September 1944
"Ready?"
The deep voice of her father pulled Hermione from her thoughts.
Brushing over some non-existent wrinkles on her unusually formal robes, she took a deep breath before nodding at herself in the mirror. "As ready as I'll ever be. Loreen will have a heart attack when she sees this." Her eyes wandered over the soft fabrics of her loose jet-black trousers and heavily embroidered outer robe.
"You look beautiful," Rodolphus exclaimed, his hands on her shoulders and his eyes finding her own in the looking glass. He wore matching robes which somehow made him look even more intimidating than usual.
"As my father, you have to say that." She joked and saw the man preen at the mention of his title. Hermione would never forgive him for what he'd done, but during her training to take over the daily business this summer, the two of them had spent so much time together that she would've lost her mind if she hadn't compromised.
At seventeen she was finally able to get actively involved in official matters, and Rodolphus had kept his promise to hand over some of his responsibilities as she entered her final year at Hogwarts. Today she'd be formally introduced as the next Head of House Lestrange at the ministry, much to Rabastan's disdain. He'd somewhat forgiven his wife for taking Edwin and now made a conscious effort to be at least a passable father, but he was still distant. At least he didn't use his hands or wand for punishment. She didn't know if she could've sat still and watch that man follow into his older brother's footsteps.
"That might be so, but that doesn't take away the sincerity of my statement." Hermione felt her father's surprisingly warm hands run through her curls.
Without any charms and potions to hold them up, they had grown to a ridiculous length. Even Loreen had suggested that it may be time for a trim and she belonged to the same circle of people who thought that a proper witch should have enough hair to make even Rapunzel look plain.
"You definitely have Bella's hair." It was barely a whisper, but it made her blood freeze nonetheless.
"Don't." Hermione stumbled away from the older man, who looked at her like she'd struck him. "Don't compare me to that vile woman. She was not my mother." The last part came out as a hiss, the disgust at that thought clinging to her ribs.
"I didn't mean to. I-"
"No. Don't say her name, stop comparing me to her. It makes me sick." He'd always done that. Off-hand comments about their physical similarities but it never truly struck her as much as it did now.
She was a child back then. She'd thought that once she grew up, her body would change, and she would look like herself again. She caught another glance of her raven locks in her reflection. They are supposed to be brown. Only she didn't look like she used to.
"Forgive me, I just can't help myself sometimes." Rodolphus placed his hands on her arms.
She subconsciously flinched away from the gesture. It was a testament to his abhorrent treatment of his supposed daughter.
"Promise me." She hissed.
"Promise you what?" He questioned.
"That you'll stop. No more comparing me to your dead wife. The madwoman that tortured me until I thought I'd die." Her stomach still fell at the mere mention of what had happened to her so many years ago. The wounds from that day might've healed, but her soul was forever scarred by this cruel act.
"Compose yourself girl, you'll be the face of this house soon." It was apparent to Hermione, how over the years, her father had created a glorified memory of his deceased lover in his head. Losing himself to the delusion that she was theirs. It's what he'd always wanted, and she could empathise with his desire for a picture-perfect family. But she wouldn't allow him to replace her amazing mother with that monster. Ever.
"I'm as calm as a centaur father. I just ask of you to stop bringing up that woman when you look at me." Her voice cracked, this was supposed to be her big day, why were they arguing again?
"Bellatrix was mad. But once upon a time I married her because she was a brilliant, strong-headed witch, who also happened to be a Black. When I look at you now, I see that same ambition, that raw magical talent." He gently cupped her face in his calloused hands, causing her to freeze up at the foreign gesture. "You're not her though. I'll keep my thoughts to myself from now on."
Hermione wanted to believe him, but she also knew the man that was Rodolphus Lestrange. Good intentions alone weren't enough with him. His moods were as fickle as that of a pixie, and even if he meant every word he just said, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't change his mind someday. For now, she'd take what she could get.
"Thank you. Now can we please leave?" She answered, desperate to change the topic.
Rodolphus chuckled at her pleading glance, and together they made their way downstairs. Much to Hermione's relief Loreen and her children were nowhere to be seen, so without further ado, they travelled to the Ministry of Magic…
"Hermione Lestrange, born to Rodolphus Lestrange and-" The ministry official looked up from his scroll.
"Her mother wishes to remain anonymous for obvious reasons." She rolled her eyes at Rodolphus' explanation. Apparently, it was usual for an unmarried woman to renounce her relationship to her child for her to stay a desirable match.
"Ah, yes. Naturally. Well, then." The man in front of them looked ancient. Hermione could barely make out a face under his bushy white eyebrows and just as wild beard.
"Hermione Lestrange, born to Rodolphus Lestrange shall henceforth, in consideration of article 315b, third paragraph, revision in progress, be named heiress to the house Lestrange for there were no other male direct descendants at the time of the first announcement on the 19th of September 1941." With a monotonous voice that rivalled that of her history professor, the ministry official continued to read the declaration.
"Miss Lestrange will inherit two gamot seats upon the abdication of the current head of house Lestrange. It has been brought to the ministry's attention that the father of Edwin Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, wishes to challenge the claim of Miss Lestrange once his brother resigns from his duties."
"What?!" Rodolphus spat, clearly taken aback by the man's last words. Hermione honestly couldn't say that she was surprised. Rabastan had not liked the idea of her being his head of house one day at all.
The old man sighed. "It has been brought to the ministry's attention that the fa-"
"I heard you the first time old man. Are you saying that my brother is contesting my daughter's claim?"
The ministry official read over his scroll. "Well, it appears so, yes. Yes, indeed."
Hermione could practically see Rodolphus' composure flying out the window. "Excuse me, sir, what exactly does that mean for me?" She interrupted before her father had a chance to speak.
"He or his son may challenge you to a formal duel for the title the day your father abdicates. Both duellists must be off age, otherwise there are no limitations. There have been cases in the past where two family branches have fought to the death." Well, doesn't that sound just great.
"We'll deal with this back home. Is that all? Or do we have to sit through another of your thrilling readings?" Rodolphus asked curtly, his cheeks stained red from his rising anger.
"I only need your signature and that of the next head of house right here." A hovering quill and parchment appeared in front of them. "Here, and one drop of blood for this form." Without warning something pricked Hermione's thumb.
"Ouch!"
"Thank you very much, Miss Lestrange, very much appreciated. This should be all. Please refer to the department of government affairs for the addition of Miss Lestrange to the list of Gamot successors." Before they could answer, the door behind them opened again, a clear sign of dismissal. Huffing her father put her hand in the crook of his arm, forcefully dragging the startled girl out with him.
"This is why I never come here. Bureaucratic pricks, the lot of them." He grumbled.
Unsure what to say, Hermione allowed him to escort her through the winding corridors of the underground building until they finally reached the intended office.
"Mr Lestrange, how good to see you. It has been quite a while, hasn't it?" Hermione didn't know who the rude man at the front desk was, but she was aware of Rodolphus' aversion to official gamot hearings. Stating that they were a waste of breath most of the time.
"I don't see how this is any of your business Sir-"
"Edgecomb, Carson Edgecomb," The other man interrupted.
"Ah, it talks how quaint, seeing as you're sitting here at your fancy little assistants' desk and not inside that prestigious chamber as I do, I advise you kindly sir, to never interrupt me again." At Rodolphus' withering glare the man suddenly went very still.
"Of course, Lord Lestrange. What may I do for you today Milord… Lestrange?" Hiding a snicker behind her long sleeves, Hermione looked up to her father. It was surprisingly amusing to watch him go after people that weren't her.
"This is my daughter. Hermione Lestrange. Add her to your precious book of succession, would you?" He did look rather striking in his billowing robes, and she suddenly appreciated that they were matching.
"Ah, daughters are usually not allowed to-"
Her fathers' hands came crashing down on that poor man's desk. "H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e Lestrange".
The flustered ministry worker rushed towards the back of his office. He drew his wand and proceeded to unlock an intricately carved chest sitting in the far corner of the room. With a nervous glance back at the pair, he pulled out a worn leather back before returning to his desk, where the older Lestrange was still glowering at him.
"Alright, Miss-" He nearly choked on her name.
"Miss Lestrange, would you so kindly put your wand right here and confirm your identity?" He pointed at her newly added name in the book.
The entire page was filled with the names of the previous heads of her house. It was an awe-inspiring sight and for the first time Hermione realised how much history her new name truly had- the importance it carried. These few families decided the entire fate of wizarding Britain. She'd never grasped how undemocratic this government, at its core, really was. Of course, in the future there were a few honorary gamot members from the broader public, mostly muggleborns since they had no other way to claim government seats, but still. It was shocking.
"There you go." Focussing her mind back on the task at hand, she watched her name light up for a second, apparently confirming her nomination.
The assistant managed not to look too appalled by the fact that a witch had been approved, but was still met with the full force of Rodolphus' disdain who'd clearly seen the other man's frown.
"Congratulations Miss Lestrange, I hope we shall meet on many more occasions."
"Not if I can't help it." Rodolphus murmured before once again pulling Hermione with him back to the floo transport.
"Well, that was exciting." She stated drily once they arrived and joined the shortest queue.
Rodolphus huffed, "Curse Merlin that I cannot give you all of my ministry business to take care of. Once our Lord is in power, you'll see to that."
"What? Equal rights for wizards and witches?" She questioned. "Never thought you'd be a fan of that. How will you control my life if I have the law on my side?" She teased, not expecting him to really answer her.
"If that means I don't have to set another foot in this dreadful place ever again, then so be it." He spoke gravely, causing Hermione to laugh.
A few years ago she wouldn't have dreamed of speaking so casually with the former death eater, but the way he was looking at her now with that proud smile on his face that he usually wore when he showed her off to his mostly horrible wizard friends- it felt great. He had his flaws. Merlin so many flaws, but she could appreciate the sincerity of his feelings towards her. To him, she was his daughter, and as she'd grown older, she'd learned to live with the expectations that came with that label.
Hermione would never forget what he'd put her through, but she was willing to work with him. If this was the only way for her to save her friends and prevent a war, she'd swallow her anger and stay with the Lestranges. Soon, she'd be able to live on her own terms, graduation was only a year away after all. No placement at the ministry meant, she could maybe get her own place, start working until Tom took over. She'd no doubt that he'd want all of his possible allies close to him as soon as possible. If that meant revoking a law that banned witches from government positions, then so be it.
"After you." She was pulled out of her musings by her father's hand on her back as he pushed her into the green flames.
"A little warning would be nice next time!" She managed to say before Hermione was whisked away…
December 1944
Hogwarts without Evan felt strange. She'd never realised how much time they spent together until after he'd graduated. He must've given Abraxas clear instructions what he was supposed to do in his place for the few months he wasn't around.
Like clockwork, the Malfoy heir showed up at her common room every morning to escort her to class and carry her books. It would've been endearing if he hadn't used this time, to complain about his efforts in great detail.
"I have to get up twenty minutes early, 'cause you bloody Gryffindors decided to dwell in the most northern tower of this cursed castle." Abraxas turned towards her, his silken hair nearly escaping the velvet bow that held it back. "How do you have twice as many books as I, even though we're in all of the same classes?" He continued his rant, readjusting the pile of bound paper in his arms.
"If it bothers you so much, just stop doing it Abraxas. I don't care. I can carry my books just fine." It was far too early to get annoyed, Hermione thought to herself.
"And get another howler from a raving Rosier at four in the morning?" Abraxas asked. "No, thank you."
Scoffing at her classmate, Hermione tried to tune out the rest of his whining until they finally reached the glasshouse for their Herbology class.
"Miss Lestrange, Mr Malfoy, you two are early, how nice. Join us. Tom and I are preparing everybody's coursework for this semester." Their professor gestured for them to follow her to the back where she spotted Riddle already potting some nasty looking plants. "Leave your books at the front, don't forget to grab some gloves and aprons."
Abraxas shot her a baleful glare, both of them knowing that it was her fault that they had to help since she insisted on being at least half an hour early to every class.
"Mornin' Tom, how can we help?" Pulling the apron over her head, she joined the newly appointed head boy at the table.
Finishing his own work first, he turned around, "Malfoy, I see you're still playing errand boy for Rosier?" Tom whipped his dirty gloves on his already stained apron. "There is no other reason for you to be actually on time."
Riddle disapproved greatly of any of his associates having a less than stellar school record or behaving like a general human being with flaws for that matter. Since last year he had decided that on his path to greatness, he couldn't afford to slip up, even with the people he surrounded himself with. Much to the displeasure of most of his Knights. They had started calling their group the Knights of Walpurgis right after the last Christmas break. Hermione thought it was the most pretentious thing she'd ever participated in.
"I wouldn't want to jeopardise my position at the top of our classes, Tom. If that means, getting up a little early, I'd be happy to do so." Abraxas muttered, the apparent lack of coffee in his system making him sound less than sincere.
"As you should," Riddle replied, turning his attention back to Hermione who'd just watched her friend getting chewed out by their leader up until now. "Lestrange, grab yourself a few pots and stop dawdling around."
Rolling her eyes at his pushy attitude, she helped herself to some of the brightly coloured plants waiting to be potted and set to work…
"Do you want to spend the holidays with us, Tom?" Hermione asked the other boy as they made their way towards the library. Much to her chagrin, Riddle continued to amaze Hermione with his seemingly bottomless knowledge of magical theory and made it their tradition to spend their Sunday evenings at the library.
"No, I'd rather spend Yule in a bunker with the rest of muggle London." He drawled, earning himself an exasperates sigh from the witch at his side.
"Why are you like that? A simple yes, would've been enough."
"Because, to a stupid question, you get a stupid answer." He told the flustered girl.
"Oh, pardon me, my Lord. Next time I shall demand your presence at my humble abode." The words had left her mouth before her brain could catch up. Panicked by the sudden stillness of her companion, she stopped in her tracks. "I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean it that way!"
"Say it again." His voice swept over her rushing thoughts like an icy wave.
"What?" Hermione didn't understand.
"What did you just call me?" A smirk, a proper smirk stretched over the Slytherin's face, giving him a boyish appearance that threw Hermione completely off the rails.
"…My Lord?" Every time she'd heard one of his followers call him by that title, flashed before her inner eyes.
"Yes, Hermione?" Her heart skipped a beat. Merlin be damned, how does he make my name sound like that? She didn't know how to reply to his teasing.
Mortification clashed with the actual realisation that she had called Voldemort her Lord. Which he would be, only now he was an actual one. Since his last birthday his official title was Lord Slytherin. The press had gone nuts over the news and Walburga Black had somehow managed to look even further down her nose at the prospect of becoming the next Lady Slytherin.
"Merlin, don't do that, your girlfriend can take care of those weird power fantasies of yours." It was during times like these that she noticed how much more time she spent in the company of wizards. A proper witch would have never uttered the words she just had thrown at his head.
"I'm scandalised Miss Lestrange and don't know what you're insinuating." Riddle's eyes practically sparkled with mischief. It was apparently the third emotion he'd developed after rage and sarcasm. Technically only one of these was an actual emotion but at this point Hermione would take anything over cold apathy. If he derived enjoyment from tormenting people, she'd rather have him tease them than curse them.
"You know what, why don't you just stay with the Blacks this year? I'm sure they will be thrilled to have you." She eventually answered, ready to get this conversation over with.
Riddle wrinkled his nose, "I'd rather gauge my own eyes out than spend even more time with even more Blacks away from school."
Snickering at his blatant dislike for the stuck-up family, Hermione pushed the doors to the library open. "Are you sure you want to continue courting her?"
"She's useful to my cause and since my only bearable option has decided she'd rather burn the supremacy of wizards to the ground; I'll have to stick with Black."
Hermione nearly stumbled over her own feet at his words, painfully aware that she was the bearable option. Tom Riddle finds me bearable. She went from expendable to bearable. And it had only taken her seven years of faking, pretending and lying to not only everyone around her but herself to get there.
Her heart sunk. How was she supposed to sway Riddle away from his megalomaniac plans if it had taken her so many years to get him to admit that she was bearable. They were supposed to be close by now. She didn't think Tom saw her, or anyone for that matter, as a friend. She was a far cry from him seeing her as his equal. Hermione figured she was more of a well-liked underling at that point, ranking only marginally higher than Malfoy and he was basically Riddle's right-hand man in the future.
"So, this is what it takes to silence the great Hermione Lestrange. I'll remember that." His lips dripping with sarcasm, the head boy pulled her from her silent internal crisis.
Hermione hastily followed him to their table and pulled out her homework.
"If I didn't require an heir, I'd have waited for you, Hermione. But alas, I don't think I can persuade you to give up your titles and carry on the line of Slytherin." He sounded as if he was talking about the weather, not her carrying his child in the foreseeable future.
A wave of dizziness overcame Hermione. It was damn near impossible to differentiate between Riddle's moods. Was he serious? She knew he favoured intelligence so of course if she'd accepted his offer, he'd take her over Walburga any day. But then, maybe he was just toying with her to get a reaction he hadn't seen before. He liked to do that. It was the same when he kissed her a few months ago. He enjoyed riling people up, especially her. "Please be serious about this, Tom. Marriage is not something to be taken lightly."
He shrugged, "All of these pureblood traditions of yours. The fidelity, the unbreakable vows. Of course, one would feel pressured. Did you know that in the Muggle world you can just leave when you decide you had enough? Until death do us part is figurative."
How they had gone from, where do you spend your holidays, to Riddle explaining to her how muggle marriages worked, she didn't know. She couldn't tell him that she knew, so she settled for a questioning look. "How curious."
"Once I grow tired of my lovely wife, I'll come to you, Hermione. Since I'll swear an unbreakable vow, I cannot seriously harm her, but you? You can."
And suddenly Hermione knew why Riddle was telling her about his future plans with Walburga. Because, naturally, he didn't want to be a sane person. He wanted her to kill his wife once she was no longer useful to him. Morgana help me. "Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that?"
"Because I tell you to. I trust you, Hermione. If you want my help in your quest to save the muggleborns and liberate the witches of britain, you'll have to do some things for me in return."
Taken aback by his direct words, Hermione struggled to form an answer.
"You won't be very useful in the beginning. The rest of the Knights are already starting to establish our network, but it'll take a while for you to join us." Riddle began, "So, while the others are working hard to earn my favour I'm working pro bono for you until you join the ministry. And that isn't really fair, is it?"
"I- you cannot just tell me to do something so atrocious as if it were nothing. You're not even married yet. Why are you already plotting the murder of your wife?" Hermione asked, incredulously.
"Because I like to plan ahead. Walburga and I will get married at the end of next year. After that, it'll take what? Two to three years until I have my heir and a wife, I have no need for anymore." Tom's words didn't even register in her mind at this point, but he kept talking.
"By then, I will have enough support to change some things, so you take care of her, and I'll get you into the ministry that same year."
So that was the price that she had to pay. What she had to do to get into the ministry. Kill a mother. To continue to stay at his side after school, she'd have to become a murderer. She felt bile rising up her throat.
"I can see you need to think about this proposal. Who knows, maybe everything will take its course, and she might die in childbirth, wouldn't that be convenient for you."
Hermione didn't know how much longer she could listen to his revolting words. She couldn't just get up and leave, but her hands felt clammy, and the thought of ever having to raise her wand with the intent to kill again made her sick to her stomach. "…Or maybe you'll find another way of convincing me to get you that ministry position you so desperately want. Only time will tell." He finally seemed to be finished with his monologue.
Struggling to keep her composure, Hermione pressed her lips together until they were but a white line. "This is insane, Tom."
"Stop pitying yourself, you think you're the only one I'm tasking with removing unwanted assets?" He dared to sound incredulous.
She just couldn't fathom the pits of the human mind. She'd seen what he was capable of. He had made her his alibi for the murder of his last remaining family. She had heard Rabastan talk about him killing an old muggle couple back when they first arrived here as if he'd just returned from a pleasant holiday.
Still, Hermione was unable to connect these horrible acts to the person she was sharing her dinner with, her classmate who she discussed her passions until the moon hung high in the sky many nights of the week. She'd never seen Tom Riddle kill a person. At some point, he and Voldemort had become two completely different persons in her head. Tom Riddle was just as brilliant as he was ambitious but he was not some snake-faced Villain.
She didn't want to see the bad in people. Hermione believed that everyone deserved a second chance if they were willing to change. How many second chances had she given Riddle or the Lestranges by now? The young witch suddenly felt very lost. This was supposed to be her best year yet. She was finally seventeen, and Rodolphus had made her succession to the Lestrange fortune official.
Now, as she sat in front of her own dark Lord in the making, she wondered if she'd been wrong about her role in this world. Maybe she'd put herself on a pedestal, embracing the delusion that a single little girl could change the fate of the wizarding world. But if her purpose wasn't to save everyone than what was she doing here?
"Hermione, you haven't written a single line since we arrived." Silver eyes found her own.
Something in her snapped "I don't want to do this anymore." Her chair fell to the ground as she suddenly stood, her fingers painfully digging into her palms.
Taking notice of her pale knuckles, Tom stood as well, carefully taking her trembling hands in his own soft ones. "It's alright, Hermione. Come here."
She found herself clinging to the taller boy, her chest buried in the robes she'd gotten him for his birthday. She wanted to yell at him. To curse him until he… until he what? Hermione didn't know anymore. Helping Tom Riddle was her only purpose in this world. Who was she without Tom? Just another witch. Hermione Granger despised mediocracy. The young man she was clinging to like he was her saving grace was her key to becoming someone. He'd change the wizarding world with or without her, but if she didn't have Tom, she'd be just another nobody in his grand scheme…
Thanks for all your lovely reviews. xoxo