A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thank you for your patience with reading the chapter while ffnet had one of its site-wide issues. Apparently the new chapter updates might not be showing up on the app this time? Hopefully it's fixed now. Anyway, I do also cross post on Archive of Our Own, so you can always read it there, too! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter nine and be on the lookout for chapter ten soon!

April 1945

Tom was finding it harder and harder to scrape out some time to spend with Hermione in the tower as his NEWTs got closer and closer. He couldn't let his marks slip even a little bit, lest it bring attention to what he was up to. And, he really didn't really need Dumbledore keeping a closer eye on him and realizing that he was spending a lot of time in the Dark Tower.

He did make sure that he swung by to visit her every few days, though, even if it was only for a few minutes, because he knew how affected she was by the long absences. A few new books was all it took to keep Hermione happy and it also meant that he could get a snog or two in while he was there.

Sharing such an exquisite afternoon with his witch had made Tom realize what all the fuss was about love and sex, and he found himself thinking about it often. Tom was eager to see what the next steps would be in their relationship. He wasn't sure if Hermione would consent to sleep with him if they had no commitments to one another. A pureblood witch surely wouldn't, but he wasn't entirely sure about a muggleborn.

Then again, he distinctly got the feeling that Hermione did not like conforming to repressive societal norms. There was something so...unconventional about her, but he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

On a quiet Thursday night in the middle of April, he found himself tucked away with Hermione once again. There was probably no need for a fire any more, but it crackled away in the fireplace as usual anyway. Their books were abandoned on the small coffee table and Tom found himself with a lap full of needy witch.

Hermione had her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she kissed him passionately. He loved to catch her lower lip between his teeth and give it an affectionate nip, bordering on painful, because she always seemed to gasp and arch into him. Tom knew that it drove her wild and could make things progress in the direction he wanted them to - with his hands up her robes and his cock pressed firmly against her.

Tonight, Hermione seemed to have wised up to his plans, though. She gave a disappointed moan and pulled away from him. Not willing to stop so soon, Tom tightened his hold around her waist, pressing his mouth to her neck so he could suck at her pulse point. That normally sent her heart racing and if he was lucky it might leave a small bruise there to remind her of him while he was gone.

She moaned, her fingers slipping through his dark hair. "Tom, we need to stop," she said, her voice deliciously lusty, confirming that he did have an effect on her.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because we've had months to research, but we haven't actually made any progress with the warding," she complained. "I want to get out of this place eventually, okay?"

He chuckled, but stopped teasing her with his lips, knowing that it was true. They had spent very little time doing any actual research in the past months, and he felt a little bit badly that they didn't have more to show for it. Mostly, he was just worried about her finding a way out of the tower before he was ready. Where would she go if she was freed today? He wouldn't be done with school for three months yet, and he wouldn't stand to be parted from her.

"Of course," he agreed with her, letting her slip off of his lap to sit beside them. He tried to clear his mind, although snogging was far more interesting than Charms was at this point. He watched Hermione out of the side of his eye, and couldn't hide his smirk when he saw her pressing her fingertips to swollen lips.

"What?" she asked, seeing him look at her.

Tom was dumbfounded for a moment, but eventually decided to just be open with her. "Nothing, just...you're very pretty," he said. "It's hard for me not to look at you."

Hermione's cheeks went pink at the unexpected compliment. "Oh," she breathed out in surprise. "Thank you. I don't think anyone has ever said something like that to me."

"Then everyone else is a fool," he answered.

It was hard to understand why someone wouldn't want Hermione. She was pretty, but she was also intelligent and determined and passionate. She had a dark streak that he intended on cultivating, too. Perhaps the only thing that might hold someone back was her blood status, but Tom was finding more and more reasons to overlook that. Not to mention he was sure you'd find some magical blood in her if you looked far enough back in her family tree.

He stood from the settee first, offering a hand to Hermione. They walked to the door and opened it. "Try to walk through it again," he commanded. "I want to see what happens when we trip the wards."

She took a deep breath, but did as he asked. As soon as she met the threshold, she was being pushed back into the room, unable to leave. The edges of the wards shimmered a pale blue when she came into contact with them, allowing each of the teenagers to examine them for a moment.

"May I use your wand?" Hermione asked, holding her hand out in question.

Tom frowned, but handed over his wand all the same. He'd trusted her once and been rewarded and he hoped it would be the same this time, although the stakes seemed higher. What was to stop her from stunning him and breaking out on her own?

Hermione wouldn't do that.

He watched in a state of fascination as she handled his wand as expertly as though it were her own. He wondered what her wand was like. Perhaps they shared a core. "What was your wand made of?" he asked.

"Vinewood," Hermione answered without thinking. "With a dragon heartstring core."

Tom was surprised. He didn't think he'd ever heard of that combination before. The vine was certainly good for an ambitious personality, and it would be a conduit for great magic. He knew it would be suited to both friendly magic and darker purposes. It would not fail her in a fit of wrath. And the dragon heartstring was very well suited to the dark arts. Maybe Hermione didn't know herself as well as she thought.

"I hope we can find it for you," he said. "It isn't right for you to be parted from your wand for so long."

Hermione snorted. "I can't believe that I let Dumbledore take it off of me, I never even expected..." she trailed off, before the warding gained her focus again. She used the wand to slowly tease at it, only to become more frustrated when she couldn't quite figure out what she was looking at. "I don't understand. I've never seen anything like this. It's so arcane..."

"May I?" Tom asked, waiting for her to return the wand to his own hand. Once it was returned to him, he took his own look at the warding. It didn't take long for him to understand what it was that he was looking at.

He turned to face Hermione, a frown on his face. "I doubt you would have come across these before," he said. "It's not as if they are taught at school. They are blood wards."

The only reason Tom really could recognize them was because he spent so much time with Alfie. The Notts kept a very complex network of blood wards at their family home and Alfie had only been too happy to explain it all to him. Not many of their friends had any interest in magic like that, at least not as teenagers. Tom was sure they would find interest when they assumed the roles as Head of House.

"Blood wards?" Hermione repeated, sounding utterly dismayed.

"Yes," Tom confirmed. "And that means that Dumbledore might be the only person alive who can actually release them."

Unless.

Unless Dumbledore was dead. The wards should fall once Dumbledore was gone. But he wouldn't date suggest that to Hermione just yet. It would be even better for her to come to that conclusion on her own.

Hermione shook her head, unwilling to accept his words. "There has to be another way," she said with a frown. Biting her lip, she turned to look at him. "You'll bring me more books? About blood wards I mean? If there is some way...I'm going to figure it out," she vowed.

Tom nodded. He pressed his hands to her shoulders and his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. "Of course I will," he agreed. "Until next time."

Next time was not very far off.

Tom had scoured the library for every possible book on blood wards, but he was sure that Hermione was not going to find the kind of information that she was hoping for in them. Blood wards were particularly strong and tied to the person who cast them, so he was doubtful that there would be a clean way to break them, no matter how much Hermione hoped. He needed her to get past her denials as quickly as possible and see that killing Dumbledore was the most practical method of getting her out of the tower.

But, he knew Hermione would never accept that, not until she felt like she had a full understanding of the magic.

He thought of the Diadem with a start one evening when he was just drifting off to sleep. His eyes snapping open, he wasn't sure what possessed him to want to give something as precious as the Diadem of Ravenclaw to Hermione, but once it was in him, he couldn't put it aside. He had special plans for it, now that he'd finally gotten its location out of the Grey Lady, but this might be a better cause. The Diadem was supposed to enhance the wisdom of the wearer and if it would help her see the truth sooner than it was worth a chance.

Pulling it out of where he'd hidden it in his trunk, Tom put the Diadem in his pocket and went to visit Hermione at the next available opportunity. He was nearly shaking with nerves at the thought of giving her something quite so precious, wondering what she'd think of it.

Hermione met him at the door and eagerly took the stack of books out of his hands, heading off towards the settee, ready to settle in for the evening. "Is this all the library had?" she asked, looking through the titles.

Tom couldn't help but snort at her. "You couldn't even see over the top of the pile, ungrateful witch," he countered.

She gave him an apologetic look. "Of course, thank you for getting them for me, Tom," she said. "I just thought there might be more..."

"You know it's arcane magic," he said. "The knowledge is more likely to be passed down within families rather than being written down. My friend Alfred Nott is somewhat of an expert. I suppose we could ask him as a last option."

He watched in surprise as her nose wrinkled at the name Nott. Perhaps she knew Alfie from somewhere? Though, he knew it would be highly unlikely that the pair of them would have crossed paths before. That was odd.

The Diadem was burning a hole in his pocket though. "The books aren't the only thing I brought you for your quest of knowledge," he said, surprised when he heard his voice shaking from the nerves once again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Diadem, holding it out for Hermione to take.

She gave him no immediate reaction. Instead, she just stared at it owlishly. "Is that-"

"The lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?" he cut her off. "Yes."

"Where- how did you get that Tom?" she asked, her voice hitching in her throat. Still, Hermione hesitantly grabbed for the delicate headpiece, her fingertips lovingly caressing the sapphire that hung in the middle.

He frowned, unsure of what to say about it. "Let's just say that I can be quite charming," he explained. "And the only person who knew it's location told me when I asked very nicely."

Her eyes snapped to his, narrowed. "Did you threaten someone to get this?" she demanded, obviously concerned for the original owner.

Tom smirked at her. "No, the person was already long dead," he explained. "No need to threaten a ghost."

"Oh," she breathed out in understanding. "The Grey Lady."

He was impressed by how quickly she'd deduced the person who would know where it was. It had even taken him several years to make the connection himself, and it was only because he'd made it a point to learn about the Bloody Baron's life. "How did you figure it out?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"The portrait of Helena Ravenclaw in the library," she said, off-hand.

Tom was once again stunned by the little detail that Hermione had let slip. So, she had been to the Hogwarts library before, and long enough to study the portraits. He wondered how that was possible, but didn't think to ask at that moment. Instead, he was too taken with Hermione's breathless reaction to the present.

"Go on, try it on," he said, encouraging her. "It's meant to increase the wisdom of the wearer, so I hoped that it would help you with your investigation of the wards."

She took a deep breath, but eventually raised the silver diadem and nestled into her hair. She looked like a princess with a crown on her head. It looked as if it was meant to be there all along. Hermione kept her face down, unwilling to meet his eyes. Tom wanted to see the full effect and cupped her jaw gently, before tilting her face up to meet him.

Her eyes were filled with tears - large and threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, uncomfortable with her emotion. Weren't witches supposed to be happy with jewelry? So why was she crying?

"It's just...I can't believe you are giving this to me, even if it's only to borrow," she explained, her voice hitching. "It's something that's so obviously precious to you, and you are giving it to me - a witch you know almost nothing about."

"I want you to have it," he said, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"I just never expected you to do something so thoughtful or sweet. You aren't at all what I expected you'd be like," she continued on.

The tears actually began to fall now, and Tom wasn't sure of what he should do at all right now. Should he comfort her? But all he could focus on were her words. He wasn't what she'd expected him to be like? Had she known about him ahead of time? He was left feeling like Hermione knew far more than she was letting on, and he wanted answers.

Luckily, it seemed that all of Hermione's carefully constructed walls were finally coming down.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you, Tom," she said, sounding incredibly woeful, but also nervous.

For his reaction, maybe? "Just tell me what it is, Hermione," he encouraged, on the edge of his seat, unbelieving that he was finally going to learn her secrets after so many months of cultivation. "I won't be mad."

"Dumbledore's...Dumbledore has me locked up here because he is concerned that I have dangerous information," she said. She nibbled on her lower lip, agonizing over her next words. "Dangerous because...because I'm from the future."

"A time traveler?" he asked, astonished that he'd never thought of that solution on his own. But it all made so much sense now that she'd said it. All the little inconsistencies that she'd let slip in the time they spent together seemed to fit like the missing piece in a puzzle.

"Yes, you see, I was finishing up my sixth year at Hogwarts," she explained. "My friend and I got into a fight over a time turner, and well...it smashed and sent me back here."

"When are you from?" Tom asked, absolutely fascinated by the possibilities that this presented to him. He had so many questions that he wanted her to answer.

"I came from 1996," she said quietly, looking down again. "Almost fifty years in the future."

"And we know each other in that time?" he asked, wondering if perhaps he was her professor or something. That would explain her strong dislike of his desire to return to Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But, he honestly could not believe that his ambitions would have landed him as little more than a professor after fifty years.

"We know each other," she agreed. "We're fighting one another. In my time-" Her voice hitched, and she couldn't continue with what she was trying to say.

"Tell me," Tom demanded, his voice silky. He had this most perfect gift fall right in his lap where he might learn his future and he had to learn every detail he possibly could.

"In my time you are known as Lord Voldemort. You are taking over the wizarding world with your supporters, with the goal of eradicating people like me - mudbloods and blood traitors," she said, choking on her words. "But you aren't winning. And you aren't going to win."

It was odd to hear the title that he'd picked for himself when he was still a fifth year on her lips. He hadn't told anyone about it yet, not even his Knights.

Tom could understand why she was so obviously broken up about this. How could she have feelings with someone who was trying to kill her in the future? How could she have let him kiss her, touch her, when she knew what he was going to become?

But, he was even most concerned by her promise that he wasn't going to win. "Why not?" he asked, hoping that she wouldn't realize she was giving him valuable information.

And, of course, Hermione was too competitive not to proudly describe his downfall for him. "Well, you were already killed once before," she said. "In 1980, you try to kill my friend Harry Potter, who is just a baby. But the curse rebounds and strikes you instead. But you aren't gone, not really. You come back."

"How-"

"The horcruxes," she said, breathless. "Harry had only just told me about them when we were struggling with my time turner, and I didn't understand it right away, but then you gave me that book...the one about Herpo the Foul, and I figured it out. You made your Diary into a horcrux, didn't you? And I know you've made others."

For a moment, Tom thought about killing her. She knew so much about him that it was breathtaking. The damage she could do to him if it got out that he had created horcruxes could be devastating. If someone knew he had a horcrux, it took away part of the effectiveness of the object. Then they might try to hunt them down and destroy them.

"Clever girl," he said finally, wondering if she could hear his heart pounding against his rib cage while he thought over his next moves. "You got that all on your own, did you?"

"Yes," she explained. Now that she had started telling him what she knew, it seemed like she couldn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. "But Harry destroyed your Diary in second year. So since he said we had to find the other horcruxes, I know that means that you've made others."

Tom sat still as a statue, willing himself not to look down at the Gaunt family ring that he now wore. What would Hermione do if she knew that a piece of his soul was right there for her to take?

"I didn't know who you were at first either," she said. "I thought you were just a horrid boy, but I figured it out soon enough. You're Voldemort." A sob escaped her, and he watched as her shoulders shook, trying to contain the feeling desperately. "But you also aren't him. Not yet at least. You're still Tom to me."

He wet his lips, wondering how she'd react to his next request. "May I see into your mind? What your memories of my future are?" he questioned. So far, he had not attempted to use legilimency on Hermione, knowing that he was far too clumsy to achieve it without notice. But, it was still a good way to see what lay in store for him.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line, thinking it over, before she gave him a hesitant nod. Her doe eyes looked into his, tears still clinging to wet lashes.

He entered her memories, and was immediately assaulted with negative emotions. It seemed like every memory that she had of this Lord Voldemort was tinged with fear and an animal will to survive. It took a few seconds to get his bearings, but eventually he saw the monster he would become in Hermione's time.

At first, he did not believe the man that he saw could be him. With his stark white skin, red eyes, and no discernible nose, he seemed more serpent than man. Tom was somewhat vain, and he quite liked being good looking, so he could not believe that this metamorphosis was well received in the future. It was clear that he was a powerful wizard, but he had obviously been outsmarted by school children several times, so what power was that? People were afraid of him - afraid to even speak his name, but he didn't wield any true power in her time. Only a handful of followers seemed to join with him in arms. The thing he saw was crazed and paranoid - desperate.

It sickened him.

When he left his memory, Hermione was watching him with a queer sort of look on her face. She didn't know what sort of reaction he would have, and she seemed poised to fight if she needed to.

"I was going to warn Dumbledore about you," she said, her voice on edge. "But he wouldn't listen and instead he locked me up in this tower."

"And have you told him anything since then?" Tom questioned.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not since...not since I grew to know you better."

"Because you think I can change?" he asked.

"I know you can change, Tom," Hermione insisted. "You don't need to become that wizard."

"I will not allow that future to come to pass," he promised her.

Only, he didn't think that she was going to like what he had in mind. He was not going to give up his quest for power. But, he was beginning to see that perhaps his plans of total domination could only lead to division and fighting. The other side - her side - would never accept him the way that he had been. He would have to be a little more sneaky...a little more Slytherin, if he was going to worm his way into the power structure and take over from the inside out.

Suddenly, her suggestions that he forget the Defense Against the Dark Arts post made more sense to him.

"So, you already know I won't get the post for Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he asked, gauging her reaction.

She gave him a small smile. "You'll be rejected for lack of experience," she answered, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "Instead, you'll take a job as a shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley, and languish there for several years, accomplishing nothing of note."

Privately, Tom thought Hermione must not know what his accomplishments during that time were. Surely, he would not stay working for Mr. Burke if he wasn't getting anything out of it, not with all of his contacts. He could see how she would see it as below his potential though.

Silence hung between them until Hermione could no longer stand it. "Are you mad at me? For keeping it from you for so long? After what we've...experienced with one another?" she questioned.

Tom thought about it for a brief moment. He wasn't sure that he was mad at her; he was still feeling too much excitement over the fact that he finally learned what her secrets were and they were as good as he had hoped. Better even.

"I'm not mad at you," he said, putting her out of her agony. "I can understand why you'd want to keep it to yourself. But you've given me a lot to think about. I think I ought to go for the night."

Her eyes were desperate once again, the fear of being left alone creeping in once again. "But you promise you won't just leave me in here, right?" she practically begged, needing reassurance.

"I said I was going to help you get out of here, and it was a promise," he said, grabbing her by the back of the head, pressing his lips to hers in a quick peck. "I'll be back, Hermione, and it won't be long."

"Goodnight, Tom," she said, nodding. It was clear she was on the verge of tears once again.

He didn't stay to comfort her, and instead made his way to the exit, locking the door to the tower behind him.

If Hermione thought that he was just going to let her go after what he'd learned about her, she was more naive than he suspected. No, Hermione was far too useful to him - a conduit to look into a future that had gone so wrong. He wouldn't make the same mistakes again, and with her help he was sure that he could be far more powerful than the Lord Voldemort in the future.

Of course, as he made changes, the less her information from the future would be helpful. As more deviations occurred, less of her future would remain. But Tom wasn't going to give her up then either.

He was enchanted with her, even if he wouldn't tell her that. Not only was she suited to him in intellect and beautiful to look at, but he was so going to enjoy bringing her around to his way of thinking. She might think that she wasn't a dark witch, but she was teetering on the edge. Tom wouldn't be shy about giving her the push she needed to make the leap.

She would be a useful asset to have at his side then, giving him council as he moved through the world. And hopefully, she would have a place in his bed as well.

Only, he knew that this was going to bring about some growing pains amongst the Knights of Walpurgis. Would they be adaptable, he wondered, when they found out the witch at his side was a mudblood? Would they accept her for her merits alone?

He would force them to, he decided, just as they had accepted him as a half-blood. Even if he had to invent some connection for her to the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

But, Tom was not blind to his group of friends. Some would take more convincing than others should he change his stance on pureblood supremacy. Others, he was sure, would be up for the challenge.

When he got back to the Slytherin common room, he already had a plan forming in his mind. He sought out Abraxas, sitting alone in one of the great wingback chairs. "Abraxas," he said in greeting.

The blond gave him a great smile. "Tom," he answered.

"I've had a change of plans, Abraxas," he said, his voice dipping lower - conspiratorial almost. "I'd like to meet with your father and mother at their earliest convenience."

Abraxas was on the edge of his seat, obviously pleased that Tom had selected his family over the Lestranges. "Of course, Tom. I'll owl them first thing in the morning," he said. "And, if you need anything else, just let me know. Father will be so pleased."

"Oh and Abraxas?" he added, as he was walking away. "Let's just keep this between you and I for now."