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"I see no changes, all I see are racist faces Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races We under I wonder what it takes to make this One better place, let's erase the wasted — Thats just the way it is, things will never be the same"— Changes, 2Pac
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August 8th, 1968
Sneaking through the manor, Hermione quietly tiptoed to Pansy's room that was down the hall, passed her parent's room, and ensuring she didn't alert the Shafiq's of her sneaking about at such a late hour but she couldn't wait until the morning to speak with her.
Today their mother would be planning out their eighth birthday dinner and Hermione decided it was time to find her beaded bag and stash it somewhere safe in her room. She was hesitant to grab it before, knowing Severus had hidden it, which seemed so long ago, and it was time to begin her planning for the following years. But it was more than that. It was the last thing she had connected to her world and the last thing Severus had touched and she wasn't ready to face the reality of her situation because she missed him terribly.
But today Hermione wanted to spend some alone time with Pansy before their parents began to fuss about their eighth birthday. She grimaced, thinking of all the pureblood children of The Sacred Twenty-Eight that would be invited.
Not only did she want to spend some time with Pansy but Hermione thought it was time to go over the plan she and Severus had come up with to assure Voldemort's demise along with his fellow Death Eaters. How else would she acquire the other horcruxes without following through with it and if her friend, her sister, disagreed, which she knew the witch would do so loudly and dispassionately, Hermione knew it would be too easy to convince her otherwise.
Slowly opening the door, wincing as it gave a loud creak, Hermione slid through, not bothering to shut it all the way lest it alerted their parents to her wandering.
Jumping on the bed to wake the sleeping beauty, Hermione paused as she stared at the girl who looked exactly like her. It was still a bit odd to witness their altered features and to know that they were part Shafiq and part Selwyn. Obviously they acquired more of Amelia's features than Alexander with sunflower blonde hair that had a light curl to it and a button nose with sharp cheekbones dusted upon with light freckles. Their eyes though, they inherited from the Shafiq line, honey brown.
It was definitely not something Hermione was used to, looking at her reflection every day, but knew it was pointless to even think about. She would always miss her brown bushy hair and her dark brown eyes and just everything about her old self in general because it was what made her her and to not have that no longer— she was still coping with what she thought of as a loss.
"Pansy," Hermione whispered, gently shaking her, snorting at her little hands she was still trying to get used to.
When the witch didn't wake, Hermione began shaking her harder, "Pansy, wake up!"
The witch slowly blinked, her brows furrowed as she rubbed her eyes, slowly sitting up. "What is it?" She asked, her voice raspy from sleep. "Are you alright?"
"It's time to go searching for our beaded bag," Hermione informed her, giving her friend a small smile. "Happy birthday, by the way."
Scoffing, Pansy leaned back against her headboard, yawning loudly. "Must we do it now? I'm tired," she pouted as she continued to rub her eyes.
"Yes," Hermione voiced softly, reaching for her hands and squeezing it tightly. "It's time to tell you about that plan Severus and I concocted behind your back."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione smirked as Pansy sat up, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I knew it, you bitch, tell me now."
Hermione couldn't help it, she barked out a laugh as she tilted her head back, unable to control the happiness emitted from her mouth. To hear an eight year old say bitch was hilarious and a bit odd. Children shouldn't be swearing... it wasn't right.
"Stop laughing at me!" Pansy hissed, quickly covering Hermione's mouth, a smile twitching at her lips, "stop, 'Mi, before they hear us!"
Nodding her head, Hermione swatted Pansy's hand away and smiled sadly. "I don't think we should use each other's names any more. We might slip."
"You still call me 'Pans' when we're alone," she pointed out with a lifted brow. She then shrugged her shoulders carelessly, "although Alexander and Amelia call us Ayla and Ava, it's still a bit… weird… when we call each other that."
Hermione chuckled, "we might need to start calling them father and mother before we slip at that as well and call them by their given name." Her face slowly morphed into horror, "could you imagine what father would do?"
Grimacing, Pansy shook her head, "I don't think I would want to particularly find out."
Sucking in her bottom lip, Hermione nodded slowly. "So no more Pans and 'Mi," she stated, glancing away quickly, "the day we agreed to take this mission was the day we signed over our rights to them."
They sat in silence. Hermione closing her eyes as she regained her control of her emotions. She really thought the panic attacks would stop once she had became a Shafiq but apparently it had not. A whole new person and traveling back in time to a different timeline and still she carried the weight of her stupid attacks that she couldn't shake off.
It didn't help that her dreams were still present as ever and everybody she had lost were a regular occurrence every night like clockwork welcoming her with open arms and burdening her load she carried on her shoulders tenfold.
Thinking of everything now without even discussing it or acknowledging her situation didn't help matters only causing them to worsen and, pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione really shouldn't have pushed everything behind her walls and locked them in a box to think about later.
Now she was suffering because of it. It was always later, later, later. She really needed to work out her priorities if she wanted to stop these attacks from happening and alerting the Shafiq's of her disorder.
"Calm down, 'Mi—"
"No," Hermione cut her off, sharply inhaling as her faced scrunched in determination, steadying her breath. "Don't call me that."
"Okay, Hermione—"
"Don't call me that either!" Snapped Hermione, hunching over, her hands on her abdomen as she steadied her breathing. "Just— just give me a moment, will you?"
Pansy didn't respond as she began to rub her back consolingly and Hermione let out a breath of relief, clearing her mind of all the faces of her old friends and the trouble she suffered at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
"Sorry," muttered Hermione, slowly opening her eyes and giving Pansy a sheepish smile.
Nodding in understanding, Pansy quickly threw off her covers and hopped out of the bed. "Let's go find that bag, yeah? And tell me what stupid plan you and Severus came up with, not doubt it will piss me right off."
Breathing out in relief, Hermione nodded, holding back her laughter, "let's go."
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For such a spacious place, Hermione really thought it would be easy to sneak out. How wrong she was and felt shame at being lashed out by the Shafiq's, her parents, at such a late hour of the night not to mention shame at being caught. It was ridiculous.
"Do you know how unbecoming it is for pureblood girls to sneak about and in the dark, no less!"
Hermione winced at her father's booming voice, refusing to even lift her head at the disappointment that she was sure was twisting his features.
They hadn't even made it outside for Merlin's sake. She glanced to the right where her mother's personal house elf was standing, by the double doors leading outside, wringing her fingers in her little dress. Hermione glared at her, angered by her tattling, the little—
"Don't glare at Willow, Ayla," her mother chastised with a tsk of her tongue.
Feeling her cheeks redden in obvious embarrassment from being caught, she sighed, "I'm sorry."
"And Ava," their father called out, tapping his foot impatiently, "what do you have to say for yourself?"
"It's Ayla's fault!" Pansy blurted out, "She's the one who woke me when I was sleeping!"
Shocked by her outburst, Hermione snapped her attention to her supposed sister. "You're kidding, right?"
Pansy had the decency to look ashamed, her head dropping in awkwardness. "Well, it is," she mumbled under her breath.
Hermione scoffed, "you're ridiculous."
"What did I say about mumbling and other boorish noises of the mouth?" Their mother sighed in exasperation. "What am I going to do with you both?"
Lifting her head, Hermione asked, "cancel the birthday?"
"Unlikely," Alexander huffed, crossing his arms against his chest, "go to bed, the both of you and I expect a five foot essay on why it is impolite for witches, such as yourselves, to go wandering in the dark. I expect it on my desk in my study the morning after the party."
"Yes, father," the twins voiced simultaneously.
"You're dismissed," their father breathed out with a tired sigh.
Making their way to their bedrooms, Hermione glared at Pansy, shoving her shoulder, "it's Ayla's fault!" She mocked, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you're such a child."
Pansy shrugged, "old habits and all." She gave Hermione a pointed look, "and if you missed the memo, we are children."
"Whatever," Hermione muttered under her breath, entering her room without another word to the betraying witch.
Throwing her small frame onto the bed with a groan, Hermione covered her eyes thinking of the many ways to get back at Willow for being a snitch.
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"Oh, just look at you, darling," her mother crooned adoringly, tucking a curl behind her hair, "such beauty."
Controlling the grimace twitching at the corner of her lips, Hermione gave her mother a strained smile.
She knew that when Severus came up with the plan of taking Ayla and Ava's place in the world was bloody brilliant which caused Hermione to forget, for just one stupid bloody moment, that she had a role to play, which included going through the years of an adolescent girl. Again.
Hermione Jean Granger was studious and an only child. She quite enjoyed her younger years with her parents who spoiled her the best to their abilities and loved her unconditionally even after finding out that their only child was a witch at the age of eleven, but she really didn't feel like reliving those years of having no voice to speak her mind.
It was difficult to not just destroy Voldemort right this instant without any backup plan or assistance and just get rid of the fool— but she knew she was being the fool and Hermione hated being patient.
But here she was, sitting in front of her vanity staring at an eight year old girl she didn't even recognize.
"What's the matter, my sweet girl?" Amelia asked worriedly, her brows furrowed in fret. "Are you okay?"
Sighing heavily, Hermione looked away, nodding her head, "I'm fine, mother, just anxious, is all."
Amelia— her mother, placed a gentle kiss at the crown of her head, smoothing down her curls in a loving gesture. "It will be alright, Ayla, you'll see."
"I don't know why you had to invite everyone," Hermione continued, trying her hardest not to pout but failing miserably. "Lucius Malfoy, mother, he's fourteen years old! What on earth will he be doing at an eight year old birthday dinner?"
Her mother tsk'd, shaking her head and said, "I thought we've been through this, Ayla. Age is a simple number that means absolutely nothing in our society. Lucius is Abraxas' son and you know how close he and your father are."
Grimacing, Hermione gave a nod, giving in to the life that was now her own. She really needed to stop complaining and fighting the inevitable but she was a stubborn witch.
"Besides," Amelia smirked with a lifted brow, "he's quite handsome, isn't he?"
Scrunching her nose, Hermione glared lightly at her mother, "yeah, if you're into fairies."
Her mother let out a shrill laughter, but quickly covered it up with a dainty cough. "Don't say such things, darling, it's unbecoming of a lady of your stature." She leaned in, her cheek lightly touching Hermione's, their resemblance indistinguishable, but the eyes, Amelia had dark blue eyes, as they stared at their reflection, "but he is kind of an effeminate for such a young boy, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione let out her own laugh, quickly covering her mouth and smirked, "watch it, mother," she lifted a brow, "wouldn't want father to hear such words. It's unbecoming if you didn't know."
Smacking a sloppy kiss on Hermione's forehead, Amelia smiled fondly, "cheeky." She stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her black robes, "will you be alright? I need to check on your sister."
Nodding, Hermione responded, "go ahead, I'll see you downstairs."
"You really do look nice, dear," Amelia softly murmured. "Happy birthday, love."
"Thank you, mother," Hermione thanked just as softly, smiling as her mother left the room.
Groaning as the door shut softly behind her mother, Hermione stared at her reflection. It wasn't fair for someone to be so beautiful at the mere age of eight, before even hitting puberty, for Merlin's sake, and she knew all purebloods weren't beautiful clearly remembering Millicent Bulstrode and even Pansy before she grew into her nose.
Snorting, she shook her head feeling a bit guilty for thinking Pansy an ugly witch because it was quite obvious that she wasn't all that pretty when she was Hermione Jean Granger with her bland muddy eyes and her crazy curls but at least she made up for it with kindness and intelligence— or so she told herself.
Fiddling with the necklace her father had given her and Pansy last year for their birthday, Hermione sighed, knowing she had to face the many people who wanted her dead in her world. But if she had to play the waiting game, she'd play it well and she would watch them all burn with their master. Soon.
Clearing her throat, she placed a mask of indifference and slowly stood as she fixed her dress robes and held her head up high. She could get through this dinner and she'd do it with a smile on her face, fooling them all.
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When her father had mentioned having a birthday dinner for her and her sister turning eight years old, Hermione thought it would be a couple of friends from his Hogwarts days, along with her mother's family and friends. She did not expect a full blown formal with more than fifty guests all gossiping in the ballroom and some even dancing formally on the dance floor in the middle of said room.
"Ayla! There you are!"
Feeling relief overcome her, Hermione smiled as she watched her sister make her way towards her through the crowd. She honestly didn't think she would lose sight of the witch but she did and hid from her parents who were no doubt trying to find them and introduce them to important people and whoever they thought worthy of an introduction.
"This is ridiculous," Hermione whispered under breath as she reached for Pansy's hand. "I didn't know turning eight was highly celebrated."
Pansy snorted, shaking her head, "it's the seventh birthday we usually celebrate but since mother was under the weather they postponed it."
Before Hermione could reply, Amelia placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on Pansy's and said, "come along, darlings, there are a couple of my friends who are anxious to meet you both."
Pushing her way through the crowd of witches and Wizards, Hermione grimaced as she let her mother lead her to the front of the ballroom.
"Druella!"
Blinking in shock, Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the three girls around their mother recognizing them all immediately. She could say the same for Pansy when her hand began to crush her own and winced when she didn't let up on her hold.
Bellatrix Lestrange was quite beautiful in her younger years but oozed a sort of darkness that was intangible. Her black curls were just as wild as she remembered and her lips were painted a red so dark it almost looked black. Grey eyes met honey brown and Hermione couldn't look away.
"Oh, Amelia, your girls are just beautiful!" Druella gushed, pinching, first Pansy's cheek, and then Hermione's. "Hullo, darling girls."
Pansy was the first to speak, performing a little bow and said, "it's a pleasure to meet you, madam Black."
Snapped from her staring contest with Bellatrix, Hermione repeated Pansy's curtsy, "hullo, madam, Black, it is nice to meet you."
"Oh, my, Amelia," Druella sighed happily, "they are just perfect little girls." She cleared her throat and turned towards her daughter, "this is Bellatrix, my eldest—"
Hermione turned to Bellatrix and nodded with a small smile on her face while the Witch smirked with a curtsy of her own and purred, "pleasure."
"—my second oldest, Andromeda—" Druella continued.
Smiling a bit more, Hermione nodded in greeting as the second nodded back with a kind smile on her face that instantly reminded her of the Andromeda she knew.
"—and my baby," Druella crooned, fussing over her daughter's hair, "Narcissa."
"It's a pleasure," Hermione and Pansy responded simultaneously, causing the women to laugh in delight.
"You know," Druella began, "Walburga should be here soon with her sons, would I be overstepping if I were to bring up certain arrangements?"
Hermione tuned the women out as they began to talk in quiet voices and slowly backed away from the girls. She glanced at Pansy who still had her hand in a crushing grip. She didn't want to draw attention to herself so she let the witch continue to grip her hand to the point of breaking it.
Clearing her throat, Hermione stared at Bellatrix and asked hesitantly, "you're going into your seventh year at Hogwarts, yes?"
Giving her a shark-like grin, her eyes glistening with mischief, Bellatrix nodded, "I am." She tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Hermione from head to toe, "I quite like you."
Andromeda snorted, "that never ends well. Leave the girl alone, Bella."
The middle child of the Black sister had a kind face with lovely brown locks that was twisted into an updo. Her grey eyes were kind and her features were soft, completely opposite of her older sister and Hermione liked her immediately. It was comforting to see a friendly, familiar, face after such a long time.
Bellatrix pouted and Hermione gulped, her face a mask of indifference and knew this was her way in. She knew Pansy would be having an aneurysm but she would explain later.
Keeping eye contact with the crazy bitch, Hermione smiled and said, "I think I like you too."
Bellatrix cackled, clapping her hands enthusiastically, ignoring the witches that flinched from such a shrill noise. "Tell me, Aya, you mind if I call you that? I do so love nicknames."
"Bella," Andromeda cut in again, narrowing her eyes, "that's enough."
Narcissa sighed impatiently and began to glance around uncaring for the conversation in front of her. Hermione couldn't blame her, she was ready to get away from her sister as well.
While Bellatrix was, admittedly, beautiful with a dark aura around her, Narcissa was simply enthralling. Long gold locks with grey piercing eyes and alluring features, it was no wonder she was her mother's favorite and named after the Greek God, Narcissus.
Scowling at her sister, Bellatrix turned to Hermione and lifted a brow, "well?"
"I don't mind at all," Hermione responded, her attention back to the conversation at hand. It was her turn to squeeze Pansy's hand that kept her rooted to the spot without falling into another panic attack. "Only if I'm allowed to call you Bella."
Another cackle and Bellatrix stalked forward and closed the distance between them as she placed her hands on her shoulder. She leaned in, her lips touching her earlobe and whispered, "you can call me anything you want, love."
"Bellatrix!" Her mother called out, laughing nervously as she turned to Amelia and apologized for her eldest behavior.
Amelia frowned but shook her head as she smiled dashingly at her guest and began to speak about something else.
Swallowing back the puke that threatened to be released, Hermione gave Bellatrix a smile, "alright, Bella."
"Ayla," Ava called, pulling her back from Bellatrix, "accompany me to the girl's room?"
Glancing at her sister, she smiled and nodded her head in assent. She then turned to the Black family and smiled at them as well. "It was lovely to meet you all and hope you enjoy your time here."
Before her sister could pull her away, Bellatrix latched onto Hermione's arms and she quickly faced her with a lifted brow.
"Come and find me when you're older." Bellatrix informed her, smirking wickedly, "I'll make it worth your while."
Blinking back her awestruck behavior as she stared at Bellatrix, she nodded, dumbfounded, and a bit disgusted, and said, "I will."
Turning away and leaving her mother behind as she continued to speak with Drusilla, who ignored the whole confrontation between her and Bellatrix to gossip, Hermione let Pansy guide her out of the ballroom and toward the ladies room in a stupor.
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"What the fuck?!" Pansy hissed as she quickly turned her around, her face contorted in pure outrage. "Explain yourself, Hermione, right fucking now!"
Sighing from tiredness she felt from the conversation she had with Bellatrix, Hermione shook her head, "I wanted to explain to you when we retrieve the beaded bag and I will once we get it."
"And you can't right now?" Pansy asked with narrowed eyes. When Hermione shook her head in answer, her twin sighed, "alright, we'll go tonight."
"What about Willow and the rest of the house elves?" Hermione asked bitterly, still wanting her revenge against the house elf in question.
"I'll take care of it, just," she groaned, "be mindful, alright? I'm already worried about our current situation, no need to add more to the load, yeah?"
Chuckling, Hermione pulled Pansy into a tight hug, "I'll try my best."
"That's not very reassuring," murmured Pansy but hugged her tightly nonetheless.
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After hours of being introduced to grown men her father had gone to school with and friends of her mother's, Hermione was exhausted.
After eating a five course meal and small conversations with people she hardly gave a damn about, she snuck off, scared to ask to be excused knowing the answer would be a no.
Sitting in the garden, Hermione didn't dare risk finding the beaded bag unsure of who would come out searching for her— it was her party, after all and she and her sister were the guest of honor.
Scoffing, she laid back on the stone bench, her arms lazily lying on her sides as she entwined her fingers together to rest on her lower abdomen and closed her eyes. It sucked starting life over and it was a bit disappointing thinking how many years she had until she began Hogwarts and then how many years after that until she destroyed those vile horcruxes.
The good thing, she thought mindlessly, was that she was old enough, in her mind, obviously, to know what to do and knew pretty much everything to set things back on track.
If her father thought her stupid that she didn't understand the undercurrent of whispers of power and what was to come and to hurry and choose a side then he had another thing to worry about than willingly being a loyal follower to his stupid snake-face of a Dark Lord.
Being formal to the people who hunted her down and claimed her as Harry Potter's mudblood had been quite easy to endure. She thought she'd break down in such an embarrassing manner, she was surprised that she could hold her own. But as she listened and smiled and chatted and laughed, even an eight year old needed a break from all the stuffiness in the ballroom. It was ridiculous how they flocked about and showing off their clothing and money and who's better than who— the power play was tiring and a bit absurd, the bigoted inbreds, the lot of them.
The Lestrange family were clearly followers, agreeing with anyone who held the most power, along with the Crabbe's and the Goyle's; the Malfoy's were conceited and arrogant as they took court in the corner of the ballroom having the others flock to them because, Merlin forbid, they're seen flocking to others; the Avery's were alright, not too much of an annoyance and were kind lest they began conversing of politics and started to cluck like chickens to anyone who'd spare them an ear and if she had to see the Carrow family it would be too soon for the sake of her sanity. The Crouch's though, Hermione shuddered, refusing to even think about that family of weirdness.
The children though, while Barty Crouch Jr was only six— it was the tongue flicking that got her and she shuddered again, he was just a child. Bellatrix was hardly a child being seventeen and her sister's Andromeda was fifteen while Narcissa was only thirteen. Rodolphus had just turned seventeen, glued to Bellatrix's hip like a baby, and Rabastan was just a four year old toddler who was shy with chubby cheeks and a cute smile still clinging to his mother's skirt.
Meeting future Death Eaters as children, Hermione had a strange feeling of trying to save Crouch and Rabastan. It was obviously too late for Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange but the little ones, maybe she would put effort into trying to save their souls.
There was only a handful of children that would be in the same year as she and Pansy that were important—said the bigots, and part of the Sacred families; Uriah Avery, Eli Mulciber, Rosetta Greengrass, Phillipa Parkinson and Sirius Black.
Sirius Black.
The Black boys were the ones that caused an ache in her heart. She was going to save Sirius and Regulus no matter the cost and she was going to kill Walburga and Orion for their treatment of the boys. It didn't take a fool to notice the bruises they each spotted and it angered her like no other. She would kill them and then they would either be put in Alphard's custody or Cygnus and Hermione grimaced hoping it was the former.
"Hello, there," a voice that was smooth like velvet and rich like chocolate called out, causing Hermione to sit up quickly and smoothing down her rumbled robes.
"Er—" she glanced around, her brows furrowed as she noticed no one around. "Hello?"
There was a deep chuckle that was melodic and Hermione swiftly turned her attention to the right, gasping at the young adult across the way.
Stepping into the light, the man smiled and Hermione felt her breath hitch at the sight of him; dark wavy locks styled to perfection with cognac eyes that held a bit of mischief and confidence and glittered darkly in the dim light. Immaculate robes, sharp features and a jaw carved from marble, Hermione quickly looked away, frowning at the way her thoughts had turned— since when did appearance ever matter to her?
"I don't mean to intrude," the man said smoothly, taking more steps that brought him closer to where she was sitting, "I didn't know anyone was out here."
"It's fine," Hermione muttered, clearing her throat, "I should be heading back inside, anyway. Mother is probably having a heart attack wondering where I am."
"Ah," the man voiced, a hint of humor glimmering in that simple word, "Ayla or Ava Shafiq?"
Sighing, Hermione stood, dusting her robes until she was satisfied with her appearance and gave the man a small nod of her head, "Ayla." She hesitated, "I really should be going."
"Of course," he agreed, stepping to the side, "I'll meet you formally inside."
Nodding again, Hermione walked past him, her brows furrowed in confusion as she quickly made her way into the house. There was something off about that man and she didn't like the feeling of dread building within her.
Pushing away her confrontation with the wizard, Hermione paused at the threshold of the ballroom to compose herself and placed a smile on her face as she walked in.
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"Where have you been, Ayla," her mother hissed, grabbing her arm and leading her through the ballroom. "Your father was worried when he couldn't find you."
Hermione grimaced as she was practically being dragged across the room and through a throng of people too nosey for their own good. "Sorry, mother, I was in the loo. My stomach was aching."
Pausing in the middle of the room, her mother glanced at her with a frowned, "are you alright? Do you need to have a lie down?"
Sighing in relief internally, Hermione held her stomach and nodded, "I think so. But it's fine, I'm sure—"
"Nonsense, darling," Amelia hushed, turning to engulf Hermione in a hug. "I'm sorry you're feeling under the weather." She pulled back, a pout upon her lips, "do you need me to escort you back to your room?"
Quickly shaking her head, Hermione spotted Pansy with their father, her eyes weary as she nodded along with the conversation she was clearly trapped in. "Maybe Ava can?"
"Of course, darling, come along."
Once they made it near their father, Hermione paused as she glanced at the man he was speaking with. It was the man from the garden. How did he even make it inside before she did? She swore she left the gardens ahead of him. Now that there was proper lighting, she could admit that he was ridiculously handsome which should be a crime because no one could possibly look like a god.
"Ayla, dear," her father greeted, a worried expression in his eyes, "are you alright? I believe I've lost sight of you."
Giving him a reassuring smile, Ayla nodded, "I'm fine, father, just a bit of a stomach ache."
"Ayla," her sister said, clearing her throat, a mien of panic rising in her eye, "father was just introducing me to Tom Riddle."
Softly gasping, Hermione slowly turned to the man in question and gaped at him.
Tom Riddle. This was Voldemort. This was the man who would burn the world to the ground with his ideals. This was the man who would murder whoever to achieve his goals of world domination and eradicating Muggleborns and muggles alike. This was the man who murdered her best friend and why she was in this situation to begin with. This was the man who had turned her life upside down and he was standing in her home, at her party and smiling charmingly at her.
"Ayla?" Her mother murmured softly, gently turning her away from the man, "you should go lie down, darling."
Nodding her head absentmindedly, Hermione turned to Pansy, "escort me to my room?"
Her friend nodded, placing her hand in the crook of her elbow.
"It was nice to finally meet you, Ayla, and hope to see you soon." Tom declared with finality. He then turn to Pansy, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "I hope we can finish our conversations about those exotic beasts, Ava."
Ava tensed but turned to smile at him, anyway, "of course." She dipped her head, "have a good night, sir."
Once Pansy turned forward, releasing a relieved sigh, she slowly glanced over her shoulder and Hermione smiled at him, "the pleasure is all mine, master Riddle."
He flinched, which went unseen by her parents but Hermione saw it and she relished in knowing how very much he disliked his muggle name and wanted him to understand that she knew Riddle was a muggle name and that he was just a fucking half-blood and forever will be no matter who he descended from.
Giving another nod of her head at the man, Hermione let Pansy guide her out of the ballroom as she said her farewells and smiled at the wizards and witches occupying the room and having a grand time.
But her mind was occupied at meeting Voldemort in his human form and was determined to get as close as possible to the man.
The game of chess was finally beginning.
——————————
Glancing out her door, Hermione looked both ways, assuring the coast was clear of any house elves that would alert her parents immediately of her wandering. With a determined look, she rushed out and headed towards her father's study with a couple sheets of parchments clenched in her fist, relieved that even the house elves were busy cleaning up the home with steadfastness.
She knew her parents were in for the night and knew they were comatose considering the evening they had drinking beyond their limit.
With a satisfied grin knowing she made it to her father's study that was located on the third floor of the manor without being caught, she threw her five foot essay down on his desk with a pleased smirk.
One less task she didn't have to worry about concerning her parents and would most likely enjoy the stupidity on her father's face for failing to remember about the essay he had assigned them for their behavior in the first place.
And mostly for getting back at Pansy for her act of betrayal since Hermione knew the witch hadn't even completed her punishment of writing down repeated sentences of how and why it is unbecoming of young witches, such as theirselves, to go wandering in the dark. She had to roll her eyes at that. She'd done her fair share of wandering in dark corridors and traipsing through forbidden forests and the like.
With a chuckle, Hermione made her way to her bedroom feeling a bit smug.