Chapter 11: Tom Writes a Letter
Tom stared at the growing pile of rejection letters in disbelief. He had expected some of the Ministry departments to deny him, but all of them? To so easily disregard his impeccable academic record and laudatory references simply because of his blood status?
The final letter thought to include a side note.
It has been brought to our attention by one of your professors that despite your academic success, you have difficulty maintaining proper decorum in social situations. We regret to inform you that here in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes we take personal character very seriously, and can not afford to risk our reputation without a Ministry Sponsor. If you should attain one, please feel free to contact us again.
A fucking Ministry Sponsor. Which in reality was simply institutionalized nepotism, which allowed the fathers and uncles of the Wizarding World to induct their underwhelming, inferior children into the Ministry regardless of aptitude or intelligence.
Slowly the muted incredulity turned to fury. Which shined brighter as he considered who 'one of your professors' was likely to be. Fucking Dumbledore. Was it not enough to ostracize him at Hogwarts and take measures to stymie his success for seven years, all because of his immediate impression of the desperate, spiteful actions of an abused orphan raised during an economic depression? The man had always been so willing to condemn him, for reasons Tom couldn't quite understand, and it was so… frustrating.
Tom recalled Hermione's words from several weeks ago unbidden. "It's just so… frustrating. That my effort means nothing because of things outside of my control." This. This is how he felt, and his frustration and pique at the situation engulfed him. Tom barely resisted the urge to feel these infuriating pieces of paper tear apart in his hands, to witness the words become meaningless as his fingers ripped them into incomprehensible blotches of ink, despite knowing how cathartic the action would make him feel.
Cool logic demanded that he keep this as physical evidence of those who have transgressed against him. More names to add to his list of remembered grievances.
Instead, after verifying Hermione's location on their map, Tom found himself on his feet and hurrying towards Hogwarts' kitchens as he firmly gripped the pile of parchment. He had borne her rants multiple times in the last few months, as she rallied against their conniving professors, the provincial attitudes of various authors, and her frustration with the ineptitude of the Wizarding World in general. She had even fumed against the discrimination of sentient creatures on one notable occasion, after witnessing Malfoy make a disparaging comment about his house elf. As amusing as these occurrences were, it was high time she share the burden.
He was in luck; she was still alone when he arrived, sitting on a stool behind one of the wooden countertops. Her posture was unnaturally rigid, obviously affronted, and she was ignoring a piece of chocolate cake as she sneered down at her own collection of letters.
Just the sight of her sent something electric through his body. Anticipation built in his chest as he considered her with tensed, tingling fingers. Underneath his skin, his magic danced.
Tom had spent these last few weeks since the duel trying to understand why his body's response to her was suddenly so intense. Similar to a flashback, an image of her during their duel flashed through his eyes- the savage turn of her grin, her bright eyes sparkling with mirth, the fluidity and power of her body as she elegantly traversed the pitch. Just the memory caused a flood of arousal to flush his body and harden his cock.
He took a moment to settle his body's response as he once again considered her features. Hermione would never be considered a conventionally beautiful girl. Not possessing the delicate facial structure of her housemate White, or the elegant curves of Abraxas' intended, or the exoticism of Zabini… yet he was captivated all the same. Perhaps it was the intelligence he could see reflected in her dark eyes, the draw of the fullness of her pink mouth, or her wild mane of hair that was practically sentient with magical power. He longed to run his fingers through the curls, to feel those magical sparks running along the silky soft strands for himself.
In reality, however, she was more than simply the sum of all these parts. And that was possibly the root of his attraction. She was more. She was special. Just like he was. His methodical sweep of her mind during the championship, when she was wide-eyed and shaking with vulnerability, had made it clear that she was accustomed to mistreatment. Almost two decades of social rejection and casual abandonment had stung enough to create this bitter, sarcastic façade she insisted on wearing. She was accustomed to being disparaged for her ambition, her intelligence, and her laudable work ethic, and her companions, rather than support and encourage her, ignored, criticized, or belittled her for her efforts.
Just the thought of it again made his still tingling fingers curl into fists and his face scowl with displeasure. Hermione was so much better than any of the fools she had the misfortune to call her friends. Just like he was better than any of those stupid kids at the orphanage, better than his easily manipulated, idiotic peers. Their rejection would not define them. Of this he was certain.
It was this moreness, this admiration and respect he held for her character (beautifully strong-willed, politically and academically ambitious, ruthless in a way that made his blood sing, and brilliantly powerful) that encouraged Tom not to fight the feelings of want creeping along his psyche, and the recent inclination he had taken to staring.
It was at this point that Hermione turned to face him, and Tom realized that he had made some sort of small noise while staring at her. She carefully took in the scowl that lingered on his lips, the partially undone tie around his neck that he had yanked on in frustration, and the pieces of parchment crushed a bit in his fist.
"You too?"
Relief and an unfamiliar sense of comradery shot through him as he joined her at the counter and began his rant.
"Every single fucking department denied me," he bit out, emphasizing each word to better impart his frustration. She startled strangely at his use of profanity, her mouth falling open a little bit as she stared in consideration. Tom ignored this for the time being. "I have also been denied an apprenticeship to seemingly every Master on the continent."
Her mouth pursed in thought, even as her entire body seemed to radiate displeasure. "Did they give any specific reasons why? Or did they simply make vague declarations that passive aggressively denounced you because of bigotry?"
"Both," he announced with a snarl, and then proceeded to narrate several of the vague, contrived excuses issued by most of his recipients (subtly mentioning his lack of reputation in polite society, which in reality was a passive aggressive reference to his blood-status), as well as the helpful tidbit that insinuated intrusive meddling from the Hogwarts faculty. "I fail to understand how the stubborn interference of one man somehow has the ability to take away educational opportunities for my future. Is the Wizarding World really so in love with Albus Dumbledore that they are unable to realize how manipulative and hypocritical and judgmental he is?"
Hermione's face darkened the more he spoke. "He's more than likely playing into the prejudice, so it has less to do with his reputation somehow manipulating public opinion and more to do with his ability to make people feel heard and right about beliefs that are being strongly contested in the current war."
"Grindelwald has never shown a preference for different degrees of blood purity, just a significant distinction between magical and muggle," Tom bit off in disagreement, recalling one of the many things he had wondered about in relation to the current Dark Lord.
Hermione shrugged. "It still calls into question the merits of wizarding folks versus muggles, and as muggleborns are the closest towards straddling that line, as the least assimilated and thus the most threatening, they get thrown to the wolves."
"Threatening?"
She shot him a patronizing smile that he hated. "Of course. It is easy to hate muggles and denounce them as filthy, disgusting, unintelligent creatures if you have never met one. But Muggleborns are born from muggles, and share muggle cultural customs and history. They are the face that humanizes muggles in the wizarding world and calls to question any assumptions made about wizarding superiority."
Tom's mouth pursed as he considered this. "Part of the perception that Muggleborns are uncultured and uncouth comes from cultural ignorance as they demonstrate a lack of etiquette that can often be considered offensive or vulgar to Wizarding society." He would know. The first couple of years as a Slytherin at Hogwarts were especially trying, as they required he successfully navigate convoluted social etiquette, political hierarchies, and unscripted cultural history. It had taken some time to catch up.
Hermione gave him a displeased look, and tossed her hair over her shoulder in a surprisingly feminine display of nonchalance. "Wizarding society is insular and exclusionary to the point that they make no efforts to facilitate cultural assimilation. I can hardly be blamed for the political ramifications of their ethnocentrism."
Well. That was a bit sanctimonious. "I know you are more than capable of researching cultural traditions on your own. I can therefore only assume that you choose to remain ignorant of wizarding cultural norms as a form of political protest. What on Earth will actively rejecting the Wizarding World accomplish? And how is that also not a demonstration of ethnocentrism?"
Her eyes burned into his in indignation. "Forgetting my muggle heritage and attempting to emulate the 'perfect pureblooded witch' is not a viable solution. There are real problems with the way things are run, Tom! Individuals are not given the opportunity of due process, so the government has the ability use Azkaban as a means of social and political coercion rather than as an opportunity to reeducate criminals. There is little to no political representation, as members of the Wizengamot appear to be appointed to support the current Minister's agenda regardless of the will of the people… and there exists very real discriminatory laws against women, against Muggleborns, against a myriad of sentient creatures despite their obvious demonstration of humanity and intelligence."
"Besides," her chin tilted up stubbornly, "You hardly have the right to criticize me for rejecting Wizarding norms. Your entire reign of evil was at its heart a political coup. You want to change things too."
Tom stared at her for several long moments as his head tried to wrap around this new information. He had known the girl was arrogant, otherwise she would not have been bold enough to compete against him. It was a trait they shared, he thought fondly. He had known she was a bit self-righteous, considering her many rants… but they were usually about how awful Dumbledore was and the pitfalls of the aristocracy, all things he supported so it did not mentally register as a problem. But this?
"So," he tasted the words slowly, trying to parse out her thought processes, "you are vindictively, purposefully ignorant to demonstrate your rejection of Wizarding culture because it is different than its muggle counterparts." He blinked for another moment as he considered the hypocrisy. "How do you hope to gain a solid political footing if everyone considers you so blatantly disrespectful?"
He just couldn't see it. Her rise in the political ranks. Let's say, hypothetically, she was instrumental in overturning Grindelwald's campaign and gained prestige and fame- sure she could probably elbow her way into a half-way decent position of power, but pushing for progression with this bull-headed mentality of 'I'm right and you're wrong' without allowing any leeway for compromise or even the acknowledgment of the importance of cultural tradition… the entire government would dissent. She would not remain in power for long.
Diplomacy was important. Or rather, manipulating people to abide to your whims with a mocking sense of civility. And Tom was no longer sure she had the patience or even interest in doing that.
Her lips were pursed unhappily as she considered him. Tom knew now might be the ideal time to appeal to her sense of logic. Her position would need to change if they were to be adequate partners.
"You are aware that my political base is largely comprised of purebloods, as they have the most connections and the most resources. How would I have been able to rise to power otherwise?"
Her expression became mulish. But Tom was stubborn too.
"Without an access to further education that could allow me to build up my own prestige?" he added, gesturing towards their letters.
Another stubborn face. He made sure to maintain eye contact as he delivered this last sentiment. "You are no different than them."
At that she fairly hissed in affront, but Tom kept talking. "You think your culture is superior, and you have made little attempts to appropriately familiarize yourself about why things are done the way they are. You instead have chosen to reject everything you don't like, and in a pique of righteous indignation have decided to change things to more acceptably align with your original beliefs."
Oh, she did not take criticism well. Some part of Tom observed this with an odd sense of glee. And then attempting to appeal to her strange sense of Gryffindor nobility, hoping to lower her raised hackles enough to make her receptive to reason, he stated, "You never even considered learning how to be polite to your housemates in your past? Didn't they deserve your respect?"
She shrugged carelessly, but her face spoke of the degree of her inner turmoil. "Harry was raised Muggle too. And Ron's family never really cared."
"You had no other friends?"
Her expression was resentful. "I did. But they never mentioned anything!"
Tom shrugged. "It's impolite to point out obvious examples of misconduct. They probably wanted to spare you the embarrassment."
Oddly, that seemed to embarrass her. "How about this," he offered. "We'll look into traditional Wizarding norms together. Appropriate etiquette and other expected behaviors. We can even research the history of Wizarding culture with the intention of fully understanding the why. And then we can reason out which antiquated practices should be followed and which ones can be ignored."
He was confident in his ability to coerce her into some manner of behavioral conditioning, if only to create the illusion of propriety that would further their aspirations.
It was her turn to stare at him blankly for several long moments. "I don't understand," she finally said. "All you want is power. Why bother with the niceties?"
Another pause as Tom looked at her carefully. "You were the one to denounce my political coup. What was it… 'His coup was so guileless and destructive that the wizarding world proclaimed him a terrorist instead of a politician or revolutionary'. It would therefore make more sense to approach this as a savvy political revolutionary type than an 'evil' overlord, yes?"
Her expression was recalcitrant, but as the seconds ticked by it became calculative. "We will discuss the merits of wizarding and muggle government policies. I will not have your bias against muggles preventing constructive criticisms of magical cultural norms."
He was sure his gaze was just as calculative. "If you agree to adopt Wizarding etiquette that demonstrates respect for your peers."
Hermione stared back at him. Their unofficial staring contest lengthened almost comically as she obviously did not want to succumb easily and be seen as weak. Slowly, he made as if to nod first, and watched with delight as she nodded and then angrily pouted at him for his bluff.
Tom couldn't help but smirk in amusement, and looked away, not wanting to further antagonize her.
Another prolonged silence stretched as Tom made himself comfortable next to her at the counter. Her metaphorical feathers fluffed in an irritated manner, and Tom felt it prudent to remind her who the real enemy was. "It is still hypocritical of Dumbledore to denounce Grindelwald's philosophy while actively stoking anti-Muggle sentiments simply because it temporarily aligns with his agenda."
She nodded with a dark look and breathed out his name in an irritated hiss. "Fucking Dumbledore."
Another solid minute passed as they stewed in discomforted discontent. Tom eventually looked towards her rather large pile of letters, somehow unsurprised that she had been just as driven as him to reach out for opportunities. He gave another attempt at redirecting her thoughts. "What fanciful trite did they think to notate on your rejection letters?"
And then Tom found himself strangely peeved as she plucked up one of the pieces of parchment and read in a frustrated tone, "Miss Granger, it has come to our attention that you have a propensity towards dishonesty and frivolous conduct that we find unacceptable in our employees. In addition to your lack of social standing, we cannot help but deny your application and ask that you stop sending us your resume."
Before he could say anything, she picked up another slip of parchment. "Dear Miss Granger, while your current academic record is remarkable considering your sex, we have received word that you display symptoms of an unstable mental condition that precludes your acceptance into our program. We regret to inform you that this decision is final."
And another one. "Miss Granger. While I am flattered that you have thought to send me a missive requesting an apprenticeship, I am currently on sabbatical and not taking on new students at this time. To temper any possible disappointment, I will inform you that your name has been blacklisted by members of the faculty at your institution. As an individual who does not much care for gossip or the many ways in which educators attempt to play their hand at politics, I am not so easily swayed, but considering the tenacity and prestige of the dissenting voices, it is unlikely that your plight will be heard. I implore you to do what you can to negate the rumors, which are as follows; that you have been engaging in inappropriate relations with a member of the opposite sex unchaperoned, with heavy insinuations that this relationship has been consummated and you are with child. That you are mentally unstable and engage in regular fits of hysteria, which makes you emotionally compromised and difficult to handle. That you are a pathological liar with zero deference towards authority figures, with a penchant towards Dark Magic. And that you are instigating a cultural rebellion, inciting young ladies to abandon their virtues to their eventual detriment out of disdain for your station. These are all serious accusations and I wish you the best of luck." She snorted angrily. "'Inciting young ladies to abandon their virtues', can you believe that? As if I'm somehow staging orgies and sacrificing the virginity of small girls for my own amusement. All that's missing is an expansion on my 'penchant towards Dark Magic'; thank goodness they neglected to mention my necromantic proclivities and the blood rituals I conduct naked under the full moon."
Despite his anger, Tom couldn't help but raise a single eyebrow in amusement. "Indeed?"
The expression on her face was bitter and her tone sarcastic. "But of course. How else could I have possibly become so skilled at dueling, if not for all the ritualistic sacrifices to boost my power?"
Ah, so she had heard the rumors currently circulating the school. It was all bullshite, of course, nothing but lies propagated to further discredit her accomplishments. "Fucking Dumbledore," he similarly hissed, quickly realizing that this man was likely at the root of these accusations. "Although this does explain how we are suddenly capable of meeting alone without the old codger interfering. He's clearly gone forward on his plans to destroy your reputation, eliminating any need to chaperone."
"Fucking Dumbledore," she repeated again, an angry, vindictive gleam snarling teeth turning her expression bloodthirsty.
There was silence as they both seethed. Looking into her eyes, Tom casually scanned her thoughts, and found her imagining Dumbledore's death for the umpteenth time. He watched as she casually poisoned all of the man's muggle candy and stood by as the wizard suffocated on the bloody white discharge created by one of his own fucking lemon drops. Tom felt a nasty grin turn his lips, reveling in her sadism and creativity. The idea felt just somehow.
As with every time Tom managed to watch her homicidal fantasies, he found his mouth unconsciously inching closer as delicious magical sparks danced between their bodies. And instead of turning away, which is what he expected Hermione to do based off past interaction, she merely looked up at him with an expression that was still fierce in her lingering rage. "Am I the only one who thinks it ridiculous that they can accuse me of being impregnated by you when we have barely touched?"
He smirked at the thought, and she huffed and swatted at his shoulder in response. "I'm serious! Everyone keeps insinuating that we are going to fuck like Kneazles in heat at the first opportunity. It's quite irritating."
Tom considered this as he fairly breathed on her, the anticipation in his chest rising with a familiar tension. "Does this make you want to indulge? Or prove them wrong?"
She frowned and Tom realized her answer without even looking into her eyes. He couldn't help but tease, though, wanting to kiss her and intuitively understanding that he would have to push in order for that to happen. He inched slightly closer, and then sent her a dangerous smile. "Not even a taste? I hear I'm delicious."
She shot him an amused glance. "Did these girls describe a flavor? Or was it simply 'delicious'."
"Does delicious need a specific flavor to be appreciated?"
She smirked. "It could be simple pandering. Male egos are such fragile things…"
Tom's eyes narrowed in challenge, he found himself leaning in and meeting her lips before she could turn away, somehow needing her to acknowledge his merit. They were soft and pleasantly plump, and Tom savored the electricity that shot through his nerves from the contact as he slowly and meticulously memorized their feel. Eventually, his brave, impatient girl was the first to open her mouth and swipe his lips with her tongue, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and fully explore her mouth.
At first, all he could think was, ah. Chocolate. Paired with the odd bits of magic still tingling between them, the sensation was delightful. But then she decided to exercise her frustrations using his mouth, and the kiss because hard and heated as she bit his lip and fought for dominance.
Naturally, he fought back, gripping her sides and using his height to assert himself.
This fight for supremacy disguised as snogging continued for several minutes, before Hermione pulled back with a harsh breath and lightly pushed on his chest to establish some space. Tom was gratified to see that her cheeks were a rosy pink, her eyes were dilated in arousal, and her lips saturated and red. "Mint," she eventually declared into his chest, blushing and refusing to meet his eye, and her atypical moment of bashfulness led him to believe that she was partial to the taste.
"I brush my teeth every day after lunch," he explained.
And the girl had the temerity to laugh at him! "That's just so… muggle," she tried to explain around a shit-eating grin, and they both relaxed a bit as the tension broke around them.
He couldn't help but frown, though, trying not to feel insecure. "They were rather insistent about dental hygiene habits at the orphanage. Although the tooth powder they gave us was… ugh."
Hermione nodded, still grinning. "It takes a few decades for them to figure out which ingredients to add that aren't harmful and actually help to reduce tooth decay. I imagine you make your own?"
He nodded. "Mostly sodium bicarbonate and peppermint leaves." And then she lightly grasped his chin with wandering fingers and curiously peered into his mouth, and Tom blinked in bemusement. She eventually nudged his jaw open even wider, and Tom couldn't help but wonder what his life had become as he stared off into the dim, empty kitchen as she brazenly handled his face.
"My parents were dentists," she explained almost absentmindedly as she closely evaluated his molars and the state of his gums. As if that somehow gave her the privilege to inspect other people's mouths. He tilted his head back until her grip on his jaw dropped, uncomfortable with the sudden examination.
"Ah. So you inherited your proclivity towards sadism from them, then?"
She giggled, and Tom felt something in his chest squeeze strangely. "You need to floss," she eventually stated, before nodding to herself, "But otherwise your mouth is in very good condition."
His response was sarcastic. "Thank you ever so much."
This time she shot him a smirk before the expression settled, and suddenly Hermione became All Business as she considered him through pursed lips. There was nothing about this pedantic visage that hinted at near-future snogging, and Tom bit back a sigh and hid his disappointment by leaning over to steal a bite of her chocolate cake. He took what pleasure he could in her indignant huff as he resigned himself to wait for some time until he could indulge in his more carnal sexual impulses around her.
"We need to plan out our next course of action."
Tom's eyebrow raised.
She huffed. "Aside from reading etiquette books that I hope to Merlin are less pretentious than The Ladies' Book of Etiquette and Propriety, For Beginners."
Tom nodded as he finished chewing, pleased to have a partner that was inclined towards plotting without needing him to instigate or make decisions on their behalf. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"
She gestured angrily towards the pieces of parchment scattered around them. "We need to find a way to educate ourselves. Information is power, and my foreknowledge of the future has very real limitations. I understand why you had to heavily rely on Pureblooded patronage in the past to accomplish things, but I would much rather we gain some independence. On that note, we will also need to find some source of employment, so we have the funds to secure a place to live after we graduate."
Tom was very gratified to hear the many ways she referred to the two of them staying together in the future.
She continued to speak, obviously thinking out loud as she considered their options. "You have some degree of control over several of the Pureblooded scions, perhaps they have resources we can borrow to at least put our foot in the door? And then we can discard them after we're established."
Tom shook his head in disagreement, amused at her naivety. They could orchestrate their ruin, perhaps, but he doubts the Purebloods could be simply discarded without raising a fuss. "Not right away, none of them are currently the head of their families and thus do not have much control over potential monetary investments."
"Ah. So, you have plans to dispose of the heads."
And Tom grinned. He couldn't help it, hearing such a callous statement come from the woman that claimed to be 'incandescent with rage' over house elf abuse. Because although she stated it almost like a question and inferred that this action was to be accomplished through his own agency, she was the one to casually mention murder for 'necessary' financial gain, however temporary she hoped that would be needed. Hermione was such an odd, judgmental thing with a very twisted sense of morals. He couldn't help but think it rather wonderful.
"Although perhaps there is a Master we can curse into compliance? What subjects were you hoping to master?"
"The Dark Arts, preferably. But I am also rather partial to Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Alchemy."
"Hm. I personally wanted to master Potions and Arithmancy, and then perhaps Ancient Runes…"
"Hm. You do have a very intuitive understanding of runic sequences."
She smiled at the simple praise, her entire face brightening, and Tom wondered. He instinctively understood that this was something that could be used to manipulate her, that he could use it against her… but they were a team. He wondered if there was a way to somehow satisfy her inferiority complex so that others couldn't use it against her.
"Did you see what Penny did during your duel against her? I've toyed with the idea of becoming a Wards Mistress, but always dismissed it because of the lack of applicability unless you become a Curse Breaker, and because I was always too politically ambitious- but to know you can actively use wards like that in combat…"
Tom smiled at her enthusiasm. "It was certainly a clever application."
Clearly passionate about the subject, she began to talk faster and gesture with her hands. "And it could be taken so much further! Most of the wards Penny used and I adapted were Protection Wards… but imagine, you could create wards that trapped spells instead of rebounded them and siphoned off that bit of extra energy, which could then be used to fuel powerful spells without draining your reserves. Or perhaps you could create offensive wards that could rebound towards your enemies after you've finished casting, where they would be trapped or perhaps subject to elemental magic, which would be almost impossible to shield against with conventional charms…"
One of her hands absentmindedly trailed into her hair, tugging on her curls as she made intuitive leaps. And Tom could not resist from doing the same on the other side of her head, tugging fondly on a curl as excited magic trailed through the spirals. It zinged his hand pleasantly and sent another rush of arousal through his body. He savored the feeling.
She eventually noticed his hand in her hair, and looked back up at him in slight bewilderment. Then she seemed to rationalize his behavior, as she shrugged it off and continued, "Potions seems to be the natural place to start then. You said you contacted all of the Masters in Europe? Did that include Potion Masters?"
He frowned as he was forced to remember all of their letters. The reasons stated for his rejection were vague and circumstantial, certainly nothing like Hermione's responses, and Tom couldn't help but envy that level of candid feedback regardless of their insensitivity. At least Hermione knew exactly what she was fighting. "Yes," he eventually stated.
"We should find someone that is socially isolated. Although…" she trailed off suggestively, and Tom found himself scanning her thoughts again, disinclined to exercise enough patience to allow her to continue this tone of intrigue. To his great surprise, her mind was shielded, and Tom drew back in disbelief before he had the chance to properly probe. He was forced to consider the fact that every thought he had ever read was likely a manipulation. Anger was the immediate response, but he was quick to rationalize the feeling away. Fate had determined her to be his partner, practically an extension of himself according to the prophesy, so a true betrayal was impossible.
Instead he dismissed this manner of machination as a kind of intellectual foreplay, and considered the benefits. Not only did this demonstrate that she was capable of levels of intrigue that one would simply not suspect considering her house, but she should be somewhat protected when the time came to confront more powerful foes. This was a good thing.
Her gaze intensified and she seemed almost apprehensive to continue, and Tom felt his impatience rise, his attempt at Legilimency already thwarted. "Yes?"
"Perhaps we could pen a missive to Grindelwald requesting assistance?"
He could not help but immediately recoil at the thought. He had always prided himself on being extremely self-reliant. He was born with nothing to his name, and the consequences of poverty had adamantly followed him around, ensuring he was always deprived in regards to opportunities, social connections, and material objects compared to his peers… and yet he did well for himself, excelling and thriving solely due to his own merit and resourcefulness. He was independent out of necessity, because time and experience had demonstrated that to depend on anything besides himself was unsafe and could not be trusted. Other people seemed to exist solely to disappoint and betray him, and if not for his faith in magic (something incredibly fundamental to his core being, as it was this that gave him the power to be better and overcome his limitations) he would be similarly distrustful of Hermione. Not feeling the need to share something so personal with the girl, he simply stated, "No, I don't think that is necessary."
"Why?" She had that gleam in her eyes that hinted at her knowledge of the future. And as Tom despised when other people lorded knowledge over him in any context, it was thoroughly irritating. Another casual attempt at Legilimency failed, and so he determinedly maintained his silence.
The girl continued to speak after a minute of quiet, licking some chocolate frosting from her spoon with a pleased hum. "Some of your unfortunate future actions can be avoided simply by preventing the creation of any future horcruxes. I've long suspected that your future inability at tempering violent mood swings and lack of impulse control stemmed from the magical instability of too many splits. But other things…"
She looked back up at him. "Your over-reliance on independence, your obsessive-compulsive nature, and your inability to see the big picture are things integral to your personality, and you will need assistance to overcome them. It is with this in mind- the knowledge that as someone who has vowed to be loyal to yourself and our future ambitions, I am invested in helping you address these deficiencies- that I want you to reconsider your response."
She seemed pleased to bring up his deficiencies, probably still smarting defensively from their previous conversation. He refused to so easily capitulate without additional information, trying to smother his resentment in logic. "What do you plan to write?"
"We are magical folk being denied educational opportunities because Dumbledore distrusts us. I gather that distrust stems from his suppositions that we will engage in future political machinations that go against his agenda, or perhaps because he thinks we have a predisposition towards Dark Magic. In either case, I expect Grindelwald to be sympathetic of our plight."
Tom considered her with a hard expression. "You are a fool if you think he is willing to lend us resources without expecting some demonstration of support. And Hermione- if you know anything about me, it should be that I bow down to no one."
The girl had the gall to roll her eyes. "I am not suggesting we join his cause and become his underlings. I am suggesting we send him a letter asking for ideas to help us overcome our circumstances. And worse comes to worse, we return the favor in some small way, just until Dumbledore gets off his arse and imprisons him in two years."
Tom's eyes went wide at that as he considered the implications. It not only insinuated that Dumbledore was much more magically powerful than he could have predicted, but that the man would soon have the prestige to ruin them in a very permanent way. He really would become the Wizarding World's darling, and his reputation alone would be enough to sway public opinion. Tom felt the need to warn her, well aware that Hermione had a propensity for unnecessarily complicated plots. "If there is any proof that we are somehow connected to him when that happens, then we will never be able to gain a political footing."
Hermione nodded and shot him a reckless grin, and for the first time Tom could very well believe that the girl was a Gryffindor through and through. "We'll just have to be smart about it then. Don't tell me that Tom Marvolo Riddle isn't bright enough to outsmart Albus something fucking Dumbledore?"
He hated the way she said his name in such a mocking manner, almost as much as he hated the fact that her elementary attempt at manipulation might possibly work. Already his pride had prompted his brain to consider the many ways they might be able to deliver a missive to the Dark Lord undetected. He tried to rationalize it by considering how unlikely it was that they would be able to secure themselves above Dumbledore's scrutiny in two years without significant support.
"Fine," he bit off.
Already her eyes sparkled in excitement as she summoned a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink from her bag. And the next two hours of his life was spent sharing a piece of chocolate cake and bickering over what to include in the letter. He was eventually the one to actually draft their inquiry, having the more generic and legible penmanship.
Dear Gellert Grindelwald,
Greetings from Hogwarts.
My partner and I are writing you to report a grave injustice. We are both highly successful students with impeccable academic records who are attempting to secure educational opportunities post-graduation. Unfortunately, due to circumstances outside of our control (muggle heritage and gender among them), we find ourselves rejected from every program and apprenticeship on the continent.
Additionally, certain members of the staff (including one Albus Dumbledore) are adamantly attempting to destroy our reputations and foster further discrimination due to our inclination towards the Dark Arts. Dumbledore, due to his own predisposition towards megalomania, seems to be particularly inclined to instigate machinations through fabricated falsehoods and generated complicities. We refuse to be controlled, and therefore we are to be shunned and ostracized within Wizarding society.
We are hoping to appeal to your sense of magical equality. Despite our heritage, we both demonstrate a high level of competency in magical ability, and believe we have much to offer the magical community. Any thoughts you might have about how to best address our circumstances would be much appreciated.
Attached to this letter is proof of our academic achievements, including samples of our schoolwork, spell creations, and modified potions. We also thought to include several of the rejection letters we have received in order to further demonstrate the degree of this bias.
Please know that this request does not imply that we are hoping to serve under you at this time. We are both teenagers who would very much appreciate simply getting the opportunity to learn and grow in our magical power, and we feel that is necessary before we become politically involved. We hope that you can understand and respect this decision should you choose to respond to our inquiry.
Sincerely,
Two Hogwarts Students Who Are Being Denied Educational Opportunities Because Of Discriminatory Practices
Then came the fun part. Tom and Hermione carefully assessed their mental catalogue of spells in order to determine which ones could ensure that the missive was delivered to the intended recipient and only the intended recipient, and that any unwanted interference would experience significant pain. It involved significant warding, a multitude of charms, and a great deal of curses (some rather Dark, but neither student thought Grindelwald would mind).
"And how should we deliver it? An owl is out of the question."
Hermione got that look on her face that indicated she was thinking of something unnecessarily complicated (but potentially brilliant). "I know that a Patronus is able to deliver verbal messages… but perhaps with the right kind of magic it could carry written ones as well?"
Tom's eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "A patronus? A corporal patronus? You can cast one?"
"Expecto Patronum," she muttered, swishing her wand. Both students watched as a swirl of light blue magic swirled around them and an otter manifested in front of them, and Tom couldn't help but feel impressed by the display, if a bit envious. Casting a corporal patronus was one of the few pieces of magic he had never been able to master.
The playful thing felt it necessary to swim forward and tweak Riddle's nose. He gave the small animal an offended look, just as it twirled and swam back to circle Hermione's form.
She laughed at the display and then spoke to it as if it were something sentient. Understanding magic the way Tom did, he could very well believe that it was. "Hello, friend. Do you think you would be able to deliver a letter for me?"
The curious animal cocked its head.
Hermione held up the sealed letter with a hopeful expression. "Can you grab it, or is there something I need to do?"
The otter gave them another inscrutable head tilt and twirled.
Tom waited a good minute for her to piece it together, and then considered that his dear girl had some rather troubling personality deficiencies of her own. Aside from his earlier observations that she was arrogant and sanctimonious- she did not have the same faith in magic that he did, and relied fair too much at the literary. This could make her close minded and limited her ability to accept the intuitive and achieve true innovation. Thank goodness she had him.
He inched closer and grabbed her hand. Her startled glance shot towards his face, and he nodded at her. "Remember, magic is both action and intention. Sometimes willing something is enough."
Her eyes seemed to widen as she considered that, and then she twirled back to face the otter with a look of fierce determination. She held the sealed parchment out in front of her almost imperviously. "Take this directly to Gellert Grindelwald."
The otter bobbed its head in acquiescence, before snatching up the letter and disappearing into a whiff of brightness. Hermione then turned a delighted grin towards him and surprised him with a hug. It was fierce, and Tom felt significantly less comfortable returning her embrace than kissing her. He tried not to look too put-out, in any case, as he struggled to adjust to the feeling.
Of course, it was at this moment that they were interrupted. Elijah fucking Walker and his tiring attempt at teasing.
"Didn't I tell you Penny? I knew they would be off canoodling somewhere indecent. Thank Merlin and his silky, stripped underpants they are still fucking dressed."
Hermione just sighed in exasperation into his ear. "See?" she whispered. "Like we're fucking kneazles."
Tom smirked as he slowly let go of the girl, only now able to enjoy her subtle scent and softness now that she was no longer in his arms. "And what brings you here?" he addressed Walker.
"Oh, you know. 'A devilishly handsome man, the entire world against him, perseveres despite the constant criticism and belittlement to fulfill his dreams and revolutionize his industry'." The boy's hands formed an arch in the air above him as if he was prophesizing something extraordinary.
Tom looked down at Hermione, hoping she could translate. Her smile was amused. "He's here to cook."
Penny nodded. "He promised to make me Spaghettit alla Carbonara that would…" her voice trailed off and she blushed.
Elijah grinned, more than happy to fill in. "That would promise post-orgasmic bliss, including lewd moans and soaked knickers." He winked at the girls. Hermione only rolled her eyes in exasperation, which oddly enough, made Tom want to smile.
"You're certainly confident," Tom stated bemusedly, still a bit discomforted at his obvious vulgarity.
Hermione sat back down at her seat. "He has good reason. He is a very talented cook. Which I thought you would have known, as you apparently told him he could cater at our wedding?"
Tom couldn't stop from giving the Hufflepuff boy a dark look. He thought Walker had more sense than to start blabbering. It was clear he couldn't be trusted. Thank goodness the boy's gaping mouth was now magically bound to omit sensitive information. "He is a very delusional boy."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that."
A quick look confirmed that she was amused rather than irritated at the thought of Walker's mental state. Or perhaps she was amused at the thought of marrying him? Interesting. He found himself addressing Walker while still peering into Hermione's eyes. "Walker, I hope you don't mind if Hermione and I join."
Out of the corner of his vision Tom watched Walker eye him for a second, then nod in a knowing manner. "Eager to hear Granger moan? I understand completely. I would be delighted to assist."
The boy offered him some strange exaggeration of a muggle bow, and Tom wondered (not for the first time) how odd he was acting post-torture session. To be quite frank, none of his peers who had been subject to such treatment had the temerity to pretend it hadn't happened. This nonchalance was disturbing. Torture victims weren't allowed to be carefree.
Tom caught his eye, trying to peer in his head and sort out the boy's feelings. Contentment. Joy. A few quiet insecurities in the corner, but they were your fairly typical brand of loneliness and failure, nothing to write home about. Tom himself brought Walker some discomfort, but there was also gratitude, curiosity, amusement, heavily buried lust…
Why was there no fear? No anger, or trepidation, or even dismay. Has he lost his touch? His ability to intimidate his simple, moronic peers, one of his few joys in life?
Tom distantly remembered an accusation Avery made the day before. (He had appropriately responded by tying the boy upside down by his ankles and dipping him into the Black Lake's chilly depths).
Perhaps Hermione made him… soft?
Tom couldn't suppress a shiver at the thought. The unmitigated horror of turning into one of these bumbling idiots… He comforted himself by replaying all of the many homicidal fantasies he had witnessed roll through his girl's head. Hermione was not soft. Ergo, it was unlikely that she would make him soft.
His comforting thoughts were interrupted by a loud, "Now Penny, what a man wants to do with his own wanking material is very much his own business," and he watched curiously as Hermione smacked the boy loudly on the arm as she dragged a now shrieking harpy poorly imitating a girl to the counter. And Tom's insecurities about his intimidation factor were further swayed as he realized his companion just had very unusual friends.
The Bray girl calmed down and took notice of their many letters. She seemed to put two and two together and looked at them both curiously. "You certainly didn't waste any time. The application period for Ministry positions only opened up last week."
Walker walked over to their corner with a frown, the first serious expression Tom had ever seen on his face. "The Ministry Hermione? I thought you wanted an apprenticeship?"
She let out an aggravated sigh and handed over a few of her letters. "If only. I'm being blacklisted Elijah."
He gestured at her left arm for some reason as he began to read the letters. "For being Muggleborn? Those fuckers."
Hermione self-consciously rubbed at that piece of skin, and Tom was too curious to let it go. He grabbed her arm in a proprietary manner and started rolling up her sleeves, disliking the knowledge that Elijah knew something about her that he didn't. She was his, so Tom deserved to know everything.
She gave him a wary look, but didn't jerk the appendage away from him. Tom rewarded her acquiescence by rubbing her upper arm in what he hoped was a soothing manner just as thick red, gnarled scars came into view spelling the word 'Mudblood' across the entirety of her forearm. He had noticed the irritated scars during their dueling competition, of course, but hadn't bothered to closely examine it then as he was now. He didn't realize it spelled anything meaningful. Truth be told, the ruined flesh was grotesque and damning, the slur an aberration, and Tom made an effort to maintain a blank expression. Curiously fingering lightly around the edge of the still open wounds, Tom could feel the dark magic simmering angrily in her flesh. "A cursed knife?" he guessed softly.
"Ah," she said, giving him a peculiar look. He understood almost immediately. This scar was here because of him. Maybe not directly by his hand, but by people who were furthering his cause in his name.
He was not the type to ask for forgiveness, especially for actions he had not personally committed. Still, he knew some demonstration of contrition was necessary to further separate her mental association between him and his insane future counterpart. Feeling a bit of déjà vu, he pulled up her hand and made a show of kissing the cursed flesh. She let out a quiet gasp, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. He eyes peered into hers, trying to gauge her reaction.
Penny's unsteady voice interrupted the moment. "I had heard rumors about that scar… Lilac said something about the slur being on your arm. But I couldn't have imagined something like this…"
Hermione ripped her arm away from him self-consciously, and Tom couldn't help but shoot the stupid Hufflepuff girl a look of pure disdain.
Elijah scoffed in exaggerated displeasure as he started chopping vegetables with more force than strictly necessary, purposely drawing the attention to him. "Lilac's a bitch." He shot Hermione a sharp look, completely ignoring Tom. "Don't let it bother you."
Hermione snorted bitterly. "Easier said than done. She won't fucking leave me alone. The little angel has a vendetta against me, after all, after Tom pulled that stunt in the Great Hall." She paused long enough to send Tom an irritated look. "Not much I can do to dissuade her delusions. If she were any denser, light would start bending around her."
Tom huffed in amusement as he considered the capriciousness of teenage girls, just as Elijah sarcastically added, "But she's so pretty." Then the boy had the gall to give Tom a look, as if judging him for the quality of his past conquests.
The girl beside him snarled a bit viciously. "What use is beauty when she's so fucking vapid? Not even intelligent enough to understand when I'm trying to insult her." Her reaction was more visceral than he would have expected, and Tom couldn't help but feel curious. Is there any way she could be… jealous?
Tom ignored her comment for now, biting back a retort in Elijah's direction. "And I suppose Doreen Hawthorn has secretly been duping the school with her hidden brilliance? She couldn't even manage a Wiggenweld Potion, for Salazar's sake."
Elijah rolled his eyes. "At least Doreen was sweet. And even you couldn't have ignored how round her arse looked in that skirt she wore over Hols."
"It is a second year potion, Walker! She couldn't even finish without the cauldron boiling over."
"Better dumb and sweet than dumb and bitchy. We've been over this Riddle. But if I wanted a bitch, I would go get a dog."
He lascivious smirk was slapped off his face by an irritated Penny. "Even a dog wouldn't bother with your shit, Walker." Then the girl turned towards Hermione with a commiserating sigh. "Boys are so stupid."
Hermione nodded. "Boys are very stupid. Say no to boys, Penny. Wait for a man. At least they understand that women have more to offer than a pair of tits and access to her vagina."
"Hey, I resent that! How dare you leave out the arse. It's easily the sexiest part of a woman." Then Walker cupped his hands into the air as if imagining a good squeeze.
Both girls completely ignored him, much to Tom's amusement. After a few moments of silence, as Walker busied himself preparing noodles, Penny reached over to grab one of Hermione's letters in curiosity. And then she grabbed a few more. Her tone when she eventually spoke was soft and disbelieving. "Were you rejected everywhere? With your grades?"
Elijah, interestingly, was the one to respond first. "The world is a cruel, cruel place for witches and wizards raised by Muggles, Penny. Riddle, I imagine you've been experiencing similar difficulties?"
Tom really did not want to respond to him. In any fashion. This irritating Hufflepuff boy with the fears of an unjaded child and the behavior of a fool didn't need to know about the very tangible proof of his inadequacy, his pride wouldn't allow it. Hermione answered for him, and Tom mentally braced himself to be humiliated.
"We haven't given up. There will always be more letters to write and more avenues to explore. This was just the first round of inquiries."
And Tom couldn't help but let out a deep breath in relief, happy she didn't feel the need to air both their many rejections and their future plans.
Elijah kept talking. "I suppose I'm not surprised that you both were so proactive. Fucking swots. Seriously, sending all of these letters at the first available date? Most of our peers will probably wait until after the NEWTS are over."
Hermione shrugged. "The early bird catches the worm."
Penny nodded approvingly from beside her. "I think it is very intelligent to know what your options are as early as possible."
Then they both sniffed like aristocrats, and Tom smirked down at the table.
The next thirty minutes was filled with light discussion. Penny and Hermione largely spoke of Ancient Runes, and Elijah attempted to needle Tom into admitting that, 'he had a thing for assertive women'.
Tom was not amused. He was therefore very looking forward to this meal being finished so he could collect his just desserts and saunter back to his dormitory. Luckily for Elijah, regardless of his annoying prattling, his food was spectacular and the moan Hermione released was positively wanton. Casually adjusting his pants, Tom supposed that keeping the boy around (in as minimal a way as possible, of course) wasn't a terrible way to spend his future.
A/N: Hello! I just wanted to thank you all for reading, and let you know that I am currently attempting to change the format of this story on (so if you see any glaring formatting errors, this is why). The website is resisting, and it's turning into a dire struggle, but I believe I shall persevere. It might just take a few days. Also, I am curious about how well my chapters are flowing together. Does this story seem fluid to you? Do the characters and their changing feelings seem realistic? There was such a time gap between certain chapters that I am worried it is not cohesive enough. In any case, I hope you are enjoying the story!