Part 2
A flurry of activity followed her agreement. When Hermione had agreed, she'd shocked herself. A small part of her mind was busy cursing her Gryffindor honor and courage. For all her anxiety, Hermione knew she wouldn't change her mind. She trusted Dumbledore and knew that if there was another way, he would have found it. When she felt close to panicking, Hermione remembered the charred battlefields. The pain of seeing her friends die and the sting of betrayal, were captured perfectly in her finely honed memory. The wizarding world couldn't endure another war. If she had refused, inevitably history would be repeated. Dumbledore had been sure to impress that upon her. She wouldn't let it happen again.
Once she had agreed, she'd changed into a simple white cotton shift that Professor McGonagall had given her, and drank numerous potions under Snape's standard death glare. The potions master then disappeared with a second set of potions that Hermione guessed were to be given to Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had outlined what was to happen in his absence. Her instructions were to enter the room off of the Headmaster's office when told to. In that room would be Tom Riddle. Exactly what would happen then, she wasn't sure. Hermione had assumed that Dumbledore and her professors would cast the binding spells that would render Riddle unable to harm her or others. The lack of instructions rather bothered her. Complex instructions would have kept her mind occupied. When she asked Professor McGonagall why the explanation had been so brief, the professor had said that it as to complicated to explain in the time they had. So, Hermione waited nervously in her chair, feeling rather uncomfortable and exposed in her thin cotton shift.
"Professor McGonagall, may I ask how Tom Riddle was... created?"
"With Lucius Malfoy's death, a great number of Dark items that belonged to him came into Albus' possession. Among them was the diary. What had animated the diary was destroyed but we were able to salvage the memories. A body was then created using the diary as a template. It took all of my and the Headmaster's expertise in transfiguration to accomplish this and then Severus' potion making abilities to then stabilize the body."
"How long have you been planning this?" Hermione asked in astonishment.
"Three days. Only Severus' potions have kept us on our feet," the older woman sighed.
"Minerva... what will I tell my friends?" Hermione asked the woman that had been a second mother to her.
"Mr Potter and Miss Weasley will be briefed, like your parents. You can choose to share this turn of events with Mr Weasley but I caution you to say nothing to anyone else. They are true friends, Hermione. Don't doubt them," Minerva encouraged gently and then stopped as Dumbledore entered.
"Miss Granger, we are ready for you now."
Standing, Hermione swallowed and stepped towards the open door. Before she'd gone more than a few steps, Minerva took her into a warm embrace. For a moment, the older woman held her close and then they parted. Hermione would have sworn there were tears in the transfiguration professor's eyes. Hermione felt a lump in her throat rise. Wasn't she supposed to be a brave Gryffindor? She certainly wasn't feeling very courageous. Her fit of nerves annoyed her. Hadn't she done battle with Death Eaters? Hadn't she faced creatures made of nightmares? Hermione focused on her determination to do what she had to. Her decision was made. Shoulders square, she walked through the door.
His appearance was something of a shock to her. Ginny and Harry had described their encounter with Tom Riddle but it wasn't the same as seeing him herself. Hermione half expected him to wear the serpentine visage of Voldemort. Instead, he was a surprisingly normal and attractive young man. He was sprawled across the bed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He was wearing pajama bottoms of the same material as her shift and nothing else. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest told her he was alive. Hermione was suddenly very aware of how easily the scene might be misinterpreted. The atmosphere seemed suffocating in its intimacy.
Stepping closer, Hermione she found herself strangely mesmerized by his full lower lip. Along with her unexpected fixation she started felt all illogical and giddy. Loosed from her control, her mind filled with images of licking the line of that lip. Something low in her abdomen clenched in response to her wild fancies. But it was more than simple lust. It was luxuriating in shared body warmth and the desire to memorize the line of his profile. Vainly, Hermione struggled. She needed to cool down, she needed to run, she needed... As if by itself, her hand reached out almost of its own accord to brush against his cheek. The flesh under her fingertips was warm and solid. Eyelids snapped open and dark eyes regarded her. A bolt of awareness, shuddered through her taking her breath. Those eyes drew her closer until legs collided with the bed.
"What is your name?" he asked in a dazed undertone.
"Hermione," she whispered.
"I-I'm Tom," he replied softly and his fingers brushed against hers.
That was all it took. Hungrily, she devoured the very lips that entranced her moments before. Hazily, Hermione realized there was something wrong but she found it increasingly difficult to follow that thought. Scorching and aching as if it was a living thing, longing filled her, making Hermione lose any restraint that yet lingered. Desperately, she needed him relieve the dizzying desire that seemed to pour though her at the simplest of his touches. When his lips lifted from hers, she whimpered in desolation. They returned quickly and her mouth opened. Cool relief poured through as longing turned to bliss as his tongue twisted with hers. Their bodies brushed and then pressed against each other, in a frantic clasp. Any hesitation vanished.
* * *
Just as the couple achieved orgasm, the spell was complete. The soft chanting of the three onlookers seemed to echo for a moment before vanishing from perception. Dumbledore sighed with mingled relief and sadness and then followed his two friends out of the room. He doubted if the lovers had even noticed their presence. Such was the power of Severus' potions. With the final spell cast, there was no going back. Soon he would face the accusations and the hurt of the two unwitting lovers. He would have to tell the truth this time. It was an ugly and cutting truth. Albus wished, not for the first of the last time, that there was another way.
"Oh Albus! What have we done?" Minerva sobbed.
"Nothing more than what we had to," Severus replied harshly.
As unaffected as the potions master wished to seem, Albus could pick out the strained notes in his voice. None of them had done what they had easily or without great regret. Two of the greatest students that Hogwarts had ever produced, had just been used by the very people who were meant to protect them. Sickened and world weary, Dumbledore slumped onto his chair. Fawkes flew in and onto his shoulder. Somewhat comforted, Albus rubbed the phoenix's head. What was done, was done. He could only hope for the future.
"When will they wake, Severus?" Dubledore asked.
"Soon. I cannot give you a precise time as I have never fully tested the potion."
"Nor should you. Such magic is an abomination!" Minerva cried.
"We all agree on that. There is no need to argue among ourselves. We should focus on what we must do to smooth their shock," Dumbledore interrupted.
"What are we going to say, Albus? That we drugged them with Dark potions? That we-" Snape growled, but was interrupted mid tirade.
"That is enough! I am well aware of what we did. Regrets and recriminations will not change what we have done," Dumbledore spoke, quelling the simmering guilt shared by all three of them.
"There are still two weeks of classes. It is a formality with the N.E.W.Ts already taken but it would be odd if Hermione missed any classes," Minerva said as a peace offering.
"The appearance of a stranger without a good reason for being at Hogwarts, would unsettle the other students. Not to mention arouse suspicions. There is also the matter of Potter and Miss Weasley," Snape followed.
"Agreed, agreed. Miss Granger and Mr Riddle will require time to grow accustomed to the binding. Perhaps it would be best for Miss Granger to start a special extra credit project?"
"In what? Dark Wizards 101?" Snape sneered.
"I was thinking about lessons in becoming an animagus," Albus replied, with a quelling look at Snape.
"*Have* you lost your marbles? Potter and his little flunkies did that in their sixth year. Quite against school policy, I'll remind you," Snape growled.
"That's exactly my point. The rest of the school doesn't know Miss Granger makes a lovely sparrow. She would be free to spend a significant amount of time out of class without suspicion. It might also be best if we fabricate an illness for the first day. As for Mr Riddle... we shall introduce him as a visiting wizard interested in doing some independent study at Hogwarts."
A reluctant agreement was reached. None of them could really guess the state of the two forced lovers once the potions wore off. Albus was very aware that they were planning for the best and ignoring the worst. Even aware of it, he couldn't make himself consider the less pleasant outcomes. Both individuals involved were intensely private and did not take kindly to manipulation. Such an intrusion as what they had perpetrated against them could be catastrophic. Still, there was so much to be gained if Tom and Hermione accepted-. His circular thoughts were cut off as his wards told him the couple had awoken.
* * *
There was no grace period between waking and sleeping. There was only bitter truth. Hermione felt her heart explode with panic and then contract with horror as her mind replayed recent events. If that wasn't enough, she was twined intimately with her fellow participant. For several moments, she didn't dare even twitch. She didn't think she could deal with waking the man that shared her bed. The very thought sent her stomach flip-flopping. Scalding tears of humiliation and pain blistered her eyes. Hermione had never felt so used.
It wasn't that hard to guess what had happened. She could only feel ashamed at her own stupidity. The years of war had taught her better than to swallow any potion she didn't recognize. Or worse, to blindly agree to something without knowing all of the details. Part of her remarked that she deserved everything that had happened. Hermione cringed at the self-hate that had infiltrated her mind. She might have been stupid, but she didn't deserve what had happened.
The horrible dirty feeling that she'd felt upon waking returned with vengeance. It made her want to scour off the first few layers of skin. The desire for clothes was similarly strong. To her extreme relief, her uniform was folded carefully on the side table. Another pile of clothes lay beside hers. It was obvious they were for the man beside her. The planned nature of what happened abraded her already wounded trust. Had they lied to her? She couldn't think about that yet. If she did, then she'd dissolve into a hysterical pile.
Hermione eased away from the warm male body beside her. She dared not move more than an inch at a time for fear of waking him. Heart beating like a rabbit's, Hermione finally was free of the limbs that had been draped about her. Free of the close contact, she felt like she could breath again. Her insides were still wrapped about her spine but she felt better. Now she only had to slide out of the bed. Before she began to move again, she glanced towards his sleeping face. To her utter horror, two dark eyes regarded her with a mix of curiosity and sharp evaluation.
"What did you give me?" he spoke, his voice was clear and demanding with a hint of a threat.
"W-we need to see the Headmaster," Hermione stuttered, wishing her wand wasn't on the bedside table.
His cold assessment continued for a few moments before he nodded. His words had too closely mirrored her own questions. It was all happening so fast. Less than a few hours ago, she was celebrating Voldemort's defeat. Now she was... Hermione's train of thought petered out. She couldn't think about it yet. Mindlessly, Hermione grabbed her clothes and then as an afterthought, his too. To her relief, he accepted them without a word. She wasn't sure she could bear to look him in the face, let alone talk to him. Just as her last button was closed, the door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall.
"Come this way, please," McGonagall said in firm tones.
Without hesitation, Hermione obeyed. She deeply desired to leave the bedroom, even if she had to confront the people who had done this to her. In the Headmaster's office, the three faculty members waited. Hermione took the chair offered to her and eased herself into it. The Headmaster tried to catch her eye, but Hermione kept her gaze trained to the floor. Meeting his eye would make her either yell or cry. Neither were responses she could afford. The ball of fury and betrayal that churned in her stomach, demanded answers. Hermione wanted to shout and yell but she didn't dare. If she let free any emotion, she wasn't sure if she could hold back the rest.
"Mr Riddle, Miss Granger, you have my deepest apologies. A terrible thing was done to you but it was a necessary thing. Miss Granger, you know my reasons for doing this. I didn't lie, but I regret that I purposefully mislead you as to the specifics of what would happen. Rest assured that I will not deceive you on this matter again," Dumbledore said sadly.
At the Headmaster's words, her throat closed up. How could she be sure Dumbledore would tell the truth this time? The faith she'd had in Dumbeldore and her teachers was greatly shaken. Maybe there had been a good reason for what they did. Dumbledore's eyes beseeched for her to understand. Dire circumstances sometimes required dire solutions. Hermione was no stranger to the hard decisions that came with war. It did not grant her any great solace, not matter how she tried to convince herself. It had hurt deeply that three of the people she most trusted would see fit to exploit her in that way.
She had agreed, that she wouldn't argue, but she'd had no concept of what she was agreeing too.
Hermione knew that her hurt couldn't be easily dismissed. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room and have a good cry but that would have to be later. For now, she wanted, with all of her know-it-all heart, to learn what had happened. Although she was avoiding the memories of what had happened earlier, she could recall chanting. The idea that the Headmster and two of her professors had seen her like that embarrassed her greatly. Hermione also knew that they wouldn't have been there unless there was a reason.
"What plan have you cooked up, Dumbledore, that you didn't dare tell one of your precious Gryffindors? The last I remember was Potter destroying my diary," Tom Riddle spoke, saving Hermione of the effort of saying something.
"It has been five years since Harry Potter destroyed your diary. It has been less than three days since Voldemort has been defeated."
Hermione could tell the Headmaster's words had affected Tom. Discretely, she watched him from the corner of her eyes. His long fingers curled around the carved wooden armrests. As memories surfaced of how he'd used those nimble fingers on her, Hermione blanched and hurriedly moved her gaze to his face. Closed and stern, his expression gave nothing away. Riddle's complexion, however, did gave him away. Pale though he was, he had whitened a shade more. She wasn't sure, however, if it was rage or shock.
"Then I surprised to be here." Tom replied.
"As I told Hermione, returning you to the living wasn't something easily or lightly done. Voldemort was defeated, but it was only a matter of time until he returned. Death is not as final as many may want. Your presence was a matter of choosing the lesser evil," Dumbledore explained solemnly.
"The lesser of two evils I might be, but do you really think things will end differently this time?"
"I suspect you have guessed your encounter was magically aided?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.
"I have. Love potions?" Tom Riddle frowned. "They only have a short term affect and will be of little use if you think to control me with them."
"Our Potions Master gave you several different potions. Among them was a short acting love potion. A highly illegal love potion, to be exact," Dumbledore agreed.
"Illegal?" Hermione blurted.
"It is of Professor Snape's own devising. You both have studied the limitation and drawbacks of love potions. Miss Granger, can you tell us?"
"The drawbacks are that the effect is short term and the potion quickly builds up in a person's body. An example is the Amore potion. It is the longest lasting love potion known. It lasts four days but can only be taken once every four months without side effects. The limitation of love potions is that they create a very general effect. The first person the victim sees after consuming the potion becomes the target of their affection," Hermione replied softly.
"Correct, Miss Granger. While Severus can do nothing for the longevity of such a potion, he worked wonders in refining the effect."
"Do you really believe that a paltry love potion will stop me from achieving my destiny?"
"The potion was essential, Mr Riddle," Dumbledore rebuked. "Your impatience always was one of your shortcomings. Perhaps I should have Minerva explain this part. Minerva?"
The transfiguration professor nodded and stepped forward. Hermione winced as she looked at her professor. The older woman's face was stiff with withheld emotions. To be fair, Dumbledore also seemed almost pained. Even Snape seemed graver than usual. Hermione's eyes ached with tension. To see her professors like that, frightened her. She almost didn't want to hear what they had to say. Yet, she couldn't leave. She needed answers, as unpleasant as they might be.
"When I was at university I studied magical history in addition to transfiguration. I did my final thesis on the marriage traditions in ancient magical Rome," Minerva spoke and then swallowed hard.
"Explain how marriages were thought of during the Roman times or it won't make sense at all," Snape growled, impatiently.
"I was getting to that, Severus! In the days of Rome, most marriages between magical families were arranged. At the time there were few witches and wizards, partly due to the deaths caused by rivalries and feuds. Marriages were a deeply formal, alliance creating process. The pressure to produce more magical children was also an important aspect of these marriages. The marriage traditions of the times reflected these needs," Minerva replied, after glaring at Snape. "To ensure the couple remained together, and provided children, the magical essence of the couple were joined. The process ensured the families were bound by the alliance, as the couple could not separate or use magic against their partner's family."
"All marriage vows require consent," Tom snarled, jumping to his feet. "I gave no such consent. What you are so ineptly implying is impossible."
"That was why the love potion was essential," Snape replied with a smirk.
"The vows only require subconscious consent. Under the influence of the potion, consent was given," Dumbledore added.
The appalled glare she received when Tom whirled around, made her jump with its ferocity. When his expression melted into disbelief, she guessed he'd suspected her of knowing all along but had discarded that idea having seen her unmasked shock and horror. Indeed, Dumbledore's revelation had provoked a near panic. Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it. Her brain numbly repeated that she couldn't possibly be married to Tom Riddle. Frantically, Hermione's thoughts raced to refute what Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had said. The professor had spoken about the magic used in ancient marriages, not about marriage itself. Hermione felt a sliver of hope.
"We can't be married! It can't be legal," Hermione stumbled out awkwardly.
"As soon as the Ministry hears of this, it won't take long until what you did is reversed," Tom bit out.
"It isn't a legal marriage according to the Ministry, and so no laws were broken. The connection that it creates, however, is more binding than most legal marriages. It is more binding than wizard or blood debts. There is no way to reverse it, Tom," Dumbledore replied to both questions and the room fell into a long silence.
"If we have to live with this, then what exactly does it do? We have a right to know, sir," Hermione finally said.
"Indeed, you do need to know the consequences of this binding. It would be best if Minerva explains to you, Hermione, while I speak with young Mr Riddle."
Hermione nodded her assent and followed her head of house. While she felt a little cross at being brushed aside, she was glad to leave the office. Hermione had no desire to witness the confrontation that seemed to be brewing. The Headmaster probably had a lot to say to Tom Riddle. Perhaps she had gotten the better side of the bargain. Besides, the cheery office was beginning to grate on her fragile nerves.
* * *
Once reading the dubious sanctuary of Professor McGonngal's office, she was engulfed into the professor's embrace. Smelling faintly of heather, the cloth of Minerva's robes Hermione felt soft under her cheek. It was a soothing sensation and her heart lurched and she struggled with the emotional tempus she was trying vainly to keep at bay. The honest distress from the woman she respected, admired and considered a second mother was almost too much.
"Oh my poor Hermione! This is such a terrible state of affairs. Can you ever forgive us?" the professor cried.
The tears that filled Minerva's eyes unleashed her own. The shock and dismay she had been holding back resurfaced in ugly sobs. When her storm of misery abated, her eyes were puffy and she had a pronounced sniff. Minerva reluctantly let her go and sat with her on one of the comfortable chairs before the fire. With her tears loosed, Hermione felt strangely numb. It was a blessed state of peace after the high emotions evoked by the recent events. Hermione wasn't sure she wished to risk it by talking about what had happened, but she knew there wasn't a choice.
"Are you ready for me to explain?" Minerva asked hesitantly.
"I think so. Can you first tell me why it had to be that spell?"
"As I said, that spell binds the magic of the couple. The benefit of this arrangement is that you are both stronger."
"Stronger? Surely, that wouldn't be considered a good thing," Hermione replied, thoughts of an even stronger Voldemort going through her head.
"Perhaps not in any other circumstance. The strengthening side effect isn't why we used it, though. Tom Riddle is too dangerous to be left to his own devices. Albus explained that," Minerva replied and then paused for a moment as she shook her head. "This spell will do exactly what the Headmaster told you in the beginning. Riddle won't be able to stray further than a mile from you. Most importantly, you can prevent him from using magic."
"Stop him from using magic?! I had no idea that such a thing was possible."
"That is one of the reasons why this form of binding has fallen into disuse. Most wizards don't believe it is possible so they do not attempt it. Unfortunately, the magic repression works both ways. While you prevent him from using magic, you won't be able to use magic either."
"B-but that would take an enormous amount of energy to do. Not to mention I don't understand how the bond can be sustained. I've read about how binding spells have to be strengthened or the will of the target overcomes it," Hermione replied.
"You truly are one of the brightest students Hogwarts has produced. I fear you will not like the answer, Hermione. I will tell you if you choose, but you have had such a shock tonight. Maybe when you have had a good night's-"
"Professor... please?" Hermione spoke in a small voice. "Not knowing will just make me imagine worse things."
Minerva nodded, and Hermione felt a flush of relief. She had been deceived once and having more information withheld from her wasn't something she would stand. She had forgiven them. She had to. It didn't take away the hurt or the anger but it was a start. Hearing everything Minerva could tell her, was the next step. Hermione had to repress a snort of laughter. When in doubt she reached for knowledge.
"The binding does need to be... revitalized. Hermione, I'll try to explain simply. There are several forms of primal, elemental magic that were the basis of many ancient spells. Do you know what some of them are?"
"I've seen references but none of the books I've read said what they were," Hermione replied automatically.
"Yes, well, it's considered old fashioned at best and Dark at the worst. The two forms of primal magic are sex and blood and by extension birth and death. The binding we used was founded on both sex magic and blood magic."
"Sex magic," Hermione repeated blankly. "You mean we have to do... that again?"
"Thankfully, no. When the time comes, you will both be compelled to renew the binding. All you will have to do is slit your palms and press them together and the binding will take care of the rest."
"If the binding was created using a foundation of two types of magic, then wouldn't it demand the second?" Hermione asked feeling her embarrassment rise.
"That is my last warning to you. The binding was originally created to facilitate the production children, thus the base in sex magic. The compulsion can be resisted and you will have to stand firm. Don't worry, you won't have to have to face that anytime soon. The double virgin sacrifice insured that, as well as compensating for the lack of direct consent."
This time Hermione felt her face flush a bright red. What Minerva had just told her ranked high under the list of things you never wanted to know about the Evil Villain, even if he wasn't quite the Evil Villain yet. It didn't help that her embarrassment was doubled due to the fact her Professors knew she'd been a virgin prior to the spell. While she wasn't ashamed that she had been untouched, Hermione didn't like the whole Hogwarts staff to know about her private life. Being Head Girl put her under enough scrutiny as it was.
As her embarrassment faded, Hermione began to wonder. Depraved thing that he was, Voldemort was no virgin. Had that played a part in why they returned him as Tom Riddle? Or even why she was chosen over Ginny? In her fifth year, Ginny had related her rather boisterous affair with one of the Ravenclaw chasers to Hermione. It had been an awkward situation for Hermione but she was Ginny's only female friend and thus had the dubious honor of hearing about her escapades.
"Did that have something to do with why I was chosen?" Hermione asked as calmly as she could.
"Yes, it was one of the selection criteria. The loss of virginity, for male or female, can amplify magic. That amplification was greatly needed for the spell to work. The love potion created unconscious consent, but that consent wasn't as clear or as strong as conscious consent. The power of the sacrifice had to compensate."
"You mean it could have all been for nothing?" Hermione bit out.
"Child, I don't blame you for being angry. What we did was reprehensible in the extreme but I must stand by our decision. Voldemort could not be allowed to return," Minerva responded firmly. "It wasn't just you who made sacrifices, Hermione. Albus, Severus and myself dangerously exhausted ourselves to cast the spell. We would have killed ourselves to see that it *did* work. Furthermore, as much as I am loath to say it, Tom Riddle is probably feeling much the way you are."
"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione apologized not really feeling very repentant.
"It's understandable," Minerva replied awkwardly. "Perhaps we should speak of the practical arrangements surrounding your new situation?"
The all of questions she had asked were willingly answered, but as she had suspected, those answers weren't easily accepted. She also knew that there would only be more questions and even more uncomfortable answers as time went on. A persistent pounding had taken residence in her temples. Hermione felt as if her back had become a hot poker from the tension coiled in her body. She felt as if the strain would tear her apart. Hermione sighed. She didn't want to give into her fears but the change in subject was most welcome.
"Yes, there are some things I would like to ask," Hermione responded softly. "I was wondering about university. I have a scholarship to Great Oaks and was planning to attend next year. W-what will I do about Tom Riddle's presence?"
"The Headmaster is well aquatinted with Maria Alder, the High Witch of the university. She was only too glad to accept another bright student."
"But what of the limitations placed upon Riddle? You said he wouldn't be able to go far from me."
"You can explain his constant presence... by bending the truth and say there is a blood bond between you. They are uncommon but not unheard of in wizarding society, especially after a war. People won't press for details, as it's considered very rude. Do some research into the matter to prepare yourself."
"And in the meantime? There are still several weeks of classes," Hermione inquired.
"We will inform the school that you are completing a special project that will span the rest of the year. During this time you will receive instruction on the subtleties of the binding. I'll explain this training later. The Headmaster has also suggested that you be listed as ill for a day so that you might recover away from prying eyes."
The Professor's suggestions were welcome news to Hermione. Normally, she'd do anything to avoid missing classes but she needed time to adjust. Her whole life had been turned on its ear in a matter of hours. The practical arrangements in and of themselves would be considerable. For a few moments, Hermione took solace in the simplicity of listing all the things that had to be done. Such mundane tasks were soothing in their simply, unlike the other issues she was grappling with. Hermione knew herself well and soon her ability to keep a calm façade and to be rational would soon be exhausted. Privacy and time would be a blessing. Alone she could make a fool of herself without an audience.
Minerva was again looking at her with kindly eyes. There was a trace of pity in her teacher's eyes that made Hermione's stomach knot. Clenching her fist, Hermione savored the pain of her nails digging into her palm. The sharp pain pushed away emotional turmoil and she looked back at her teacher.
"What kind of special project am I supposed to be doing?" Hermione asked with a frown.
"The Headmaster suggested animagism, although I believe you do not need further tutoring in that subject?" Minerva said raising an eyebrow.
"No..." Hermoine blushed.
"Blaise Zabini, the Head Boy, has been offered an apprenticeship in Poland with a well known Astrologer. He has been persuaded to leave early and he caught a portkey an hour ago. Tom will take Zabini's chambers. He should be familiar with them having been Head Boy himself."
"More the of the Headmaster's influence?" Hermione asked dryly.
"Do show respect for your elders but, yes, Albus did arrange Zabini's early placement."
"Must I live next to... Riddle?" Hermione couldn't help but say.
"Hermione, I understand how awkward this is but you must get used to it. Tom will be a permanent fixture in your life."
Somehow, Hermione had avoided thinking about that. She had almost convinced herself that this was just a temporary nightmare but she and Riddle would be forced to coexist for as long as they lived. Hermione paled. Magical folk often lived to be two hundred or more. That was final enough to Hermione. That part of the deal, however, wasn't something that had been hidden from her. Readily she had agreed to it. She'd made her decision. Cross, Hermione bit her lip. She shouldn't doubt herself. She had to stand by what she'd done.
"When will my family and friends be told, Professor? Could my parents be told first? It's just that they expect me home for the summer holidays and well..."
"Arrangements can be made for them to be flooed in tomorrow morning, if you wish," McGonagalll replied.
"Thank you. Is there anything else that I should know?" Hermione asked, her mind too shocked to come up with more questions.
"Not at the moment. If there is anything you wish to ask later, don't hesitate to ask myself, Severus or the Headmaster. We will give you all the aid and assistance we can."
Hermione wasn't particularly reassured by her professor's words. Instead she nodded and Minerva hustled her back to the Headmaster's office. The sudden flood of feelings she experienced as she stepped through the door could only be described as stage fright. When Hermione stepped through the door, her duty would begin. She would be thrust from the nest and was expected to fly. Blindly hoping that she wouldn't mess up, Hermione entered the room.
* * *
Two blue eyes sparkled tiredly at him in the most infuriating manner. It took a great effort not to grit his teeth. Tom had schooled his features into a mask of distant neutrality but the old man saw right through it. Dumbledore had always had the most annoying ability to know exactly what he was hiding. For seven years he'd charmed and deceived his way through Hogwarts. While Dumbledore had not believed in his carefully constructed façade, he could not prove Tom was not the charming young wizard he seemed to be. Now, however, Dumbledore had ample proof. Everything he'd worked for had been destroyed.
Giving up the pretense of disinterest, Tom let some of the vast abyss of rage and disgust show on his face. The twinkling eyes simply regarded him with compassion and the older wizard shook his head. Tom felt suddenly naked. Could Dumbledore see the other emotions he'd strived to hide beneath his anger? He didn't want pity.
To be bound for life, to that busy haired girl horrified him. Having been forced to endure close quarters as a child, Tom had always favored solitude. To be eternally bound to another being appalled him. Another blow to his pride was that she was a mudblood. The moment he'd heard her last name, he'd known. Her name was not on the registry of wizarding families that he was so familiar with. It was yet another ploy of Dumbledore's. Tom guessed it was probably to teach him 'tolerance'. Didn't the old fool know that familiarity bred contempt?
With his graduation from Hogwarts, he believed himself to finally be free. He'd be freed from the casual negligence of the orphanage and the sickening presence of muggles. Most importantly, he had been free to ascend to his rightful place as Lord Voldemort. His future had glowed with promise of greatness. Now he was returned to life amid the ruins of his older self's final defeat and he's been shackled to a mudblood by a crazy old man. Tom would rather have been left in the diary.
"Nothing to say, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.
"Your motives are transparent. Do you really thing you can 'redeem' me? I am Lord Voldemort. That little mudblood can do nothing to stop me. You'll hang yourself on your noble principals, yet."
"It is true that you have something of a second chance but what you make of it is your business. If you wish to be redeemed, then you shall be. If you should try to resist your binding... there is nothing I can do to prevent you but you will have to face the consequences. As for Miss Granger... what if I told you that 'mudblood' was one of the six people who stood against Lord Voldemort and immerged triumphant?"
"Impossible. Lord Voldemort would not have been defeated by a school girl."
"I did not say that Miss Granger defeated Voldemort. Lord Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter. Miss Granger provided much needed assistance."
Tom digested the information that Dumbledore had given him. It was not in the least pleasant, to find that it had been Potter who had defeated his older self again. Surely the boy could not have been a match for the knowledge and power his older self must have accumulated? Wondering how Potter had done it troubled him. What was the fatal weakness within him that had allowed the Potter brat victory? He had never liked mysteries and despised failure.
As for Herm-Granger's contribution, he ignored it. Tom was putting a great deal of effort into ignoring everything regarding her. He'd never paid much attention to girls while at Hogwarts. They were just another impediment on the path to true power. The intimacy that had been forced upon them was something he found greatly uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. Until he had examined the implications of the encounter, he would remain cautious. Frowning at how his thoughts had meandered to the very subject he was avoiding, he turned them to more important pursuits.
"Then I must endeavor to not repeat the mistakes of my older self," Tom finally replied.
"Let us overlook our differences for the moment and speak of present matters. Have a lemon drop," Dumbledore replied and proffered a lemon drop that Tom refused with a sneer. "I am sure you have questions about the binding."
"How the binding can be permanent? The will of the bound person overwhelms a binding eventually."
"Very clever of you to remember that. The marriage binding is different as it relies on consent. With your consent given, the binding was established in a ways that makes it impossible to fight."
"So you sacrifice one of your Gryffindors to the Slytherin serpent. Maybe I was wrong. Your principals are beginning to look rather tarnished," Tom spoke in a scathing tone.
"It was essential and Miss Granger knows it. I know you probably think little of her, but she is the brightest student I've come across since yourself. You will be bound together for the rest of your life, Tom. I hope that you will come to appreciate her."
"And what stops me from disposing of her?"
"I am aware of your fondness for the Unforgivables. They will not avail you. I will not allow you to ravage the wizarding world again, Tom. The losses were too great. That is where the secondary function of the wedding binding becomes useful. The binding allows one of the couple to prevent the other from using magic. Of course, neither can use magic while they do this. She will see to it that you do not harm others. Nor will you be able to arrange an accident for Miss Granger. Should she die, then you will be pulled into death with her."
"That is why you do not fear that I kill myself and allow my older self to return," Tom said with a bitter smile. "You have outdone yourself, old man. Am I confined to Hogwarts?"
"You will not be confined. Miss Granger will be attending Great Oaks next fall. I have organized for you to attend with her."
"So I am to be that mudblood's pet?! It seems that the great Dumbledore will lower himself to revenge," Tom barked.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle! I have overlooked your behavior due to the extenuating circumstances, but I will not allow you to continue to take that tone," Dumbledore rebuked. "I am aware of the plans you made after your graduation. I will not allow it. The binding will not allow you further than a mile away from Miss Granger but I doubt that you will her 'pet'. There is great opportunities at Great Oaks for the both of you."
The sneer on his lips widened into a snarl. Shame and loathing burned like acid along his veins. Dumbledore might delude himself but Tom knew the truth. He was to be nothing more than a sideshow attraction; the Dark Lord powerless and chained to a mudblood. Hate pounded against his temples and Tom clenched his fists. He would never admit defeat. He might not be able to rid himself of the girl but there were other ways.
"What else do I need to know?" Tom asked, his teeth clenched.
He forced himself to pay attention as Dumbledore explained how the binding had to be replenished. Listening to Dumbledore speak allowed him precious moments to regain control of his temper. Normally, his control was far better but the recent events had smashed it. By the time Dumbledore was finished, Tom had smoothed his features into a calm mask. He had also gained control of his internal tempest. He needed to be able to think clearly.
"I have seen to it that you can take the Head Boy chambers next to Hermione. Your presence will be explained as a graduate student who wishes to embark on some further research here at Hogwarts. You have a day to acclimatize yourself before Miss Granger and yourself must learn control of the binding," Dumbledore concluded.
"It seems I have little choice," Tom spoke with false calm. "What of Miss Granger? I assume she has classes."
"Her absence will be explained to the student body. I'm sure you can ask Miss Granger about that," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling once more. "Now, I believe Minerva and Miss Granger are to rejoin us."
The girl entered looking as if she was preparing to do battle with a rampaging dragon. While he was loath to admit it, Tom would have preferred the rampaging dragon to the unpleasant reminder of his bondage to the mudblood. His own awkwardness made him sneer. The bushy haired girl caught the expression and flushed with anger and embarrassment. Tom didn't bother to correct her assumption that the expression had been meant for her. Instead he returned his hard gaze to the Headmaster. The older man was smiling benignly at the two witches as if they had been discussing nothing more pressing than the weather.
"Miss Granger, why don't you lead Mr Riddle to the Head Girl and Boy's suit? You have a day free and then I wish to see you both in my office at the beginning of classes," Dumbledore spoke.
Tom disdained to comment further and followed without hesitation. There would be plenty of opportunities for testing the limitations of the binding and Hermione Granger's character. As they walked, Tom observed the girl carefully. He noticed she all but refused to look directly at him. This amused him somewhat. Granger had clearly been upset at Dumbledore's manipulations. That was something he could use. The doddering old fool might trust her but anyone could be turned.
"The password to the suite is 'heliotrope'. Blaise's personal password should be reset to the default which is 'success'."
Her soft voice had surprised him. Tom had expected her to be somewhat hostile but she was strangely neutral. To his amazement, he found himself feeling a little irritated his presence hadn't garnered a more intense reaction. While he was tempted to lash out verbally against the girl, he restrained himself. Instead he gave the pleasant and innocent smile he'd perfected for his professors and fellow students. Granger just shook her head, her eyes ancient. Then she turned away and left him standing outside the portrait. Anger and pride flared and Tom swore under his breath. He'd get to that mudblood, even if it was the last thing he did!
* * *
Hermione barely made it into her room before she started shaking. Hurriedly, she went through the motions of peeling her clothes of and stumbling into her private bathroom. With a brief flick of her wand, the bath was filled with steaming water. The whimper of relief exited her choked throat as she immersed herself in the lavender scented water, soon turned into a long repressed sob.