Sorry for the irregular updates. That usually means I'm busy with work. I try to write as much as I can during my free time.
I hope the long updates make up for it.
Enjoy!
As the lady of space, and the walker of time,
I am much more than a ward of mere mortal eyes.
Hermione watched her son trail behind the Malfoy heir after giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. A reminder. Not for him to behave, but for him to keep himself safe. She knew she could count on her son behaving. Alduin acting rudely would be the last thing she expected from him. She had taught him the basics of proper manners, sure, but only enough to ingrain in him a level of respect he should give towards others. Whatever advanced etiquette he had adopted, he learned himself. Though she highly doubted Lucius could do anything to outmatch her son, it's better to be safe than sorry.
Now, she walked just a step behind beside Serafina, making herself a participant in their idle chatter while also letting the other woman lead her to where she had set up their tea.
The sun room was beautiful, with its framed glass walls and roof, light colored furniture to match the aesthetic overlooking part of the large garden, and the few plants and decorations. Though she shouldn't have expected any less. It was her first time to see the manor in light and appreciate its grandeur beauty. Given her first experiences in the manor had not been the most pleasant, the difference in experience was already striking.
"Please, sit," Serafina gestured to one of the plush chairs, making sure to situate her guest first before herself as a proper host should.
Hermione accepted the invitation graciously, channeling the teachings Mrs. Reicher drilled into her until she operated through muscle memory alone.
"Tea?"
"Yes please."
The blonde rang a silver handbell and with a small popping sound, a house elf appeared. Hermione watched silently as she observed the tiny house elf named Daz as Serafina instructed him. He had a large, round nose, pointed chin, erect ears, and small eyes. Curiously, instead of the ragged clothes she expected from a Malfoy house-elf, in reference to Dobby, Daz's clothes were a lot cleaner. Though it looked nothing special, she saw not a single tear, patchwork, nor thread out of place.
It reminded her of Fren.
"Yes, mistress," the elf bowed subserviently as he went about pouring tea into their cups and set it down in front of them. All the while using a pristine white cloth as a barrier for his hands from touching the fine china.
As expected, Hermione was served her tea first, but before Daz could set the cup in front of her, he froze. His small eyes widened and his ears shook. Commendably, there was nary a sound of the tea cup clinking in his apparent shock.
Hermione could only raise an eyebrow in curiosity. Did she have something on her face? She didn't think there was something that would warrant such a reaction from him- or from other elves. Occasionally, she would see a house elf during her visit to a black market. Most of the time accompanying their masters during their shady dealings as well as acting as guards in case business would go awry. Elf magic was a poorly studied subject, but many elf owners wouldn't hesitate to use their unique magic, especially their power in appararition where they can bypass most wards. One time, she even saw elves being sold. These were auctioned off for having unique features ranging from albinism, being only as tall as a toddler, having no ears, and the like. She remembered when she passed by them, they looked away and cowered. Two even kowtowed at her feet but Hermione just chalked it up as them being afraid. She wasn't exactly being subtle with her presence. In the underground, titles and lineages meant nothing. The only things that would make those people take someone seriously, was one's magic prowess and number of galleons in their pockets.
Fortunately for Daz, the interaction was very brief and he recovered before his blonde mistress took notice. The nervous glances sent her way as he served Serafina was not missed though.
"What a proper house elf you have," Hermione commented when the elf popped away after giving them a courteous bow.
"Why thank you, Hermione," Serafina smiled, happily speaking her mother tongue, "Daz was my personal elf since I was a little girl. I brought him and his mate with me after my wedding. I admit it was quite astonishing when I met my husband's elf staff. In House Cartier, it would be something… unsightly."
The brunette nodded in understanding, "Truly. A servant reflects the master. I certainly prefer to have an elf who knows basic manners to serve me."
"My! Hermione, I do believe this is the first time I've heard an English witch agree with my views on servants."
"Well, Serafina, you may say that I've spent some time in a similar environment."
She had been surprised. Servant, yes, but it was the first time for her to see a house elf treated so well outside Hogwarts' kitchen staff. In fact, Fren would go out of his way to find the littlest task he could do to better serve his aging mistress. In the beginning, the Reicher elf even resented Hermione out of jealousy as Mrs. Reicher had her do tasks he would usually do. But time eased that tension and she was even proud to say she learned a lot about cooking from an elf.
Although it wasn't lost to her that Serafina and Mrs. Reicher didn't view their elves any higher, at least they didn't treat them as slaves as most wizarding families had.
"I hope your transition here had not been too taxing. I can only imagine what you must've felt like," Hermione added.
Pleased by her well-wishes, the blonde witch's shoulders relaxed, "I confess the adjustments hadn't been easy. Even when I attended Beauxbatons, our language classes were focused on French, Spanish and Dutch, and we were encouraged to speak in those languages in respect to our schoolmates. There was a language barrier between Abraxas and I that our chaperone had to act as translator. Fortunately, my then-betrothed had been a perfect gentleman and ensured my comfort. He's also treating me very well and dotes on our son, so I was able to embrace the changes better than I thought."
'What a personal answer,' Hermione thought.
But that's a good thing, isn't it?
Serafina Marie Malfoy nee Cartier. The youngest daughter of House Cartier from Bordeaux, France. A proud graduate of Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons. Wife to the current head of House Malfoy- Abraxas Malfoy, and mother to its only scion- Lucius Malfoy. Her wedding with Abraxas was a grand spectacle practically everyone in wizarding Europe knew about. With both rich families sparing no expense, their union was declared the Wedding of the Century that was published on the first page of the Daily Prophet. Their eventual romance despite having an arranged marriage also set a bar and became a subject of envy from other young ladies and married women who desired more affection from their partners.
She was a model woman for any witch, especially those of pure blood born in high society.
She's also estranged from other pureblood wives.
Initially, it may be because she's a foreigner with a slightly different upbringing, but that is a weak argument. The truth was her way of thinking and ambition that seem unorthodox to the norm.
This, she all learned from Alduin alone. Not that it was difficult. With a reputation like that, such information was practically basic and can be heard from gossip alone that she didn't need to use her little birds. It was one of the ways Hermione learned in her previous life. By training her ears to pick up conversations and gossips in public settings, she was able to learn the movements of Voldemort's Death Eaters and Snatchers. Thus, allowing her to leave the place she's currently at before trouble could come near. Alduin, the observant boy that he was, just picked up the old habit from her after asking why she goes quiet from time to time whenever they go out.
"But let's not talk about that. We can speak about our past and the men in our lives another time. Because that's not what I invited you here for, yes?" Serafina continued, then laced her fingers together on her lap. A benign smile on her face.
Hermione's lips quirked up into a small smirk as she remembered the looks on Riddle and Malfoy's faces as she confidently walked, practically skipped, past them as she followed Serafina. Abraxas looked like he was having a diarrhea but the dark look Riddle had brought her pleasure the most.
In wizarding society, at least in Europe, the unspoken rules and norms of high society closely resemble those from the Victorian and Edwardian period with a few differences.
For example, while a wife may need the permission of her husband when she has to leave the house, she does not need his permission to invite someone whom she deemed a friend over tea and cake.
If they happen to talk about topics other than their hobbies, motherhood, trends, and gossip, well…
It's not his obligation to know what women talk about.
"Please, try the tea. It's lapsang souchong," the blonde looked at her knowingly, "I brewed it myself."
"Don't mind if I do," Hermione picked up her tea cup, making sure to pinch the handle with the forefinger and thumb while using the middle finger to support the base.
Years of being in the black market, where nearly everything is sold, allowed her to recognize the fine bone china to be part of a Royal Collection made from Staffordshire. From the glaze to the intricate gilding by hand using 22 carat gold, she didn't need to look to see the hand numbering to know it was a limited edition.
This detail was important. Had she been like before, she would've thought the use of the expensive set was meant to boast. While some would have that conceited intention, after getting a grasp of Serafina's personality, convinced her otherwise.
According to Mrs. Reicher, it was a form of respect, because it brings a subtle message to a guest that the host wanted to make their guest as comfortable and welcomed as possible by using the best of what they have.
As Hermione inhaled the tea's campfire-like smell, she caught a glimpse of a canary fly over the glass roof of the sunroom.
After taking a sip, she smiled warmly at the other witch, "It is excellent."
.
The following morning after she gave her son permission to accept Lucius' invitation, she brought him with her to the largest shop in the world that sold owls, in Zambia. Alduin insisted in coming along. He loved Africa, and Hermione had a deep respect to the land that had the most unique form of magic. She had only intended to buy an owl, and thought that the shop (that had nearly every species of magical owl) would have that special bird that would have the least trouble in keying to The Den. In the end, her son found said bird and named him Orphnaeus, a Stygian owl known for their eyes reflecting the color red.
But when they got home, she told him to delay his response. Mainly because she still had to ensure their new avian friend became accustomed to his new home. The owls used by wizards and witches as messengers are a special kind. They have natural magical sensitivity and have higher intelligence than regular owls. Since The Den is more special than the regular magical home, she needed to make sure Orphnaeus was comfortable and recognize The Den as his new home. The problem wasn't whether the owl could send letters from The Den, it's whether he wouldn't get lost because he couldn't find his way back with how the level of complex magic practically made The Den invisible.
Fortunately, her son chose wisely as it only took a day and a half for the owl to key himself to the flat, with the aide of a few spells of her own.
Immediately, she tasked Orphnaeus to deliver a letter to Serafina before she let her son deliver his to Lucius a few hours later. The blonde witch disguising her invitation to exchange letters before they parted ways after the circus.
They wrote briefly about trends and jewelry, of which Hermione admitted to having a preference for gold and precious stones that look as if there are tiny galaxies inside them. But what really stamped their friendship was their mutual belief that parents should have a more active role in raising children. Since most families from the upper crust usually left the raising duties to house elves or nurse maids. This was the reason Hermione actually liked the other witch, even though it wasn't lost to her she took pride of being a pureblood. It made her wonder how much she knew of the darker side her husband's business, and the current relationship of the Malfoys with Riddle.
Fortunately, Hermione only needed to send a little package with her letter for the blonde witch to mention Lucius' invitation to Alduin in her reply. Needless to say, the brunette easily accepted Serafina's offer for tea and cake.
Which was her goal all along.
Mrs. Reicher said it was rude to directly ask something of someone. Especially since Serafina belonged to the group of people who were constantly barraged by others wanting to curry their favor.
For Hermione, she genuinely wanted to know the witch better as she realized she was a unique case. Even though her primary reason for contacting Serafina was to gain an invitation herself.
As if she'll ever let her son go inside a place equivalent to a snake pit on his own. Especially when she's one-hundred percent sure that man would be there. Watching her son's every move.
With this, she'll be hitting three birds with one stone.
It was about time she established a connection with someone here in wizarding Britain. Especially since it seems that she and her son will be staying here for a while. And no matter how involved Serafina was with Riddle's plans, she'll still have someone who can look at things from a different angle.
"That face cream you sent is an absolute treasure, Hermione!" Serafina chirped, "None of the ones I've used have lasted so long after application. I had even tested it out in the sun and my face is still as smooth as a babe's."
"I'm glad you liked my gift, Serafina. Although it is my own creation for personal use, I hope you keep it a secret between friends," she winked and the other woman tittered behind her hand. The face cream was actually something she had made in her previous life. It was a gift meant for Mrs. Reicher.
"Of course. Though it's a pity you haven't decided to sell it. I would be more than willing to help set up this business should you change your mind. I assure you every single witch across the continent will have no less than two of these at home," the blonde looked up after sipping her tea, "Now I understand the secret behind your youthful visage."
Hermione kept smiling politely. She hardly used the moisturizer, honestly. Although she and Serafina were technically the same age, Hermione still had the figure and face of a woman in her late twenties.
"If you would allow me to be so bold, I would like to admit that I was surprised to meet you. At a circus no less."
"Oh?" Hermione prompted, curious.
"Well, I suppose you would know that our husbands are close friends. What with them being in the same year and house at their school. Abraxas holds Tom in high regard and he had stayed in our manor a few times to talk business and politics with my husband and their other friends. The first time I met him was on my wedding day," Serafina perked up as if realizing something. Her brows furrowed apologetically while her free hand came up to cup her cheeks dusted with a light pink, "Oh listen to me ramble. What I was trying to say, was that I would've hoped to have met you sooner at a more formal gathering. The parties I've hosted would've certainly been more pleasant."
Well, it's not that she's fond of parties anyway. Dressing up alone in ball gowns was so tedious. Hermione shuddered remembering the dress rehearsals Mrs. Reicher made her go through. And because Mrs. Reicher couldn't assist her, the old witch made her dress herself until she met her high standards.
It made her want to go back in time just to strangle the person who ever invented corsets in the first place.
"I honestly thought Tom was a bachelor all these years," Serafina added and winked, "Then again, he never did bring another witch in any event."
The casual way the blonde witch said Riddle's hated given name piqued her interest.
Hermione chuckled, "Well, I suppose we share in that sentiment, Serafina. I honestly have never met your Abraxas until that day at the circus. You see, we have been doing a lot of traveling these past few years and simply didn't have the time for social events."
By 'we', she meant just her and her son.
"I figured as much," Serafina nodded in understanding. Assuming in her mind that Hermione and Tom's relationship mustn't have been deep enough for the latter to invite her as a date to the wedding. After all, although Serafina's marriage with the Malfoy was done as soon as possible, it took them nearly three years to get pregnant. "My husband said that Tom has always been a private man. He also told me Tom was traveling doing research on magic. I assume the both of you had the same agenda?"
That… was worrying.
From Serafina's words, that confirmed that Tom still disappeared after Hepzibah's murder to expand his knowledge on magic. Nothing diverted from the norm there. Now the question was what might have happened for Riddle to retain his… healthier complexion. Did he not find Ravenclaw's diadem this time? Did he discover a new method for immortality? No, she could feel the malevolence on his ring so he still created horcruxes. What sort of magic has he learned and discovered during his own travels? Did he also jump from country to country like her?
Was there a chance their paths have crossed and were just not aware of it?
Hermione shuddered at the thought.
She took a sip of her tea to gather her thoughts before answering the other witch's assumptions, "It had not been easy. Traveling, studying, and caring for Alduin at the same time."
"Oh yes, I can only imagine. You have my deepest admiration for that, Hermione. I envy you had such freedom."
There was more unsaid in her last sentence than just about her ability to travel wherever she wanted as she pleased but Hermione decided to save the prodding for that at a later date.
Instead, she said, "Friends or not, I am deeply grateful for your family's kind hospitality, and I do hope Tom hasn't step over any bounds. You know those men speak as if generations hang by their mouths."
Hermione's chocolate brown eyes flecked with stardust watched the other witch's reaction with keen eyes trained for years. For any twitch of an eye, a quirk of a brow, a scrunch of the nose, falter of lips, clench of jaws, grip of hands, or even a stiffening of posture.
She saw none.
Instead, Serafina only smiled wider and even leaned towards the table.
"Not at all! Tom has been quite the gentleman and has given us helpful advice on various topics numerous times. Although I wish he would share more about his family, as enlightening as his views are about blood and magic, but I suppose I have you now for that, no?" she tittered.
And there it was.
Tom Riddle's advocacies and belief about blood status hasn't changed at all. Though the chances were slim, she still had hope that this world would throw another curveball at her. Alas, she ran out of luck and as she continued to converse with Serafina, moving on to more mundane topics, Hermione imagined a hundred scenarios what would happen if Riddle ever found out the mother of his child was a muggleborn.
None of which were good.
.
My father told me to be cordial with you.
Well, Lucius didn't say it outright, but the notion was so palpable he might as well have broadcasted it. He supposed it was more appropriate to say the Malfoy scion was more cautious, wary, and doubtful to the point of uncertainty. His uncertainty and conflict were obvious in the way he wouldn't look at him in the eye when spoken to, but would chance glances at him when he thought he wasn't looking; his speech would also change awkwardly from haughty to reluctant humility as if he just realized who he was speaking to.
It was so amusing. Alduin had to rein in his laughter numerous times.
Mr. Malfoy must've given him quite the warning to force himself to act as such.
That hypothesis only became fact when Alduin saw Lucius' true colors when they stopped to play. The toy snitch caught the blonde's eye and practically demanded the person manning the store to give it to him. Alduin had to convince him himself that he should play the game to win the prize and wait patiently for his turn to save the man the grief.
He nearly lost his self-control when Lucius didn't hit a single target, not at the fact that he lost, but at the words he said afterwards when the operator denied him to make the game 'easier'.
"My father will hear about this!"
Honestly, Alduin wanted to laugh out loud his stomach would hurt. Instead, he tried to calm the blonde down and asked the operator to give his new friend another chance. Of course, he was aware that these games were rigged. His mother said it would be bad for business if people could easily win, as unfair as that sounded. So they have to get creative and add a gimmick. For this particular game, a layer of optical illusion was casted before the targets like a thin veil mirror. Making it so the targets would appear just slightly away from their original places.
The player had three tries to shoot the wand to hit the targets. To get the golden snitch, Lucius had to hit all three. But before Lucius could demand to restart when he was down to only one shot of his fake wand left and had only managed to hit one target, Alduin whispered in his ear.
"Do you want to have the snitch that badly?"
"Of course I do!"
"Then do as I say and aim between the third and fourth targets from the left on the second row."
Lucius didn't even try to hide his expression when he looked back at Alduin as if he had grown a separate head.
"Why would I aim between the targets if I was trying to hit them?"
Alduin shrugged, "I thought you wanted that prize? It's up to you if you are to listen to my advice or not. Then again, it's not as if you have anything left to lose, right? I'm just afraid we wouldn't make it to the show on time."
He smiled brightly. It didn't take the Malfoy scion much convincing as he aimed his wand to where Alduin just said, but just as he made a flicking motion to release the harmless spell, Alduin suddenly grabbed his arm, and with the other, the length of the wand.
"On second thought- let me try!" Alduin exclaimed, surprising Lucius. His hand on the wand made it tilt slightly downwards just as the spell shot out of the tip.
He had to aim it at the right angle after all.
"What have you done?!" Lucius shouted; face flushed with anger.
Alduin just kept up his smile, if not a touch wider, as he held his hands up in defense and tried to apologize. However, whatever else retort Lucius had died on his lips when the spell hit one of the targets with a pop. It also hit the mirror behind it (also meant to add to the optical illusion), making the spell ricochet into another target and it from the back.
It was a perfect bullseye.
"Would you look at that! You won, Lucius! That was an excellent shot! I couldn't have done that better myself!" at his enthusiastic cheers, the people around them, who mostly only saw the result, cheered along. Amused that a child won the first prize.
"Err… Alduin? Back there- h-how did you… my hand-?" Lucius stammered. His expression hadn't changed from disbelief even after he received his prize.
Alduin raised a brow at him inquisitively. So the other boy realized what happened wasn't an accident. Perhaps he wasn't as dull as he initially thought.
"No need to say anything, Lucius. You held the wand and fired the spell. The prize was yours as you rightfully earned it," he winked conspiratorially.
Needless to say, the Malfoy heir changed his tune towards Alduin instantly, and Alduin decided to give the other boy a bit of his companionship.
After all, how could he say no to a box full of premium chocolates?
.
"And this is the kitchen. It's usually manned by our house elves since they prepare our meals, but sometimes my mother would bake flaky biscuits herself, or cookies, if I ask," Lucius said proudly.
"Ooh!" Alduin marveled.
The kitchen, just like most of the rooms in Malfoy manor, was huge. Alduin greatly appreciated the pots and pans of various sizes hanging on the walls, the row of latest ovens (they have four!), even the tiled floors and marble countertops. Even from a distance at the entrance, he could see that they were clean to the point of shining. He could even bet he would be able to see his face reflected back on the surface.
"You're odd, Alduin. You didn't blink when I showed you the trophy room but you reacted when you saw the kitchen. It's not even that impressive," Lucius whined.
Alduin chuckled, "I mean no offense, Lucius. You could say that I am just fond of kitchens. This is where the food we eat every day is prepared after all. My mother, too, makes food whenever I ask, but she can also do more than just bake treats. I would also sometimes help out in cooking."
The other boy's eyebrows rose, "You know how to cook?"
"Of course. I can even make a few dishes on my own," it was Alduin's turn to lift his chin in pride, "I'd have to learn at least the basics if I wanted to help my mother, after all."
Lucius frowned, "But cooking… it's unbecoming, don't you think? It's a servant's job! You should just let the elves prepare your food for you."
A dark brow raised at him, unimpressed, nor was he going to clear his assumptions that they have a house elf to order around. "My mother isn't around all day every day. Cooking together is one of the few times I can enjoy her company. Besides, my mother said she likes seeing me enjoy the food she made. Is your mother not the same?"
At that, Lucius' frown deepened. He was the same, to a degree. If his mother wasn't out attending social functions with other ladies, shopping, managing the household, or discussing whatever adults talk about with his father, he only gets to see her during meals, between his tutoring lessons, and at night before bed.
If only he knew how lucky he was his mother wasn't dismissive like other unfortunate pureblood children.
In his mind, he recalled his mother's smile when he called her biscuits delicious, as well as the secretive promise they made about keeping it from his father when he wasn't supposed to be eating outside meal hours.
"She is… but still," Lucius squared his shoulders, channeling his father's persona, "cooking is unbecoming of a wizard."
Alduin didn't look convinced, "But it's something a filial son would do for his caring mother who would happily do a 'servant's job' just to see her child happy, isn't it?"
Lucius' strong demeanor faltered again. He mumbled, "I doubt she'd want me in the kitchen anyway."
Unfortunately for him, the ravenhead had good hearing, "Did you ever try to ask? I've only met your mother briefly, but I think Mrs. Malfoy would be happy if you did."
Silence fell between them with Lucius sporting a very contemplating look on his face.
Seeing he had gotten his point across with the other boy and wanting to spare themselves from further awkward silence, Alduin cleared his throat and pointed at two double doors on one side of the room.
"What's behind there, Lucius?"
That seemed enough to break him from his reverie. The blonde sent him a quick, thankful look before he answered, "Ah, that's the pantry. My parents said I shouldn't go in there but…"
Lucius sent Alduin a devious smile to which the latter mirrored. "No one else is here anyway."
Without further prompting, both boys raced towards the pantry doors. Each had both hands on the handle where they opened on the count of three. This time, even the Malfoy scion 'ooh-ed' along with Alduin at the sight. Shelves upon shelves of ingredients, condiments, spices, flours, and more, were organized in neat rows in the seemingly endless number of shelves. However, their gazes were locked on the back of the room where jars upon jars of sweets were aligned and labeled.
But just before they could take a single step inside the room, they heard an obnoxious POP! Behind them followed by a gasp and shriek.
"Young Master Malfoy!" an elf dressed in neat clothes slapped his cheeks together, aghast, "The Young Master is not allowed in the pantry room! The master and mistress forbids it or he would get fat!"
Face flushed with embarrassment, Lucius whipped his head around and glared as hard as he could at the elf. "Alright! I get it already, Daz! Stop embarrassing me in front of my guest!"
Alduin, who had kept silent during the ordeal, looked back in amusement until he met the house elf, Daz's eyes, who looked away quickly. Which made him raise a brow in wonder.
The elf bowed his head before them. His tone pleading, "Most apologies, Young Master Malfoy but please step away now. I do not wish to call upon the mistress."
"Yes, yes," Lucius said dismissively, feigning nonchalance even though the thought of getting scolded by his parents made him shudder.
Alduin shared his woe on that. His mother had caught him with his hand literally inside the cookie jar before. It was one of the few times his mother scolded him for something he had done wrong and was punished to not have any treats for an entire week. If he didn't realize he was in the wrong, he would've thrown a tantrum. That didn't mean he wasn't in a sour mood for a few days though.
"Where did you pop up from anyway?" Lucius meant it rhetorically but the elf answered nevertheless.
"I had just served tea to the Mistress and her guest the Lady, Young Master. They are dining in the sun room. The Young Master and the Young Lord should also be at the garden with the other Young Masters to eat now."
Deciding to take pity on the house elf who was doing an excellent job from shaking visibly out of fear, Alduin turned to Lucius with a patient smile, "I suppose it is time for a break. Don't you think so? Plus, the friends you've mentioned must be bored to tears by now. You can always show me the rest of your lovely manor at a later time."
Withholding his exasperated sigh, Lucius pouted and just gave the elf an annoyed look, "Fine. If you finished preparing the table by the time we get there, we won't go near the kitchen again today and you won't say a word to mother and father. Am I clear?"
"Yes, of course, Young Master. I swear I never saw the Young Master and Young Lord near the pantry room."
"Good," Lucius was about to turn on his heel before he cut himself short, "Hold on. Why do you call Alduin 'Young Lord'?"
Alduin cocked his head at that. He, too, was curious. At first, he thought that the elf was probably just being polite and generous with the title but then he mentioned 'other Young Masters' just seconds ago. He would've asked the elf later but he wouldn't mind getting the answer now either.
"I-I… That is…" the elf stammered; his wrinkly face actually started to break out in sweat. His nearly perfect speech disappeared, "T-The Young Lord… err… the Lady-"
"Oh, wait, I remember now. No need to tell me," Lucius waved his hand dismissively. His tone more than indicated that he was done with the matter, "Never you mind it, Daz, just get our tea ready."
Just like that, both boys left the kitchen with Lucius mumbling his annoyance about 'bloody elves and their timing'. They were now heading to the garden to meet Lucius' friends where they had been waiting while the latter insisted of giving him a tour of the house first."
"Are all your house-elves dressed so neatly?" Alduin asked, breaking the silence. And his mumbling.
"Hm? Oh, yes. That was mother's idea. Even though father said it was fine for the elves to just wear rags. Mother insisted that it wouldn't look good for the Malfoys if guests see the servants in something so unsightly."
"Ahh, how wise of her. By the way, what was that about me being called the Young Lord?"
Lucius looked at him funnily, "Well, isn't it obvious? Your father's the Dark Lord. So it only makes sense that you're called the Young Lord, and your mother- Lady, right?"
His dark brows shot up to the coiffed hair over his forehead in surprise. Lucius, thinking not much of it, just resumed leading the way without a single look back. Thus, missing his new friend's reaction, and oblivious to his contemplative expression to this revelation. Though it wasn't long for Alduin's face to break out into a wide grin.
'How interesting. I wonder if mother knew about this.'
Deciding to save that question for later, Alduin walked beside him and the two started a conversation about their time in France. Lucius' whine about his parents abruptly stopped when the other boys finally came into view. Apparently, the Malfoy couple are proud alumni of their respective schools and their debates have only increased since his birthday.
This part of the garden was more like a clearing; away from any masterful topiary and prized blossoms. An area perfect for the occasional picnic, and to fly a broom in.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, gents. Though I hope you weren't having too much fun while I was away," Lucius said.
There were five of them, and they responded to Lucius in kind with teases and laughter. Apparently, they had been taking turns doing laps around the clearing on their brooms and attempting tricks they saw; trying to outshine each other with Lucius' extra brooms for children (their father forbade them from bringing theirs).
"And this here's Alduin Riddle," Lucius introduced on his behalf.
Alduin nodded his head and met each of their gazes, "A pleasure to make your acquaintances."
After a round of pleasantries, they all moved on to the picnic blanket already set up when they arrived by the dutiful Daz. Though he's already flown on a broom before, he can't say he's a massive fan of the sport as he preferred playing music and reading. Still, Alduin swallowed his boredom and kept on a friendly face while he observed the other boys as he kept up with their simple topics for conversations. His mother always said to never judge and to give people the benefit of the doubt. He certainly found Lucius amusing despite the first impression.
Alphonsus Avery was the most humorous of the bunch and had a penchant for puns that admittedly made Alduin chuckle on some parts. Evan Rosier expressed his excitement the most about finally learning magic, sharing that he wanted to learn his family's martial magic in order to be a skilled duelist. That also sparked a new interest in Alduin. For all his early practice in magic, he mostly did it out of defense or to entertain himself. He'd never given thought of using it to duel against another since he's never had a reason to. Then he remembered the times he saw his mother fight. She had a ferocious style, opting to deal heavy damage to finish the fight as soon as possible, but with a certain grace like a proud lioness.
'I wonder if mother would also teach me combat magic.'
Leander Mulciber also had a humorous side, easily understanding and laughing at Alphonsus' jokes. He also shared a prank he and his cousin did to another cousin of theirs during the summer. Theodred Nott was the most silent of the bunch. Happy to let the others do the talking and only sharing a comment or two occasionally. He and Alduin talked about a book about common ingredients used in potions. The mousy boy perking up at Alduin and the knowledge he shared since it was a book he had read before.
Overall, they were an alright bunch. Not that he was expecting much. At least their high society backgrounds granted them good manners and proper etiquette (though, by his standards, they still need practice), which Alduin greatly appreciated. Their lack of use in metaphorical speech also allowed the ravenhead to piece together what their lives were like growing up and how different it was compared to his. The main difference was they were basically confined in their homes. Their basic lessons attended to by tutors or even governesses, with house-elves at their beck and call, and only entertaining themselves with toys brought by their parents and visiting the homes of friends (oftentimes the children of their parent's friends as well) and extended family. Travelling for them depended on their parents (usually their fathers) and usually never ventured far from the continent.
Unlike him, they weren't allowed to leave the house as they pleased without either parent or guardian. Not even to visit or hang around Diagon Alley or Carkitt Market. Reasoning that they might get lost, kidnapped, involved in an accident (because that's absolutely unacceptable to family heirs, right?), or worse- be exposed to 'mudblood and muggle filth'.
Alduin couldn't help raise a brow at such a pathetic reason.
When the conversation turned to him, Alduin indulged their queries with tales of his own. They easily accepted that he had spent most of his time traveling from country to country. Especially since he told stories at such a convincing way, it would be difficult to doubt him even if he was lying. They were fascinated about his experiences attending festivals and magical events around the globe. He'd even spotted some envy and jealousy on their faces. Especially when he told them he had traveled by boat sailing underwater, underground rails, and a flying carriage.
With hungers sated by sandwiches and sweets (although there was a brief moment of them wondering why their food seemed to have run out so fast), Lucius suggested playing again. This time they thought of racing against each other by pair around the clearing. The Malfoy heir graciously lent another spare broom for Alduin as a proper host should since he wasn't informed that they would be playing with flying brooms. Though Alduin admitted he has his own broom (from the Raijū series made from Japan, but they didn't need to know that) at home. The brooms they used for playing were manufactured specifically for children though. The kind that was set in a specific speed and could only fly at a certain height, and with a design meant to focus on comfort than aid in aerodynamics unlike professional-grade brooms.
"Don't worry, Riddle, we promise to go easy on you… on the first three seconds!" Alphonsus offered good-naturedly, which was followed by laughter from all of them.
"You're too kind, Avery. In return, I promise to wait for you at the finish line for five seconds so you can catch up," Alduin quipped back, earning him a large grin from the other boy.
"You know what? You're all right, Riddle! You can just call me Alphonsus," he said with a thumb jabbed at himself.
"It's Granger, actually, but alright, Alphonsus. Please feel free to call me Alduin."
"Granger? I thought your last name was Riddle."
Yes, these boys are an alright bunch.
Then there was Rowan Lestrange. While they all had varying degrees of skepticism over his person, Rowan was the least subtle of them all. Even though he happily took part in the conversation and even shared his annoyance about his cousins. He didn't shy from showing his doubt.
'What's so special about you?' Is what his face had been saying.
Not that Alduin faulted him for it. After all, the son of the man their fathers held in high regard suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Not that he cared about it either.
"Ahh I suppose my father's name is Riddle," Alduin hummed. "Granger is my mother's family name."
"Why would that matter? I've also never heard of the Granger family before. Is it even a pureblood family? Wait- don't tell me your mother's a mudblood!"
"Rowan!"
"What? Don't tell me you haven't wondered about it too."
"W-Well- I might have… but you know he'd never marry someone of lesser birth."
"And that's another thing! Why did he have to mention his mother's last name? It's just so odd! Either he's not who he says he is, or he's a bastard!"
Alduin had stopped listening the moment the word 'mudblood' left his mouth. His ears only heard white noise as every mask of politeness washed away from his face.
.
.
.
"Mudblood."
"NOOO! PLEASE HELP!"
.
.
.
"Lesser birth."
"We were in the wrong! Please have mercy!"
.
.
.
"Bastard."
"I don't want to die!"
.
.
.
The screams of people stuck in agony echoed in his head.
.
.
.
"Haa… Rowan Lestrange, was it? Such uncouth words you just uttered…"
Alduin's head dropped as if in shame. From their point of view, shadows casted over his eyes, adding to his forlorn expression. But just before they think he was going to cry; Alduin lifted his head up just a tiny bit for them to see his eyes.
They all froze in place as if a gust of cold wind hit them like a tidal wave, and dread unlike anything they've ever felt before paralyzed every nerve they had.
At that very moment, what stood before them was not another boy their age, but an angry beast.
It reflected in his eyes that glowed despite the shadows over them.
Eyes as black as the void that showed the blinding supernova of a dead star.
His round pupils morphed into vertical slits.
"How very rude of you."
.
Hermione walked back to the sun room with her back straight. Even though there was no one around, she needed to keep up a confident appearance wile a thousand thoughts raced in her head. She had excused herself to the restroom (guided by another house elf who couldn't even dare to look at her and disapparated away as soon as they could) to refresh herself and to gather her thoughts. The bits and pieces of information she picked up from her conversations with Serafina. As much as it shudders her to think it, she's glad the other witch went with her assumptions and didn't ask much about her true relationship with Riddle. Thankfully, her attempts of diverting the conversation to other topics saved her from the impending awkwardness.
A loud hiss met her ears, making her stop short.
In front of her to the left, lined along a wall of tall windows breeched by sunlight, was a marble statue of a woman holding a jug reminiscent of a Grecian artwork. Its proportions and details down to the folds of her flowing dress made it seem as if it would come to life. Hermione had just raised her head towards it just in time to see the thick body of a repeated pattern of black X's creating diamond-like patters.
She watched on as the familiar reticulated python circled around the statue until she was staring straight into unblinking brown, nearly-honey, colored eyes with black vertical slit for pupils.
Nagini's sibilant noises only grew louder the longer she stared back at Hermione. Her forked tongue flickered as the hisses change in tone as if she was shifting from one emotion to another.
Hermione kept her silence as she let the giant snake speak. But as soon as the hisses came, they stopped. Nagini's tongue retreated back in her mouth and retracted her head back as if poised to strike. To her surprise, instead of baring her fangs, Nagini lowered her head before her until she fully saw the singular black line bisecting her head from the first pattern of her back down to her snout. If the snake had eyelids, it would've closed, and if she had been born a parseltongue, Hermione would've understood the string of hisses that came with her subservient position.
"I bow before the Honorable Mother."
Doors of her Mind Palace opened at the sight of Nagini. She remembered Mr. Weasley and the terrible state he was in when they visited him at St. Mungos. She remembered Professor Snape and how the light faded from his eyes when he bled to death from his throat torn and shredded. She also remembered Neville, and how he made Gryffindor proud when he swung Godrick's sword to neatly cut off her head like hot knife through butter.
But something else overpowered her contempt for the serpent before her. Something that morphed her expression into something solemn, sad, and even yearning.
She hadn't even realized she had raised her hand to hold her massive head, while the other ran down the length of her body with the gentlest caress.
In her eyes, she saw instead white, nearly opalescent scales with a tinge of blue, and eyes that reflected the endless stars.
"Nagini."
Hermione pulled back her hands so fast as if her skin was scalded by boiling water.
Standing a few feet before her was none other than Riddle. His face the picture-perfect look of displeasure. Those dark eyes of his that seemed to suck all light. His narrowed gaze was fixed on her, mixed with suspicion, before he turned them to his familiar. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes at the string of hisses exchanged between them, the language he's so proud of that no other living being can learn.
Curiously, Nagini opened her mouth towards her master at one point in their conversation. Something that evidently didn't sit well with Riddle.
He shot a look at the brunette witch, "Is she now?"
Hermione's brows furrowed at that but Riddle didn't deign her any chance to react as he gave the serpent a louder hiss that made Nagini clamp up after hissing back a softer reply. She then uncoiled herself from the statue and slithered away as if dismissed. Leaving the two of them locked in another stare down.
At this point, both knew that neither was afraid of the other. For Hermione, she knew better than to let her guard down when it came to this man. If it was possible, she would prefer to fight him head on even if her chances of victory were fifty-fifty. For Riddle however, his pride was the only thing that kept him from admitting aloud that the witch before him shouldn't be underestimated. In magic, and intellectually, it seemed. The fact that he had to forgo his usual strategies and had to rethink his course of actions disconcerted him more than intrigued. Then again…
As if he'll be rattled by a mere witch with a dubious background.
"Do you have something to say to me?" Hermione broke the silence. Her expression less than friendly.
"Has anyone ever told you you're an infuriating woman?"
"I've heard worse," she scoffed, "Has anyone ever told you you're a conceited worm?"
Hermione cheered at herself inwardly at the sight of Riddle's thunderous expression. To be referred to as a worm, something known to be the lesser form of snakes, was a massive insult to his serpent pride.
She said before he could make a witty remark, "If you would excuse me, it'll be very rude if I keep my host waiting."
But Riddle didn't budge. His face changed to a look of amusement and knowing after calming himself from her blatant insult. Although his knuckles were still bone white from his grip.
"Ahh yes, how gracious it was for dear Serafina to invite you. It's almost curious how well you two had gotten along in such a short amount of time."
"Well Riddle, there's just some things women are more compelled to talk about with each other."
"Clearly."
"At least Serafina was kind enough to inform me about today's playdate. I found it quite offensive that I wasn't even made aware about it as well."
"That's because there wasn't any need to inform you, Granger. As Alduin's father, I have already given my express permission," there was a look in his eyes that dared her to refute his claim.
Instead, she bit back, "And you didn't expect that I would just let this go sitting down?"
"No," the immediate admission nearly threw her off. "Come, it would be proper to continue this at a more private space, wouldn't you think? It would be most unfortunate if someone overhears your true intentions coming here."
"And what makes you so sure of my intentions? Besides, as I've said, I shouldn't keep Serafina waiting."
"She wouldn't mind," he answered confidently, "She should be having her own conversation with her husband as we speak. We wouldn't want to disturb them now, do we?"
She supposed, if the stories behind the Malfoy couple's romance were to be believed, she wouldn't be hard pressed to believe that Abraxas would be worried about Serafina. He certainly looked like he was going to have a heart attack when she exchanged greetings with his wife. She just hoped that whatever conversation the couple were having didn't broach anywhere ugly. She needed to stay on the witch's good side, after all. It might not be good to call it too soon, but the Malfoy matriarch is her only ally in this snake pit and she knew better than to tread without one.
Taking her sigh as acquiescence, Riddle turned and began walking down the hallway. It didn't surprise her at all that he had a gait that as if he owned the house. Her hand flexed to grab her wand hidden in her dress as she watched his back. At least, she was sure that he wouldn't try anything this time. Not that she wouldn't retaliate if he did. The best course of action was to get Alduin and escape. In the meantime, she watched his back. His broad shoulders hidden under a crisp dark suit. For all of the wizarding community looking down on muggles, even they had to concede to the need to blend in with the population that outnumbered them 10:1. Food and clothes were part of that major exception; as the magical community has this penchant for taking anything muggle that interested them and then modifying or infusing it with magic for their egotistical satisfaction.
How confident was he to show his back to her?
Squared shoulders as opposed to the lanky ones hidden behind dark billowy robes in her past life. At this point, she wasn't sure if she preferred this version of the Dark Lord or the madman she knew. At least, she knew what to do with Voldemort's ruthlessness. Win or lose, she wouldn't hesitate to fight, Tom Riddle, however, might as well be someone else entirely and she wasn't sure how to deal with it and remain to have the upper hand. Therefore, the need to constantly be on guard, of which she hoped she wouldn't fall into mindless paranoia.
Eventually, Riddle led her to a room used as some sort of spare sitting room or lounge area. Complete with a set of chairs, furniture, decorations, and even a few shelves with books. Large windows showed part of the massive garden where an albino peacock just passed by.
Neither of them sat down.
"Pretty things, peacocks, don't you think?" Riddle started, his eyes staring outside the windows, "Alexandor Malfoy, Abraxas' grandfather, was quite taken with them during his trip to India and brought back two pairs. The family garden was expanded and redesigned just to accommodate these creatures, despite being non-magical, and were bred so no generation would pass without having an albino chick. Nowadays, albino peacocks are as widely associated with the family as being Slytherins."
This time, he turned to fully face her. Hermione's back facing the closed door, which she met bravely; confident that he wouldn't get past through her sea of flames for an occlumency shield.
"Canaries, however, are a different matter," his eyes flashed knowingly, "While I promised not to harm another peacock, other creatures are free game."
As if appearing from thin air, she caught the sight of movement out of the corner of her eye. Sure enough, there, at the foot of one of the chaise chairs was a small snake coiled around in a ball. The kingsnake with its dark scales and white rings along its body, was contrasted by bright yellow feathers peeking between its coils.
The canary's head already swallowed by the snake's unhinged jaw.
"Vipera Evanesca," Hermione casted without taking out her wand nor moving her head away from facing Riddle's. Both the snake and her summoned canary disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
"Now that wasn't very nice," said Riddle. His tone so casual as one would comment about the weather.
"Showing a lady something grotesque isn't very nice either."
"Why Granger, I would think it a service to let you know what happened to your summon beforehand."
"What makes you think it's mine?"
At that, Riddle narrowed his eyes. Seeming to have taken offense to her denial, "Come now, don't play dumb. You should know as well as I what kind of wards that surround this property."
Unconsciously, Hermione bit her lower lip. Of course, she knew. Which was why she only summoned one small bird and had it hide amongst the thickest part of a tree to watch over her son in her stead. Like most spells she had learned, she had tweaked this bird-conjuring charm and gave it a function to act as a sort of surveillance. Once dispelled, she would learn whatever they've seen or heard as if the memories were her own. It had been disorienting at first, since looking through the eyes of a bird was a bit jaunting. Too bad she had been caught immediately.
Hermione cursed Riddle in her head. Did he just have summoned snakes roaming around the property? Of course, he would know it was her doing. Who else would dare conjure something like this in a place with a ward that forbid any other creature or animal?
Unless… was Riddle also surveying Alduin using a summon?
"It's a harmless precaution," she defended.
He gave her a pointed look, "Would you believe I would put our son in harm's way?"
"Our?" Hermione hissed; the word twisted her expression.
"Unfortunately," Riddle replied, his face also looked as if he had bitten off a fresh lemon. Clearly, he still wasn't a fan of the fact that she was his son's mother. Whether because it was her dubious background, her magical prowess that matched his, or her defiant attitude alone, she wasn't very sure.
Well, that's at least one thing they both agree on. She wasn't a fan of him being her son's father either, (however in the name of all that is magic that happened) and probably never will.
"So how has your stay in London been? Alduin said it's your first time in the continent."
Hermione looked at him suspiciously. What was he getting at? Granted, she wasn't sure what sort of conversation they would have, but she highly doubted he really meant to inquire about her well-being.
"It's… fine," she answered slowly, "Though there's some things I don't recognize since my childhood here."
"You never spent your childhood in London, so don't lie to me," something sharp flashed in Riddle's eyes. His look a mix between triumphant and suspicious. "I have eyes and ears everywhere in the United Kingdom, Granger. No one has heard of you."
That's when Hermione realized she had slipped. Her teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. Technically, she wasn't lying because she did grow up in 8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London. Although she's yet to dare to check what her childhood home was like in the 60's. But that was in her past. Here, it would be her first time in London, and between her and Alduin, of course Riddle would take her son's word more than hers.
"My guess is…," Riddle continued, "you're a girl from a good, English, magical family, someone whose parents often traveled for their occupation. It's a lifestyle you've adapted into adulthood, and even after you've gotten yourself pregnant."
Is that what he thought her background was? She's almost amazed at his assumptions, and in a way, it worked to her favor. Though she supposed it wasn't that hard a conclusion. She wouldn't have put it past him to not gather information about her or her son. And because his efforts on that end had been futile, he would have no choice but to pick up the pieces from the source itself.
It's not hard to assume she came from a magical family with all the magic she knew, which could only be honed by constant travels to other magical communities; a taste she had given him on a silver platter during their bouts. It also wasn't a lie she and her son had done nothing but travel starting when Alduin was only three years old.
"What's it to you?"
"You seem to be an intelligent witch-"
"Seem?"
"-so I think I do not need to further explain," a magical storm reflected from Riddle's gaze.
His eyes held her whole.
"I will not have my only child be known as a bastard."
Her genuine surprise and his bluntness and confession broke her ironclad control. Had she known less, she would've thought Riddle actually cared for his son. But she knew better. If nothing else, this was about his reputation. Something Tom Marvolo Riddle would care about than Lord Voldemort.
So he had decided denying Alduin's existence would be a grave mistake. Unless he did a mass obliviation, he wouldn't be in good favor with the other magical families he's yet to collect in his pocket.
Wait- collect?
That was the moment Hermione understood. That sent her blood boiling towards the man once more. if her health wasn't reinforced by magic, she would've started worrying about her high blood pressure.
She should've known better.
It wouldn't be the first time someone was presented as the illegitimate child of a magical family. A stigma would surely be stamped on the child and both parents, but no one would also be able to do anything about it. And she highly doubted Riddle would let other people besmirch him over this matter. So why would he go over his way to use every opportunity to twist the story into saying Alduin was always his?
Because he's a collector.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was a collector of rare magic. It was the reason he chose to work for Borgin & Burkes despite the better opportunities presented to him, because most of that rare magic could be found in artefacts. She knew, she has a whole enchanted cabinet full of her own collection, after all.
And Alduin, her precious, adorable, only son, is certainly a rare magic.
If not rarest of the rare.
Including her.
To Riddle, Alduin is a gifted child capable of performing wandless magic at such a young age. On the other hand, Hermione is a powerful witch capable of matching toe-to-toe with him in a duel. And because Alduin wouldn't think twice to choose his mother over his father, he had to consider her as part of the package.
Especially since she made it clear that she's neither afraid of him, nor can he take her out of the equation (so posing as a widower is just not possible).
"I see you've given this some thought already. Tell me, how difficult has it been navigating the world with a child and no ring on your finger?"
She considered denying him, of course. If not put him in a very embarrassing situation, she'd never even dream to associate herself with him in that way.
But Alduin craved his ring.
"I've managed," she answered instead.
In all honesty, it had been hard. The stigma of having a child outside of marriage was much difficult on the mother than on the father. She was not oblivious to the looks of disgust and pity sent her way. In this era and community of stagnant morals, no matter the causes of such a circumstance, the blame fell completely on the woman. There was a reason she only associated to those necessary, and learned to be shameless with her resources to ensure their silence. She'd also rather shield her son from all those comments and insults.
Hermione continued, giving him an annoyed look, "You seem to have fun parading around with Alduin. Advertising yourself to the busiest street in wizarding London, with how much you two look alike, no one would even doubt you're his father. As if you had a less than savory reaction the first time you saw him."
"And you raised your wand at me. I was within my right to defend myself."
"By holding him at wandpoint?!" she shrieked, how dare he call that self-defense!
"Nevertheless, plans change," Riddle retorted as if it wasn't a big deal.
"Obviously," she scoffed, her expression still irate, "I'm not oblivious, Riddle. You told the Malfoys to attend the circus. Why? Because you wanted Alduin to meet Lucius. You wanted to see how Alduin would act with another child his age. Fortunately, those two had gotten along swimmingly. Not to mention the fact that he's a pureblood from high society, and the child of your closest minion."
His unperturbed expression cracked only to show his amusement, "Minion, you say?"
But Hermione wasn't finished, "Then there's me and Serafina. You wanted to see how I would act around her too, don't you?"
"And yet you've done nothing to argue the notion, eh? Mrs. Riddle?"
Although she's committed acts Gryffindor would not approve of, she's still a bloody proud lioness.
Therefore, the way Riddle said that should not have brought a shiver down her spine.
"And because Alduin was successful in establishing a friendship with Lucius, you'd have him socialize with the other children."
"For which, once again, you've done nothing despite being fully aware." For the first time since they entered the room, one of them decided to move. Riddle circled around her, watching her with those stygian eyes as a predator would a prey. But he should no better that she's no prey herself. "Such a powerful, protective mother, who wouldn't hesitate to cast dark curses nor destroy ancient homes, would hide her fangs and relent to the whims of her son. How very… curious."
She watched him from the corner of her eyes, "My desires are second to Alduin's wants. I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"How fortunate that Alduin's wants seem to align with my own then."
Coincidentally, it aligned with hers as well. At least, as a solution for this predicament.
Still, she had to ask, "What's your end game here, Riddle? Presenting this show as a family."
"Show? Why, no show at all, Granger. I simply want to be with my family."
She didn't believe him, and it showed on her face by his bemused reaction. Riddle finished his circle and stopped in front of her. In a move faster than her eyes could even follow, Riddle grabbed her chin between his forefinger and thumb. Forcing her to look up at him as he deliberately loomed over her, adding his physique into his intimidation. Hermione winced at his tight hold. Her determination to stare back, to show not a hint of fear, being the only thing that kept her from punching his gut.
"Such hostility… it's as if you see someone else when you look at me," he said. Voice so low and smooth as silk in her ears at such close proximity. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is."
They stayed like that for what felt like minutes. His eyes searching as if looking for something, as if trying to uncover all of her secrets with just that gaze of his. But just as abruptly, he let her go, and Hermione instinctively took a step back to reestablish the distance between them.
"Now, what say you we go where the boys are? I'm sure you'd love to see Alduin right now, don't you?"
Hermione squared her shoulders, channeling her pride, and having enough of their conversation as well. She turned on her heel towards the door but stopped only to glare at him over her shoulder.
"Just so you know, this changes nothing. Alduin may be a carbon copy of your appearance, but make no mistake, my son is nothing like you."
"Your confidence is adorable, Granger," Riddle huffed, chuckling mockingly. He said as he walked towards her, "It makes me excited for your look of disappointment. But as they say, one step at a time. But make no mistake, Granger, your turn will come, and I will loosen these lips of yours."
He then gave her golden bracelet a baleful look.
They stepped out of that room with an unspoken agreement. But the thread of contempt for each other snapped momentarily when they were met with the Malfoy couple moments later. Serafina admitting that she had thought Hermione had gotten lost when she didn't return after some time. Hermione apologized and to her surprise, Riddle confessed to snatching her to talk. Something the blonde witch thought nothing of and easily forgave. When they said they were off to see the boys, Serafina thought it a brilliant idea and decided to tag herself along with her husband. Of course, between his lord and his wife, Lucius couldn't say no.
Hermione and Serafina filled most of the talking along the way while their 'husbands' trailed behind. The brunette witch indulged in the mundane conversation about this season's color trends after her tense one-on-one with Riddle.
However, just as they neared the clearing where the boys should be, the peaceful silence of the garden was pierced by an ear-shattering scream.
"ARGHHH! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"
Immediately, they rushed over to the source of the scream. There, she saw six boys around the same age standing at a distance from each other surrounding one boy curled into a ball near a tree.
Alduin was closest, looming over him.
"MY LEG! IT HURTS SO MUCH!" the boy shouted in raw agony. His voice loud enough to be heard within the mansion.
Hermione's feet moved before she thought of guessing who the child was. Her motherly instincts and bleeding heart reaching out for the helpless boy practically writhing in immense pain sprawled over the grass.
"Shh, it's alright now. Everything's going to be alright," she said as she knelt in front of him. Behind her, she heard Serafina gasp in horror and she had to rein in her reaction when she saw the state the boy was in.
The boy with dark ringlets, his arm and leg were broken, and it was something very unsightly. His shoulder, which he was clutching with his good arm so desperately, was oddly lower than the other side. While one of his legs, particularly, his knee and ankle, were rotated at an angle the normal body shouldn't be capable of doing.
She focused on the boy whose tears and snot were freely rushing down as his face twisted so tightly from the immense pain, "My name is Hermione, can you tell me your name?"
Amidst his sobs, the boy heard her, calmed somewhat by her soothing yet firm voice,"R-R-Rowan Les-Lestrange."
Hermione mentally threw away his last name.
"Alright Rowan, I'm going to help you now, okay? I'm going to cast a spell to heal you. It's going to hurt only for a moment but I promise you'll be all right. Do you understand?" he gave a weak nod, wanting to be relieved from the pain more than anything, and Hermione positioned herself over him. Her wand, seemingly materialized out of nowhere, appeared in her hand. She first casted a spell diagnosing his condition, and learned that aside from the dislocated bones, there were large bruises over them as if he had been hit by something big. Fortunately, there weren't any fractures or worse internal damage, "On a count of three now- one, two-"
There was no three. With quick, precise movements she was more than familiar with, Hermione casted the spell to realign his bones into their proper places. An ear-cringing sound of bones snapping was heard loudly across the silent, tense clearing three times followed by more shouts. This time from shock. She then followed it with a special, complicated spell to facilitate white blood cells into speeding up to clear the red, and help fade the wound faster.
She was, after all, no stranger to injuries. Unfortunately, no one told her that a physical aspect was involved in a true duel between wizards and witches. Her initial survival was only thanks to the basic healing magic she learned herself when they hunted for horcruxes (because years later, she still fixed Harry's glasses for him). Hermione herself had worse injuries than dislocated bones, both magical and non-magical alike. Some, she still couldn't fathom how she was able to survive from.
"There. That should do it," she said after checking once more and helping him sit up. The Lestrange boy patted himself down carefully as if to test if something was still out of place. His bruises should've been better healed using a potion for instant effects, but this should work just fine. No need to take this to St. Mungo's and escalate this matter, right?
"Now, what happened?" Hermione turned to her son for the first time. Alduin's obsidian eyes were fixed on Lestrange. His expressionless face eerily similar to Riddle's it brought a shiver up her spine. "Al?"
Behind her, he heard Abraxas address his own son, "Lucius,"
The Malfoy scion nearly jumped out of his skin in his startle. There was a sick look on his face as if he had just watched a puppy die in front of him. He stuttered, "A-Ah, well…"
Around them, the other children wore similar expressions. Mainly with shock, utter disbelief, and fear. Only one boy, Nott, she would later learn, was also reduced to tears. That was when Hermione realized they were joined by a larger audience, as if summoned. If she had to guess, they were the fathers of these boys.
"An accident," Alduin finally answered calmly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "We were racing against each other around the garden. We were having a terrific time, but I think Rowan got a bit overzealous. He hit a tree."
True enough, on the tree Rowan had been curled at, was a large dent with bits of bark flaked off as if something had crashed hard on it, and just a few feet away was a broken broom snapped in two. As he let the words sink in to the adults, Alduin approached Lestrange, whose father was hovering closely, and extended his hand towards him.
She did not miss the way the other boy flinched.
"My mother knows healing magic, so it was a good thing she had come by at the right time. Good for you, don't you think so, Rowan?"
Shaking minutely, Lestrange accepted Alduin's proffered hand and helped him up. His head was lowered in shame as he awkwardly tested his previously injured leg. Internally amazed how good they felt as if he hadn't been hurt at all. But as if he remembered something, Rowan turned to Alduin, then to Hermione, to which he lowered his head once more to show his sincerity.
"T-Thank you very much for healing me, M-Madam."
Behind them, Riddle placed his hand over his mouth to hide the feral grin that stretched his lips.
Things were ablur after that. Hermione vaguely remembered excusing herself and her son with Serafina as well as the obligated introductions with Riddle's, based from her knowledge, Knights of Walpurgis. She also vaguely remembered Riddle escorting them back to the fountain, wanting to focus on her son and his unusual silence. Of course, Riddle had to use that opportunity to put in one last word that very nearly sent her fist flying to his smug face.
"Isn't it assuring, to know Alduin really is my son?"
Hermione and Alduin returned to their quiet Den, with Orphnaeus slept silently on his perch, none the wiser to their inner turmoil.
"Alduin, what-"
"Is it really such a big deal that you're not married?" he interrupted.
Her eyes widened at that. Immediately understanding and having a good guess on what might have happened. She didn't need him to say more.
"Alduin…" she pinched the bridge of her nose. Equal parts frustrated and worried for her son.
The screams of people stuck in agony echoed in her head.
It felt like hours for them just standing there, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Hermione moved in front of her son and knelt down. She lowered her gaze to meet his, "Al, do you still want Riddle's ring?"
Alduin's determined nod was immediate.
"Alright… alright," she breathed deeply, choosing her words correctly on how to broach the subject, "Then there's something you must know. Al, mama's going to set up a stage."
At that, her son blinked from his stupor and looked up at her. Curiosity sparkling his onyx eyes, "A stage?"
"Yes. I promised that I'd give you what you're craving, didn't I? But don't think I can do it on my own. Riddle… Riddle has set up all the props, now I'll have to set up the stage, and you, my son, will be part of the play this time."
"I will?" he cocked his head to the side like a cat, and Hermione was only happy to see his usual childish innocence back.
"If you like, we can just call this a game," she suggested, "Riddle is no ordinary opponent, Alduin, so this game will be very challenging. However, whether it's you or me, as long as we get his ring, we win."
This wasn't the first time she used this tactic on him. The first was when he was three, and again when he was five after his sickness in Buenos Aires. Her smart, talented boy, so eager to indulge in new experiences, never failed to agree.
This time, however, he gave her a skeptical look, "Mother… may I ask… what kind of stage are you trying to set up, exactly?"
At this, Hermione took another deep breath, "I think it would be good for you to know what it would be like to have a family."
"But you're my family!" Alduin declared, bringing a smile on her face.
"I know, sweetie, you're my family too, and I love you so, so much, but the audience of this game… will not agree."
Alduin turned his head away, knowing exactly whom she was referring to. He mumbled under his breath, "So that's why other people are rude to you…"
Hermione decided to not stoke that flame, "You know that Tom Riddle is your father, don't you?"
"Yes," he nodded before looking her in the eyes again, "But so what? Just because he's my father does not mean he's my family."
"Oh Al…" she sighed patiently. She was happy her son understood the meaning of family, but now just wasn't the time. "I swear if there's another way, I wouldn't… unless you stop craving-"
"No! Mother, I-I want it. I want the ring so bad…" her head snapped at him, eyes widened at the sight of her son. His eyes were blown wide, and his pupils dilated it was harder to differentiate from his dark iris. But worse were his hands on his own throat, the skin starting to redden from the scratches he dug on them as if wanting to claw something out, "Mother… I'm hungry."
Wasting no time, Hermione took out the broken time-turner and held it aloft in her palm. With her wand held in her other hand, she took a deep breath before a string of words left from her lips. To the human ear, the words sounded gibberish, which would be not far from the truth.
The words were unknown, a mixture of every known language and none, yet Hermione sung that chaotic language as if she knew them by heart. Here, she casted no spell, and instead sung with her very heart, even as she watched the souls of her hunts- reduced to balls of light, glowing but not illuminating more than a single matchstick can, enter and disappear into her son's open mouth. Their light faded as they went down his throat.
"You have a very beautiful song."
"You all right now, Alduin?" she asked once her son closed his mouth. Any souls left for him to feed on for his next hunger returned to the confines of her time-turner.
"Thank you, mother," Alduin smiled after a nod. Then he pursed his lips in deep thought, "Does this mean I have to share you with him every day now?"
Hermione hid her bemused chuckle with a cough, "Al, I'll never ask you to do something you don't want."
"I know," he nodded again, and after a moment, he looked up at her with shining eyes, "I trust you, mother, truly, and who knows? Maybe I might enjoy this game."
Ah, there's her Alduin.
"There's also another reason why I decided to do this, Alduin."
"What's that?"
"I think it's about time for you to learn how to hunt on your own."
You were born of the lion,
With the hunt in your blood.
My beloved child,
It's time to learn to roar.
I guess Tom wins this round?
To those interested to know: Yes, there is SIGNIFICANCE to the whole thing about the stars connected to Hermione and Alduin. And the terms 'stage, game, audience, reward' and etc. are used intentionally and have more than one hidden meaning.
Also,
Not that I have any problem with this but I just want to share my two cents here: the fact that Hermione canonically becomes the Minister for Magic in the future is more than enough for me to believe that she is capable of diplomacy, maneuvering in the bureaucracy, and maybe even business. Sure, she will most likely still have her Gryffindor moralistic tendencies and not the same as Tom's Machiavellian methods, but what's important is that she knows, and is capable, of playing the game. Because like it or not, she'll have to use more brain and brawn to last in that battlefield.