Oh mah gaaawwd. It has not been two years.

Note: conventional folly is when the cost of waging war exceeds the benefits, so waging war was a folly in the first place.

Treacle tarts to anyone who can guess what Hermione's plan is.

Also, I'd like to add if you haven't read the books and are fans of the movie, this fic may not totally make sense. There was a significant amount of plot they left out of the movies that they used in the books that is relevant to Hermione's plan. Namely, the scene in the fourth book where Dumbledore's eyes flickered with triumph after hearing Voldemort had used Harry's blood to regain his body. Also, look to the King's Cross chapter in book 7. Both of these parts are kept out of the movie and never explained so sorry! I don't mean to ostracize or confuse my readers who are just fans of the movies (all are welcome), and I hope you give me the benefit of the doubt that all will be explained in time.

Bravery hides in unique forms... sometimes simply by carrying on, even when we know what awaits us at the end of the tunnel will change us forever.


Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Conventional Folly

Soft

Soften, love

No need the boiling blood of youth.

Too heavy the burdens of present lie

Compared to struggles of past vie.

Tis conventional folly simply.

They will have what is spoiled

And we,

Yes, we, love,

Will sip the fruit

Lestrange walked quickly down the corridor, his leather boots tapping against the cold stone floor. A concerned look wrinkled his brow as he rushed to share the news he had just overheard. He moved with a furious excitement, his eyes glowing with forbidden knowledge. He turned a corner and quickly dashed into an empty classroom. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

"Well?" came a voice from the corner. Lestrange turned to see Nott step out of the shadows into the dim moonlight that lit the room. "What was the news you were dying to tell me? It better be worth it." He was twirling a deep red apple in his hands. "I had to leave a particularly delicious looking Victoria all alone in the kitchens." He took a large bite out of the fruit.

Lestrange grinned wickedly. "I assure you this information is well worth your time, Theodore."

"It had better be." Nott tossed his half eaten apple at Lestrange who caught it, grimaced, and tossed it quickly in the bin.

"I overheard Dippet speaking with Dumbledore after dinner tonight," Lestrange continued with a raised eyebrow. "Apparently the ministry has not been able to find any leads of the remainder of Artemis Morgen's family."

"Well, considering the state of the ministry, their incompetence—"

Lestrange waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off. "Do you realize what this means?"

"Morgen's life is truly as sad and tragic as it sounds?"

"Morgen is under investigation as a possible supporter of Grindelwald!"

This seemed to catch Nott's interest.

"Really? Well," Nott began to pace the room slowly as he thought. "this could explain why our dear Lord has been so infatuated with her, couldn't it?"

"I hope so," Lestrange answered darkly. "Her connection with the dark arts may have given him a reason to ally himself with her. Hopefully once her usefulness has passed or she begins attracting more negative attention than she's worth, he will rid of her."

"You don't believe he has genuine feelings for her?"

Lestrange snorted. "Hardly. She may be more to him than a fuck but no one who aggravates him as much as she has can last too long. Although…" Lestrange paused, a tense look on his face.

"You are wondering why we have received punishment from our Lord when she has been repeatedly spared," Nott voiced Lestrange's thoughts.

Lestrange nodded sullenly.

"If what you say is true, if Artemis's family was truly aligned with Grindelwald, then Voldemort was being prudent to not punish her."

"But it has been months since Grindelwald has fallen. Why did he proceed to elope with the witch if her connections to the dark arts would only attract suspicion from the ministry?"

Nott paused. "I am not sure. He may still be using her. Her family may be tied to an underground rebellion."

Lestrange did not seem convinced. "How can we be sure?"

Nott sighed and shrugged. "We can't. But does it matter? Have you really lost faith in your Lord, Lestrange? Don't let him hear that."

Lestrange tsked. "Whatever the reason I'm sure she will not be a problem much longer. According to Dippet, Morgen is to be taken in for questioning. That is sure to put Voldemort off her."

"Excellent," Nott smirked. "I was growing anxious, waiting to see when the snake would devour the lion."


Many nights Tom would not sleep. Hermione, who once again took to spending most of her time in the library researching Horcruxes and studying for NEWTs, would retire to bed while Tom sat in the common room reading, studying, planning. Sometimes simply staring at the fire in thought. Occasionally Hermione would get up to use the loo or to get a glass of water and she would see him, chin on his hand and fire reflecting in his eyes. On these occasions she would bring him a cup of tea or, when she was feeling generous, wrap a blanket around his shoulders. He never noticed her and she did nothing to change this.

It was not until two weeks after the ministry ball and a few weeks before the seventh years were schedule to take their NEWT examinations that Tom once again took notice of Hermione in their quarters.

Hermione lay in their bed alone, lightly touching the delicate diamonds he had given her at the Minister's ball with her fingertips. She expected Tom would not sleep again tonight. He had been far too excited after she had revealed to him the extent of his future power.

Tom was indeed pacing the common room as he had many nights since Hermione had exposed he would one day rule the Ministry, but tonight instead of feeling giddy he felt a calm satisfaction. Leading up to the ball he had been carefully planning the next steps of his career as his time at Hogwarts came to an end, placing employment requests at the Department of Mysteries. He had to admit he had been feeling a strong sense of apprehension as he thought of life after Hogwarts. He was scheduled to meet with Dumbledore the following morning to discuss his plans after Hogwarts. He scoffed at this idea. Surely Dumbledore cared very little if he succeeded. As far as he knew Dumbledore trusted him as much as Tom trusted a bicorn.

But tonight, a fortnight after Hermione had revealed his future to him, he felt extraordinary… unique. Tonight he felt calm. Tonight he was in a celebratory mood as he took a swig of firewhiskey, a gift sent by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the oaf had bumped into him and Hermione at the ball. Tom was not one to normally drink liquor, and the hot liquid felt somewhat unpleasant as it burned his insides, but he had to say the unfamiliar effect it had was not altogether disagreeable.

Tom corked the bottle and rose, flicking his wand at the burning embers of the common room fire. He climbed the stairs to their bedroom and entered. Hermione was already asleep. He made little effort to stay quiet as he undressed and crawled into bed. He settled himself near her, taking in her heat before closing his eyes. Before he could drift off to sleep, he felt her move closer to him. He opened his eyes curiously but saw she was still asleep. He did not move. She continued to shift until she was turned towards him, pressed against him, her head resting on his chest.

He was mildly surprised but did nothing to push her off. This position was comfortable and he would not deny her body heat. She sighed and settled, still asleep, as he wrapped his arms around her. He looked down at her curiously. Though they both understood the death of the other would mean far easier lives for themselves, they did seem rather comfortable around each other. He watched her peaceful face and considered for a moment how truly afraid of him she must be and how brave she is to remain by his side all this time. He was distracted, however, by the sigh that escaped her parted lips.

His eyes darted down to them. It may have been the firewhiskey that helped point out how pink and full they were, but suddenly he was hit with just how long it had been... His head moved almost of its own accord and he settled his lips on hers, moving against them softly. She responded lightly in her sleep. As soon as he felt her respond he felt his need grow and allowed his tongue to gently dart forward and lick her lip. He could feel her fighting sleep, trying to regain consciousness. He continued to caress her mouth with his, holding her warm body closely until she moaned and her eyes fluttered open to find him staring at her with need. She reacted with surprise but did not, to Tom's amusement, pull away. She lay, staring at him, waiting for his next move. He turned her so she would face him more fully and pulled her closer into a passionate kiss.

Hermione responded to the kiss fully. She did not know what had inspired this new affection but could only assume he was still pleased with the information she had given him at the Minister's Ball. She tasted firewhiskey on his breath and pulled back.

"Have you been celebrating?" she asked slyly.

"A little," he replied. And it was the truth. Tom Riddle never drank and he felt the dull effects of the alcohol settle him.

Hermione wondered if she might be able to use his unlikely intoxicated state to her advantage. She rolled again so this time she was straddling him. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Have you come up to celebrate some more, my Lord?"

This sent a chill up Tom's spine and caused his already growing erection to harden even more. He ran his hands up her bare thighs and under her nightgown. She sat up and pulled the nightgown up and over her head, tossing it aside.

Her boldness surprised Tom almost to the point of suspicion, but as her hand snaked under his boxers he decided to ask questions later. He held in a groan as she pulled his erection free and ran her hand up the length. He reached up and unclasped her bra as she worked on him. Feeling the need to regain control, Tom pushed her knickers aside and slowly pushed himself into her. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Hermione sigh. He had forgotten how good this felt.

They stayed very still for a moment, becoming reacquainted with the feel of each other. It was Hermione who began to move first, rocking herself gently back and forth along him. Tom snapped open his eyes to see her biting her bottom lip, eyes closed as she worked for her orgasm. He felt himself grow even harder inside her and began to meet her movements. Tom realized this must have been a position Hermione favored because she was soon quickening her pace and it was not much longer before he felt her clench around him as she cried out.

She stilled her movements, breathing heavily, so Tom slowed his, taking his time to scrutinize her. As her breathing slowed she looked down at him, meeting his gaze.

"What is it, then?" she asked, still trying to regain the natural rhythm of her heartbeat.

Tom was not sure what she was talking about, but wished she would wait until he had cum as well.

"The necklace?" Her voice was growing harsher.

Tom stilled but did not pull out of her. He was becoming increasingly irritated with the current progression of events. His erection was still firmly placed inside her and was missing her previous ministrations.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"First you buy me a dress. Then you buy me a beautiful necklace. Now I find you joining me in our bed for the first time in weeks and wake up to you acting like a proper husband should."

Tom noted that despite her anger she had not removed herself from him yet…

"What sort of charm did you place on it?" She demanded.

Realization dawned on Tom as his gaze darted from her anxious face to the diamonds around her neck. He narrowed his eyes. Tom sat up so quickly she was almost dislodged from him, but he wrapped an arm around her so they were face to face.

"So you think whatever you are feeling may be some curse I've place on you?" he asked callously.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Tom felt something snap inside of him. He growled and grabbed the necklace around her neck, ripping it off. Hermione yelped as Tom threw the necklace across the room, smashing it into the wall. The diamonds glittered as they rolled and scattered across the floor. Hermione held her breath as he gripped the back of her neck, holding her close to him.

He asked a question.

"Do you love me?"

Hermione didn't respond, watching the mix of fury, lust, fear, and hope playing in Tom's eyes.

He shook her. "Answer me!"

"Yes," she replied evenly.

She could see him fighting with himself, his fingertips digging into her hip and neck, deciding whether or not it was acceptable for her to truly love him. Trying to understand how love was possible. Perhaps trying to decide whether or not he loved her too. She may as well ask.

"Do you love me?"

She saw his eyes flash and felt his grip tighten.

"I don't want to kill you," he replied.

"That's not a real answer."

Tom could not think about this right now. He could not think at all. He suddenly remembered why he never drank. She continued before he could reply,

"But I'm sure you're not capable of love now, Voldemort, are you? After you've split your soul so many times?" Hermione was not sure why she had said the words; she could only contribute them to the hurt and distrust she was feeling. "I bet you aren't even capable of feeling."

Hermione was proven wrong as she felt his anger burn hot within her. She felt his nails digging into her neck and hip as though he were trying to draw blood.

"I prefer it that way!" he snarled. Hermione let out a small shriek as Tom pushed her off him forcibly. She fell back onto the bed as he rose and pulled a black robe over his head hurriedly. He did not bother to look at her again as he left their bedroom. She rose quickly and followed him out the door to see his retreating back moving toward the common room exit. She rushed to the banister.

"Tom!" she called out, regretting the turn of events.

A pain Hermione had not experience before gripped her, digging at her from the inside out. She could not scream for the pain stunned her. She could only sink to her knees and silently beg her life was not ending. Tom did not turn around, but exited their quarters swiftly.

Panting, Hermione keeled over as unconsciousness took her, noting the lovely sparkle of the diamonds strewn across the floor.

Tom walked furiously through the castle. He was not thinking. He was not cool headed. He cursed love. He cursed pain and any other human emotion he was forced to deal with on a daily basis. Above all he cursed firewhiskey.

Tom rounded the corner leading him to the Room of Requirements, red eyes flashing, purpose sure. He entered a patiently waiting room consisting of a simple table and a cauldron filled with a maturing potion. He walked purposefully up to the cauldron, pulling the diadem and his wand from his robes as he moved.

He had performed the procedure before. It was almost a simple task to him now…

The diadem was placed within the cauldron as he chanted the forbidden curse. The cauldron glowed an eerie red and then the feeling… oh the feeling of his splitting soul, aching and wretched, but almost like being reborn. He welcomed the pain, grateful for anything that could take away the pitiful weakness of humanly love.

The pain seemed to echo throughout his body, and he lost track of all time.


Tom's shined boots clicked on the stone floor as he rushed to Dumbledore's office. The events of the previous night had made him uncharacteristically late, and he was sure Dumbledore would waste no time in pointing out his tardiness. He skidded to a halt in front of the Transfiguration professor's office, regained his breath and lifted his fist to knock.

"Mr. Riddle, it's so good to see even the finest among us can be a little tardy at times." came a voice from behind the door before Tom's knuckles could even touch the wood. Tom clenched his fist tightly, a grimace passing over his face before reaching out to turn the knob.

As soon as he entered he was greeted with the low hum of whirring gadgets, sparkling from every corner of Dumbledore's office. Tom's eyes passed greedily over what looked to be a miniature bell jar containing a fluttering gold bird.

"Have a seat, Tom."

Tom's eyes darted back to the grinning, aging wizard. As Tom moved to the front of Dumbledore's desk and took his seat he noticed long strands of white speckling the auburn beard of his professor.

"You have aged as well, Tom," Dumbledore said kindly. "Into much better health than I can say for myself."

Tom did not say anything. He could not help but feel triumph as well as unease over the wizard's initial stages of decline.

"You look concerned, Tom. I can assure you needn't worry about me. It's not so bad to age as long as one has accomplished what they have wanted, and I still have not given up my dream of leading the Chudley Canons to victory one of these years."

"I did not realize you played Quidditch, sir," Tom said with a straight face.

"I did, like most boys," Dumbledore said pulling a roll of parchment from the side drawer of his black oak desk.

He unrolled the parchment and straightened his glasses on his crooked nose.

"In our previous meeting in your sixth year you had expressed interest in the Department of Mysteries, I have done research into the matter and there are no starting positions within that Department for someone just out of Hogwarts. However," Dumbledore stressed seeing the look of annoyance beginning to form on Tom's face, "you have been offered a starting position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, specifically within the office of Wizenmagot Administration."

Tom did not speak for a moment, but only watched Dumbledore's blue eyes carefully.

"You also work with this office, don't you sir?" Tom said finally.

"The recommendation did not come from me, though I do think you would be very capable at the position. The recommendation came from within the office itself. You must have made a good impression at the Ministry Ball."

Tom wanted to smirk, but resisted. "Was that the only offer, sir?"

This time it was Dumbledore who was silent, watching Tom intently over his spectacles.

Tom really didn't have time for this. "Sir?"

"There has been another offer," Dumbledore finally spoke. "As it seems, Professor Merrythought has planned to retire soon. Headmaster Dippet expressed interest in hiring an assistant who would then ideally take her place. There have been a few names passed around as suggestions. Minerva McGonagall was one. Yours was another."

Tom felt a thrill run through him.

"I am certainly interested in the position, Professor," Tom said earnestly. The chance to stay within the walls of Hogwarts, the only true home he ever had, to tap into more of its hidden power and search for more "gifts" left to him by his ancestor…

"Then we will need to set up an interview," Dumbledore said, making a note. "You will be notified by owl when and where it will be held."

Tom felt a stab of annoyance.

"An interview, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at Tom with his piercing blue eyes. "Since you are not the only candidate we are considering, we will need to be more thorough in our selection process. The interview will be conducted by Professor Merrythought, myself, and the Headmaster."

Tom was disappointed to discover the effects of splitting one's soul did not lessen the amount of anger and hatred he felt towards his old Professor. In fact, the feeling was only more intense, and he found himself struggling to contain his frustration.

"When will this interview be conducted, sir?" He asked as evenly as he could.

Dumbledore ruffled the parchment on his desk.

"The end of term. Perhaps the first week of summer holidays."

Tom breathed deeply, keeping his cool. He was sure Dumbledore's vote was already set against him.

"Thank you, sir. I will consider it." Tom rose quickly, moving toward the door.

"Tom," Dumbledore called, pulling him back. "Please consider taking the job with the Ministry. It appears to provide the most promising route for a man in your position. As Dippet says, you may become minister one day."

Tom was not fooled. He knew Dumbledore only wanted him working at the ministry so he could keep his eye on Tom while still keeping him distant enough from the untapped power of Hogwarts.

Tom nodded curtly and exited the whirring office quickly, already fully confident in his future as ruler of the magical world.


Hermione sighed as she felt a cool cloth press against her forehead. She had not had anyone do this for her since her mother when she was a small girl. She did not want to open her eyes. She was sure she was in the hospital wing. Where else would she receive such kind treatment?

"What happened to you, Artemis?" Hermione heard a feminine voice whisper about her.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open quickly to see her old roommate sitting on the edge of her and Tom's bed, concern etched on her face. She tried to sit up quickly, panic sweeping through her.

Elizabeth placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder to push her back down and Hermione sank like a rune, dizziness flooding her senses.

"How did you get in?" was all Hermione could muster. Hermione realized this was not exactly the most polite way of thanking the girl who had most certainly found her on the floor and taken care of her, but if Tom had any idea that Elizabeth had been here or that she was at all suspicious of him….

"The crest let me in," Elizabeth said timidly, taken back by Hermione's abruptness. "I suppose it realized you were in danger and allowed me to enter."

Hermione had not been aware of this feature of the Hogwarts' common room entrances. Perhaps she would rewrite her own version of Hogwarts: A History. She could call it Hermione's Hogwarts History: The Tale of a Girl Who's Done it Twice. Ha. Hermione felt a rush of giddiness followed by nausea sweep through her. Lord Voldemort's curses were really something unique.

She felt Elizabeth returning the cool cloth to her forehead.

"Diamonds aren't worth this, Artemis."

Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly together as her fears were confirmed; Elizabeth suspected Tom.

"You should go," Hermione said weakly. "I'll be fine."

"That would be wise." Tom stood at the bedroom door, his eyebrows raised at the young Gryffindor.

Elizabeth looked between Hermione and Tom. "I don't think—"

"Get out!" Tom snapped at her harshly.

Elizabeth jumped and rose immediately, darting one last anxious look Hermione's way before slipping past Tom, down the stairs, and out the crest entrance.

Hermione watched Tom with tired eyes. Tom returned the gesture.

"The curse that I placed on your Dark Mark, as you've felt, attacks you every time you disobey my direct orders. Repeatedly calling me by that muggle's name is such an order."

Tom moved closer to her as he disrobed. She watched him apprehensively. "Each time you disobey me, the curse grows stronger."

He leaned over her, Salazar's locket dangling from his chest almost close enough to touch Hermione's lips. Tom reached a hand out and smoothed back her curly, honey-brown hair from her forehead. "It will grow stronger the more you disobey me until it finally kills you."

Their eyes were locked in silent understanding as he continued to stroke her hair.

"I have been terribly kind to you, Hermione." Her name sounded like poison on his lips. She did not respond.

Finally, Tom moved into bed beside her, pulled her close, and fell asleep.

Hermione's heart was pounding, her mind racing. Elizabeth was now surely in danger. She did not know how long she had been unconscious for, but by the look of the setting sun it had been at least twelve hours. Lord Voldemort's curse was certainly growing stronger, and she dreaded the day he would command and she would refuse to obey for she knew that day must come if she were ever to complete her plan and defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all. She knew she would not sleep tonight, but was too weak to move from Tom's side.

She noted how much colder his skin felt than it had the previous night.


Hermione sat beside Elizabeth the following morning in the Great Hall. It was the first time she and Tom had eaten apart, at least in public, since their supposed elopement. Hermione felt relieved, but also somewhat unnerved. She felt his absence and reprimanded herself for it. Hermione had to admit she was genuinely bewildered by their relationship and terrified by the possibility they could be bound together permanently, a possibility that was growing stronger every minute she spent with him.

Yet he grew colder as his soul split. Hermione knew his cruelty would only grow as his humanity waned with time. Even now as Hermione watched him across the Hall sitting with his Slytherin classmates she noticed he appeared more distant than usual, no longer interested in even keeping up the pretense he cared about the people sitting around him. Even Lucretia, usually flirtatious and clingy, was keeping her distance.

Whispers around the Great Hall pulled Hermione out of her musings. She followed the gazes of her fellow Gryffindors to see four wizards entering, each wearing a bright brass "A" pinned on their purple robes. What were Aurors doing at Hogwarts?

Hermione's confusion dwindled slowly as she saw the path the Aurors were taking. They were headed straight for her. Oh, bloody figures.

Students were standing on their seats to get a better look as an Auror stepped forward from the group directly in front of Hermione and announced:

"Artemis Morgen, under suspicion of conspiring with the late Dark Lord Grindelwald, you are to be held for questioning. Please come with me." His voice was shockingly soft for such a large man, and Hermione may not have entirely believed she had heard him right if he had not forcibly placed his hand on her shoulder and moved her toward the door, the remaining three Aurors following.

Before she was pushed through the heavy doors into the Entrance Hall, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the crowed, but she could not find Tom anywhere.