A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! They're very encouraging.
Hermione didn't lament the crushed rose for very long.
"I'll expect you to have finished reading these when we start our practical lesson in two weeks," Voldemort ordered. "It shouldn't be a problem for you with how many books you borrowed and finished from here the last visit."
How did he know that? At least he doesn't know the subject matter, or they would be having a different conversation right now.
She lifted the first book at the top of the pile and scanned the contents. Her eyes widened as she quickly read about spells of deception and other mind magic — hexing your foes to experience a distorted reality, so they begin to attack their allies instead, or immense anguish from their worst memory so it disabled their will to fight.
Hermione couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. "This is incredible. These spells are both offensive and defensive, since they take away the opponent's ability to hurt you. I'll have read all these books a few times by the time we meet again."
"Good, we'll have a practical demonstration on the spells after you familiarize yourself with the theory."
"Are you going to cast these spells on me?"
"Do you want me to? I don't mind, I can be a generous teacher."
"Well, some of these sound pretty gruesome." She bit her lip anxiously as she briefly pointed to a curse detailed on the page. "It looks like this spell here can cause bleeding in the brain and one may never recover."
"It depends on the power and intent behind the curse. Also, don't worry, that's why we have Gavin Rosier," he said flippantly.
"What are you planning? I'm not going to use Mr. Rosier like that."
"You have such delicate sensibilities. How would you know how effective a particular spell is if you haven't experienced it yourself? I don't plan on being a gentle taskmaster."
"Have you experienced all the ones listed in these books?"
"Yes, during my travels. And it's also how I discovered these books. They were my enemy's." He arched a brow and threw her a wicked smile. "And he no longer has any use for them."
Her shoulders tensed as she wondered just how many people he had killed so far.
"Now Hermione, I have further instructions for you. Do you realize that you're incredibly weak?"
"Ex… excuse me?" She couldn't recall the last time anyone said something like that to her.
"I had you pinned physically, and you were completely helpless against me. You lost your wand not through a disarming spell, but from me merely taking it from your hands with little to no effort. You say you were an Auror, but I find it laughable that Aurors have no training in physical self-defense. What are you going to do if your opponent closes the distance on you and uses brute force to subdue you?"
"This better not have anything to do with me being a witch," she warned.
"You are physically weak, in a way that has nothing to do with your gender. You're thin, and a bit short. Your hair makes you look bigger than you actually are. That can be an advantage in some cases, but it's in the fact that you lack any endurance, discipline, and quite possibly stamina as well, and you will never reach your full potential."
She was most definitely irked as she considered herself to be quite physically healthy. She was definitely healthier than when she, Harry, and Ron were on the Horcrux hunt. They had done plenty of running then but weren't eating enough. "What do you propose I do then?" She really hoped he wasn't going to put her through some rigorous training.
With a flick of his wrist, parchment and a magical quill appeared out of thin air. With his wand controlling the quill, he began writing in the air.
His writing was impeccable and elegant in a way she never managed to achieve.
"Just basics, for now. I will increase the intensity accordingly the next time I see you. For the next two weeks, in addition to your reading, I require you to start running around the Great Lake in your spare time — preferably early morning before classes. Here are some training sets for you to do throughout the day in between teaching, and more to do in the evening. There will be an emphasis on different muscles to allow for recovery in between. You will be doing planks, squats, push-ups, lunges, and burpees. Do you need any diagrams for the proper forms for any of these exercises?"
Hermione's lips parted in disbelief as she shook her head. "You can't be serious. This is just positively—"
"Positively muggle? Was that what you were going to say? Why would muggles have a monopoly on fitness and health?"
Hermione decided to stay quiet. Discipline. She was learning, wasn't she? She wondered how he even knew of this. Most wizards and witches relied on magic for everything physical. There was no need to lift anything if you can just levitate it. No need to run if you can just hop on a broomstick and fly. Did he learn this as a teenager at his muggle orphanage? Or later on in life?
Her eyes surreptitiously roamed over his tall figure. With a thick cloak and loose, silk robes, it was impossible to tell if he was truly a proponent of fitness himself. She could only see that he had wide shoulders and a lithe, lean form.
"Imagine being chased by a pack of werewolves, or dozens of acromantulas, or even a herd of centaurs, and you lost your wand, or you're magically exhausted. What is your next best course of action for your continued survival?" he asked.
"Run." She was baffled she was having this conversation with him. Lord Voldemort? Running from anything? What kind of gruesome training did he suffer through these past ten years? Did he intentionally seek out impossibly dangerous situations just to prove that nothing that can stop him? She thought he feared death.
"Precisely. Running will also build endurance and stamina, which you will need for longer duels as well. And what do you do if you come across a manticore?" he quizzed.
"Cast transfiguration spells, since its skin repels all charms."
"Very good, Hermione. But also?" He casually leaned against the desk.
She bit her lip and hesitantly asked, "Run, while casting transfiguration spells?"
"Exactly, manticores are notoriously quick striking, and you need to be able to buy time by building some distance."
The regimen he set for her levitated towards her face until she plucked it out of the air. Instant dread flooded her as she glimpsed all the numbers and writing.
"Once you've built up the endurance from running, and if your performance in all things pleases me, you shall be greatly rewarded.
"I'm sure you tell everyone that. What kind of incentive are we talking about? This isn't going to be easy, in between making lesson plans for seven different years of students," she complained.
He walked towards the window and stood in front of it, observing the rain for a moment. "I'll teach you unsupported flight, which could help you in many situations, provided your magic isn't depleted or suppressed," he offered quietly.
Hermione's heart nearly stopped. She didn't dare hope.
"You mean, you've discovered the secret to true flight? It was long considered a magical impossibility. No one else has been able to achieve that — I mean, that's just astonishing," she said, all of a sudden breathless.
He turned to face her. A slight quirk to his lips — an enigmatic smile, and she was lost.
She wanted to learn. She needed it. It was completely selfish, but she had always hated flying on a broom. It was one of the few things Hermione had never been good at — flying, and that inferiority never sat well with her. Harry and Ron were both great fliers, and her competitive nature was not content to allow it to continue being her weakness.
Brooms could fail. Brooms could be cursed. But if she could rely on herself, her own magic, then she would have no reservations about flying.
It was also a skill that was beyond rare. It was an unattainable dream — being able to fly, unsupported. She loved impossible things.
She had forgotten that Tom Riddle had mastered the ability to fly. During the war, everyone was shocked when they witnessed Voldemort flying when they moved Harry from Dudley's house. At some point, he must have taught Severus Snape as well. In her time, the only two people who have mastered the ability to fly are dead.
It isn't anything that can be found in any book, and a sick desire to please him bloomed in her chest. She'll do almost anything, for knowledge of such rare magic. She won't let this knowledge go to waste, it was only her duty to the wizarding kind that she learned.
Pleased with her expression, he ordered, "Follow that exactly as described. I'll know if you skip anything. It will help you build discipline as well. It's charmed to keep track of your progress, and you will check off each thing on the list as you go through it. Stray from it, and there will be consequences."
"Do you have your Death Eaters go through this?" She held the list in distaste. Hermione wondered if he only did this with the original Death Eaters, because she couldn't remember the newer ones being physically fit at all. They were quite average, even weak.
"No, just you," he said matter-of-factly.
"Why, why me?" She couldn't understand it. This was only their second meeting. She hadn't proven anything to him yet. All that's happened so far was that she had her wand taken by him, twice, both magically and physically. Maybe he noticed her potential? She was sure she could match or exceed any of his Death Eaters in any number of things. Or was this just a trap? Did he promise to share magical secrets with new recruits so that they will go to the ends of the world for him?
He stepped close to her, towering over her form, and bent down closer to her ear and murmured, "Hermione, were you hoping I would tell you that you are special?" An insidious chuckle sounded low in his throat. "No. As I said, you lack discipline and stamina, and I need you to gain both." His breath ghosted over the shell of her ear and she shivered.
He stepped back and turned away. "Well, I did have something else to discuss with you today. I want you to make subtle changes to the DADA curriculum. My sources tell me that while I've been away, that class had been taught by increasingly less-qualified individuals. It's been steadily worse with Dumbledore's influence now that he is Headmaster. In the distant past, the Hogwarts curriculum included aspects of magic that are now banned or eliminated. It's been decades since the Defense Against the Dark Arts had a competent professor. What is perceived as the 'Dark Arts' now includes a whole host of spells that are actually greyer in nature."
"And you think it's wrong of Dumbledore to do that? Do you consider it censorship?" She recalled what Rosier had said to her during their first meeting.
"After Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, his influence in the wizarding world had expanded greatly, and nobody dared oppose him. Until now that is. Dumbledore is keeping young wizards and witches from experiencing all that magic has to offer. This level of censorship should not be tolerated. I know you've read The Black Arts on Trial."
"Do your followers tell you everything?" she asked, curious. She'll have to be more careful with her future conversations and assume she was talking to Voldemort directly.
"They don't have to. I'll just know." He arched a sardonic brow.
"So, you want to allow students to judge for themselves what is light or dark, or even grey? I suppose if we only present one side, magical knowledge will be steadily lost over time, leaving future generations bereft. I just don't think Dumbledore will ever allow it," she added.
"It'll be your task then, to circumvent his rules. Subtle changes at first, I don't want him to sack you before you even really get started. If you do well, you may even be there for years to come."
Years? Did he expect her to be at Hogwarts for years? Was he going to lift the curse on the DADA position for her then, if she did as she was told?
"I suppose I can expand the curriculum, since fully understanding something allows you to best defend against it." Hermione wondered about Voldemort's true agenda. Wouldn't he be educating future wizards and witches to be better prepared to fight against him? It seemed to oppose his goals. Or did he plan to recruit those who excelled? But perhaps, his respect for all magic surpassed his own motivations? He is a complex individual. Just what were his motives here?
"Yes, and if you only attempt to fight with light magic, you are severely limiting yourself. What spell do you consider to be one of the most advanced of 'light' magic?"
"Perhaps the Patronus Charm," she mused.
Voldemort's lip curled. "Ah, yes, the Patronus Charm. Are you able to cast one, Hermione?"
"Yes, since I was fifteen. But it was one of the most difficult spells I've had to learn, at that time at least. Can you cast one? A corporeal Patronus?"
"I have no use for such a spell. Is that the best light magic could do? Don't you see how limiting it is? When you can learn to control dementors, you have no reason to fight them. Understanding their motives is more useful than a Patronus charm. Why waste a chance to gain an ally and have them fight for you?"
She never thought about it that way. But not everyone could be Lord Voldemort. "Understanding their motives? They are one of the foulest creatures to ever walk the earth. Every bit of happiness is sucked right out of you when they get near. How could you even focus when they are around, let alone empathize with such a creature?"
"I have never felt much different around dementors. They are my natural allies."
That's because your soul had already been ruined beyond repair, she thought.
"They flourish on decay and despair. They can render you completely soulless. What if your ability to convert them fails you, what then?" she challenged.
"Just don't fail then. I have never failed. I will acknowledge, however, that it is quite impressive that you can cast one — most witches and wizards are never able to cast a corporeal Patronus. Why don't you show me, Hermione? I find I'd like to see it, the shape it takes."
Hermione, ever the eager pupil to show off what she knew, rejoiced at the chance to demonstrate for him something he deemed to be an impressive ability. At that moment, it didn't matter that he was her enemy. She wanted to impress him. She'll reflect upon her conflicting thoughts later.
Hermione tried to summon the happiest memory she could remember. During the last few years, she had been using the absolute joy and immense relief that flooded her the moment Harry defeated Voldemort. It was a moment she could never forget, and it helped her as an Auror many times when she needed to quickly fight off dementors or send a secret message.
She performed the wand movements flawlessly and tried to cast nonverbally, which she had been able to do for years.
After a few moments where nothing happened, dread sank into her heart. She briefly wondered if she could no longer cast a Patronus. Has she changed that much?
Perhaps she needed to switch the 'happy memory' that had never failed her until now. In a panic, she glanced at Voldemort. Perhaps because the wizard was standing beside her, feeling immense joy over his death was morbid, even for her.
Instead, she chose the day she received her Hogwarts letter and learned that she was a witch. "Expecto Patronum!" she called out firmly. She needed this to work, for her own sanity.
Seeing the bright silver, translucent otter take shape in the air filled her with relief and happiness. A light sheen of moisture appeared in her eyes and she couldn't suppress a grin. She'd always feared that one day she would be unable to cast it as she adapted to a world that had become increasingly grim.
The silvery bright light of her Patronus lit up the dark shadows on Voldemort's features as his eyes followed it impassively. Her otter danced around the dark wizard in playful circles, as he appeared to watch the creature flitting around him with quiet disdain. The incongruous sight was jarring enough to her that her Patronus dissipated.
Voldemort turned to look at her with an inscrutable expression. "A flawless demonstration, Hermione. I hope you'll always be able to cast one. Now, I'm afraid I have other business to attend to today. I'll see you next lesson."
Hermione froze at the sudden chill in his voice and his abrupt decision to leave.
Before she could answer, he had left the library.
A/N: We have the Professor Riddle/student Hermione trope even though Hermione's the actual DADA professor. If you are interested in a Professor Tom AU, please check out my smutty oneshot, Gunner! :)
Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this chapter!