Chapter 18 – Seaborn Estate – September 2nd, 1944

Tom exited the car on one side while the driver opened the door on Helen's side, allowing her to exit, waiting for her to walk around the car, promptly holding his arm out for her to take as she neared his side, which she did stoically. Their relationship had become rather strained in the last few months, well, at least since he'd discovered the little kitchen maid's secret.

He took in the vast property around him, and despite the nearing chilled autumn air or the generally murky weather of Great Britain, Seaborn Estate, located off the shores of Talland Bay, west of Plymouth, generated a tropical air. It was a sprawling Spanish style villa, with light terracotta roofing and white walls, it's many windows were large with no panes, and it boasted a series of interconnected villas with a large open drive to the main compound.

They were here, invited by Theodore Seaborn himself, for a celebratory dinner in honour of the liberation of France by Allied forces, in what had been titled Operation Overlord. Tom actually hadn't been required to attend, though he'd been invited, his reasons for accepting all had to do with the woman at his side.

True to his word, as soon as he'd finished his interviews and began his apprenticeship with the Department of Mysteries, he'd began to watch Helen more closely, and he had to admit, begrudgingly once more, that she impressed him.

He'd begun to notice that she avoided direct eye contact with him, which either told him two things: She was personally guilty of something regarding him, or she knew or suspected somehow, that he was a legilimens and was protecting herself from his snooping. At first, he'd scoffed at the latter notion, but realized he was underestimating her unfairly based on her lack of magic, as when he attempted to snoop her office, he found that anything he didn't already know (that she shared with him) was burned, and the ashes cleaned and disposed of.

So, he knew for a fact that she was hiding something, and without making his antagonism obvious, he was resorting to more underhanded tactics, like making an effort in Riddle Arms, in hope that someone let something slip, and he knew it to be a wise decision solely based on her displeased glare. He was already certain he had a lead, as when they'd left the hotel earlier, the bellboy had approached her with a telegram, that she immediately tucked into her purse, mentioning nothing of it to Tom, he watched her carefully to make sure she didn't dispose of it before he got a chance to view it's contents, even going so far as silently confund her in the car to forget about it.

In a way, she reminded him of her daughter, once displeased it was nigh impossible to gain favour again, and he would know, Hermione had avoided him like the plague for two weeks after he'd kissed her months ago. He'd had to buckle up and actually apologize for his actions towards her for her to even consider occupying the same room as him, and even then, with him suppressing his urge to touch her, she was still hesitant to trust him, or even give him an inch.

It was during that last couple of months that he realized he had erred greatly, he couldn't crowd her to rely on him, he needed to lure her gently, coaxing her slowly, otherwise, she was fast to kick like a mule if she felt she'd been wronged. He thought of his imperius on Weasley, in early August, he'd adjusted it so that the boy would begin pursuing another girl, another one of Hermione's friends, Géraldine Dubois, which had been frighteningly easy as both of them had recently begun their careers within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

In a couple of weeks, he would slowly start releasing the imperius, not all at once, because that may clue Weasley into the idea that perhaps he hadn't been in control, by doing so gradually, it had more impact of being deduced as genuine. It bore to mention, that Weasley pursuing Dubois should also directly sabotage any attempt at reigniting whatever flame he'd had with Hermione, which was just how Tom needed it to work out.

He vaguely took in the interior of the manor house that they were led into, eventually being directed by wait staff into an exceptionally large dining hall where their host awaited them, with a slew of some thirty other guests.

He'd originally met Theodore Seaborn months ago, as apart of his official introduction as the Riddle heir, and to say the least, Tom hadn't been impressed, the man was an open book that he hadn't bothered using legilimens on him. The man positively hid behind his wealth, and although he could be considered handsome, that is, for an older muggle, Tom thought his spineless nature directly interfered with that perception.

He had no real motivations for his company, seemingly cruising by on obvious business ventures pertaining to the war, he even disdained his own son, who Tom had also met, a mixed-race boy, like Hermione, although no older than fourteen, despite him being the Seaborn heir. He wondered if Theodore Seaborn was a possibility to how his own father might have acted towards him, had he not been left to rot at Wool's, and he felt, once more, a brief satisfaction to having killed the man even more at that moment.

Helen had 'gifted' him his father's journal that she'd found last year, back in July, and not only had it cemented his disdain for the man, but it also created a feeling of intense repulse towards the witch that was his mother as well. A pureblood witch, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, stooping to, presumably, potion a muggle was mortifying in its own right, but to be deserted by that same muggle? Disdainful, really.

The mere existence of love potions, in general, was distasteful, especially considering he'd been a target of his fair share of them throughout his last few years at Hogwarts, and he would never consider using them himself, not even for stubborn muggleborns with outrageously curly hair. No, he had other methods for her, one being the gift he'd been creating for her upcoming birthday, that took a lot of trial and error tweaking of traditional pureblood spells and potions.

The dinner went on with little fanfare, with Seaborn initiating a speech and toast congratulations to the British Army for a speedy and successful liberation of France from Nazi occupation. Tom was simply observing all who spoke to Helen, even while answering and diverting questions directed at his own person, but all he could really think of was that telegram she'd received, as it looked to be his best option. Tom turned his head to engage the host, asking questions about his company that he didn't care to hear the answers for, and it was noticing that Seaborn's eyes consistently darted towards Helen that gave him another idea. He took the opportunity as Seaborn brought his gaze back to him once more, going so far as to not only read his surface thoughts, but his deeper thoughts as well, and needless to say, Tom was greatly disturbed by what he'd found, but for now, tucked it away for future consideration.

It was in the car on the way back to the hotel that Tom silently cast the dormeo charm on Helen, watching as she fell into a temporary deep sleep, and pulled her purse into his hands and freed the telegram from earlier. He attempted to skim it, only to realize that it was in Italian, so he silently cast the geminio charm to make a copy of it, returning the original to its place in her purse and replacing the purse in her lap. He looked back out the window in a show of indifference as he ended his sleep charm. He quirked an eyebrow at her as she jerked awake and levelled him with a suspicious glare, before turning her gaze out her own window.

The telegram felt like it was burning a hole in his breast pocket, as a physical manifestation of his curiosity, but it was only once he was safely ensconced in his suite, did he pull it out for consideration.

He glanced at the cursive 'Via Imperial' and noted the date of printing was August 1944, he attempted once more to read the missive, his knowledge of French giving him the gist of its contents.

' Siamo fuggiti in Svizzera . Siamo al sicuro . Non manda la tua figlia finché noi non siamo nell'Italia . '

-Laura Innocenti

From what he understood of it, he didn't like what it said, but to be sure he tapped his wand against it, whispering the translation charm, cursing his lack of opportunistic upbringing once more. Though he was impressed that Helen even knew the language on top of French, and vowed to learn more languages in the future, for now, he watched the translation charm work it's magic, frowning at the appearing message.

' We have fled to Switzerland . We are safe . Do not send your daughter until we are back in Italy . '

-Laura Innocenti

He understood exactly what it wasn't saying, Helen was making an attempt or feeling the waters to send Hermione away. The copied note instantly burst into flames in his hands, and he watched at the ashes fell to the floor. This was unacceptable, who was Laura Innocenti? And what was her relationship with Helen? Tom realized that if he didn't act fast, and neutralize Helen, then Hermione would be snatched away from him, and that bothered him more than he'd liked to admit.

He paced his room, he had time yet, but he didn't know if Helen had other options aside from this Innocenti person. It incensed him that he could not personally kill her, not if he was trying to lure Hermione to him. Then, an idea hit him quite fast and he understood what he needed to do, he would remove Helen from the board, safely, and it was Seaborn who was going to help him do it.

Madam's Potter's Office – September 19th, 1944

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows, drawing her eyes from the files in front of her on the desk to the clock on the wall, it was three in the afternoon, she had about another hour and a half to finish the pile that Madam Potter had asked her to sort through. She'd received her NEWT results late in July, thankfully earning all Outstandings, including, most importantly, her Magical Law NEWT, she'd been so relieved that she wouldn't have to come up with a backup plan that she'd immediately rushed to owl Madam Potter with aforementioned results. She'd began her internship with Javehri & Potter firm within the first week of August, and it'd been about a month and bit now that she's been here.

When she'd started, she hadn't truly anticipated how busy it would be, or apparently, had been continuously for the past decade. Though she supposed it made sense, what with both Grindelwald's war, and the non-magical war, witches, wizards and all types of magical beings were being displaced from their homes, and like Hermione, seeking refuge in the UK.

Madam Potter had two other barristers working with her, there was Kai Fawley who was a bit older than her at twenty-three, he was a tall, bulky wizard who was rather large and intimidating until he opened his mouth, revealing himself to be an utter sweetheart after. He had a darker olive complexion with shaggy black hair and eyes so dark they were almost black as well.

The other barrister was a British-Indian witch by the name of Hetal Khanna, she was a bit older, at thirty-two years old, and was rather short and weedy looking, but with a lovely face and kind expression. Her hair was long, thick and wavy, of the darkest black, with eyes even darker, and long lashes that seemed to throw shadows against her cheeks, which were a medium brown in tone. She was a bit stern, but she'd always been helpful to Hermione when she'd had questions, she was also newlywed, though Hermione had yet to meet her husband, Arjun, yet.

Madam Potter was the one who did most of the work, taking the bigger, more difficult cases, while she relegated the easier, smaller ones to the other two so that they could build a clientele and steady momentum. Madam Potter's office specialized in immigration, which explained why they were so busy, again, considering the wars, though most cases didn't even go to court, negating the need to call upon the whole Wizengamot, when the majority were settled within the office. Most cases contained legal aid to claim refugee status, legal aid in the immigration process as a whole, and covered cases of hate-crimes against refugees and immigrants.

Hermione found it fascinating, that there were generally no representatives for the people in magical parliament, unlike the non-magical world, supposedly due to the insulation of the UK magical population, barristers worked hand in hand with the Wizengamot to create laws and bills; and though Scotland, Ireland and Wales essentially had their own ministry for daily affairs, the main UK branch, which was located in London, was where all criminal cases and laws were drafted and implemented.

That was how she knew she'd picked the right career, especially if she was going to try her hand and crafting a law that forbids elves working for free. Though currently her work was relegated to keeping the order of files and clients for each barrister, running deliveries and picking up parcels from other firms, and a bit of secretarial work (although that part was only temporary, as Madam Potter's regular secretary had to take early maternity leave when her baby decided to prematurely arrive).

Another thing that was different about interning here, was that Madam Potter insisted on paying her for her time here, and though Hermione didn't need the money, her Riddle account covering all of her expenses, she appreciated the gesture regardless. Though her work was a lot of running around and having to keep track of things, she didn't mind it, as it kept her mind busy from everything else going on in her life.

She had tentatively been allowing Tom to share her space again since he'd apologized for his behaviour and actions against her. Of course, she continued to be wary , after all, it would be foolish not to be, and if there was one thing she was certain about herself, it was that she was not so. Obviously, she was also uncertain of how genuine his apology had even been, but she was willing to give him a chance, at the very least, and his behaviour going forward would reveal how far that chance stretched.

She finished the last folder of her pile, and stretched her arms, popping her back in the process, looking back up to the clock to now see that it was four-thirty, and usually the time everyone decided to head out. It was her nineteenth birthday today, but since it was a Tuesday, she hadn't really had anything planned with friends, instead, they were all going to have a picnic together on Saturday, today she would just go home for dinner with her maman and Tom, if he showed.

He'd been recently busy, she knew from Harry that he was shadowing Lord Black, who was apparently his uncle Sirius's younger brother, and not to mention, similar to Jaismine, he'd begun his full apprenticeship with the Department of Mysteries.

She got up, and stacked her three separate piles before heading towards each office and depositing them in the bins outside beside the doors, and upon reaching Madam Potter's office, where she'd had her original meeting with her, she popped her head in after dumping the files in her bin and knocking, asking if she required anything more before she headed out. She was waved off by the older witch, who was buried, it seemed, in about ten different files all over her desk, all ajar. She said goodbye and turned back to the desk she was using to grab her cloak and purse, only to run straight into Kai.

"Heading out for the day?" he asked in a friendly tone, she nodded and stepped out of his way.

"Mhmm, what about yourself?" she returned politely, he placed the folder he was holding besides the one she'd just left into Madam Potter's bin, which meant he was hoping for some input from her.

"Yeah, going to head to the Leaky for some fish and chips, I was actually going to ask you if you'd like to join me?" he asked, slightly nervous, and Hermione blinked, surprised, before becoming hesitant. His request seemed innocent enough, but she was wary all the same, after all, Cormac's Slug Gala request had seemed innocuous of a request at the time. Either way, her day was spoken for.

"Unfortunately, I can't today, it's my birthday today and it's the first year in a while that I get to spend it at home with my mother," she answered, trailing off nervously, wary of how he would take the rejection, but to her surprise, he brightened and nodded.

"Oh really? Happy birthday! Why didn't you say so earlier? And don't worry, I understand, it's a bit last minute," he turned a headed towards his office to grab his cloak, and Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't considered trying to court again, not after what happened with Ron, or with her Tom shaped problems, but Kai seemed genuine enough, and she couldn't let what happened with McLaggen hang over her forever. He returned out of his office with his hat on his head, swinging his cloak around his broad shoulders.

"Kai, wait, would you mind if I joined you tomorrow?" she asked quickly, before she lost her nerve. His face brightened again, before breaking into a genial toothy grin.

"Oh, yeah, of course," he stumbled, and she briefly compared him to a giant friendly bear, and they confirmed plans before heading their separate ways. She went to grab her things, perhaps it was about time she gave romance a shot again, after all, so had Ron.

He apparently had started to pursue Géraldine recently, and Hermione had been told directly by the girl herself when she'd seen her Saturday for tea. Her voluminous blonde hair had been tamed into a bun, her dark eyes wary and with a pink blush upon her normally pale cheeks as she told Hermione that she'd considered accepting, but wouldn't without her blessing.

There was a brief sense of betrayal before Hermione rationally stamped it out, if Ron and Géraldine liked each other and started courting, who was she to stand in their way? She was their friend, and despite her own history with Ron, that didn't give her the right to prevent their happiness, if that's what it turned out to be. She ignored the anxious twist in her belly when thinking about it, before shoving the thought away and grabbing a handful of floo powder to make her way home.

She stepped out of the floo and noticed her maman sitting at her desk, charming the ashes off her robes before removing them over her head, she winced as a button snagged on one of her braids, before slinging it onto the coat hanger.

She always wore regular non-magical clothing underneath her robes, and today she was wearing her favourite pair of blue trousers and red button-down with suspenders. She'd also gone to Angie's on Sunday after mass to redo her hair into braids again. She'd taken her original ones out in early August, and she could have sworn her hair looked longer by an inch when she stretched a strand. Angie had explained that her extended braid style was as much a protective style as the cornrows she's done for herself.

She looked towards her mother who had her ever-present glass of scotch in her hand, she tsked before taking the seat opposite of her.

"You're drinking too much." she wagged a finger at her mother admonishingly, her maman only cocking an eyebrow in response.

"I think you mean that I am dealing with too many imbéciles," she retorted, before leaning back in her chair to shuffle for something in her desk drawer, unearthing a small wrapped box.

"Happy birthday, mon amour," she said, sliding the small gift across the desk towards Hermione, who gently reached over to take it in hand, bringing it to her ear to shake lightly.

She carefully peeled back the paper and opened the box, gasping at what she saw. Inside, on a delicate gold chain, was a flat gold pendant with an engraved Black Madonna, with African features, and exact replica of the necklace her mamie had always worn, which had been buried with her when she passed away.

Hermione was amazed that her mother thought to have one made, and she couldn't think of a more precious gift. She got up and went around the desk to hug her mother, who stood and returned the embrace.

"Thank you, it's perfect," she said into her shoulder, feeling her eyes burn, she felt her mother's arms tighten around her.

"That's not all, your other gift is during dinner, which we should be getting to now," she stepped back, looking at the clock, to see it was almost five on the dot. Her mother gestured for her to lead the way, and so she did.

They made it to the dining room and sat, Tom was not there, and Hermione wondered if he was busy and perhaps wouldn't show before the doors opened once more and he strolled in. He made his way to her side of the table, nodding a greeting towards her mother, carrying a small wrapped package, and handing it to her once he reached her side.

She took it carefully, eyeing it warily, before backing up her chair to place it in her lap to open, while Tom placed his hands in his pockets and respectively took a step back. Hermione noticed he tended to wear non-magical clothing around the manor, despite his vocal preference for robes, mostly due to the manor staff. She felt her face heat up because he did look quite dashing in a white button-up and slim black trousers, especially with his sleeves rolled up haphazardly to his elbows as they were.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," he spoke lowly, his voice silky and his accent crisp, and she wondered briefly if he'd always had that accent or if he'd taught himself it. She thanked him, before shifting her gaze to the package in her lap, it was clearly a book, from what she could tell of the weight and size.

She opened the brown paper gently, unearthing an incredibly thin journal type book with sharp leather covers, and her name engraved on the bottom in gold. She glanced back up at him, until he nodded towards the journal itself, implying that she should open it.

She warily did and was at a loss for words at what she found within those pages. The first page was a sketch of her father's portrait, with his name, birth date, and the name of the city he was born in and the city he'd died in. She gently ran a hand down his face, it was a perfect sketch, it even had his shiny forehead. She grabbed at a napkin on the table, to dry her eyes, before she turned the page, and found her mamie with the same information, and her grand-père after that, though she'd never met him, as he'd passed before she'd been born.

She continued to flip through the pages, amazed as more and more names and portraits were displayed, and she realized soon enough that she was looking at her lineage through her father's side, flipping further through the journal as birthplaces stopped displaying Caribbean islands and started displaying West African countries, some from Nigeria, Togo and even Senegal.

"This is impossible, how did you-?" she asked, eyes wide as she glanced up at him, only for him to tap his nose, before looking around at the wait staff positioned around the room, to articulate that it was done with magic. Hermione nodded, resolving to ask him when they were alone, before getting up, and hugging him, he stiffened in her arms momentarily before bringing his own around her.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek, he squeezed his hold tighter around her for a moment before letting go. There were so many emotions she was feeling over the gift, on one hand, it could be seen as presumptuous, but the amount of detail, care, and skill that went into it softened any indignity she would have felt.

It was the just the norm and something she knew that many other people from all over the Americas and the Caribbean simply did not, and would never know where their ancestors hailed from, and she'd resigned herself to never knowing, simply due to the lack of records kept, but now, she had names and faces of those that came before her, and that in itself was priceless to her.

They both took their seats, Hermione placing her gift carefully on the empty chair next to her, before gaping at the food being brought out. At first, there was some standard British fare, but then there were platters and bowls of spicy shrimp, jerk chicken with rice, chickpea curry and coleslaw with diced mango. These were all foods she hadn't eaten since the summer of '42, and she incredulous of how her mother even pulled this off with the war going on, looking at her mother, who smiled knowingly at her.

"I've been planning and determining how to order the ingredients for a while if you must know, and I know no one can replace your mamie's jerk chicken, but I attempted to relegate her recipe to our cooks, so hopefully it's close," she explained, before she turned to Tom, who was eyeing the shrimp warily.

"If you're anything like me, Tom, a lot of this will be a bit spicy for you palette, it certainly was for me when I started living there, so I also kept the standard British dishes, but feel free to try some of the Caribbean ones," she told him, reaching herself for the chickpea curry and white rice.

"I'm not familiar with spiced food, but I have to say, it all certainly smells and looks appetizing," he responded honestly, taking a bit of the jerk chicken and rice onto his plate and keeping a straight face as he took a spoonful of both. Hermione watched as she spooned spicy shrimp and coleslaw into her dish, she couldn't tell whether his acting was superb, or that he naturally had a high pain tolerance, which belayed his lack of reaction.

The dinner went by with chattering about her placement, as well as Tom chiming in once in a while, and afterwards, she head to the library with him, her recorded journal under her arm, looking through the names of her ancestors and grilling him about how his processes, and despite her wariness of him, she'd passed the evening rather comfortable with his presence.

All in all, it wasn't a bad birthday, present company included.

Authors Note: I forget that since there is no tagging system, that not many of you are aware that this is going to get dark. It will deal with themes of war, violence, mental illness, and non-con. Rest assured, however, I will always give a warning at the start of the chapter in bold if it consists of any of those themes, and you can decided for yourself if you'd prefer to skip the scenes in question. Thanks for reading, hope you all enjoy the new chapter.