December came quickly to Hogwarts and Albus was surprised at how easily he took to wedded life. Of course, since they both had their own rooms in their chambers they could avoid one another as often as it suited them and Hermione seemed to share his need for quiet. She would often withdraw into her study and close the door. He could feel her tentatively drawing magic from the castle, testing her healing, before releasing it back. They did not spend the night together often, at least not at first, but as the days turned to weeks they found themselves in each other's arms more often than not. He was fairly certain that she was more versed in the sensual arts than any witch of good breeding ought to be, for which he was delightfully grateful -Filius' knowing smirk not withstanding.

There was something oddly comforting about having her close to him. Her magic and his vibrated together in a reassuring hum that left him more rested and centered than he usually felt. And Hermione seemed to draw strength from their unions, her nervous energy finding an outlet that she couldn't with her arithmancy. Her frustration over their inability to locate Prof. Belby and her enforced rest from advanced magics kept her irritable and he found that their marriage bed was one of the few ways he could distract her from dark thoughts and melancholy.

Lestrange was in the chamber nearly constantly as he tried to puzzle out Belby's motives and Albus' contacts in the Ministry and abroad were searching everywhere they thought it even half likely she would have gone. Their spies said she had never reached Gellert, so wherever, and whatever, she was up to, it was looking more and more likely she had not left Britain at all. Gellert had halted his advance and seemed to be waiting for something, possibly the situation in Muggle Germany to deteriorate. They were dangerously unstable politically and after the Great War, Albus feared what was coming. Hermione's expression would close and she would curl in on herself whenever he mentioned it, which worried him even more. He was unsure if the sudden break in hostilities was the pause before a worse storm, or if the situation with Belby had caused Gellert to revaluate his plans.

Thankfully, Nicholas had only the highest praise for his new apprentice and Hermione spent three evenings a week flooing to his home to brew. Her work in the greenhouses took up the majority of the rest of her time that wasn't spent in DADA or with Lestrange. What little time she had free she spent revising for her NEWTs or quietly ensconced in her study doing whatever it is one of her elk did. Albus still had mixed feelings about her revelation, but as December neared he pushed his concern to the side. The fight with Gellert could wait, but Hermione's reason for being here was fast approaching and they had to lay the groundwork carefully.

In order to divert suspicion they had done as Lestrange suggested and approached Dippet about putting a small tracking spell on the Hogwarts ledger to notify them if any wizarding child's custody was switched to a muggle orphanage. The Headmaster had been reluctant until Hermione suggested, in her softly accented voice, that he preform the charm. That way, if only Dippet were informed, he could insure that no one took advantage. That seemed to be a reasonable course of action to the elderly wizard and so he preformed the charm. If it worked well for them he confessed that he might consider allowing other couples to petition for it. The handful of muggleborn children that had come to them from such places were always sorry things and it often broke his heart to see them so unloved and unwanted –some victims of horrible abuse and others simple neglect. If he could safely offer a way for wizarding homes to be found for them, than he would do so gladly as long he could insure the system was not abused.

The 31st dawned in a miserable swirl of dreary grey snow and half-light. Hermione anxiously paced their sitting room, having made her excuses for missing her normal Friday schedule by pleading ill health, unable to concentrate on anything for long. Albus went to his morning classes as usual but spent his free afternoon watching her.

"You do realize that it's unlikely he'll go directly into the orphanage? And even if he does, he won't show on the register until there's some kind of a magical incident. Some children don't appear until they are several years old." He finally broke the silence as the sun, what little there was of it, disappeared over the horizon.

"Oh he'll be on it nearly instantly." Hermione grumbled. "This is Voldemort we're discussing."

"Tom." Albus corrected. "You must start thinking of the child as something separate from this Dark Lord or you shall never be able to manage this. He's just an infant."

Hermione collapsed into a chair and growled in frustration. "I'm not sure I can do this, Albus. I can't be a mother! I'm barely able to be a wife!"

"I've no complaints." Albus shifted several papers to the side of the desk and stood up. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss into her wild hair.

"That's because Lanky does all the cooking and cleaning. You just let me hang around because of the sex."

"Much to my shock, I do like that aspect." Albus smirked at her amused snort. "But, that is hardly the reason I keep you. I find I enjoy the company and you do make quite intelligent conversation now and again."

"That and I'm a wicked dueling partner." She closed her eyes as he gently rubbed her shoulders.

"True." He admitted. "And when you finish your Potion Mastery you'll be even more help than you already are in the lab. Frankly I couldn't have asked for a better match if I'd conjured one myself."

Hermione cracked an eye open. "We could always invite Nicholas and his wife to join us…I've seen how you two look at one another."

Albus turned crimson, his hands freezing. "Join…? As in…?"

She chuckled, the tone rich and deep. "She asked me yesterday if I thought you'd consider it. I didn't realize people from their generation swung." At his confused look she clarified. "Swinging is what they call it in my day when couples would swap for an evening. Technically if all four are involved it's an orgy."

"Hermione, I was born in the 1880s. There is only so much deviancy I can take in one year. Perhaps we can hold off on your 21st Century pursuits until after the new year?"

"In my defense, they brought it up! And Nicholas is several centuries older than you. For the record, I turned them down. I don't think I can bring myself to go there with the man. He's like…" Her noise scrunched. "Like a kindly old grandfather or something."

"Isn't that what you told me I reminded you of, when we first met?"

Hermione turned around in the seat to kiss him gently before answering. "We first met when I was 11 and you were over a hundred. You were a twinkling, mad, utterly incomprehensible, meddling, old man with a white beard that was long enough to hide your bits if you did show up naked." She tugged on his considerably shorter and still auburn beard. "This you is not yet grandfather material."

"Tell me I at least still had my hair."

She laughed. "All of it – it was like a lion mane of pearly white cascades. You used these little beaded ribbons to tie it all back. And on one memorable occasion you came to the Great Hall for dinner with the entire thing braided with bright purple cording and little pink ribbons on the end."

"I did not!"

"You did too." Hermione smirked. "Apparently you lost a bet with Severus. Although, you didn't seem terribly self-conscious about it. When Draco Malfoy complimented you in his sarcastic ferret voice you thanked him and wore them again the next day."

"I am begging to see why you thought I was only attracted to wizards." Albus came around the lounge to sit next to her. "We can't sit here driving ourselves crazy waiting on Dippet to call. Remember, even if we do get notice today, we have to appear as if we had no idea it was coming."

"I can always blame it on arithmancy."

"Not when you aren't supposed to be practicing it!" Albus corrected gently. "Do you think Lanky's ready to take care of him?"

Hermione leaned into him, puling his arms around herself for comfort. "As ready as she can be. She's very excited about it, and she's been talking to older elves that have raised infants before for advice. There's always the nursery of course, but all the other staff's children are older except for Cara's youngest and she takes the baby with her nearly everywhere."

They were interrupted by the sound of their fireplace lighting and they both separated guilty when they saw Armando Dippet's head appear in the grate. "Albus!" He called before he caught site of the wizard. "Oh, Albus, we have an issue!"

"What is it, Armando? Do you need to step through?"

"Yes, that would likely be best." The headmaster's head disappeared for a moment before he came through, a rather flustered air about him. "There's something very wrong with the register." He pronounced. "I might not have caught it, except we put that spell on it for you. I didn't think we'd have luck, not so quickly…" He shook his head. "I just don't know what to make of it."

"What's happened?" Hermione asked, giving Albus a significant look.

"I don't know! A name appeared on the register suddenly – which happens rather frequently to be honest. Only as soon as it showed, the custodial information started shifting. It's going back and forth between his mother, a M. Riddle, and a muggle orphanage, almost as if the spell cannot make up its mind." Dippet frowned. "I think we'd best go and see what the matter is, Albus. I don't like this either way. The child's name appeared within moments of birth! It's highly unusual for a name to do so that quickly. And I can't imagine why the custody is fluctuating."

"I'm coming with you." Hermione grabbed her wand and her cloak, tossing another to Albus. "Do you know the town? Can we apparate?"

"Yes," Dippet agreed, following the now rapidly moving couple. "But my dear, I don't want you to get your hopes up. The child may not be up for adoption. And it is a muggle institution. I'm afraid I don't know what to expect with them."

"We will deal with that when we get there." Albus insisted.

Armando knew the location of the orphanage from the register and he apparated the three of the them to a street in London. Albus had enough presence of mind to transfigure their clothes into something a little more muggle before they rushed into the dark building.

~Break~

The corridors of the building echoed with their footsteps, the dark brown tiles spotlessly clean yet clinically cold. Apparently the orphanage was older then it appeared and was still being converted from gas to electric lighting and many of the fixtures were unlit. They followed the sounds of distress that echoed across the first floor until they found a small infirmary. A group of three muggles, one in the white coat of a doctor and another a starched nurses uniform, were crowded around a bed.

"Mrs. Cole, I'm sorry. I just don't know what the matter is with her. I've tried everything. She's not hemorrhaging and the birth went easily. I can't explain why she's weakening." The tall man in a doctor's coat complained to a pinched woman in a plain brown dress. He shifted to the side and Armando let out a distressed sound.

"It's Merope Gaunt." He whispered, the sound causing the muggles to turn to them in question.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" The muggle in the plain brown dress asked. "I'm Mrs. Cole and I run Wool's Orphanage. She stumbled in and we're trying everything…"

Armando brushed past her without a word, rushing to the pale drawn woman who lay on the bed, her face twisted with pain. "Merope?" He asked softly, taking her hand. "Oh child, what's happened?"

She blinked slowly, seeming to have trouble placing him. "Headmaster?" she asked weakly. "How did…"

Hermione grabbed Albus' arm in alarm. "Albus, her magics run wild. Can't you feel it?" She turned frightened eyes to the far side of the room where a small crib was placed, a newborn crying desperately inside it. "Dear God, he's here. They've left him in the room with her. She's killing herself with him here – feeling it. All that Darkness, and him just taking his first breaths…"

Albus brushed past the muggles, Hermione moving with him. The nurse tried to stop them but Hermione waved her hand and the woman's eyes glazed and she stepped aside. "Get him out of here, Albus." Hermione hissed. "He's doing everything he can to get to his mother, he's confused and terrified and he can feel her dying. His magic is unfocused but he's trying with all his might to get to her – it's what must have triggered his name in the register. I can feel him tapping into the lay line under the building – or trying to. The poor thing is running on pure instinct and he's absorbing all her distress."

Albus hesitated for a second before reaching into the crib to lift out the tiny baby. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, his skin still streaked with blood. "They haven't even cleaned him."

The man in a white coat came up. "The mother took a turn as soon as she'd passed the after birth. She named him and we thought everything was all right but as soon as the nurse turned her back something happened. She screamed and now we can't keep her stable. Her blood pressure keeps dipping and she's in agony but we can't find a cause. We put little Tom over here and haven't had a chance to see to him yet." He eyed their strange clothes with suspicion. "Do you know Merope Riddle? She was wearing similar clothing when she came in. Mrs. Cole thought she might be from the circus that is visiting."

"Not exactly." Hermione improvised. "Merope went to school with me, long ago. I received a letter from her that said she was in trouble. We came as quickly as we could. When I arrived in London the lady she'd rented a room from said she'd come here." Hermione kept his attention as Albus discreetly turned his back to keep the child from view. He pulled his wand and murmured a gentle cleaning spell and then a strong protective charm to block the magical emanations coming from the dying woman. Hermione continued, "The Headmaster knows her as well."

"Why didn't you come to me, child?" Armando asked as if on queue, from across the room, his voice cracking. "I would have given you shelter at the school. You would not have needed to suffer alone."

"They don't want me." Merope cried. "They struck my name and he cast me out. No one wants me, headmaster. Not even Hogwarts wanted me."

"That's not true." He pleaded. "I fought for you with the governors. I would have paid your tuition but your father wouldn't hear of it. One year, he said. He only let you come to us for a year. You just needed more time to develop, child. That's all. You have the talent in you – I could always feel it."

She made a hissing sound that Hermione recognized as parseltongue, her back arching as another wave of pain washed through her. "Too late. It's always to late." She moaned.

Hermione motioned for Albus to get the baby out of the room and she crossed back over to the poor witch's beside. Resting on floor next to the bed was a tiny potion bottle. She bent and picked it up, sniffing the contents wearily. "Distilled adder venom, crossed with several other poisons." Hermione pronounced grimly. "How long has she been like this?" She asked the doctor.

"Two and half, three hours." He shook his head. "Adder venom? Why the devil would she be carrying that?"

Armando looked up at her, his eyes searching. "Can you do anything? You and Albus, you're both good with potions…"

"I'm sorry." Hermione shook her head, her expression sorrowful. "She's had too long with it. Even if I had an antidote with me, it's been far too long to help. It's not straight venom – she's amplified it, distilled it down to make it as painful and as deadly as possible."

"I deserve to suffer." Merope cried. "I did this to Tom. I did. I ruined his life and now mine is forfeit. I just hope the baby looks like him, a son I won't taint."

"Merope…" Armando clutched her hand. "Dear girl. Your father was a brute and your brother no better. I should have done more for you, but they fought me at every turn. The Ministry wouldn't allow me to keep you against their will."

"It's alright, Headmaster." She smiled eerily, her drawn features making the expression look sinister. "I was barely a witch and we hadn't the money to pay."

"Doesn't matter." He insisted. "You are my great-granddaughter!"

Hermione sucked in a startled breath, Albus coming up behind her. "You didn't know?" He asked gently and she shook her head.

"Where's Tom?"

"I took him to the far side of the building along with the nurse. I warded the room tightly. I'll return to him shortly but I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Merope let out another agonized cry. "She took the most painful poison she could concoct, Albus. It's slow acting and I know of no antidote." She shivered violently. "I'll stay here with Armando. Can you make sure he's alright?"

"He responded to me as soon as I extended my magic." Albus whispered. "He's desperate to cling to someone. I have half a mind to grab him and disapparate to Hogwarts. Even through my warding I fear he can feel this happening. He is very sensitive."

"Do it." Hermione ordered softly.

"What about the muggles?"

"I'll take care of it. Just get him out of here. Send Lestrange back if you can." Hermione started forward, moving back to the bedside when Albus' hand on her arm stopped her.

"You don't intend to hurt them do you?"

Hermione's eyes hardened. "I don't intend to do them lasting harm, Albus. But they'll all have to be Obliviated and I'm sure that Armando will want to avoid Ministry entanglements. Magnus will be able to help me with it. I dare say he and I are probably the only two at Hogwarts with unregistered wands. We can't afford for either you or Armando's magical signatures to be on this should the Ministry ever have cause to investigate. Now get out of here. I confounded that nurse once tonight already. Just send her back here for a bottle or something and I'll handle her."

Albus reluctantly left her and she turned her attention back to the display before her. The muggles were watching with confusion as Armando tried spell after spell to ease his great-granddaughter's pain with no effect. Hermione walked slowly to other side of the bed and knelt, placing one hand gently on her forehead and another over her heart. She closed her eyes and focused, willing the erratic witch's magic to calm. The light in the room increased as she worked, Merope's wild magic having suppressed the very atmosphere of the orphanage in her despair.

Merope's tremors calmed slightly and her breathing evened and Hermione withdrew her hands to find Armando staring at her in shock. "It's all I can do." She said quietly. "I can't keep her under for long, sir."

"If we get her to St. Mungos…"

"It won't help." Hermione insisted softly. "She's mixed adder venom with aconite and oleander. Not even a bezoar could have saved her. The best I can do is stave off her pain for a short time."

"She didn't deserve this. If I'd known…"

Hermione cast a cleaning spell to rid the bed linens of the sweat and blood that had accumulated on them and then conjured a warm bowl of water and began gently swabbing the young woman's forehead. She heard the pop of apparition as Lestrange arrived and only gave him a small nod in greeting before he silently handled the muggles, herding them into a back room before Obliviating them. "It wasn't your fault." Hermione reminded the headmaster, her own stomach twisting with guilt. She'd known Merope Riddle-nee-Gaunt had died shortly after giving birth, but she's no idea it had been like this – or that she was in any way connected to the Headmaster.

The poison was malicious and what little Hermione had managed with her channeling of magic gave way to the inevitable. Merope's body twisted with another convulsion. "Can't we do anything for her?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Hermione closed her eyes. "I can end it." She offered quietly.

Armando was blinking back tears when she opened her eyes again. He couldn't form the words, but he nodded, his hand tightening on the dying woman's.

"The fastest and most painless way isn't legal." Hermione warned. "I can do it differently, but…"

"I don't want her to suffer anymore." Dippet acknowledged, reluctantly letting go of her hand, knowing without being told which spell it was she alluded to and how it wasn't safe to be touching the victim when cast. "Can you do it?"

"Yes." Hermione admitted, standing and taking a small step back from the bed. "Avada Kedavra" she whispered, her wand steady. There was a small flash of green and Merope Riddle was gone.