Fallen from grace, swallowed by a watery grave.
Now I frolic on this stage, because I'm part of the play.
Nothing.
'I feel absolutely nothing,' Hermione's brows furrowed deeper as she mulled over the thought. She had done it. Her latest hunt had been successful, (although she had rarely failed any of her hunts for the last five years anyway) she was even able to take another dark artifact to add to the trophies she had on her cabinet. But compared to those previous hunts, the urge, that pull telling her where to find her next prey had weakened considerably.
As she crossed the ever-busy streets, away from the humble cottage house before she could hear the heartbroken wails of that little girl's parents, she willed part of herself to return to her mind palace while she let her feet take her home.
It's definitely odd.
Hermione looked back at the time when she first felt that pull. Her body had moved by itself then, her mind half-conscious of what she was doing, as she just suddenly had this feeling of needing to go somewhere. Before she knew it, she was face-to-face with a dying wizard that had gotten lost in the swamp she had currently resided then. His injuries indicated that he had been attacked by wild beasts. But instead of helping him as she would have done in her previous life, she pointed her wand at him and delivered him out of his misery.
She had an inkling of what she was doing then, especially since she had to do it in nearly a daily basis. It wasn't until that tragedy in Buenos Aires, did she fully understand what it was. And the same pattern would repeat ever since.
Wait- pattern?
She had long since established that the amount needed to feed her son would increase after each of his feasts, but that wasn't always the case when she visited in other countries such as Spain or France. Not unlike when she went to America, South Africa, and Japan (to name a few)- countries that were considerably farther away from Europe.
The farther she was from Europe- from her home country, the more frequent Alduin would feel hungry. Ergo, her need to hunt even more.
However, this realization was immediately followed by a question- Why?
Why is that to be so? What is in Britain that affects her son's hunger? Why does it matter?
Hermione tried not to pull her hair out in frustration. Things only got complicated when she returned and met Riddle.
Riddle.
Does he have something to do with it? Apart from the thing her son was craving from him, Alduin is strangely attached to his apparent father- a fact she still had a hard time believing much, much to her exasperation. After all, of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him?
It made her feel like she had been played. Like some sick cosmic joke that's not even remotely funny.
"If I tell you how you would earn your prize, then where would the fun be in that? I look forward to what story you will tell me the next time we meet, sweet Himig."
She should've known better than to take their words at face value with a response like that. How typical of them to ensure that they would get the better half of their deal. She wasn't even given an inkling that she would have a child! Not that she regretted it. Oh no, no, no. Alduin was nowhere near the reward she asked for, and he may have been an unexpected surprise, but he's definitely a treasure she'll never regret.
Hermione felt as if she was solving a giant puzzle with over a thousand pieces; where the most recognizable pieces have already been set, and all that was left to do was connect them together. The only problem was she didn't how to fit them all together.
Her hand came up to rub the dull ache throbbing at her temple, not because of her apparition at the entrance to Diagon Alley. She had been stressed ever since that incident at Malfoy Manor and even more so when Riddle began snooping around her son. Even if she said she trusted her son to take care of himself (his ring would see to that), as a mother, she can't help but worry. After all, the most dangerous wizard in the world has his eyes set on her son. How could she not be anxious? Not to mention he's yet to confront her.
Should she just initiate it herself? After all, the main reason her Alduin would entertain Riddle was because he wanted something from him. Then it wouldn't it be more convenient to just steal it and leave? The sooner the better, after all; before Riddle's claws could sink any deeper on her son.
Unfortunately, there was just one conundrum in this brutish tactic of hers.
Hermione can't beat Riddle. In a sense that their power was equally matched. The proof being their last fight when their magic collided just like when Harry fought against Voldemort in her previous life. Except their fight had a winner and a loser. Hers and Riddle's however, and she had just realized this belatedly, could've caused a magical explosion that would've left unimaginable damage if her son hadn't stopped them.
If she chose to duel Riddle again, she would have to fight as if it were her last day, even if she had to fight dirty. Riddle would surely do something underhanded so she might as well even the playing field. But if she does…
Alduin.
Alduin would no doubt hear their magic again, and if he had gotten upset at that mere collision, whose to say how worse it would become for him? Even if she made sure their fight would be somewhere thousands of kilometers away, her connection with her son would render that useless.
Hermione shook her head vehemently as an image of her son upset and in tears huddled in a corner of their living room flashed in her mind.
No. She can't let him go through that again.
After taking a deep breath to help calm her nerves, Hermione scanned the plaza. Her chocolate brown eyes fell automatically at the fountain that had become a very familiar landmark for her and her son. She a approached the decorative reservoir as she took in the artistic sculpture at its center. She was never one for the arts, except as a child when she briefly attended ballet classes during the summer before coming to Hogwarts. Very few items in her home were also functioned as purely decorative, as most were placed there for functional reasons. Such as the scroll painting of a family of tigers she had purchased whilst in Japan. At night, the inked creatures would crawl out of the scroll and patrol through the walls as moving semi-sentient beings.
However, as Hermione stared at the display stuck in a never-ending loop, she can't help but feel a sense of appreciation and bittersweet irony over it.
A never-ending loop.
A cycle.
An eternal return.
The ouroboros.
She could feel her back flare up with intense heat just thinking about it.
Hermione looked down at the stone edge of the fountain. Particularly, at a specific spot directly between the tree's largest roots. Her son wasn't there. Of course, he wasn't. it's still early, and she had finished hunting sooner than she thought.
It made her feel both grateful and daunted. For one, wasn't this a good thing? She always strove to finish her hunts as soon as she could so she would have more time to spend with her son. And now this seemingly fortunate change of events has laid itself to her in a silver platter.
Hermione would've taken it if her war-addled mind wasn't suspicious of it.
From within her faithful beaded bag, she fished out her pocket watch- a gift her parents had given her on her seventeenth birthday. it was a wizarding tradition her parents only knew when Mr. Weasley brought it up some time ago during one of their trips when they accompanied her to Diagon Alley. It was also the last gift they'd ever given her. Something she was extremely grateful for, considering that the only items she brought back on her person were the clothes on her back, her wand, and bag. The contents of her bag had remained untouched upon her return.
As she looked at the time, Hermione surmised that she had a few hours to kill before meeting with Alduin (an unfortunately suffer another encounter with that dark lord twit). She supposed she could send for him via a message by her patronus? Ah but when was the last time she had time for herself?
'I might as well use it to my leisure,' she decided before turning on her heel to head to Carkitt Market.
The market area always had a steady foot traffic of wizards and witches, and even the occasional elves and goblins. However, today seemed to be a particular exception as the area was absolutely packed. Specifically, there was a huge crowd gathered on one side.
She let her curiosity lead and weave her through the crowd until she was near enough to see three identical people- triplets- dressed in colorful vests and trousers atop two large shipping crates brought together acting like a makeshift stage.
"Come one, come all!"
"To the most mystical show you'll ever see!"
"The Redtower Circus!"
The way they finished each other's sentences and eccentric motions shot an arrow of grief to her heart, as they reminded her eerily of Fred and George. Except these ones had an additional person and their hair were a dark brown instead of red-orange.
In her mind palace, she let herself see the twins in their room for a moment before closing the door to focus back on the triplets.
They were advertising a magical circus that was set at the square just a block away from Carkitt Market. They boasted of acts performed by talented individuals, a parade of exotic beasts, a performance of said magical creatures, games and prizes for children, food that cannot be found anywhere else, a grand fireworks show as a finale, and so much more.
Everyone present stared back at the triplets, completely entranced and in awe of their words as they performed small tricks and casted spells as a visual tease to the audience on what awaited them. This included Hermione, whose heart fluttered in excitement thanks to her long-dormant inner child, as well as the thought of her son. Hermione had seen a circus before, when she was a child, her parents brought her to one when they set up near Hampstead. Although she had fun and was part of her precious memories with her parents, what she had attended was a muggle circus. This, however, was a magical one.
Right then and there, Hermione decided she would go with her son. Besides, Alduin had mentioned before that he wanted to see one, and just who was she to deny her darling son's wish?
Besides, it would be a good opportunity to one-up Riddle and his blatant leeching off her son's side.
Hermione clapped along with the crowd, and a chuckle even left her when the triplets disappeared in a puff of glittering smoke, leaving their audience in awe.
Oh yes. They will definitely go. It's about time she and Alduin did something fun.
When the crowd dispersed, Hermione resumed to her initial plan of doing some window shopping, noting anything of value she might find interesting. She also thought of stopping by a muggle bookstore to buy a new cookbook. She had acquired quite an arsenal of recipes from travels, mostly from the wives or sisters of associates who were kind enough to show her the ways around a kitchen. As daunting and embarrassing as it had been for her during her first few tries, it eventually became enjoyable for her especially if she'll be able to see Alduin's delighted smile in the end.
Before she knew it, she wound up in Diagon Alley. The first shop that caught her eye was a boutique with a simple yet elegant sign. The name 'Benette' was written in a neat golden script over black polished wood.
"Welcome to Benette. How may I help you?" said a young woman as she stepped inside the shop. Her eyes widened in recognition, "Oh! Ma'am, you're here. I assume the Madam is expecting you?"
"Yes. She wanted me to do an additional fitting," Hermione informed.
"Of course! Of course! I will go inform the Madam right away."
It didn't take long for her to wait. Hermione only had a moment to look around the dresses and clothes of previous commissions on display before the young employee came back to lead her to the fitting room.
Just like with art, Hermione wasn't the type of woman who was keen on fashion. At least, not in a way most women would invest heavily of their time and resources to satisfy their vanity. However, the shop tugged on her nostalgia as she remembered those times overhearing Parvati and Lavender awe and giggle at dresses featured in Witch Weekly as they lounge around in their dorm. The name Benette had tumbled out of their lips more than once and even Ginny had mentioned dreaming of wearing one. She couldn't help respecting the dressmaker for establishing such a successful business. One that remained famous and trending in Wizarding Society decades from now.
Initially, she had only wanted one commissioned an outfit for her son. There was a suit fitted for a young boy on display when they passed by the shop the first time and a thought came to her that Alduin would look good in that attire. Perhaps it was her motherly side wanting to provide and to see her son looking at his best. In a small twist, however, Alduin openly suggested in the middle of his fitting that she should also have a dress commissioned for herself. She saw no point in it though. Hermione had no intention of getting the attention of high society. Most of the clothes she had, even the era-appropriate casual dresses, emphasized more on functionality. It's not as if she'll suddenly be invited into a classy party anytime soon, nor did she intend to. But… let it be known that she has a weakness for her son's pleas.
"How is it? Is it not too tight?" Madam Benette, a woman in her late forties, asked as she passed her eyes over the dress with a critical eye only achieved for training years in the business. A quill and notepad levitated by her head, charmed to take notes in her stead, reminded her begrudgingly of that sleezy reporter Rita Skeeter.
Hermione turned to the many mirrors formed in a half-circle around her. She moved her arms around and twisted her torso, testing their range of movement.
"No, it fits just right," she admired the comfortable feel of the fabric as it clung to the curves of her body. The overall design remains to be said at this part of the process but it wasn't difficult for her to see the final result in her mind's eye, and she had to admit it certainly was a level of its own compared to the dress she wore at the Yule ball back in fourth year.
"Splendid! Now all that's left is to sew in the lace and embroidery. Unless you wish to make a last-minute change on the design? I must say the ouroboros was quite a unique design of choice," the Madam prattled as she made did a few more inspections before letting her go change back behind the curtain.
A small smile tugged at her lips at that as she shimmied out of the dress, careful as to not ruin it, "Well, I've always fancied the concept behind it."
"No complaints here, dear. Plus, I would think it matches well with your son's snake design. May I be bold to assume you're a family of Slytherins?"
Hermione nearly bit her tongue off in a bid to stop her retort. Even though she had no animosity over snakes- the animal- whatsoever, as Gryffindor by heart, she still took offense to being associated with that house. Let alone be assumed to be one of them.
"Well…" Hermione chewed on her lip, choosing her words carefully, "snakes have been part of the family."
"I thought so," she heard the woman chuckle, "Although, in my opinion, it would still be best if we made your dress backless. Are you certain I cannot change your mind on that?"
No. She can't afford anyone seeing her back. Literally.
"I am certain."
Hermione stepped out of the changing booth, clad once more in her simpler era-appropriate dress.
"I shall send an owl to you once they are all finished, but by my estimation, they should be done ten days from now," Madam Benette informed as she had her wand float the dress back to the adjoining room where her personal work station was.
"Marvelous," Hermione said idly as she clasped her cloak back around her shoulders.
"We could also have them delivered to your address, although it would be best for you to pick it up yourselves for a final fitting. Just in case there are any last-minute changes needed to be done," the older woman suggested.
The brunette hummed in thought, "That's actually a good idea, Madam."
"Brilliant," the Madam nodded, pleased, "I'm sure the girls would be delighted to see your son in our shop again. He certainly captivated them."
At that, Hermione chuckled with a small shake of her head, "Yes, he's certainly growing to be quite the charmer."
"Well, seeing as how he looked so much like his father, he certainly wouldn't have any difficulty in that area."
If the Madam hadn't hid herself behind her hand as she laughed in amusement, she would've seen how Hermione froze the moment the word 'father' left her lips.
Her throat felt dry, "Di-Did they come here?"
"Heavens no! You know how men are with shops like these. Unless they wanted something for themselves, they'll avoid it like the plague," she shook her head, "The girls and I have seen them come and go the last few days. I must say it certainly caught us off guard. Your son looks so much like his father! Oh, you must be very proud! You're a very lucky witch to have snatched such a handsome husband."
Huh?
"Oh, why don't you bring him to the final fitting? I assure you he would be left speechless once he sees you in that dress," the Madam continued, giving her a surreptitious wink.
"My… husband?" the word tasted like rotten meat in her mouth.
"Why of course! I swear, Mrs. Granger, he will-"
Mrs.?!
"Excuse me but," Hermione interjected, her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, "did you just call me Mrs.?"
The older woman gave her a very confused look, "Yes. Now that you mention it, I don't know why we signed you as Ms. in the ledger. Must've missed a letter, I apologize."
"No!" the brunette shouted, startling the other, "I-I mean, you're not wrong. I'm not married."
Eyes riddled with the beginnings of crow's feet narrowed slightly, confusion laced in her voice, "You're… not? But you have a son, do you not?"
"Yes."
"And is the man he's with not his father?"
"He is." Much to her displeasure.
"Then he's your husband," she concluded.
Hermione paled at the assumption before her blood instantly boiled within her veins.
"No, he's not! As if I would have any sort of relationship with that arse!"
"My word," the Madam gasped. Her hand over her chest as her cheeks colored at her profanity. "Mrs. Granger, I apologize if I had opened any marital issue but there's no need for such vulgarity, especially in my establishment. You are a highly valued client of mine so I will let this slide, but please, whatever quarrel you have with your husband to warrant you to say such… proclamations, does not mean you can take it out here."
The Madam's shift from pleasant and accommodating to icy and stern in a heartbeat reminded her why many respected, and to a small extent- even feared, her to the point many vied for her favor and why her business gained the reputation it deserved.
Hermione would've apologized if she didn't follow up it up with that last sentence.
Unfortunately, though, the Madam would have none of it as she was led out of the shop after a final reminder about her fitting.
'What in bloody hell was that?'
Her head was practically spinning about what had just occurred. She knew- she knewRiddle was making a show of being Alduin's father. He didn't even need to say a word. Anyone with half a brain could see how much they looked alike. At that time, she was more concerned of why Riddle would risk people knowing. It was one thing for him to avoid Alduin from being seen in public eyes but why involve himself? Why would he risk people knowing he has a son out of wedlock? Knowing the conservative nature of the wizarding community and the current political climate, it wouldn't bode well for his reputation. Considering that this was a time when Riddle hadn't (fully) succumbed to the madness brought by ripping his soul apart.
She had hypothesized that he was doing it to pressure Alduin. Based on what her son had told her, Riddle would only follow him around, and would talk only when they're at a secluded place. It wouldn't even surprise her if Riddle was testing her son's capabilities as Alduin admitted he caught him using his magic consciously during their first meeting.
She trusted Alduin's independence, and would even discuss how they could avoid falling for his traps.
But at what point did the tables turn on her as well?
Much to Hermione's despair, Madam Benette wasn't the only one who assumed the same thing.
Eyecatcher's, Sugarplum's, Flourish and Blotts, and even the apothecary!
She stopped by to gather some materials for her own, as well as to pay for any 'gifts' or discounts the shopkeepers had given her son whenever he stopped by. Hermione had no idea what Alduin did to charm them to such a degree, and as pleased as she was on other people adoring and appreciating her son, her gray morality wouldn't let these good people go out of business.
Unfortunately for her, her visits hadn't been very auspicious. In fact, each stop only added to the dread and anxiety welling up inside her.
To her horror, people were singing Tom Riddle praises.
"Your son looks so much like your husband! Oh, how adorable!"
"What a responsible father."
"You must be very proud. Mrs… I'm sorry dear, what was your name again?"
"You do not usually see fathers taking the time to spend with their sons out in places like these. Let alone every day!"
"Isn't it endearing for your husband to make time for your child?"
"I wish my husband would dedicate that much time on our own daughter. Especially at that age when they would be sent off to school. You won't have a lot of opportunity to bond with them anymore. Oh how I envy you Mrs…?"
By the time Hermione stepped out of Sugarplum's Sweet Shop, she realized three things.
One, people are praising Riddle for being a good 'father'.
Two, people assume that they are a 'family'.
And three, people had forgotten her name.
What, How, and Why?
What in bloody hell?!
Why is this the picture people are painting of him?! Tom Marvolo Riddle was far from a good father, let alone a husband. He doesn't even fit anywhere in those two categories!
At this point, Hermione was downright panicking and mentally beating herself up for not looking further into the situation going on in the background. It sounded like an excuse, but her topmost priority was to make up for the time she ignored the pull. It is imperative that she would be ready to feed Alduin when he gets hungry again unless she wanted a repeat of what happened in Buenos Aires. An event that instantly took first place as the most gruesome tragedy that ever happened in wizarding South America.
A MASSACRE NOT EVEN GRINDELWALD CAN COMPARE – said the headline in one of the newspapers a day after. It had caused quite an uproar and panic in the continent that they were forced to leave and cross countries immediately.
How did things spiral into this?
With desperation clawing at her stomach, Hermione bolted towards the only person she knew who would either give hope or seal her fate in this whole ordeal.
"Mr. Ollivander!" Hermione shouted, nearly blowing the door off its hinges upon her entrance.
"Merlin's beard! My dear, you startled the pixies out of me!" the wandmaker jumped, making him drop the boxes of wands in his hands.
"Where's my son?" she practically demanded. Her panic making her drop every manner and politeness out the window.
Mr. Ollivander's brows furrowed at her in obvious concern as he picked up the boxes and turned to his place behind his front desk.
"I already let him off a few hours ago."
"Did you see him go with anybody when he left?" her fists clenched at the edges of the desk.
His brows furrowed deeper at her actions, but chose to answer her still, "Yes err- he did. His father actually came to pick him up."
"His father?" Hermione asked softly this time, the dread dripped faster within her.
"It wasn't difficult to miss. They both look so much alike, after all," at that, he chuckled amusedly. "You must be very proud. Your husband is very dashing and no doubt Alduin would follow in his footsteps!"
Over my dead body!
Hermione took (very) deep breaths, "But Mr. Ollivander, don't you remember? I'm not married. Why would you think that?"
It was one of the reasons she trusted Alduin in the wandmaker's care. Mr. Ollivander was more sympathetic to her situation as a single parent. He didn't pry and welcomed Alduin with open arms. He had even praised her for raising Alduin all these years on her own!
"You are a self-respecting witch, Hermione, of course I would think you're married! Now I wonder why I would even think you were a single mother…" Mr. Ollivander hummed absently before waving his hand in casual dismissal, "Ah silly me. I mean no offense, my dear. My brain must've fried from all the work I've been doing lately!"
Hermione stared blankly at the wandmaker. His dismissive joy and amusement at his own apparent silliness juxtaposed the horror that reflected in her eyes.
"Mr. Ollivander," Hermione began, her voice croaking, "I can't be married. I don't even wear a ring."
"Is this a test?" he murmured softly as he tilted his head, "So? My own parents married but they never wore a ring. I'm not sure what kind of marriage you and your husband had but traditional binding rituals never required an exchange of rings. In the wizarding community at least, because that's just a trend that decided to stay. Ah! Now that I think about it, I'm afraid I never did quite get your last name. You never did mention it."
"I never mentioned my last name?"
He shook his head, but just as he opened his mouth to supply his answer, Mr. Ollivander's face instantly became alarmed and rushed to round his desk.
"Sweet Morgana! Are you alright, dear? My word you're as pale as a ghost! Come! Come! Sit here. I'll go fetch you some tea."
Hermione could hardly register what he said. His words like a distant muffle as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. The puzzle pieces fell and fit themselves together seamlessly and she did not like what she saw.
Not. One. Bit.
Over the last few days, Tom Marvolo Riddle had been parading himself as Alduin's father for all the people to see. By taking advantage of their physical similarities, people would easily assume they were father and son. This was not lost on her and she had to admit that fact no matter how much she hated it. In addition, Alduin's seemingly casual attitude towards him renders no conflict between them, giving no suspicion of their relation.
The same however, couldn't be said for her part. People knew her to be Alduin's mother thanks to the previous times they've ben together and her son's proud proclamations. There was no question about that and she would fight tooth and nail against anyone who would question that fact. To her horror, however, the public's assumptions extended to her being married to Riddle.
This made her remember a story her father once told about her great grandmother. How she almost gave up her child because apparently, it simply wasn't acceptable for a woman to have children without being married first. As it was, it made a woman tainted and even scorned in society, sometimes even thought of as evil. And that was a time when conservative practices were at their prime. If muggle society was bad for her great grandmother that time, then the wizarding community would be even worse.
No wonder people made that assumption! In this era, it was still expected of women to raise the child virtually on their own as the men had to do most of the work, but it was frowned upon if they weren't married. Which was why no one questioned Hermione for being seen with only her and Alduin, especially when she showed that she had the money to pay for whatever purchases they made. She thought it was only due to people's greed and that may partly be the case, but to think it was also because people thought her husband made a decent living to cover these expenditures?!
Decent living my arse! Bloody Riddle is practically unemployed and just mooching off of the Malfoys! He doesn't even have his own flat!
"Here you are, dear. Drink up, it will help calm you."
Hermione snapped from her enraged, silent stupor when she felt the press of a cup on her hand. The steaming amber fluid had a pleasant fragrance. With a swallow, she followed the wandmaker's advice and drank from the cup, taking a few more sips until it was only half empty.
She took a deep breath through her nose and blew it out from her lips. The tea definitely helped. And the shock that rocked her mind palace allowed her to stand steadily once more.
"Are you alright now?" came Mr. Ollivander's gentle question.
The brunette smiled gratefully at him but instead of giving an answer, she said, "I'm sorry for this, Mr. Ollivander. I promise it won't hurt."
Before he could even react, Hermione's wand shot from its hidden holster and into her hand and pointed it between the wandmaker's eyes.
She was no gifted Legilimens like Riddle, but she had enough mastery of the spell to ensure her target wouldn't be able to fight off her intrusion. In a rush, she flipped through his memories until she found the one approximately two months ago. It was the time she and Alduin came to his shop for the first time.
Everything was intact. The comment he had about the condition of her wand was perfect word for word. However, something was wrong at the end of that memory. If she were to describe it, it was like watching a movie with a very bad transition, or a poorly cut film.
There, right at the part where she introduced herself, she had only mentioned her first name before everything became muffled. Even the Alduin in his memory had become disjointed when he was supposed to mention his last name.
Human memories have always been fickle. Most of the time, they would become obscure and fade unless the ones deemed worthy were chosen to stay. However, even those memories would become vague and in order to compensate, the brain would supply those missing gray areas on their own for the sole purpose of ensuring the event would make sense. In this case, Mr. Ollivander had forgotten their last names because in spirit of their familiarity, being referred on a first name basis was enough. As for the other shopkeepers, with the exception of the Sugarplum couple and Madam Benette, they wouldn't find it suspicious as names wouldn't normally exchanged between the cashier and customer.
If only that were the case.
No, those people more familiar with her and Alduin were made to forget.
Because she knew a memory charm when she saw one.
She knew because spells regarding memories were one of her greatest masteries, if not the best of them all.
She used it to falsify her parents' memories into believing they lived a life all these years without her existence.
She used it to cover her tracks when she had to run from Death Eaters.
She used it on business transactions she had no trust of keeping her anonymity.
She used it on witnesses who have seen Alduin enter that restaurant where the massacre occurred.
She used it to lure the Argentine aurors on a false trail to ensure their escape.
And they all worked.
Hermione Granger was a master of memory spells. Her additional studies on the human mind from muggle neurologists and psychologists allowed her to know everything about them inside and out. Because to tamper with the mind was a seriously difficult thing to do, which was why many wizards and witches steer clear of them.
So it goes to show she knew what a victim of a memory spell looked like when she saw one. No matter how perfect it may seem. If done carelessly, the victim would lose all of their memories and even go mad. Even if it was performed successfully, the average legilimens would be able to know something was amiss.
In Mr. Ollivander's case however, it was done with a precision she would've praised for if not for the roiling toiling anger bubbling in her veins. Wiping away an entire block of memory was easy, and constructing false memories took careful consideration and imagination. However, to remove one measly detail in a memory and ensure the mind would make sense and not suspect of anything amiss, was like finding a very, very specific piece of hay in a haystack.
And in this time, in this world, there was only one other person near enough whom she knew had an equal mastery of the art.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Alduin said Riddle never entered the shops he went to, but whose to say he wouldn't enter those shops when he was away?
.
"Mother!"
She saw them approach before Alduin even noticed her. Her lips twitched upwards when her son immediately left Riddle's side to rush towards her welcoming hug.
With her son back at her side, Hermione fixed her gaze at the bane of her existence. Her chocolate orbs burned a golden fury as the dark lord dared to step closer till he met their usual distance. And based on the way one of his delicate brows raised in wonder, he didn't miss her burning, scathing glare.
If looks could kill, Riddle would've dropped dead then and there along with his horcruxes.
"Evening," Riddle greeted with a small tilt of his lips that nowhere near met his eyes.
"Evening it is, Mr. Riddle," she greeted back in her own sweet saccharine tone as her eyes continued to burn in rage. Her own lips lifted into a smile as she continued, "Thank you for watching my son again. It's quite diligent of you to do so every day. It must've been quite daunting, unless you have no business to attend to, of course."
Her underlying insult of his unemployment wasn't missed. Even Alduin had snapped his head towards her, eyes wide in blatant shock. Usually, she would just thank Riddle through gritted teeth but this time, she decided to take it up a notch.
At the end of her sentence, Riddle's polite smile dropped and a moment later, the corners of his mouth stretched into a wider smile. His perfect set of teeth nearly shined under the lamps. It was a smile that would've swooned any unassuming witch in sight. On the outside he appeared polite, delighted even, but Hermione knew better. She wasn't blind, and she could see the dark fury that mirrored her own in those void-black pools of his.
"I thank you for your concern, Ms. Granger," came his smooth deep voice, "but it's no trouble at all. It's my pleasure to prioritize spending time with my son. A responsible parent should always put business after their child's needs. Don't you agree?"
It was Hermione's turn to drop her smile this time. Her hands unconsciously clenched and unclenched at her side as she willed all of her strength to not snap at his insinuation.
He was basically saying she was a bad mother for leaving Alduin on his own while she has to go hunting. He might as well say she had been neglecting her son.
The nerve of-!
"I most certainly agree!" she chirped with a clap of her hands; a wider smile plastered on her face. "Which is why I am happy to say you are now relinquished of your volunteer duty as I will be spending more time with my son from now on."
The older ravenhead squared his shoulders in response. His jaw tensed at her words even as he cocked his head to the side in silent question and a smile was left unrestrained on his handsome face. His eyes remained furious.
"Some unexpected development happened on my end so I can relinquish my hours at work. I fully intend to, as you say, spend more time with Alduin," Hermione added sweetly, and if her grin had a sprinkle of triumph in it, she didn't care to hide it.
"How fortunate," Riddle replied, "However, I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I've grown fond Alduin and he to me. You could say we've even formed a father-son bond between us. You wouldn't want to deprive Alduin of his father now, do you?"
Neither of them noticed the eerily similar way Alduin lifted his brow as Riddle.
"Oh, I apologize, Mr. Riddle. As it is, there are some bonds that are stronger than others."
If she sensed the temperature dropping a few degrees, she made no show of noticing as Hermione held her innocent smile.
"Now, if you would please, we best be on our way-"
"Ah but I'm afraid this will leave us at a conundrum, Ms. Granger," he interrupted with the most imperceptible bite in his tone. Hermione tried not to flinch as Riddle took measured steps closer. Her eyes remained locked with his as she discreetly steered her son (who has been watching them diligently on the side) behind her.
He continued, "There is an unspoken agreement between Alduin and I. One that I'm sure you're aware of, if I'm not mistaken."
At this point he was practically looming over her smaller stature, adding something physical in his intimidation. His eyes ablaze in challenge and retrained fury from her insults she had said earlier. Unfortunately for him, this was not her first rodeo, and as someone who had actually experienced death before, it would take a lot more than this to rattle her nerves. Even if the person she was facing down against was Voldemort himself.
"Furthermore, my son asked me quite a favor earlier today. He told me to show courtesy to his mother," her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when Riddle suddenly closed the gap between them, snatched her hand, and brought it up until it was a hair's breadth away from his lips, "Now how am I supposed to show that if you relinquish me of my, as you say, 'volunteer duty'?"
She couldn't help the shiver of mortifying disgust run up her spine at the feel of his hot breath over her cold knuckles. Meanwhile her unoccupied hand balled into a fist so tight it shook a bit and she wouldn't be surprised if her nails had pierced her skin it bled. The part of her brain that was yet to be clouded in rage at his audacity, that told her to keep in mind of their current setting and the fact that instigating a duel with Alduin was right behind her was completely unacceptable, was the only reason she hadn't yet drawn her wand and Avada'd him off his feet.
"Please," she said between gritted teeth.
Their eyes not once left the others. Both lost and neither willing to bend to the fury of the other.
"Come now, Ms. Granger, you assume that I am not capable," he taunted.
"Oh, I know exactly what you're capable of, Mr. Riddle," she spat in a whisper.
His hand encircling her fingers tightened to the point of pain, making her channel her strength and even more of her self-control to not flinch or show that it had affected her. She knew better than to show him weakness in any form.
"You assume to know a lot about me."
His silken voice was poison to her ears in their proximity, and the way his lips remained so close to her knuckles stirred a desire in her to rip out his forked tongue.
"I don't need to assume. I know."
Well, she has her own fangs too, and she wasn't afraid to bare them.
"How fortuitous that you know so much about me already," in her mind's eye, his form was like a snake coiled around her, looming and ready to strike at any unperceived moment, "Would you grant my wish to know more about you?"
Her fangs and claws were ready to pounce at his neck.
"Not a chance."
A loud, obnoxious cough came up on their side. That tense cord between them snapped as they turned to Alduin innocently smiling up at them.
"There's quite a crowd tonight, huh?" he motioned with his arms outstretched as he did a little twirl.
Around them, wizards and witches continued to pass by, but there were a select few who had the gall to stop and stare at them. Mostly a group of witches were whispering and giggling with each other non-discreetly behind their hands as they continued to look as if they were a show. No doubt assuming they were a couple having an intimate moment.
Displeased at the attention they garnered but with their prides refusing to show they were affected by them, Hermione met Riddle's gaze once more. Their anger not quenched even the tiniest bit. After a few heartbeats, Riddle squeezed her fingers so tightly nearly to the point of breaking before suddenly loosening his grip. Hermione spared no second to bring her hand back to her side. She would need to wash it later and she might need an entire bar of soap for it.
"Until next time, Ms. Granger," he bid, that infuriating polite smile back on his face.
"That's assuming we'll meet again, Mr. Riddle. Let's go, Alduin," she motioned for her son with the hand Riddle didn't touch. She turned on her heel, intending to be far away from Riddle as soon as possible, but not before hearing.
"Oh, we will, Ms. Granger. This I promise you."
.
Hermione scrubbed a bar of soap over her hand harshly. Making sure to get between each fold and nail twice- no, thrice before rinsing only to repeat it again.
"Mother?"
"Yes, sweetie?" she turned her head to the open door of the bathroom. Her son had a small, amused smile on his face as he leaned casually on the door frame.
"Something interesting happened earlier," he said conversationally.
"Yeah?" she encouraged as she kept rubbing. Her arms were practically buried under a cloud of bubbles on the sink.
"Mmhmm," he nodded sagely, "I met a person who knew Mr. Riddle today. He was a portly man, easy-going, and a bit funny. Mr. Riddle said he was his Potions Professor and Head of House while he was studying at Hogwarts. I believe his name was Horace Slughorn."
Hermione froze, her eyes widened and her throat felt parched.
"Professor Slughorn… he saw you and Riddle together?"
"Yes. I nearly bumped into him, and he nearly mistook me for Mr. Riddle. He also mentioned that he would like to meet you. Funnily enough though, he assumed that you and Mr. Riddle are a married couple!" Alduin's grin was wide with, what most would assume as, naïve innocence. His eyes reflected uncensored mirth.
SLUGHORN?! That gossip queen?! Of all the people in the world!
Hermione felt a sudden urge to drown her head in the sink.
Oof! I guess this makes it: Hermione – 1 and Tom – 1. It's a TIE! Now which of you thought Alduin can't be cheeky around his mom too?
Sorry for the slight delay. I had to prioritize a job from a VIP client.
I'd also like to share that the page on False memory spell is the only page (that I know of) where Tom and Hermione's names are together. Like just the two of them were noted as the only known practitioners.
How's that as the first (extended) Tomione encounter? It's hard to referee these two from killing each other and I'm afraid Alduin would prefer watching the show. The only thing he's missing is a bag of popcorn in his hand lol.
Please feel free to share any theories or ideas you have on what's going on in this fic. It helps me know if I'm still steering the story at the right course and from what I've read so far, the crazier you think it is, the better! Speaking of, for the theorists out there: Yes, Hermione DIED.
I read all your comments and thank you so much for the continued support!
NEXT WEEK'S CHAPTER WILL BE ABOUT THEIR TRIP TO THE CIRCUS!
Take care everybody! And STAY AWESOME!
Ciao~!