Rufus was sure that Abraxas did not have the guts to raise his hand immediately, so he stepped forward himself. What Tom had created was truly an impressive spell. A mark that not only changed, but also let them know instinctively where Tom was, was a spell without equal. He was proud to be a Lestrange, to belong to one of the most distinguished families, but this boy with a Muggle name proved once again that he was truly the heir to Salazar Slytherin himself.

That did not change the fact that Rufus still felt contempt for the way Tom was now. It did not change the fact that he felt offended by the arrogance when Tom so obviously no longer was as detached from the world around him as he pretended to be. The way he presented Hermione as outstanding, even though she was just a simple woman, bothered Rufus. How she trembled while Tom branded the Dark Mark on her arm. How pathetically she trembled. He would prove to him that a man could endure much more than a woman. He would prove to him that a woman could never be his equal, a man of the House of Lestrange. It was time Tom got rid of his fixation on the witch.

With a calm expression, not wanting to accidentally let on his distaste, Rufus rolled up his sleeve.

"I knew you wouldn't hesitate," Tom praised him with a grin and slapped him amicably on the shoulder. It took all Rufus' self-control not to snap at him angrily. That tone, so condescending, as if Tom were a teacher praising his favourite student.

When the smile disappeared from Tom's lips and gave way instead to a concentrated expression, Rufus became nervous against his will. Tom rarely let on that he was having a hard time with anything; he was too proud of the fact that he was considered a prodigy who succeeded at everything. The fact that he dropped every facade during this spell could only mean that he actually had to make an effort. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, that instilled fear in Rufus.

The same movements he had performed earlier on Hermione's arm now initiated the ritual that would burn the Dark Mark into his arm. Rufus tried to follow the fluid movement, but it was too complex - and then his world was nothing but pain.

A groan clearly audible to all escaped him before Rufus got himself back under control. There was nothing he could do about the trembling that gripped his body. He knew that when a body began to shake with pain, one was moving at a dangerous limit. If the muscles failed, if they could no longer be controlled, one risked serious, permanent damage. Desperately, he tried to at least keep his breathing calm so as not to make things worse, but to no avail.

With another groan, he sank to his knees. This was no Cruciatus, but the feeling was infinitely worse. He had nothing to counter it with. His mind was impotent. As if he had anticipated the fall, Tom followed him to the floor without letting the wand slip from his skin. His free hand rested on his shoulder. It was another condescending gesture, but Rufus was too distracted to care.

Then, at last, it was over. As if pain had never existed, Rufus no longer felt anything where the mark now was emblazoned on his arm. It was ugly, but in a way he liked. Whoever wore this mark was not afraid of his own black soul. It was a symbol that had to be worn with pride - or not at all.

Breathing heavily, he straightened up again. "Interesting experience."

A knowing grin played around Tom's lips. "Sorry it's so painful."

As if it was a small thing, Rufus waved it off. "Oh, it's not that bad."

The grin on Tom's face grew even wider. Rufus returned it. For a moment the two boys just stared at each other, then Tom nodded to him before turning to Abraxas. Instantly Rufus let his grin disappear. Tom had sent him a clear message, unspoken.

While Tom prepared Abraxas for the spell, Rufus turned to Hermione. "I must pay my respects to you, Miss Dumbledore. You took that pain like it was nothing."

Rufus could clearly see a calculating expression enter her eyes. "Thank you. If I wasn't so well versed in pain, I'm sure I would have gone down too."

What a bitch. If Tom had not been present, he would have cast an Unforgivable against her right here and now. Inwardly Rufus called himself to order. He was a Lestrange. A Lestrange kept a cool head in any situation and weighed all the given factors rationally. A significant factor right now was that Tom wanted to prove to them that Hermione earned a place in the inner circle - and unfortunately, he had succeeded. He had to respect that, Tom had made that clear, and he vowed to show that respect, even though Tom probably expected the opposite. He would not be thrown off balance by her arrogance.

"Indeed, we students of Hogwarts are fortunate to be protected from events that bring us painful experiences," he replied coolly instead, "I take it from your words that your old school was not circumspect enough?"

To his surprise, Hermione gave a short laugh. He was sure she understood his insult against her home, but apparently, she was not bothered at all. Her reply was even more confusing. "My old school was exactly as circumspect as Hogwarts. My painful experiences actually came through Tom, if you know what I mean."

Rufus just barely managed to stop his face from contorting into a shocked grimace. The twinkle in her eyes, the wink, the teasing tone - it was obvious what she was implying. Even from an American woman, he would not have expected such candour, just as these hints were details he did not want to know about Tom. Tensely, he explained, "You might not want to share the intimacies of your bedroom quite so freely, Miss Dumbledore."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "My bedroom? Mr. Lestrange, what are you insinuating? I was merely talking about the initiation that I'm sure we all had to go through to prove ourselves to Tom. I cannot believe that you ... your thoughts shake me."

With his mouth open, Rufus stared at her. It was clear what she had been implying, all her body language and facial expressions had given it away - but of course no lady would actually say it. And he walked blindly into her trap. Like a rookie, he had been carried away into stating facts instead of remaining discreet. All because he did trust Hermione Dumbledore to be able to be subtle. All because he felt so provoked by Tom and his lover.

Flaming hatred rose in him as he felt Hermione's triumphant gaze on him. That a woman could irritate him so much was beyond his imagination. No wonder she was related to Dumbledore. Both the professor and his niece were simply insufferable. And the arrogance that Tom always showed seemed to rub off on her as well.

It was time he stopped being so passive. He had sworn allegiance and loyalty to Tom, but not under these circumstances. Not with Hermione Dumbledore at Tom's side. He had to finally make his own move, to put himself in position to prevent Tom from making a mistake. Whether he was Slytherin's heir or not, however gifted a wizard he was, Tom was obviously blinded by this woman and lost his way. He would rather join the mad Grindelwald before he let Hermione Dumbledore take his rightful place as second in command.

Trying to get his hateful thoughts under control, he turned to the Tom and Abraxas. Grimly, he watched Tom perform the spell on Abraxas as well. A weakling like Malfoy would never be able to get the mark without a fuss. He would scream, Rufus was sure of it. If he himself was already close to screaming, Abraxas would barely be able to stand it.

Hermione's eyes wandered anxiously to Abraxas. She did not know how he would handle pain. She hoped he would be able to get through it. When Tom's wand was still again and the first lines appeared on his forearm, his otherwise porcelain skin turned grey. But like them, Abraxas seemed concerned not to make a sound. He did not even tremble. He just stood there, eyes closed, his right hand clenched into a fist, enduring the pain. Hermione's respect for him rose. Unlike his grandson, who whined at the slightest opportunity, Abraxas was just proving himself to be a real man.

Amused, she noticed that Rufus did not miss Abraxas' calmness either. She had truly teased the poor boy enough today, but she just could not keep her mouth shut. The contempt he showed her simply because she was a woman was unbearable to her. And so, she whispered to him, "Abraxas seems to agree with you that the pain isn't so bad."

Triumphantly, she watched Rufus' eyes narrow, but he gave her no reply. He was probably silently thinking of the best way to kill her without being noticed. It had not escaped her notice that this most intelligent Death Eater did not seem to be as on board with Tom's vision as he used to be. Not because he had anything against world domination or even because he was a Muggle friend. No, Rufus Lestrange just seemed unwilling to accept her, a woman. He would bow to Tom, the half-blood who turned out to be the heir of Slytherin, but not to a woman.

Thoughtfully, Hermione tilted her head. Perhaps she should mention to Tom that she did not trust Rufus and suspected he would like to see her in the ground. Tom would make sure Rufus would not harm her. After all, he had promised to protect her.

Sighing deeply, she looked at the Dark Mark on her arm. If only Ron could see her now. Or Harry. If she could hear the poisonous words she was uttering. How she was deliberately trying to draw Tom's wrath on someone else. Would Ron even recognise her? After all, he had always been impressed by her big heart. What was left of it? Under Dumbledore's advice, she had approached Tom and acted like a true Slytherin would. And then Tom had shown her how much darker her soul was.

The Dark Mark on her arm was proof that she was no longer Hermione Granger and could never be again. She stood here, near the Chamber of Secrets, worrying about a Malfoy, exchanging pointed words with a Lestrange, and seeking the proximity of Voldemort. Surreal as it seemed, Hermione just could not find it wrong. The Dark Mark was a reminder that she had now sided with evil, but her loyalties still lay with Harry. She might think differently about the world than she had three months ago, but Tom would never have her true loyalty.

"Hermione, dear."

Tom's soft voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He was finished with Abraxas, who was now looking at his arm, breathing heavily. With a wave of his hand, Tom ordered her to his side.

"Our two friends did well today, didn't they?" he whispered to her, loud enough for the other two to hear. Gently, he gave her a kiss on the top of the head and put an arm around her shoulders before continuing, addressing them all, "I didn't bring you here today just to try out the Dark Mark. As you both well know, I have been toying with the idea of officially making Hermione one of ours for some time. She was the first to receive the Mark, so from now on she is rightfully in our ranks."

Hermione allowed a wave of exhaustion to roll over her. She had worked tirelessly since Thursday to prove herself to Tom, she had accepted the Dark Mark despite the pain, now she could at last allow herself a small moment of weakness. Relaxing, she leaned into Tom's arm and rested her head against his shoulder.

"However, I want to make one thing very clear," Tom explained, his tone now sharper, "Hermione is my partner, not only as a lover, but also in my plans. She has helped me on two occasions now where even I have failed. I expect you to treat her with the same respect you would show me. I hope I only have to say this once."

Grinning, Hermione hid her face against his chest. He liked to act like a bastard around her sometimes, but he made good on his words: he would look out for her. Tom Riddle meant it very seriously when he told her that she was his, that her life was his. In some intangible way, that felt very, very good.

Mischievously, she squinted up at him and whispered softly, "I won't let them disrespect you either."

Playfully he raised an eyebrow. "As if I need the protection of a lady."

Just as playfully, she replied, "As if I need the protection of a little boy."

He laughed briefly, then leaned down and kissed her. It was a kiss full of promise, a hint of what she could probably still expect from him tonight back in her bedroom. But it was also a public display of his possessiveness. Willingly, Hermione returned the kiss. Tom was no longer the superior Lord Voldemort she had fearful respect for, but simply the boy she was with.

Greedy heat spread through Hermione as her thoughts drifted to her bed and time alone with Tom.