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Chapter Four

Tom sat on his bed staring at Grindelwald's two Horcruxes, debating what he should do with them. It was painfully obvious that he couldn't keep them in his school trunk any longer. The way that the diary kept whispering to him unnerved him. By all accounts, it should be trying to drown him in his fears, not seduce him with his wildest fantasies.

He wasn't going to lie; the things they said appealed to him- regurgitated his own beliefs and dogmas which allowed him to flame his opinions into a righteous fever. It was not how he usually liked to operate, preferring reasoned and well thought out self-debate and research.

Over the last two days, he felt completely out of control, ever since the first Horcrux was made and he knew that it would only get worse with time. He grimaced as he remembered exactly how much he offered Hermione.

He couldn't deny his attraction; couldn't deny that he wanted her more than he wanted anything. Why though? He pondered, letting his face fall into the cradle of his hands. She was just a woman, powerful though she may be. Weren't his plans for world dominion more important? And he was compromising them, for her fidelity? He groaned.

It was no secret to those who knew him that he refused to share anything that he perceived as his, unwilling to let anything go that others may find value in. Was that what he was doing? Forcing her to be his, forever, because, like a petulant child, he refused to ever let her go? He groaned into his hands again. She had crawled in his brain, refusing to be expelled. The girl had only been in Hogwarts for a short time and already, his whole life has changed.

The moment he closed his eyes, he saw her in that memory once again, tucked under another man's chin. An unaccountable rage flared as he imagined the long fingers of her colleague rub her arms intimately. Somehow, he was able to block out the reason that she took shelter in the man's arms. It just didn't matter the reason. Not to him. The memory fueled the unquenchable fire in his stomach. The fire that demanded he make her his; to battle and defeat any and all who would dare challenge him.

And there lied the crux of the problem. What was it about her that drew him so intensely? Why had his plans changed so profoundly just because of her? Tom shook his head. That wasn't completely true. The things he saw when Grindelwald made his first Horcrux changed him. It changed everything.

Ever since that moment, he realized he could never make a Horcrux, his plans morphed and mutated until they were nearly unrecognizable. Hermione just happened to be the catalyst for the basis of his new and improved agenda. With her by his side, he could successfully sidestep the obvious mistakes he would make in the future. And the biggest landmine in his way appeared to be Dumbledore.

Tom rubbed his face and stared up at the green canopy above his head. Why would Dumbledore pin Tom as the creator of the Horcruxes? Tom didn't actually end up working for the deranged lunatic of a revolutionary, did he? He snorted. Bloody unlikely!

There was one way that he could be certain. Hermione could tell him. Tom sighed. There was no way she would tell him anything voluntarily. She didn't trust him because she thought that he was a monster. He highly doubted that she believed a single word of what he told her the previous night.

There was one way… but it would be a lot of trust on his part, an act of good faith. It would require him to give her something without getting anything in return, at first anyway. Perhaps, he could afford to be generous, after all, it was the end game he was working for.

Sliding off his bed, he made his way to his trunk and placed Grindelwald's Horcruxes back under heavy concealment charms before laying down in bed. His decision was made. It was time to bring Hermione on board.

**HGHG**

Tom skipped breakfast in the Great Hall after tasking Abraxas with making sure Hermione was well cared for and quickly made his way into the office of the one person in the whole school that was his true enemy.

With a light rap on the door, Dumbledore's usual jovial voice floated through.

"Come in," the raspy voice murmured, seemingly pleased even if his trademark twinkle was unaccountably missing.

"Professor Dumbledore," Tom said as he pushed through the door with a small, respectful smile. It was the same song and dance that they had been playing for years now. Neither liked the other, neither showed it.

"What can I do for you this morning, Tom?" Dumbledore asked as he gestured to the seat opposite his desk, as he himself sat in his own chair.

"I've come to talk about your niece, Hermione."

"Oh? Is something the matter?"

"Not per se," Tom affected a small smile, willing his cheeks to color in an unnatural flush. As he looked up at Dumbledore, a fervent shine in his eye. "I would like your permission to date her."

"To date her?" Dumbledore repeated skeptically.

"Mm-hmm," Tom looked down at his hands which he had folded in his lap, moving his thumbs together, as if he were nervous. He wasn't but he didn't want Dumbledore to know that. He planned on bringing Hermione into the fold no matter what Albus Dumbledore said.

"Why?"

"She's smart and talented- brilliant really," He smiled; a real smile this time. "And she is so kind, to everyone. Hermione lights up the room with her passion and ambition. Her sense of justice is stronger than I've ever seen, even among the Gryffindors. Her determination on getting to the bottom of things is quite awe-inspiring," This was the one part of the conversation that wasn't contrived nor was the truth stretched, because Hermione was all of these things, and so much more. "And not to mention, how beautiful she is."

Dumbledore studied Tom, watched the minute difference between the little dance that they always used to keep each other at arm's length and the way he looked while talking about Hermione. If Dumbledore wasn't looking for a shift, he would have never noticed. His eyes widened a fraction with surprise. And if Tom hadn't been watching him in turn, he would have missed it as well.

"She is all of those things," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair as he steepled his fingers under his chin, his mind obviously whirring with the possibilities.

Tom struggled to keep his face impassive, even as triumph bubbled up his throat. He knew that Dumbledore was in a predicament. Could he really say no, when it was obvious that Tom truly liked her? And he did. He truly did. When it gave Dumbledore an into his tight circle, Tom knew that he would win in the end. Dumbledore would give his blessing and it would give Tom the time he needed to convince her that he was where she needed to be. By the time Dumbledore realized that he lost her, it would be too late.

"Hermione is the beloved daughter of my brother," Dumbledore began as he searched Tom's eyes. Tom could feel the intrusive probe and strengthened his mental walls. Dumbledore retreated, unsatisfied. "and I don't think you are the right boy for her. Sometimes interest isn't enough, Tom."

Tom took a second to process the rejection, wondering where it had gone wrong. He had been so sure that Dumbledore would jump at the chance to plant Hermione inside the inner workings of Tom and his 'friends'. It didn't even matter that Hermione wasn't actually related to the Dumbledores. If he were Dumbledore, he would have given his blessing in a heartbeat.

"Why? Because I am an orphan, not pureblooded, or wealthy?" Tom asked. He knew why, and it was none of those things.

"You forget, Tom, that it was me who told you that you were a wizard, That I was the one who talked to Mrs. Cole. What is it that you really want with Hermione?"

"I want to get to know her,"

"You have never dated at Hogwarts. Why now?"

"I've never met anyone like her before,"

"You know," Dumbledore said, his face morphing into deep disgust.

"Excuse me?" Tom asked, still playing the game.

Dumbledore put on a strained smile, still devoid of his twinkling and said, "I trust Hermione and I highly doubt you are the type of boy she is looking for. By all means, you are free to ask her but if she says no, as I believe she will, you will leave it at that. Understood?"

"So, you are saying that if she says yes to me, I will have your blessing?" Tom asked, brows drawn together in mock hope and sincerity.

"If she says yes then so be it,"

Tom couldn't help the wide smile that tilted his lips up. Dumbledore may have been confident that she would say no to his suit, but he shouldn't have assumed that Hermione was anything less than brilliant. Now that she knew that those Horcruxes were not, nor ever would be his, Tom was confident that she would side with him. After all, the entire reason she came back in time was to stop the Horcruxes from ever being made. Or in this case to destroy them before that boy in her memory died an agonizing death while trying to destroy it.

He nodded at Dumbledore and left the Transfiguration professor's office. And the whole time he was leaving, that pensive look overtook Dumbledore's face. The uncomfortable one that showed that he was thinking, planning, scheming.

"I knew I would find you here," Hermione said from where she had leaned against the wall, across from the doorway he just exited. He quickly shut the door and warded it for good measure. He would hate to be interrupted. Plus, it was good for the old man to be kept on his toes.

Tom hid his surprise, for once being caught off guard. He truly thought that she would be in the Great Hall being closely guarded by Malfoy and Rosier. He really should stop being surprised.

"And why is that?" he asked propping his shoulder against the wall next to her, half boxing her in.

"This is the first time you left me alone and after last night, I knew you weren't going to let it go. We need to talk."

"We already talked. You know what I want."

"We both know you won't give up all of your plans for world domination just for a chance to get into my knickers."

"I want a bit more than just to get into your knickers," he said derisively. Hermione smirked and shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh yes," she murmured, leaning in and looking up. Her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips then her straight white teeth followed, nibbling on the tender flesh. His eyes were pinned on them, watching with rapt attention, even as her smell enveloped him. "You want my fidelity,"

"I don't just want your fidelity. I want you exclusively. No secret meetings with Dumbledore, no going behind my back to take down Grindelwald. No other men period. I don't share."

"You want me to be your slave?" she asked incredulously. Tom smiled and leaned closer, nose filling with her scent. The intoxicating combination of her skin and potent magic.

"Not you. Being a slave would be a travesty. You and I would make a very good team, I think,"

"I will never do what you do."

"What is it that you think I do?"

"Even if you are not the one who made those Horcruxes, you are still Lord Voldemort. You kill people, lead others to do the same. Torture whoever you want. Destroy families. Target the defenseless like the Muggle-born children and their families."

"Ah, yes. The Muggleborns. Hermione, how can I possibly pass up a well-trained army? What do I care if the pureblooded want to 'cleanse' their bloodlines?"

"It's despicable!"

"Why do you care so much about what happens to Muggleborns?"

"Because I am one of them,"

Tom scoffed. "Unlikely,"

"You don't believe me?" Hermione raised her brows in incredulity.

"Not with your knowledge base,"

"You were raised by muggles. You are one of the most powerful wizards of all time. And you don't believe that hard work and determination are enough?"

"I am a half-blood from a prestigious family. Naturally, I would be better than everyone else."

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Are you blind? Because I don't think you are stupid. Have you seen Mulciber? Or Fawley? Both are eighteenth generational purebloods and both of them are missing something important in their general makeup. Look at them," She gestured down the corridor to roughly where the Great Hall was. "Fawley can't do a simple charm without screwing it up and Mulciber is not even smart enough to mess up. He can barely hold his wand."

"I will admit they are not prime examples," He said and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "but just look at Rosier, Malfoy, Nott, and every single Black. It's not an accident."

"The Blacks are crazy. They have mental instability and they marry their cousins. Ew."

"So?" Tom said with a shrug as Hermione curled her upper lip.

"What about the Squibs? They show up most prominent in families that try to remain 'pure'."

"All wizarding families have Squibs, not just the pureblooded. And how can you account for the families of the Muggleborns? By your definition wouldn't a Muggleborn's family be Squibs?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, reminiscent of the goldfish he had seen once in a glass bowl in the window of one of the wealthier districts of London in his youth.

"Are you suggesting that magic is magic no matter where it comes from?"

"No. There is clearly those more talented than others and those wizards tend to come from prominent pure families."

"The four most powerful wizards in the last one hundred years have all been half-blooded."

"And then there is you," He said smiling. "An anomaly. Because even amongst the top echelons of power, there are anomalies."

"I am not the first nor the last powerful Muggleborn,"

"Mulciber is not the first nor the last pureblooded to be incompetent."

"So, what you are saying is Magic is Might," she grimaced as the horrible phrase left her lips, nearly choking her with the memories of that terrible statue in the Ministry that depicted wizard's dominion over the muggles.

"I like that," he nodded, and his smile grew wider. He lifted his free arm and captured one of the curls on her face, letting the soft tresses wrap themselves around his finger. He wanted to pull her closer, to taste her, to be the one who made her feel everything he felt.

"Why am I not surprised," sarcasm dripped from her lips as she pulled her hair out of his grip and tried to take a step away from the wall and him. He stepped with her, smoothing his hand on her hip, trying to pull her closer.

"Why can't you see I'm not the bad guy here. We could be so good together, you and me,"

"Until you destroy those Horcruxes all you are offering is lip service," Hermione said as she pushed his hand off her hip and whirled around, leaving Tom behind. He was frozen as he watched her walk away; her hips swaying and her robes fluttering behind her. Her smell wafted around him- drowned him.

She will come to you just like power and recognition. Everything you could ever want will be yours. Tom took a deep breath and tore his eyes from her retreating form. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could recognize the whispers of the Horcruxes telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Meet me," Tom suddenly yelled down the corridor and nearly danced in victory when she paused. "meet me tonight in the Forbidden Forest at midnight and I will destroy them."

"It's a date," she said over her shoulder, continuing on her way to the great hall. Something inside Tom roared in approval and took root in his chest. He was willing to sacrifice the Horcruxes for Hermione's trust. After all, he needed to show her how committed he was before she would do the same.