The Lady

(moniker) The Lady

Hermione had just exited the parlour, her nails manicured and her hair more voluminous than ever, when she heard the unmistakable sound of spells whizzing through the air. Quickly pulling out her wand, she strode through the panicking masses towards the attackers, determined to stop them from hurting anyone.

When she arrived on the scene of the crime, her eyes widened with shock.

Almost a dozen men in black robes and silver masks walked through the street, cursing random people running past them. They allowed a handful of people to run in the opposite direction before using their wands to hex them with Dark magic.

Hermione was stunned that no one was defending themselves against the dark-robed assailants. Filled with Gryffindor courage and rage, she stormed through the crowd, her wand clenched between her fingers.

Before she could use a Confringo to blast the attackers away, one of the men raised his wand at her. But then, his shoulders stiffened.

And to Hermione's disbelief, the man dropped onto his knees right there in the middle of the street and threw his wand in front of her, his hands trembling with apparent terror.

"What—" Hermione tried to ask him, but the man grabbed the hem of her robes and started crying.

"My Lady! Please, forgive me! I cannot believe I raised my wand at you! Forgive me for my error, my lady!" he sobbed, clutching on her robes with both hands.

Hermione was bewildered by the man's response. She looked around the street, and the rest of the masked men began whispering amongst themselves.

"It's The Lady. It's her!"

"The Lady's here!"

And then, one by one, they dropped to their knees and prostrated themselves on the cold, hard ground in front of her.

By that time, the crowd of panic-stricken people had dispersed; except for a handful of shopkeepers, Diagon Alley was completely empty. Only Hermione stood the middle, a group of masked men lying prostrate around her.

"What are you doing? Who are you?" Hermione cried, trying to yank her robes away from the terrified man but failing.

The man whipped off his mask, and Hermione's eyes widened when she saw who it was.

"Antonin! What are you—who—" Hermione trailed off as the others began to pull off their masks. They were all her friends! "Abraxas? Cygnus? What? Antonin? What is going on here?"

"I am so sorry, my lady," Antonin stammered, tears still streaming down his face. "Please, forgive me!"

"What are you all doing here? And dressed up in those robes… and masks? What—where's Tom? Where's my husband?" Hermione demanded, suddenly angry at their refusal to answer her.

Abraxas raised his head but didn't meet her eyes. "He is at the Manor, my lady. If you wish, we shall escort you there safely."

"Please, stop calling me your lady. We've known each other for so long," she said, still bewildered by the events that had occurred. What was going on? Why do they keep calling me 'my lady'? I'm just Hermione to them, aren't I?

Abraxas offered her his arm, and once she had taken it, he Apparated them to Malfoy Manor. Entering the library, he dropped her arm and bowed.

"His Lordship will explain everything, Lady Riddle."

"Stop calling me La—" Hermione trailed off when she saw Abraxas had already disappeared. She huffed as she stormed through the aisles, looking for Tom. She found him in the philosophy section, calmly reading a thick tome on the dragonhide couch.

"Just what is the meaning of this?" Hermione demanded, striding towards him.

Tom looked up lazily from his book and gave her a slow and dazzling smile. "What is the meaning of what, my love?"

"Why do the boys keep calling me their lady? Why were they attacking Diagon Alley? Why did Antonin start crying and asking me for forgiveness?"

Tom reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her down onto his lap. Placing his finger on her lips to shush her, he hummed and pressed his lips to her jaw. "I wanted to surprise you, my love… But now that the secret is out, they can call you their lady without any issues. And as for Dolohov? Did he hurt you, my darling? I shall flay him alive if he even laid a finger on you."

"No, he didn't hurt me. But why would they call me that? Tom, what is going on? Tell me right now!" Hermione turned her head to glare at him.

He chuckled and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Leaning forward, he cupped her head, tilted it to the side, and crushed his lips against hers. Their noses bumped as he gripped the sides of her neck and caressed her lower lip with his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, Tom's eyes were filled with adoration and love. "We are planning to overthrow the ministry for you, my love," he whispered.

Flabbergasted and unable to say anything, she gawked at him as he gripped her waist and pulled her flush against his body. Their next kiss was just as hot and heady as the one before, but Hermione was still trying to come to terms with the new information.

Pulling away from him, she gasped and asked, "Why? Are you mad?"

Tom's eyes darkened at her question, but he remained calm as he explained, "The wizarding world needs to be shaken up a little bit… Think of all the laws you could pass once we win over the Ministry. Think of all the good you can do for the werewolves… for the centaurs… for the Muggle-borns…"

"Can't you just join politics and be done with it? You've got a lot of influence on the pureblood heirs," Hermione asked, aware of how dangerous Tom's actions could be. She knew he was an incredibly passionate man when it came to anything that concerned her, and he wouldn't rest until she got what he thought she deserved. Which—he always said—was the world at her feet.

"No. Politics will take too long, and you know I'm not that patient. Overthrowing the Ministry in a coup is our best option… I shall give you the world, my love. Because you are my lady, and my lady deserves everything."