tasting him, encouraging him, reassuring him that he was welcome in her arms. He groaned, one hand fisting in her hair, keeping her head still, his natural dominance reasserting itself. But she wrestled back control of the kiss, giving him a hard shove in the chest, pushing him back on the sofa.

He tumbled back in surprise, half laying, half sitting, and she moved after him, straddling his hips.

For a short moment, their eyes met, and she gave him a playful, devilish smile, before pushing him back down. His eyes widened, and she couldn't help thinking that he had never been seduced before. He had always been the seducer, the dominating one – and she'd make sure he enjoyed that the tables had turned.

Licking her lips slowly on purpose, she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, letting her hands trail lightly over his chest and down along his hard, abdominal muscles. He shifted underneath her hips, and a rock-hard bulge pressed upwards into her knickers. She relished the feeling, grinding back at him, rewarding him with a slow, sensuous sigh as wetness and heat pooled in her belly, and his eyes devoured her as his breath hitched. Lifting herself up on all fours, she moved her hands down to his trousers, unbuttoning, before she wandlessly divested him of his pants. Hands free to stroke him, she grabbed his impressive length from outside his boxers, feeling all those ridges along the shaft and squeezing slightly on the knobby head.

He shuddered, closing his eyes shut, mouth half open as he gasped. His underwear went magically on the floor too, and she removed her hand from his cock. She grinned wickedly as she saw his eyes spring open at the loss of contact, and she licked her lips again, as she slowly removed her own clothes. It seemed like his hands lifted automatically to fondle her nipples, weighing her breasts in his hand, but she scooted backwards, letting her breasts trail along his body.

Hovering above his cock, she let the tip of her tongue dart out, flicking at the drop of precum on his head, and he groaned again, pushing his hips upwards to her mouth. Feeling her insides clench, she met his thrust, letting her tongue roll around his head, licking, sucking lightly, and then she sucked him into her mouth. His eyes almost rolled back in his head, and he made staccato, involuntary thrusts upwards into her mouth. She pinned down his hips with both hands, but took him deep, letting the tip butt at the back of her throat, bobbing her head up and down. He writhed his hips under her hands, making thrusting motions, and she pushed her thighs together, rubbing slowly to appease the fiery, throbbing wetness between her legs.

After a few minutes, she just needed him so badly, and she moved up again, letting her dripping pussy rub against his cock. His slick, precum-covered head moved back and forth over her clit, making a delicious tingle, slowly increasing in strength. Moaning, she let her hand steer him inside her, and she sank down, lowering herself slowly on his cock. Her eyes flew open to meet his, as his big member filled her up and stretched her walls. Deliberately, she held his gaze as her hands reached up to touch her breasts, her back arching with pleasure. She stroked herself sensuously, rolling her nipples between her fingers, and his eyes devoured her, locked on the movements of her hands.

Moving slowly, she rocked on his cock, clenching her pussy rhythmically around him, and his hand crept forward, fingers rubbing her clit intensely. She moved faster, slamming down on him, feeling the white-hot build-up explode around him, and she twitched, screamed and bucked against him, back arching to get as close to him as possible, to have as much of his cock inside as she could get. He groaned, thrusting a few more times before he shuddered. Panting, she lay on his chest for a short while, and he wrapped his arms around her.

As she rose sometime later, their combined fluids rushed out of her, covering her thighs. His eyes followed the trail his semen made down her legs, and he said huskily, slowly: "I love seeing you covered with my come. You're mine, and this is one of the visible results."

"What are the others?" she quipped, stopping on her way to the bathroom.

He smiled a little, eyes never leaving her thighs, before he said: "Oh, my ring on your finger. And later, my child in your belly. And even later than that – well, you'll see."

Her breath hitched, a deep ache in her scarred heart started throbbing, as his dark eyes and sensuous smirk slowly traveled up to her blushing face.

Xxxx

He followed her to the Hogwarts train, sending her off to stay three days in London before he joined her. Mariette had invited her to stay at her parents' house while Tom was busy.

"So, what are you going to do, all by yourself in Yorkshire?" Mariette asked as they waited for the train.

"Getting the house ready," he said, "hiring servants, making it fit for my lady." He lifted Hermione's hand, kissing it, and she could have sworn that both Joanna and Mariette were close to swooning.

"Oh," Joanna almost whimpered, "That is so sweet, Tom. Hermione is so lucky. Can we come and visit before you leave for France?"

"Sure," he said affably, "We would love that, wouldn't we, Hermione?"

"Errm, yes, of course," she said. In her head, she was a little astounded that she might be expected to entertain guests in Lord Voldemort's house. She'd never imagined anything like that, not even close. And deep inside, she felt almost certain that she'd fail. Being a hostess on a manor for Pure-bloods in the forties would be something she was very much unfamiliar with. She literally had no clue at all. There had to be a book on it, right?

The train puffed into the Hogwarts station, and he grabbed her, giving her a long, slow kiss on the platform. Someone wolf-whistled, but she submitted to his kiss, feeling his tongue hard and demanding, but lips soft and delicious at her mouth. And suddenly, she realized that she just might miss him.

She boarded a carriage with Mariette and Joanna, and after a while they were joined by Abraxas and Muriel. "Too much testosterone in the compartment of the Slytherin boys," Muriel laughed. "It was impossible."

The tall, blonde Abraxas smiled at her, saying with fond pride: "You did put them in their place quite thoroughly, I'd say."

"Why don't you sit with the Gryffindors?", Joanna asked, before she suddenly blushed, saying: "Oh no, that sounded horrible. I didn't mean you're not welcome, I was merely curious."

Muriel and Abraxas shared a look, before Muriel said slowly: "It seems I'm not all that welcome with the Gryffindors, or at least, not when Abraxas is with me."

Hermione snorted, thinking that this was no wonder, as this Malfoy heir was just as obnoxious as his future grandson. They all stared strangely at her, and paling slightly, she scrambled her Slytherin act together, and said: "No wonder, is it? When would Gryffindors welcome Slytherins into their arms, especially when it concerns romance?"

"True, there aren't many Gryffindor-Slytherin couples," Muriel said thoughtfully, "but there are some historically. And, those love affairs have been known to be extra strong, mostly resulting in crimson marriage bonds, as the couples have to be very sure about their feelings to dare cross their families and peers." She blushed a little as she talked, eyes deliberately not meeting Abraxas'.

Hermione felt at once uncomfortable, those crimson bonds…, she wished that people would stop prattling on about that. But come to think of it, Tom and herself were actually a Slytherin-Gryffindor couple.

Abraxas looked at her, his ferret-like face suddenly twitching with curiosity. "Speaking of crimson," he said, "how did that ever happen to you and Tom? I mean, I know the man, and he's really never struck me as a romantic. Quite the opposite, actually."

Both Joanna and Mariette made protesting noises, but Hermione just narrowed her eyes. She realized that Abraxas thought it was safe to ask, as Tom wasn't in the vicinity. "Ask him yourself, if you're that curious," she said a little haughtily, a small smile playing on her face, and eyebrow arched in a conscious imitation of Tom's most arrogant expression.

Abraxas blanched, and said hurriedly: "I didn't mean to pry." Silently, his lips moved in the honorific "my lady", unnoticed by the others as he met her eyes. She merely flashed her teeth at him in an overbearing smile, making him even more nervous. Luckily, he was saved by Joanna.

"So, Muriel, when are the two of you getting married?", the petite girl said with a wide grin.

"Can't say yet," the red-head said casually, but Hermione saw the quick glance passing between her and Abraxas. "But I want to start a career in the Ministry, because I would like to be the first, new female Auror in twenty years. It's unbelieveable, but there hasn't been a female Auror since Deputy Head of Office Monna Meridyn started her career in the twenties."

Joanna's eyebrows shot up in her hair, and she said: "Good for you! But is that really compatible being the future lady of Malfoy Manor?" All the girls darted a look at Abraxas, and Hermione wondered as she saw his face set in a grim expression. After all, he wasn't exactly the epitome of progressive thinking, she had heard him spout rather traditionalistic views on women several times.

Muriel's eyes got steely, and she answered: "It must be. Though it won't be a problem for years, as Abraxas' mother is still young."

Abraxas still didn't say anything, and the tension was palpable in the compartment for a while, and Hermione couldn't help thinking that it was foreboding. At last, Muriel said lightly to Mariette: "And what will you do after school?"

Mariette's blue eyes shone, as she said dreamily: "I will stay at home for a while, but I hope to get a job at the Ministry. Nothing fancy, just a desk job. And maybe, hopefully I'll see a certain wizard a little more often now that I'll be in London."

They all smiled fondly at her, her expression a telltale of hopes and dreams, and Joanna said, almost tearing up: "Oh, I'm sure you'll see him. He adores you."

"This would be Mr. Rookwood, right?" Abraxas said, grinning widely. Mariette started, almost jumping in her seat.

Blushing, she said awkwardly: "I was a little forward, maybe. Please don't tell anyone we know, Abraxas." They all knew she meant Sebastian, and Hermione felt fury coiling in her belly at the thought of his attempt to rape this sweet, loving girl, though Mariette wouldn't have any memories of that due to Oblivation.

Abraxas nodded courteously, and said: "I won't say anything, you have my word as a Malfoy."

Relieved, Mariette smiled at him, and then they were interrupted by the trolley witch.

Xxxx

The chatter had died down, and both Muriel and Abraxas were asleep, Muriel's head lolling on his shoulder. Mariette was reading, and Joanna were doing a crossword puzzle. Hermione looked out of the window, and suddenly, she became aware of a whispering sound. She realized, the sound had been there for a while, but it was becoming gradually clearer. Resting her head against the window, she tried to make some sense out of the whispering, but it was no use. As she almost were falling asleep herself, the whispering morphed into distinct words.

Love, I got you, you're safe, protected, I will make sure you are happy, darling, you'll never lack for anything, I'll give you the world…

Snapping awake, she couldn't understand what it was. But it almost sounded like Tom's voice, but how?

Then she understood. It had to be the Horcrux, her wedding ring. Baffled, she stared at the heavy, golden ring. It had seemed almost like any other ring while they were at Hogwarts. Did it talk to her now because of the physical distance between Tom and her, or had he bespelled it to do so, or…?

She gazed at it for a long time, but could not find any solutions, though the whispering continued.

Xxxx

Her bedroom was next to Mariette's, and she enjoyed laying down in the comfortable, big bed, stretching out between the cool sheets. They had said a tearful goodbye to Joanna, who'd be leaving for her family home in Norfolk for the summer, preparing for her wedding. Both Muriel and Abraxas were to stay in the Malfoy town house, staying well away from both the elder Weasleys and the Malfoys.

Mariette's parents had greeted her warmly. Her mother, a tall, beautiful blonde witch looking so much like Mariette, had hugged her as she stood on the doorstep of the Penilworth's house in Islington, London, welcoming her inside the house. Mariette's father was a short, stocky wizard with a firm handshake, and his warm brown eyes made her feel comfortable at once.

"We're so happy to have you here, Mrs. Riddle," he had said, "because we've heard so much about you from Mariette. And congratulations to you and your husband for making it to Sorbonne! It's wonderful, and I really believe Mariette's grades have taken a turn for the better since you arrived at Hogwarts."

Their house was comfortable, and Hermione supposed this was a standard, lower Middle class wizarding home. Rooms were not large, but cozy, there were carpets on the floors, the furniture was a mix of what had to be passed down through the family and newer things, and there were a few heirlooms and magical objects at display. Two portraits of distant relatives chatted quietly with each other, staring down at the supper table, being the only two portraits in the house.

They had eaten a hearty supper, and now, in her room, she was drowsy and feeling full. It was enjoyable just to lie down, relaxing, hearing the comforting whispers of Tom's voice through the Horcrux…

… and then she was woken a little later by an unearthly wail. Bolting out of the bed, wand automatically in hand, her mind calling forth banshees and other terrors, she felt disoriented, heart hammering in her chest. Breathing hard, she almost jumped as the wail came once again, and then she caught on. She was in London, in Mariette's house, and those screams had to be from Mariette, as they came from the room next to hers. Was Mariette attacked by something?

Wand in hand, she sprinted out in the corridor, and entered Mariette's room. The girl sat in her bed, dressed in her white nightdress, eyes shut and tears running down her face, whimpering and shaking. The moon shone through a crack in the curtains, making the terrified expression on Mariette's face visible.

Hermione stopped. A nightmare. Walking to the bed, she tried to calm herself as she sat down beside the girl. "Hey, Mariette, it's ok, it's just a dream," she whispered, stroking her hand. "You can wake up now, it isn't real. I'm here, everything is fine."

With a shuddering breath, Mariette opened her eyes, looking at her. She threw herself around Hermione's neck, great sobs wracking her body.

"It's the nightmare again, I can't remember, but I'm so scared! Hermione, it's awful, and it's every night. I can't take it anymore," she cried.

Hermione's nightdress became wet with tearstains, but she stroked Mariette's back soothingly.

"Hush," she crooned, "it'll be alright."

"No," Mariette whimpered, "it won't. I've had awful nightmares that I can't remember, every single night for over a month, now. And I still can't remember! You wouldn't know since you moved out of the dorm with Tom, but Joanna and Walburga had to put up Silencing wards around my bed to get some sleep. And I'm sorry, Hermione", she sniffled, "but I forgot to ward my room tonight."

"This started a month ago?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Yes, just after the last Hogsmeade weekend," Mariette said.

Damn, Hermione thought. This had to be subconscious memories of Sebastian trying to rape her. That bastard! Snarling in her mind, she decided he had deserved the additional torture too, not just her own Cruciatus, and damn it if she wasn't feeling up for giving him another round of the Cruciatus too. But none of that would help Mariette now. Hermione felt helpless and angry at Sebastian, not really sure how she could help her friend. But in the end, she just lay down beside Mariette on her bed, holding her hand as they both fell asleep.

Xxxx

The stay with Mariette was fun, pleasant and comfortable, and the two girls relaxed, took trips to Diagon Alley and even Muggle London. The war was over, and the Muggles were celebrating and rebuilding, but it was obvious that the devastation left by the bombs would still take a long time to clear up. People still looked haggard, clothes threadbare and mended, and the shops still lacked goods and food was still on ration. Suddenly, Hermione realized just how protected the wizarding world had been. With an abundance of food, wards against stray bombs, life had gone on just like usual, like there was no Muggle World War.

But she had to admit to herself that she missed Tom. She missed him, she really did. Talking to him, touching him, just having him around – him not being there felt like a hole inside her, as if something was missing. She realized, that she had seen him every single day since the start of the school year. And in that period of time, she had gone from fear, hatred and loathing to this, whatever it was she was feeling. She suspected there was a word for it, but she wasn't about to acknowledge that. Maybe, just maybe, she could feel comfortable with using the word "care" to herself.

Moreover, her whole situation with the marriage meant that she had failed, spectacularly so. She could still change the future, but her vow to herself of not ending up as his conquest was rendered to ashes by him forcing her into marriage, and her accepting it and developing feelings for him. Hermione couldn't help wonder what Harry and Ron would have said, but then again, she also felt that whatever they would have said or done, she wouldn't care that much, though her future self would've probably been devastated by their reactions. After all, her emotions tied to her life in the future were, pretty much, dead or subdued.

Fiddling with her Time-turner, she wondered how on earth it was possible for her to create something that Dumbledore would liken to a Horcrux, and then getting married to Voldemort, while planning to stop his ascent. It almost seemed like a sick joke of fate, but maybe she needed that kind of callousness to go through with changing the future.

When Tom finally arrived, Apparating outside before knocking politely on the door, she threw her arms around him, feeling a sincere joy. "I've missed you," she whispered to him. He hugged her tightly, kissing her hair, and as they broke apart, his face was a little flushed and his eyes sparkled with something that made her tingle inside.

He greeted Mariette's parents politely, turning his charm on full tilt. "Thank you for taking such good care of my wife," he said, expression open, friendly and wholesome-looking. Hermione still had no idea how he managed such shifts, it was almost like he was another person altogether. After a pleasant supper, they played cards with Mariette and her parents for a while before retiring, and she could tell, Mariette's parents just loved him. She supposed, that if he had asked them to swear fealty to him now, they'd have done so without hesitating, without asking what they were getting into.

As they closed the door of their bedroom, he warded it, before turning to her with a mischievous smile. "And I've missed you too," he said predatorily. She could almost feel her belly twitch in anticipation, as he lunged for her, crushing her to him. "Those naive people, they'll have no idea that I'll take you hard against all surfaces of their guest room," he said, eyeing her greedily. She looked at the room, the bed, the dresser, two chairs, the wall – and she couldn't help giving him a wicked grin.

"Please do," she said huskily, and his mouth crashed brutally down on hers.

Xxxx

The next day, they shrunk their things and said their goodbyes to the Penilworths. Outside the house, he put his arms around her waist, Apparating them to their first stop, Diagon Alley.

After scouring Florish and Blott's and then stocking up on Potion ingredients, they rested in the shade of a parasol outside Florean Fortescue, eating chocolate sundaes and drinking coffee. The weather was warm, and the sunlight played on the cobblestones and the tiled roofs, making Diagon Alley look welcoming, bright and cheery.

"Just like the first time I met you," he said, shooting a glance at her.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, before laughing a little. "You made me so nervous."

"I did?" She could tell he was pleased by his voice only, there was no need to look at him.

"Yes. I never imagined you would come on to me, and I really didn't know what to make of that. And I was half expecting you to torture or kill me."

She watched with fascination as his face was transformed by laughing, and he took her hand – much like he did the first time, caressing her – and he said: "I was only planning to fuck you and read your mind, I was much to intrigued to even think about killing you. And, with all your O.W.L.s and your impressive N.E.W.T. plans, I was curious if you could turn out to be an asset to me."

Snorting with laughter, she shook her head. "The ice-cream was good, though."

They sat in silence for a while, before she asked: "What did you do with the house?"

"Oh," he replied, "I hired servants to clean it and prepare the rooms, and I did some magical alterations to it. Basically, turning it into a wizarding home instead of a Muggle house."

"How do you manage that?" Her curiosity was picked, and his eyes gleamed with the possibility of a magical discussion.

"I created an awareness in the house and on the property."

"An awareness? Do you mean the house is sentient?"

"No, not really," he said, "but close enough. The house will recognize us, it will ward itself, it can tell us if repairs are needed, who's trespassing on the property and such, and it will also be malleable as to which rooms are visible to whom and so on. I'm not creating another Hogwarts here – yet – as moving staircases are not really my cup of tea. I prefer a more permanent structure, but with mind-inducing properties instead of actually shifting rooms and stairs."

"You say recognize us," she said slowly. "Does that mean that you've added me to the wards?"

He arched his eyebrows at that, and said: "But of course. You will be the lady of the manor. That means the house will take orders from you too."

She pondered that, as she finished her ice-cream. Lady of the manor. Was it really a manor, and now a magical one at that? What did that really entail? Curious, she said: "Isn't this kind of magic blood-related? Don't you need my blood to add me to the awareness of the house?"

"Yes," he replied, "to seal the enchantment. But everything is prepared, so when we arrive later today, you just need to slit your wrist in an offering to the house and the property."

At that she spluttered, choking on her coffee. Slit my wrist in Lord Voldemort's presence – what a preposterous idea! Coughing, she muttered sourly: "How much?"

"About a liter," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"A liter? That's a lot," she grumbled, thinking that she'd be dizzy and uncomfortable, and what could someone like him do with her blood anyway? She'd better be careful that all went to the house, and that he wouldn't sneak off with droplets of her blood.

"It's a big house," he said, unconcernedly.

She changed the subject, knowing that he wouldn't give anything more, asking: "Servants? Can we really afford that?", a worried crease emerging between her eyes.

He looked away from her, as if he had an internal battle. Then he turned to her, smile flashing with sinful charm, and said: "Don't worry, I've taken care of that."

She stared at him for a while, suspiciously. They didn't have all that much money, but she didn't know how much he had inherited from his Muggle father. It could be enough, but then again, she wasn't sure. Maybe he had done something to the servants? It would be just like him. Well, she didn't know, but she'd find out soon enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Ravenclaw Gramen Duximon pass by, pointing at them and muttering to someone who had to be his big brother by the striking similarity of the two. They both scowled at them, staring as Gramen muttered into his brother's ear. She supposed, she had to get used to that, being his wife. After all, he had cursed the boy in a rather humiliating way at the graduation feast.

"You told me of me working in Borgin and Burkes," he murmured as they left the ice-cream parlor. "I'd like to have a look inside, to see what I could be doing. I've been there before, of course, but not ever thinking about getting a job in there."

"Ok," she said, "but I hope you don't mind me waiting outside. The place has always given me the creeps."

"Of course not, and I won't be long," he said, steering them down into the narrow, dark Knockturn Alley. He went inside, and she stood outside in the shade, following the movement of the warm, dusty rays of sunlight on the rooftops of the dingy, derelict wooden houses clustered around the street.

Idly, she wondered what he would think. He had, definitively, worked there for quite a few years in her own timeline, scavenging objects of power, but now it seemed like that didn't matter all that much to him. The street was quiet in the warm afternoon, and the only thing she heard was the buzzing of a fly nearby and the faint din of talking people from Diagon Alley.

CRACK! She felt a sharp, stinging, sickening pain in the back of her head, and her knees buckled automatically. Her arms flew out to her side to balance herself, and she had a Protego ready in a second, but her arms were grabbed harshly by both sides, and her wand was wrenched out of her hand as she was dragged into a tiny alley between the houses.

It all happened in seconds, and she felt dizzy, nauseous and disoriented. Her head was thrown backwards as a strong hand clamped down on her jaw, and she stared up into the eyes of Gramen Duximon. Twisting her head, she could see that his older brother held her other arm in a strong, bruising grip.

"What do you want?" she gasped, her head ringing from the blow she had been dealt.

"You slut," Duximon hissed. "Getting into Sorbonne by spreading your legs, fucking your way in with that insane husband of yours, and he had the fucking nerve to curse me into literally taking a piss at the feast! You two dirty Half-bloods deserve to know what it means to mess with a Pure-Blood! I'll teach you respect for your betters. We'll see if your husband won't lose that smug look of his, when he realizes that his precious wife has been thoroughly used like the whore you are."

He ripped off her shirt, exposing her chest, and his brother leered: "That's a handful, Gramen. Did you fuck her in school?"

"No," Duximon panted, looking at her as he stroked himself outside his pants, "she was all over that husband of hers, even before they were married. He fucked her in every way imaginable, in public too."

"An exhibitionist, such a little whore, we're going to love this," his brother sighed, groping her breasts as he licked his lips.

Hermione struggled, trying to summon up her magic to do a wandless spell despite her distress and bodily pain, but the older Duximon simply gave her a full Body-Bind. Arms out, spread-eagled between their hands, she could only glare at them, her mouth not working. Gramen smirked, and dropped his pants, waving his wand to remove her panties.

Merlin, this happens too fast, what can I do? she thought, mind working feverishly, panicky. She wanted to yell, exerting herself to do wordless and wandless magic to no avail – I'm to stressed out to make it work – and then she poured her fear into the wedding ring, the Horcrux. Tom, help me! The cry she sent out was anguished and desperate.

Gramen moved in between her legs, fondling himself as he lined up to her entrance. No, she thought, no, this can't be! He took a death grip on her throat, she almost couldn't breathe.

"You're a slut, Granger," the older brother spat. "Everyone knows that. I think you'll enjoy being fucked against the wall, or maybe you'll like to be sandwiched between my brother and me. I'll do your tight ass, and my brother will do the honors by your cunt."

Another Crack! in the alley made her almost whimper in relief. Tom stalked towards the two men holding her, his eyes were all red, his fury washing over them with a rush of his magic.

Duximon took one look at him, and scrambled back, but he was yanked away from her, like there was a hook connected to his neck, and his brother were brought up short too. She fell down on the cobblestones, the Body-Bind suddenly lifted, and hit her back hard against the surface. Ouch! she thought, still feeling nauseous, rising slowly up into a sitting position to watch what happened.

For the rest of her life, she regretted taking a look. There was no warning of spells uttered out loud: all of it was done wordlessly. Duximons brother was literally squeezed out of his skin, slowly and painfully, a reddish, skin-less thing screaming its way out, like a snake shedding its skin. She noted, oddly detached, that Silencing spells and Notice-me-not-charms were firmly in place around the alley.

Tom gazed upon the oozing figure with a dark glee, and as the man popped from his skin, Tom smiled. The trembling, panting wreck of a human writhing on the street quickly lost his interest, though, and he turned to Gramen Duximon with a wicked grin.

"What do you think should be the offence for attacking my wife?" he asked silkily, eyes burning with a mix of terrible anger and that evil joy of causing pain and suffering. "Death? Oh, yes, I'll give you death, but it will take time."

Suddenly, blood dripped from each pore, the ears and eyes of Gramen, and his yell was drowned as blood gushed out of his mouth too. A complicated wand movement on Tom's part was immediately followed by a strong squelch, like the man's intestines were squeezed until they popped too. And then Tom calmly and slowly proceeded by ripping the two attackers limb from limb while still keeping them alive, starting with fingers and toes, before moving on to larger extremities, all the while orchestrating each rip and tear with his wand like he was conducting a symphony. The whole alley rapidly became covered in blood and gory splatters, and Hermione felt queasy, shying away from globs of blood and meat landing too close for comfort. This was what the Death Eater business was all about. Death by torture. Pain. The revel in darkness and horror. The pure evil.

With tears running down her face due to the pain from her back and head, she turned retching away from her rescuer, her husband and lover. She felt violated by the attack she had experienced, but also disgusted by his brutal retaliation and her own detachment. Her reaction of disgust was more due to the very nauseating effect of the sight, than how the gruesome torture occuring in front of her affected the victims. She couldn't feel it in her to be sorry for the Duximon brothers, though she knew this was wrong - oh so wrong. But as the last limb was torn off, she heard something that made her freeze. A high, cold, chilling laughter, very different from those deep, rich chuckles that made her body tingle.

Turning around at him, she had never seen him so angry, so thrilled, so high. His eyes were glinting red in the setting sun as he whispered to himself: "If only there was a way of killing them over and over…"

But swiftly and abruptly, he was all business: Vanishing the corpses, Scourgifying the mess from the street and lifting the Silencing and Notice-me-not-charms, before embracing her tight. "Shhh," he soothed her, "you're safe now. I'll keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you again. You're mine, I'll take care of you, I'll kill for you and defend you. Forever."

Her tear streaked face lifted to his, and he kissed her gently, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Kissing her forehead, he murmured: "Don't cry, love. They're not worth it. You can always alert me by the ring like you did now. Don't be afraid, love. I'll always protect you. I won't – can't – let anyone hurt you, love. You're mine, and I'll keep you safe. They can't hurt you anymore, darling, my sweet, my little wife."

She blinked through her tears. Love? Darling? Had he really fallen in love with her? This monster that just had destroyed two humans, albeit despicable ones – deserving death, but maybe not in such a fashion – destroying them in the worst ways imaginable, could he also be in love? He crushed her into his chest, and she stayed there, needing him, needing the safety of his embrace, needing the monster that he was, as her thoughts churned and her shivering slowly subsided.