Hermione stared down with no small amount of trepidation, but despite her reservations, her heart still swelled at the sight of the child peacefully sleeping before her. Wrapped in clean blankets on the softest mattress she could find, so innocent and unaware, she briefly wondered if he would grow up to know what he truly is. If one day, a time would come for her to tell him why he was born, or if she should just stay silent and let this blissful ignorance stay for as long as possible.
Unconsciously, her hand came up to her lower stomach at the area of her womb. Her mind replayed to her the day, and the feelings wrought with it, of the shock, fear, relief, and delight that warred within her when she finally held him for the first time. Kicking and screaming like all newborns, but most especially of all- alive.
She blinked from her reverie when she heard his soft coo. Alduin squirmed in his crib, kicking his blanket in the process, while his small chubby hands rubbed over his face. He looked adorable. She smiled. Her fingers came up to gently caress a soft cheek, and let out a small gasp at the tingling spark of magic between them when his small fingers found one of her own.
Her magic recognized his, and he knew hers. It meant that he was hers. There was just no denying it and it was about time she accepted it.
Gently, she picked him up to lay him across her chest. His cheek rested comfortably over her shoulder as he was lulled back to slumber by her soft humming lullaby. All the while her fingers traced large circles on his back.
The source of your power- you'll fight to contain,
But the sorcery of ancients run wild in your veins.
"Mother, I'm fine already," Alduin whined, the most childish she's ever heard of him in a long while, as she adjusted the black bowtie around his neck.
It wasn't anything fancy. The matching pinstriped knickerbockers and vest over a poly cotton blend shirt was perfect for any occasion. Tonight, was supposed to be casual and fun but of course, she would want her son to look his best.
Now she understood her mother's fussing whenever they went out to do anything.
"Alright, alright," she finally relented, before helping him into his jacket.
She then secured her gloves and double-checked her wand within the holster hidden beneath her long sleeves. Her beaded bag was replaced by a Kelly that had a minor extension charm and atop her braided curls was a matching cloche hat with a subtle ouroboros design wrapped around it.
Hermione settled her hands on her son's shoulders as they checked themselves one last time in the mirror.
"Right. Shall we go?" she asked, smiling at him through their reflections to which Alduin responded with a fervent nod. His neat raven locks were hidden under his own pageboy hat that matched the rest of his outfit.
They left their flat with Alduin eager to lead the way. The hidden runes etched on the wooden door flashed a brief golden color, activating any security measures put in place. Both mother and son crossed the familiar streets all the way to the venue where the show would take place. All the while most wizards and witches, most of them in groups with children also in tow, walked towards the same direction as them. Instead of using the streets that would usually lead to the open plaza however, they moved to a pathway that normally led to a dead end. There, the once empty brick wall was guarded by stone statues of a hippogriff and kelpie, trotting and moving in welcome, while the circus' logo hung overhead, as the people marveled at the beauty and detail that was put into the carved stones.
"Come on, mother!" Alduin exclaimed, grabbing her hand to speed them along.
Hermione chortled as she matched his speed, letting him maneuver them effortlessly in the crowd. It's been a while since she's seen him this excited, after all. Alduin didn't slow the tiniest bit as they headed straight towards the brick wall. A memory flashed in her mind's eye and for the briefest moment, she was a little girl again running towards the wall between the signs 9 and 10 with a cart full of her things and Crookshanks' carrier; excited to start another year at Hogwarts.
There was only a moment of silent darkness before their eyes were greeted with an assault of colors and their ears rang with crowd noises and music.
"Wow," came her son's audible reaction beside her as she, too, had to stop and stare at the magnificence before them.
As time crawled into night, the sky was painted with a beautiful gradient of blue, purple, orange, and yellow. Overhead were colorful streamers and fairy lights that glowed and flashed to the beat of the band playing lively music with trumpets and drums by actual people. At the center of it all was a tall, striped tent where the show would take place.
Impressively, it seemed that word of the event spread far as there were already a lot of people in attendance. They chose to arrive nearly two hours before the show began so they could have more time to watch the small performances scattered around the plaza, as well as play on the plethora of magical carnival-like games. Hermione figured it to that, unlike the muggle world, there aren't really that many places (aimed at families) for wizards and witches to have fun at for their leisure. Considering that muggles still outnumber the wizarding community, there was a risk and high level of maintenance needed to contain an area of high daily magical activity. It's simply too difficult, risky, and taxing to open up a business like that. So it was quite innovative for this circus to adopt such attractions other than their own show. The biggest event she's ever attended was the Quidditch World Cup, and that was back in her own world. Hermione prided in herself that she, and especially her son, were able to experience what it was like to ride on carnival rides. They made a quick stop at Chicago while they were in America to go to Riverview Park. If memory served her right, it would be closed in a year or two due to economic reasons.
A round of applause snapped them both from their marvel when fireworks shaped like a dragon flew over their heads before flying high up and up and up towards the darkening sky only to explode into a myriad of colors.
"So, Al, which should we start first?"
Alduin's grin stretched wide like a Cheshire's smile, showing off his canines, before tugging her hand to lead her towards the two people dressed in brightly colored vests juggling balls of fire and water.
.
"How about a snack, Al?" Hermione offered. They had just finished playing a magical version of ring toss, in which her son won a bag of Gobstones.
"Yes please," Alduin beamed up at her before heading immediately towards a cart displaying rows of candied apples.
"Good evening, ma'am and young sir! What can I get you?" greeted the vendor.
Hermione tipped her head towards her son, waiting patiently beside him to decide. His lips were slightly pursed in thought as he stared at the treats as if they were a difficult puzzle. There were ten apples to choose from, all of which were coated and designed differently, offering diverse flavors as well.
"There's so many choices and they all look delicious," he hummed, furrowing his brows in deep thought before suddenly brightening up. Alduin turned his head towards her with a wide smile, "Can I try them all, mother?"
Smiling indulgently, she supposed she could spoil him for today.
"No. You can only choose one. You won't even be able to finish it all and you could get a stomachache."
Hermione felt herself immediately go rigid at the sound of his voice cutting in just before she could reply. Her glare instantly snapped towards him but Riddle didn't appear the least bit deterred as he only met her stare even when he stopped to stand at Alduin's other side.
"But-! Mother!" Alduin mocked an exaggerated whine before looking back at her with a pouty face. He didn't mind Riddle's presence at all.
"Of course, you can try them all, Alduin." Out of spite, Hermione took out two galleons from her bag and dropped it on her son's expecting palms with an encouraging smile, "Tell him to keep the change."
With her eyes set on Riddle, she missed the way Alduin sent his sire a triumphant smirk before bounding close to the vendor. She didn't, however, miss the way Riddle's jaw clenched in displeasure at their defiance. It only made her square her shoulders back and lift her chin in challenge. That'll show him for ordering her son around. Who does he think he is to decide what her son can and cannot eat?
'He should be grateful Alduin didn't want to eat him. At least, not yet,' she hoped. Otherwise, she wouldn't hesitate to sic her son at him even in broad daylight.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, reminiscent of a cat baring its fangs. Not that she wasn't expecting him to show up. Quite the contrary, actually. She just wished Riddle had appeared a lot later. With him around, she'll have to constantly be on guard and knowing her son's observative nature, it might dampen his mood when he should be having fun.
"Alduin expressed desire to attend the circus. I was with him when he learned of it, after all. He's been such a good boy recently. So it's only natural that I see to his reward as his father," he stared back in equal challenge, taunting her to refute or make any comeback at his words.
In their current stalemate (and due to the public setting), they couldn't risk another fight unless they wanted a scene. Not to mention she didn't want to hurt Alduin again. But it seemed that Riddle had no interest in gaining that kind of attention either, so in a way, they came to an odd unspoken agreement. Of course, that didn't stop them from trading barbed words and underlying insults at each other. It also pissed her off that Riddle kept bringing up her frequent absences; all in front of Alduin! As if he's painting a bad impression of her on her son.
As if that would work. Alduin is smarter and more mature than children his age, and she wasn't buying whatever show he's selling. Knowing the kind of man he was, she highly doubted Riddle actually cared about Alduin as a father. Riddle was planning to use her son for some nefarious plan and displaying himself as a doting family man was just a ploy to hide his true intentions. That much she can deduce, but whatever that ultimate goal was, she doesn't know. Fortunately, she was no novice in dealing with people like Riddle, both in her previous and new life. Although she's certain none of them were near his level, she was confident enough to know how to stand her ground.
"How responsible," she said dryly, "even though you're not his father."
"I think you know that I, as well as many others, would beg to differ," he answered back, "Between the two of us, I'm sure it's no difficult which is more convincing to be Alduin's parent."
His words made her remember the comments people had made about her and their assumptions about her 'marriage'. It made her unbelievably infuriated; that the thought of going out and implanting a false memory of her own to reestablish herself as a single mother again, to counter what Riddle had done, had even crossed her mind. But whom and exactly how many people did Riddle brainwash? Which were those who just ignorantly assumed this misunderstanding? And who's to say he didn't do more than just make them forget her last name?
"I'm back!" Alduin piped up (again) between them with a clearly amused, sing-song voice. Enclosed in his hands were the assorted array of candied apples. Two of which were already eaten as an empty stick was the only thing left behind.
Riddle snapped his head at her son, and said in a calm voice that belied his admonishment, "Didn't you hear me say to buy only one?"
"But mother said I could try them all," Alduin countered and moved his apples away in case he would take them.
"You can't possibly finish them."
"Yes, I can!" her son's retort was promptly ignored however, when Riddle turned his gaze back at her.
Riddle tutted, "Are you deliberately raising him to be a spoiled brat?"
Hermione could feel her face redden at his blatant insult of her parenting. She had barely even stopped herself from whipping out her wand and cast a stinging hex that would leave him sore for weeks. Consequences be damned, he has no right to make any comment on how she should raise her son! And what did he know about parenting anyway?
"I'm not a brat," Alduin quipped in defense. Three of the remaining apples have already disappeared in that brief moment they had their attentions away from him. Her son licked a trace of chocolate syrup from the corner of his lip- something that wasn't there before. He added, "Besides, how would I know which one's the best if I don't try them all?"
For a moment, Riddle was silent. The only clue of what ran in his head in that moment was the way his brows slightly furrowed as he stared at the six empty sticks in Alduin's hands. He was confused. When he opened his mouth to say something, Hermione chose that moment to intentionally interrupt him rudely.
"Oh, leave him be," she snapped, "I'm his mother. If he wants to eat one of every snack in the plaza then he can," Riddle's gaze was intense with irritation behind his onyx eyes. It wasn't hard to guess he wasn't used to being interrupted, "and of course I would know if he can finish them. Now tell me, Alduin, what do you think?"
Hermione broke their staredown to look back at her son. As expected, all that was left in his hands were empty sticks. Even though she had years to get used to her son's uncanny ability to devour large portions of food in mere seconds when no one was paying attention, she still couldn't figure out how he could do it. Though honestly, she preferred him eating actual food instead of the ones she had collected into the broken-time-turner-turned-storage around her neck.
"Well, the butterscotch with chocolate spiderweb drizzle was a strong contender, but it had a subtle aftertaste…" Alduin listed, reviewing each apple he had eaten like a food critic in a way that reminded Hermione of herself. Her son may not have resembled her physically but she recognized some of his mannerisms that was very much like her own. It made her feel warm and proud, the latter more so to the fact that during Alduin's report, Riddle was rendered speechless. Hermione liked to believe his blank stare was due to astonishment and confusion at what just happened.
"…so, I say the golden apple is the winner. I think mother and Mr. Riddle would like it too," Alduin finished with a small giggle as if laughing at a private joke*.
"Thank you, Al, maybe I should try one later," she replied, and was ready to give Riddle a smug look, to imply how she's the better parent for knowing more about Alduin, but much to her dismay, Riddle had quickly broken from whatever stupor he had fallen into seconds ago and bent down in front of her son.
Hermione's wand instantly dropped into her hand. If she really was in a time Tom Riddle was still deemed 'sane', then he wouldn't try anything. But just in case, if she detected the slightest bit of his magic, or the second he pointed his wand at her son, then she'll gladly forgo her Gryffindor honor to curse him on his back.
"Alduin," he began, and Alduin looked back at him curiously, "Why don't you go buy something else you like? Your mother and I just needed to have a little adult talk. Don't worry, I promised I would show your mother some courtesy, didn't I?"
Riddle took Alduin's hand, faced it palm up, and dropped ten galleons there. Hermione had a grating feeling that giving her son five times the amount she gave him earlier was deliberate.
The complaint that took center stage for her, however, was the feeling of outrage that Riddle had just made a decision for her without her consent. But before she could voice her protest, Hermione caught her son's eye. Alduin shifted his gaze between hers and Riddle's at least twice before beaming a seemingly innocent grin.
"Alright, Mr. Riddle," he said cheerily, "I'll be right back!"
He turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd before she could even call out his name.
"Now, Ms. Granger, if you would please," Riddle started. It wasn't a suggestion. His head was cocked slightly to the side, prompting her to follow.
Hermione defiantly crossed her arms over her chest, "And why should I? I don't remember agreeing to have a 'little adult talk' with you."
Riddle's eyes became stormy and her sensitivity instantly felt the first signs of magical pressure against her. Now with Alduin gone by her side, they were back at an even playing field.
He stepped closer to her and Hermione stood her ground as she let her own magic push his back. Even when Riddle invaded her personal space like that time at the fountain, she kept her chin up. She kept her gaze locked with his, as she remembered a lesson she learned in her previous life: in a matchup between two predators, the loser was the one who succumbed to the other and broke their gaze first.
From her periphery, his hand came up, but instead of taking her hand like he did before, he pushed back a stray lock behind her ear. The gentle brush of his fingers on her skin made her freeze on the spot, but it was the feel of his hot breath on her ear that made her shudder.
"I suggest you to not be difficult, Ms. Granger," the low timbre of his voice was a sinful whisper that she had to fight herself from shuddering once more lest he'll notice how he affected her, "It would be a shame if anything were to happen on this joyous night."
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief.
No… he's bluffing.
There are too many people!
He wouldn't dare launch an attack, would he?
By reflex, her eyes immediately darted here and there. Looking for anyone that looked even remotely suspicious amongst the crowd.
If he's really sane, she could call him out on his bluff. Hermione knew that Riddle had amassed quite a number of subordinates after his graduation from Hogwarts, but most of them were heirs (now heads) from pureblooded households who are above doing grunt work. But this Tom Riddle wasn't fresh out of Hogwarts. Who's to say he's already recruited people who could? According to what Harry had told her, Riddle shouldn't have actively started his campaign for dominion over the wizarding world but that didn't mean he just stood idly by. Even more so, knowing his capacity for cruelty, it also wouldn't be far-fetched for him to act on his word.
"Think about how disappointed Alduin would feel if he couldn't see the circus show he's always wanted," he taunted further.
At the mention of her son, Hermione mentally cursed.
Forget about feeling disappointed, if Riddle really wasn't bluffing and an attack would take place, then a confrontation between them wouldn't be avoided. Who knew what that chaos alone would make Alduin feel? She had already sworn to never let her son feel distressed like that again.
"What do you want?" she asked between gritted teeth.
"Nothing much," his lips were still near her ear. From an outsider's perspective, their closeness would suggest they were having an intimate moment when in reality, both of them were just itching to wring each other's throats, "Just a little talk. As civil adults."
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. She really, really didn't want to do anything with Tom Riddle, much more be alone with him.
But what other choice does she have?
"Fine."
At her consent, Riddle finally leaned back. Triumph danced over his dark eyes as he led her away from the crowded street and into an alley. Somewhere not far from the bustling crowd but isolated enough to give them privacy.
Hermione fell into step with him. There was no way she's ever going to show her back while in the company of an enemy. Upon reaching the alley, she immediately pressed her back to one wall and positioned herself near the corner in case she needed to make a quick slip. She has no idea how this 'talk' would turn out. Even though, technically this will be her first consented 'civil' encounter with him.
Ironically, despite being Harry's muggleborn best friend, she had very little to no exchanges with Voldemort. Even though she would've made a primary target in his suppression of muggles and muggleborns. The most would be just seeing him in all his monstrous glory but they had never actually engaged with each other. Then again, Voldemort was too hyperfixated on that damnable prophecy with Harry.
"This should do," Riddle finally said after finishing. She had been paying him extra closer attention when he took out his wand to put up wards for further security and privacy.
She breathed out a sigh of relief when he had only casted the muffliato and notice-me-not charms.
For a moment, they just stood there facing each other. Each of them occupying a wall and staring, but no less on high alert. Both were unarmed, Hermione had slipped her wand back into her holster, and he had his wand tucked away with his hands in his pockets, but both of them had already seen the level of the power the other had. Even someone as powerful as Tom Riddle would know to exercise caution. An experienced predator would know to never do the first provocation when facing another predator with equal power.
"Ms. Granger," Riddle began, "I know we didn't exactly have a good first impression. Circumstances led to… unpredictable happenstance. If I could, things would've transpired a lot more favorably."
'More favorably to you,' is what he left unsaid that Hermione understood. For all she knew, Riddle would've wanted to kill Alduin from the start.
"Well, you didn't exactly give a favorable first impression yourself," she referred to their first meeting at Borgin and Burkes. As impressive as his level of mastery in legilimens was, it was uncalled for. Then again, if she hadn't trained in occlumency, she wouldn't have felt the tiniest pinprick of his spell.
Under the light, Riddle's dark eyes sharpened. It made her bite her inner cheek. In both her previous and new lives, she's never met anyone who had such intense eyes. A gaze that penetrates through skin; as if he can see right into her soul and all her secrets were laid bare before him.
"You have quite the unusual magic for a witch," he said and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was that a compliment? No. Tom Riddle doesn't give compliments unless he's putting on his charms. It's better to say that it was a statement.
"Obviously, I'm no ordinary witch," she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Obviously," he parroted dryly.
"Then that means you mustn't have met a lot of witches."
"Oh, I have. And I remember at least one thing about all of them. You, however, I know none of. Now why is that?" if possible, he was staring at her with more intensity.
Hermione stood stock still, not giving the slightest bit of movement, not wanting to give him any sort of reaction, while her mind raced. Of course, his questions would be geared towards that. And the both of them knew she has the answers. Now the real question was whether she's willing to give them or not.
The silence between them stretched, his question remained hung in the air. But Hermione remained tight-lipped, the roots of her stubbornness and distrust of anything that came out of Riddle's mouth dug deep and firm.
When it seemed that she wasn't going to open her mouth anytime soon, Riddle took a deep breath through his nose as an exercise of patience, "Now, now, Ms. Granger, a chat is not a one-way conversation. I'm sure you know that Alduin has an abhorrence for the rude. What would he say if he learned his own mother doesn't know how to show some courtesy?"
Despite her efforts, mentioning her son had effectively chipped through her own mask. Hermione's brows furrowed and her brown eyes were alit with displeasure.
It was her turn to breathe deeply. She mocked, "Hard to be courteous given your reactions to past happenstances."
"My reactions, you say?" Riddle's voice had suddenly gotten deeper.
Her nerves jumped in preparation for fight or flight when he pushed his back off the wall and closed the distance between them once more. She could feel his magic surround her, pushing and caging her in until she felt her back flush to the wall behind her. Still, she didn't dare break her gaze from him.
"Picture me this, Ms. Granger," he began with the subtlest hint of a growl, "I have been away for the last decade, only occasionally stopping by to check up on old friends. Then one day, one of those old friends suddenly tells me he saw a little boy who looks exactly like me as a lad. Out of the blue, I learned that I had apparently fathered a son with a witch who evidently knows me, yet I know nothing about her. Now tell me, Ms. Granger, how exactly did you expected me to react?"
He was standing so close now; taking advantage of his superior height to loom over her like a shadow. If it wasn't for her own stubbornness and strong will, those glacial void eyes would have rendered her paralyzed. Riddle had a serpent's stare.
A snake through and through.
She bit harder on her inner cheek. What exactly should she say? That she was a witch from the future who had lived through his reign of terror and died by drowning in the ocean when she fell from a cliff? That she was resurrected in a time nearly forty years into the past to do an obscure task in order to receive the reward she asked for? That she raised a child whose father she didn't know of until now? That she thought he didn't exist in this new life of hers?
Oh yes. Riddle would definitely love to hear all of that. Not to mention the confirmation that resurrection exists. For someone who's so hung up on immortality, he would be over the bloody moon. And that's only the concept of resurrection. What more if he learned what she knew about reincarnation? The cycle of death and rebirth?
'Yeah, right, as if I'll ever tell him.'
Hermione let out a gasp when Riddle suddenly gripped her chin. As if she hadn't been looking into his eyes the whole time, he forced her gaze up to bore his own set of stygian pools on her, "Hermione Granger, who exactly are you?"
She should hex him. Jinx him. Curse him. Anything.
She could do it. If it's Riddle, she has enough animosity for the Killing Curse to work.
Hermione caught a glimpse of the horcrux decorating his finger on the hand he used to grab her chin before he forced her to look back into his eyes. He wasn't using legilimens on her. She would know. Still, that didn't stop him from using intimidation.
And Tom Riddle was certainly intimidating.
Any lesser person would've broken already. Especially when the color of bright crimson blood took over his irises. Those demonic eyes that were the proof of his self-corruption to the darkest forms of magic.
Too bad Hermione was anything but lesser.
"I," she began, ignoring the fingers that dug into her chin, "I am someone whom you will regret to have ever messed with."
Metaphorically throwing her indifferent mask to the ground, Hermione slapped his hand away. Her unexpected answer caused him to relax his grip a bit. By her will, she forced her magic against his until he took a step back. Thus, allowing her to step into his space this time.
"It doesn't matter who I am, Riddle," she growled, her face twisted into an angry snarl as she jabbed a finger squarely at the center of his chest, "I know all of your tricks so do us both a favor and keep that forked tongue of yours inside your mouth before I rip it out."
Another jab.
"-You may be able to sway these clueless people but you're sorely mistaken if you think some pretty words and giving Alduin gifts would be enough to sway him for whatever bloody scheme you have."
Because how dare he underestimate her son?
"-Yes, I know what you did to the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley and Carkitt Market. You think you're the only one who has talent for memory spells?"
She was livid. She was stressed. She was frustrated. She had been ever since she realized who he was back in Borgin and Burkes. Honestly, she'd rather have people pitying and talking behind her back for being an unmarried woman and single mother than being assumed to be bound to him in any way.
"-I don't know what bloody idea you're trying to pull with this stunt you're going on about being a 'family'- you are the last person in the entire universe whom I would consider to be my son's father."
Without that Hunter's Pull coming to her as frequently as it did before, she had no outlet, no release, for all of the stress that had accumulated in her from these unanswered questions. It had been boiling steadily for the last few days, and she'd rather curse herself than take it out on her son or any innocent soul. At least during her hunts, she would have the opportunity whenever her prey chose to make a run for it.
Voldemort wasn't the only one who feared their own demise.
Now that bubbling cauldron had tumbled over. The spilled contents of past resentment, confusion, anger, and protectiveness for her son, had blinded her to proceed with this tirade even though a sane person should've tried to escape and flee instead.
"-So don't delude yourself. I don't care whatever proof you have but I will never acknowledge you as Alduin's father."
She needed more time to research. Now that she knows Tom Riddle still exists, the tables have turned.
"-So if you so much as touch a single hair on his head, I swear by the Cosmic Audience, I will make you wish you never existed."
She knew exactly who could tell her all the answers, but the question was how to initiate contact with them? Should she… try drowning again?
After all, as long as Alduin lives… she-
"Then why are you still here?"
If her anger was the roaring, raging fire storm, Riddle's was the suffocating, overwhelming freezing bite of a blizzard.
"If my presence is such an abomination to you, then what's keeping you from running?"
In the shadows of the alley, Riddle's crimson eyes glowed.
"After escaping Malfoy Manor, you had enough time to escape. You could've easily fled back to any country you've travelled in, yet you didn't. Alduin said you have some unfinished business here. Money? Child Support? No, you avoid me like the plague and ran as soon as you learned my name. So which is it? You made it clear that you despise me, for whatever reason, yet you let your son stay in my company. So if it's not for yourself, then it's for Alduin, isn't it?"
Hermione's eyes widened. She would've been impressed by his deduction if not for the dread she felt at how accurate it was.
"What is it?" Riddle pressed, taking full advantage of her look of shock, "What is it that he wants for you to risk staying here?"
She bit her lip.
"What does he want?"
Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump…
Came that familiar dark rhythm.
"What does our dearest son want from me?"
Ba-dump…
Ba-dump…
Ba-dump…
'He wants to eat your bloody ring!'
"Nothing you're willing to give," she hissed.
Quicker than she's ever encountered from any opponent she had before, Hermione found herself stunned. For one moment, she had just felt the skim of vine wood on her palms, the next, she was caged between long, slender arms on both sides. Trapping her both physically and by magic.
Her wand clattered loudly in their makeshift bubble.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can give him an offer he can't refuse."
There was a sinister smile painting his face now. The tarry, sinking sensation of darkness poured out from every part of his being.
"Whatever happened to showing me some courtesy?"
"Well, Alduin's not here, is he?"
Despite herself, Hermione's heart clenched.
Riddle's smirk… that wide stretch of his lips showing teeth, and the wild look of rapture behind his eyes… she had seen that look before.
On that day five years ago in Buenos Aires, Alduin nearly folded himself in half clutching his stomach as if in excruciating pain.
When he looked up, gone was the sweet child she had grown to love and cherish above everything. Riddle and Alduin… both had the same look that promised nothing but pure malevolence.
"Mother… I'm starving."
She hated it. She hated seeing Riddle. Hated how they looked so much alike, as well as the shot of fear and anxiety that pierced her heart- that Alduin might've inherited more from him than just his looks.
"There you two are!"
Hermione's heart nearly leaped from her throat at the sudden, peppy tone. Both hers and Riddle's gazes snapped at Alduin standing nonchalantly just a foot away from the wards Riddle had set.
He had a smile plastered on his face, the kind that made him look angelic, while his hands were clasped behind his back as he roamed his eyes around in front of them. Can he sense the wards placed there?
"How did you find us?" Riddle snapped. The first time she's ever heard him use a tone other than cordial with her son.
Alduin, however, merely cocked his head at him as if he was confused with his question, "I can always tell where my mother is!"
He smiled wider as he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He continued, "Are you done with your 'adult talk' now?"
There was clear amusement reflecting from his obsidian eyes as he kept on watching them. Only then did Hermione realize she had yet to move from the… precarious position they were in.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Forcefully, Hermione pushed against Riddle's chest and slipped underneath his arm. She felt the wards fizzle on her skin when she stepped out of the alley and stood by her son's side. With a flick of her wrist, her wand shot back into the holster hidden beneath her sleeve before she moved them to hug her arms.
Anger and embarrassment filled her at the thought of anyone, especially her son, seeing her in such a… position with Riddle. A position that can be easily misunderstood as one of intimacy. She should explain it to him later. All these years, there's only been the two of them. She's never engaged upon her return, as she was too focused on raising a son, making money, taming the most wicked of dark artefacts, and hunting down people on the verge of death. Not that it was an issue for her. She had no interest outside familial affection, but knowing her son, he would be curious. No matter how much he misunderstood the atmosphere or if he even has any idea about romance, it's best to nip this at the bud before it becomes a problem.
"I'll take that as a yes then," Alduin supplied cheerily.
"Was I not clear with my implications that you are to entertain yourself for a while?"
Hermione recognized the tone of rebuke in Riddle's voice. How dare he! He has no right to scold Alduin for anything!
"Oh, you were, sir, and I was gone for 'a while', wasn't I? You should've been more specific on how long you wanted me gone if you wanted to keep my mother to yourself."
She snapped her head back at her son. Any sense of anger and embarrassment drained from her being and was instantly replaced by an odd mixture of pride, shock, disbelief, and a hint of betrayal. She was proud at how casual Alduin interacted with Riddle; how brave and uncowed he was of him knowing the kind of power the older ravenhead held. She drew comfort at the fact that whatever scheme Riddle's been planning did not involve any harm on her son.
However, his words just now made her feel as if he had just thrown her under the bus.
Alduin was teasing Riddle.
But his tease included her too.
She knew her son to be a bit cheeky. If not food, he's always looking for some form of entertainment. But in this instance… does it also have to be in her expense? Thus, she can't help feel a bit betrayed.
"Al-" she began, not noticing the outrage in Riddle's expression at his words.
"Anyway!" Alduin interjected and began rummaging in his bag, "I found this small tent- they were selling all sorts of weird, fancy knickknacks from around the world. So I got us these! They have an entire wall full of them!"
He fished out three objects from his bag. All were half-masks designed as animals. He handed each of them with brimming excitement like the child he was. He also explained that when worn, certain parts would move. For Riddle, it was the top half of a snake's head colored white with a bluish tint for its scales. When worn, it would let out hissing noises and the eyeholes would illusion the wearer's eyes with a snake's as well. For Hermione, she received a lioness. The texture used for its fur was soft and even, she wondered if it was made from the animal itself. The ears would twitch and the eyes would glow a golden color.
"And this is mine," Alduin proudly held up his own mask before putting it on.
His mask was a dragon**. A black, menacing-looking dragon with bony ridges. Its slits for nostrils would glow a fiery color and blow out small fumes of smoke every now and again. But what stood out the most were the two large horns that curled atop its angry eyes.
Eyes that glowed a ruby red.
.
Alduin's heart was racing.
He couldn't remember the last time he smiled a genuine smile for so long (except during the times he spent with his mother), and this… feeling of excitement was so new.
For the first time, he was left genuinely stunned and confused when Mr. Riddle kissed his mother's hand the other day. He's familiar with the gesture, and he himself had kissed the hands of a few ladies out of courtesy, but… there was something different about them.
He was no stranger to his mother's animosity for him. She couldn't have made it more evident when she scrubbed her hands red raw when they returned from the fountain. He also knew Mr. Riddle was circling cautiously around his mother.
Honestly, he couldn't quite describe this sensation.
His mother and Mr. Riddle… they don't like each other.
But…
There's just something… different about those two.
Something that he's only noticed recently, at the fountain, that made him see them in a much different light.
It wasn't particularly bad, but it wasn't necessarily good either.
It is a very… selfish sensation.
Something self-serving and satisfying.
Something that is utterly…
Entertaining.
Eating all sorts of food is his pastime. Learning about magic is his favorite hobby. But this?
He came to the circus to have fun and see the show, but now he can't help but think that the show had already began.
And it is going to be spectacular.
Part of him should've known better to choose his words properly, on account of his mother, but really, he just can't seem to mind at the moment. He's willing to accept any reprimand she would give him by the night is over but for now, he's determined to not miss a single part of this exciting act.
The more he thought of it, the more his stomach churned and coiled. It was a familiar sensation, but unlike the previous times, he doesn't feel hungry at all.
And sometimes, he swore he could smell and taste the distinct, salty tang of the ocean.
"Oh, and I also bumped into someone. We should go and meet them now. It would be rude to keep them waiting for long," Alduin informed, grabbing his gaping mother's hand, knowing Mr. Riddle would follow.
He worried in the beginning, of course. He wouldn't want to hear that abomination of a noise again.
But his mother had promised she wouldn't let that happen again, and she always kept her promises to him. He could trust that she wouldn't attack Mr. Riddle unprovoked. Then there's Mr. Riddle. Since that time at Malfoy manor, he resorted to proceed in a different course of action.
Speaking of which…
He led them through the throng until they were faced to face with the Malfoy couple, along with a boy his age standing close to his mother.
Alduin had seen them on his way back to look for his mother and Mr. Riddle. The family of three had very distinct long, straight, platinum blonde hair that anyone with basic knowledge about Britain's infamous Sacred Twenty-Eight would be able to identify them off the bat.
He decided then to greet them and express his sympathies. Knowing that they didn't exactly part ways peacefully. As expected, they had been reserved in their responses. But Mr. Malfoy was under Mr. Riddle's thumb so he was the first who made an effort to be cordial. His wife though, took a bit of time and some prodding at an amiable direction, but she eventually gave in and genuinely inquired about his health after a few more exchanges in her mother tongue. As for the boy however- their son, named Lucius, had a conflicted expression on his face throughout his exchange with his parents and even when they shook hands.
Alduin didn't mind. He was of no value to him (yet).
When Mr. Malfoy inquired about Mr. Riddle, Alduin gathered from that question alone either Mr. Malfoy had already expected Mr. Riddle to be with them, or Mr. Riddle was expecting Mr. Malfoy's attendance in coming to the circus.
So here they were, two parties meeting each other after a previous incident that left one party considerable damage. One, a family, while the other… well, that's yet to be decided.
.
"My lord, may I?" Abraxas began once they were at a considerable distance away. Right on the side of the street and away from the foot traffic. Far enough to be out of hearing range but near enough where they could still see the women and children
Tom turned to him and immediately noticed the thick roll of cigar between his fingers. He tucked the mask Alduin had given him inside his suit.
"Go right ahead," he nodded almost dismissively. They did intend to talk under the guise of a quick smoke after all, "and pass me one as well."
The blonde momentarily froze just as he took out his wand to light up his cigar. Tom didn't commonly smoke like the rest of his Death Eaters, or even amongst the Knights. He preferred his simpler indulgences in vintage wine tasting, and ideally chose to get high through the power of the dark arts. But he had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.
Nevertheless, Abraxas didn't question his order and promptly took out another stick. He then lighted them (Tom's first before his), and for a moment, they stood in silence as they inhaled and puffed out from their expensive branded cigars. Breathing in the thick, pungent smoke that had a strange combination of coffee, chocolate, peppery and earthy scent. Occasionally, they would blow out the smoke in shapes and figures just like they had done in previous bachelor parties.
Tom mused at the small, wispy boat Abraxas blew out before starting, "How goes your search, Abraxas?"
The blonde inhaled a long drag, "A thousand pardons, my lord, but we are doing our best. I'm afraid Mr. Hector Dagworth-Granger is too much of a recluse. The last person, one of his friends, who had correspondence with him said that he had begun focusing more of his work in the Alchemic arts, but ultimately, no one has seen or heard of him for the last ten years."
"Ten years," Tom repeated softly before taking another drag.
He had not ceased seeking any information about the genealogical line of Alduin's mother. No matter how hard they dug in any department in the ministry, there was absolutely no record about her or Alduin. Not even papers saying they had reported into the Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation, as it was considered protocol. It would be impossible to say they didn't know or simply forgot to do it, considering the number of countries the mother and son had visited over the years. At this rate, they might as well be illegal immigrants.
He was not a fool to continue fighting an opponent unprepared. Knowledge is power, and as infuriating as it was, Hermione Granger has more advantage in that area than him. Especially now when she had practically confessed to knowing a lot of information about him. She seemed to know what he was capable of and was not afraid to challenge him.
If he hadn't known the extent of her power from their previous bout, he would've thought her mad.
"Contact every known alchemist in the country. See if you can find one who had exchanged letters with Dagworth-Granger the most and which one of them is the most recent. The priority is to pinpoint his location and current whereabouts," Tom ordered. Granger's power… it couldn't possibly belong to a mudblood. So it begs to differ that she is a pureblood- or if not, a half-blood just like him.
It wasn't a surprise to learn the infamous potioneer had decided to try his hand on alchemy. That branch of magic had strong ties with Potions. Alduin had also mentioned his mother brewed potions for a living, so there's evidence of skill and practice there. Not to mention the word she used to name her son after was rooted in the most vague and complicated subbranch of Alchemy. Tom had dabbled in it during his travels, yes, and he knew enough that the word Alduin is a moniker for the Ouroboros. It made him wonder if Alduin knew his name meant 'World Eater' in parseltongue.
At least the witch had enough brains to give his son a unique name.
"As you wish," Abraxas dipped his head. "May I ask, my lord, how you are faring?"
Tom gave him a sideways glance, prompting him to elaborate.
"Me and the others, the Knights," he specified, "are wondering how are your proceedings with the boy and the witch."
"Call him by his name, Abraxas. Alduin is my son. There is no point in further denying that," Abraxas gave a soft 'Yes. Of course, sir' as Tom took a moment to best describe the two people who had practically sprung out of nowhere and unwittingly entered his life. "Those two… are like twin double-edged swords."
Accepting that he has a son was one thing, acknowledging the witch that birthed his son was another. Especially if said witch had equaled him in power and had successfully rebuffed his past actions.
It was fortunate that he had learned about them before he decided to return to Britain. Weeks ago, he wouldn't have batted an eyelash at the idea of getting rid of the two for the sake of his reputation. He also wasn't keen on the idea of having a 'family'. But the tables have turned when he had finally confronted the witch and had spent time with the boy.
Both of them were powerful.
Tom looked back at where they left the women and children just in time to see the boys run off somewhere. Probably to play a game or get a snack.
Alduin, his son, who was the spitting image of him; not only does he have the magical aptitude to use magic consciously before he was of age to use a wand, he was also bright and knowledgeable on a plethora of subjects. Not only is he book smart, but also capable of problem solving and critical thinking.
At least all those things Alduin said about his mother being a good teacher wasn't all talk.
He has no doubt Alduin could easily take the top spot of his year once he starts school. And that is a decision not up for questioning.
"Double-edged sword, sir?"
"Alduin is young, a child, but he's not clueless, less so an idiot."
There is childish innocence there, but his son is also observant, more mature, cunning, and not afraid to use whatever he has to his advantage. That fact made him feel oddly relieved and frustrated at the same time because it also meant the boy would not be swayed to his side so easily. Obviously, using force was out of the question. After what had happened at Malfoy Manor, one would think the boy would avoid him at all costs and run away screaming. But he didn't. in fact, Alduin acted as if the incident didn't happen at all. Even when he was almost threatening him, the boy had his mother's infuriating resilience and ability to look at danger back in the eye.
Nevertheless, Alduin is strangely comfortable around him and Tom will hang on to that bond to keep the boy close.
He may not have planned to have any heirs, but Tom always knew to make do what's available in front of him.
After all, such power and potential cannot go to waste, and cultivating the boy into his fold to the point where he wouldn't even think of challenging him, his father, in the future, is best be done as early as possible.
His only complaints were Alduin's confidence to cheek him every chance he gets, and that voracious appetite. The boy might as well be eating five meals a day yet he still remained lean and healthy.
Tom narrowed his eyes at the witch with riotous curls speaking amicably with Abraxas' wife, "Granger, however, is a treasure chest implanted with bombs." Handled improperly and it would explode with the slightest touch.
Loathe as he was to admit it, Tom will give credit where credit is due, and admit Hermione Granger to be a powerful witch. This mysterious woman who seems to despise his very being, had magic he's never encountered before.
Someone this powerful… it would be impossible for him to have forgotten. But knowing her capabilities now, and her admittance to having a talent for memory spells, chances were, she really did tamper with his memories. If so, then her resentment may be from their shared past- he must have offended her in some way to hold such a grudge.
Still, unless he learns the whole truth, that theory is still up for speculation. Unfortunately, it seems that Granger wouldn't be telling him anything about their past anytime soon. For her, he would need to step up his game since his usual tricks obviously doesn't work on her.
He hated her.
How dare she deny him his answer?!
He hated how close she and his son were.
Tom is inherently possessive. He has a son whom he can rightfully call his, yet no matter what knowledge he'd imparted him during the day, the boy wouldn't think twice of running towards his mother.
He hated how protective she was.
Alduin looked so much like him… and seeing him being held so tenderly like that… times like those were when he could say he hated the boy.
And that's where the dilemma laid and why he chose to describe those two as double-edged swords.
Alduin doesn't care about their biological tie but he is strangely comfortable in his company, and apparently, there is something the boy wanted from him.
He cannot force the boy because he has a very, very protective mother who's ready to protect him with her life. A witch that could match him in power, who also seem to know a lot about him. if he were to describe her, she is like the most fearsome beast who would not hesitate to bite his head off if he so much as touches her cub.
He cannot force the woman into submission either, because not only does she have a chance of actually harming him (though he'll never admit it), her bond with his son is far stronger. At this point in time, any harm done on his mother would render any cultivation done on him as useless.
Ergo, if he cannot touch the players themselves, then he'll just have to manipulate everything else around them.
"People have begun to talk, my lord," Abraxas informed, "Melissa Nott had seen you kiss her hand by the fountain the other night. I'm sure our wives are fully convinced by now that you have gotten married and raised a family during your absence."
Of course, women would talk. That's what they do. Not to mention Slughorn would only help paint the picture a little better in Tom's favor.
"Good," Tom exhaled a puff of smoke. The words of common shopkeepers had no weight on him, but they can make excellent witnesses to solidify his claim. All he needed to do was use memory charms to iron out any wrinkles that may damage his crafted story. It doesn't matter if the witch had figured out what he had done. Between a no-named witch of obscure background and a wizard with the backing of several influential families, it was inevitable whose word people would believe more. Now is only a matter of time for her to concede, and the witch made it clear that the best way to get to her was through her son, "And what were your answers about their inquiries?"
Pureblood families would've found it odd for him to remain a bachelor at his age. Not so if they learned he had a 'family' on time as expected by pureblood tradition.
"We have told them that it was your wish to keep your family a secret because it did not concern our 'businesses' and mainly because you wish for some peace with your family during your travels."
"Excellent," he nodded, and Abraxas practically beamed at the praise.
"Thank you, my lord," the blonde dipped his head, "But if I may ask a question, my lord?"
"You may."
"Will there not be any problems in your claim?"
"That is why the stage has been rigged, Abraxas."
Even though there is something keeping the mother and son here, Tom will not risk them getting away as soon as they get what they want.
"All you need to know is that the three of us share a connection," he said as-a-matter-of-factly, "one that I will gladly exploit."
Alduin is close to his mother and wants something from him.
Granger is risking to remain here despite her hatred for him for Alduin's sake.
And Tom is no fool to let go of such magnificent sources of power and has questions yet to be answered by the mother of his child.
Tom Riddle is a Slytherin, and a Slytherin would use any means in order to get what they want in the end.
Even if it means fabricating this makeshift, reluctant family.
"Rest assured, Abraxas," Tom rolled his unfinished cigar between his fingers. When he closed his fist around it, it burst into bright flames until all that was left were ashes. Although they weren't blue, he was still able to conjure flames from his will and hands alone. Just like her. "It will be my victory in the end."
Awake from my demise,
With reforged golden eyes.
*In case anyone wonders and/or is familiar, Alduin's private joke was a reference to the Golden Apple of Discord in Greek Mythology.
**Alduin's mask is the dragon his name was inspired from the game Skyrim.
No update last week because I had to deal with some stuff with school.
I had also apparently underestimated this part of the story because the circus scene had too much words than I anticipated. Therefore I will be dividing 'The Reluctant Family' in either 2 or 3 parts depending on how much revising I had to do.
Anyway- Yay! More Tomione! I hope you've all been forewarned enough that this Hermione is definitely the type to not take any of Tom's shit. She has much more 'BIGGER' fish to fry than some dark lord on the rise. *wink* *wink* to the theorists out there.
I read all your comments and thank you so much for the continued support!
Take care everybody! And STAY AWESOME!
Ciao~!