TEN

Wednesday, 17 October 1945

Tom hated having to admit when someone else was right. However, when it came to Abraxas and his idea to host a fundraiser in support of the Ministry, he was the first to congratulate his follower for a job well done. Despite the current political climate and the fact that his own numbers had dwindled, Tom had gained them back, if not more than he'd lost, in the span of a single night. Abraxas could take credit for that as much as he liked so long as Tom's success continued to grow.

Tom knew that once the false peace of Grindelwald's pardon had worn off, once they saw that he was already in control of everything magical folk held dear, they might change their minds. History had already proven that, while superior, the witches and wizards alike were no match for the Muggle population. Every time they had shown their true selves to a Muggle whether on purpose or not, it had always ended in fear, persecution, and bloodshed. It was what had caused their numbers to drop in the first place.

Grindelwald's call for action, to put the Muggles in their place might be tempting at first, but the evidence of that plan working in the past was non existent. Tom, on the other hand, wanted to ensure that the two worlds were kept apart from one another. To keep the magic for themselves and away from those that would seek to destroy them. He wasn't about to lay down his wand peacefully either, he just wanted a world where he knew his kind was free.

Muggles had no business in the magical world.

As for where Muggleborns fit into his picture of a perfect world, he hadn't quite decided yet. He had purposefully kept that part of his plan quiet from those that inquired. All they had to know at the moment was that he planned to protect them. That his idea of how things should run would include wealth and peace of mind. That there would be a position of power for anyone that wanted one and a chance for people to make a name for themselves.

In the end, he knew he would achieve what he wanted. He had seen it in Hermione's memories. The only difference now was he had motivation to speed things up. He was willing to wait to reach his goals, but things were different now.

Having returned to the Manor one evening in the middle of October, Tom found himself being introduced to an unfamiliar face gathered round the dining table. The man was a few years older than Abraxas and was rougher around the edges than the typical men Abraxas usually wanted Tom to meet. Despite all of that, his air of arrogance along with the darkness that sounded him was enough to make him willing to at least listen to what the man had to say.

"Tom, this is Antonin Dolohov. Antonin, this is Tom Riddle," Abraxas said, glancing from one friend to the other. Neither of them lifted a hand for the other to shake before taking their seats on opposite sides of Abraxas at the head of the table. "Antonin has already pledged himself to your cause, my lord. He's just as against Grindelwald's ideals as we are."

At that, Antonin leaned over to the right, away from Abraxas, and spit on the floor. Tom and Abraxas exchanged a glance. He could see the apology in Abraxas' gaze, but Tom ignored it, clenching his own jaw as he turned back to their guest.

"What have you been doing since graduation?" Tom asked, needing more information on the man across from him before he welcomed him aboard.

Had Abraxas wanted Antonin as just a regular follower, he wouldn't have brought him here. Whatever this man was capable of, Abraxas wanted Tom to see it. To invite him into the inner circle. And if he was that much of an asset, Tom was more than willing to get past his barbaric behavior.

"I excelled at Charms and Potions," he answered, his accent making his voice rough around the edges. "I've spent the recent years mastering both."

"Under whose tutelage?"

"Casimir Petska."

Abraxas' brows pulled together, unable to place the name, but Tom, usually one to show no emotion whatsoever, had to hide how impressed he was to hear that name. It was one he had only read in a book or two while scouring the Restricted Section to learn about Dark magic. The only snippets he had been able to find were about the wizard's affinity for putting a deadly spin on otherwise harmless potions. His talent was rare and up until that moment, Tom had nearly forgotten about him.

So far, the witches and wizards that had pledged themselves to Tom's cause had been powerful in terms of the money they could offer as well as influence. What he lacked was muscle. If the man across from him had been trained under a man as ruthless and deadly as Petska, Tom was more than happy to add him into the fold.

"A great wizard to learn those crafts from," Tom said as the food began to appear atop the table.

"Indeed," Antonin replied, reaching first for the goblet the moment the wine stopped pouring itself. "He shared many a secret with me as well. Ones I believe would benefit you greatly," he added, pausing to tilt his goblet towards Tom before finishing his statement with, "my lord."

At that, Tom did allow a little emotion to spread across his face in the form of a smirk. Should Antonin live up to the potential he had just promised himself to be, things were already starting to look up.

Wednesday, 31 October 1945

Tom knew that the Malfoys put their all into hosting parties, but up until he woke the morning of Halloween, he hadn't thought anyone would be able to top Hogwarts in terms of festive decor. Not that this holiday, or any of them for that matter, had been high on his radar, but even Tom had to admit Abraxas' handiwork had left him in the mood to celebrate.

When he had first arrived at Hogwarts, Tom had been swept under the spell that was magic. To see it before his very eyes at every twist and turn in a castle hidden from the world, he was intrigued. Before then, holidays were just another reminder that he had no one. No one to wake him with festive cheer. No one to stroll around the neighborhood with to get candy. No one to help him with costumes. By the end of his first year, even the wonder that was magic had lost its edge. Soon it was just another reminder that he had been robbed of it from the beginning.

In all of his eighteen, almost nineteen years, he had only found himself ever looking forward to one holiday season. Seeing Hermione in that dark navy dress with the constellations had made all his feelings towards previous Halloweens seem worth it. Even if she hadn't arrived on his arm or even worn that dress for his sake; she was still his. Even if their interaction had been limited to one dance and a small conversation. It was that night he had decided to let her in.

Christmas had been nearly perfect. She had broken it off with Draco and let Tom take up the mantle as the man at her side. It was one step closer to the new plans he had carved out for what his life would be; the ones he had rearranged to include her. But then she had taken the magic of the day and ruined it by going to see him. The rage that had simmered through his entire being at the sight of her and Draco standing before a door in the Room of Requirement had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

And even though she stayed, it didn't make up for the lie she told. He often wondered if she would have disappeared through that door with Draco had Tom not listened to his instincts and followed her there.

It was a combination of fear and anger that kept him at her bedside for the week that followed. He was angry that she had put him in such a position; that after all they had been through, there was a part of him that cared enough to get angry. The fear also stemmed from that. He wasn't about to lose her before she had the chance to explain herself and answer for what she'd done.

But she disappeared before he even knew she was awake.

As Tom entered the ballroom, the sight of men and women dressed in some of their finest clothes took him back to Hogwarts. The room was enchanted; the ceiling an endless night sky, complete with twinkling stars and floating candles. There were bats flying around as well, but there seemed to be a layer of protection between them and the crowd below. As much as it reminded him of the parties they threw at school, this was a higher class version of that.

He grabbed a goblet from the trays that were charmed to float around holding various drinks and edibles and then plunged into the crowd to make his rounds. He lost count of how many people he greeted or how long he had spent striking up one conversation after another before he finally made his way across the room to Abraxas.

"Happy Halloween!" the blond said, raising his glass as a toast.

Tom tipped his in kind before bringing it to his lips to finish off what remained of the drink inside. "Was all of this necessary?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"Of course it is," Abraxas said, the smile still lingering on his lips. "Even in times of crisis things like this should be done as they were intended. When you're victorious later, your people will appreciate this, my lord." He gave a small shrug before adding, "Besides, if there's one thing those within high society needs, it's social events such as these."

Tom couldn't fault Abraxas for that logic. But before he could compliment his follower on a job well done, Antonin joined the pair and thumped Abraxas on the back. "Careful now, Malfoy. Keep this up and you'll be reassigned to party planner!"

Tom never thought it was possible for Abraxas to get any paler, but there he was, turning white as snow as he choked on his own drink. Tom simply smirked at him before turning his attention towards the food. But just as he took his first step, he felt it. It crashed over him as though someone had dumped ice water over his head, making him stumble ever so slightly.

It had been almost a year since he'd felt the proximity of her presence, but he would know it anywhere. Like a lighthouse shining its beacon to a ship in a raging storm, it called to him. He took a moment to close his eyes and inhale deeply, soaking in the comfort it gave him. It was only for a moment before the anger got the best of him, quickly turning to rage that boiled the blood in his veins.

After all this time, she was here. She was within reach; enough that he could follow the lead of her magic that pulsed out and called to him like a moth to a flame. He wondered if she'd been hiding herself or if she'd just arrived. Either way, she had a lot to answer for and he was looking forward to hearing what she had to say for herself.

But as her presence began to fade, Tom found himself face to face with a petite blonde woman he didn't recognize in the center of the drawing room. And when he reached out with his magic, trying to connect with hers again, he came up short. The loss of it made his body go cold and he stared at the woman gazing back at him with large blue eyes. However, the longer he stared at her, the more things began to click into place. And this time, when he pushed forward with his magic, he recognized the magic that pushed back.

"Hello, Hermione."