AN: Sorry it took so very long to get this out! I had quite a bit of personal upheaval that needed sorted before I could sit down to write. Thank you for your patience and it is my hope that this story will go back to weekly updates now.
WARNING: This chapter deals with non-graphic spousal abuse.
Hermione awoke to the gentle rapping of a beak on glass, still seated at the unsteady and scarred wooden table in her small dimly lit kitchen. She had evidently fallen asleep at some point during the night. Wiping a rather unattractive line of spittle from the corner of her mouth and groaning when she saw the parchment detailing her agreement with Tom was now lightly stained, she moved towards the window and let in the striped owl who was waiting patiently outside her window.
She smiled as she stroked the almost soft feathers directly above its beak and crossed to the magically cooled cupboard to remove a few bits of sausage to offer the creature in exchange for the letter it bore. The owl hooted softly after gently dropping the parchment into Hermione's waiting hand, swallowing a bit of sausage whole and waiting while perched on the sill.
She crossed to the stove to flip the burner beneath the kettle on before settling at the table with yawn and picking up the bit of correspondence. The letter was addressed to 'Ms. Mortenson' in looping calligraphy, sealed with gray wax and an ornamental 'R.' Sliding a finger under the lip of the envelope and breaking the seal, she pulled out a thick, ivory sheet of parchment folded thrice and opened the letter to read.
Hermione,
It would please us ever so much if you would join a few friends and I for a fitting at Twilfitt and Tattings to secure appropriate robes for your upcoming nuptials, perhaps followed by a tea at Rosier Villa? Lord Riddle confided in me that you are staying at the Leaky; we could meet out front around half-past ten and walk to the shop all together!
I look forward to seeing you soon!
Jocelend
With a heavy sigh, Hermione scrubbed a hand down her tired face and summoned a piece of parchment and quill to pen a brief, affirmative response. She was reluctant to spend any extra time with Death Eaters or their associates than what was required, but these WERE the wives and she WAS about to be one of them and aside from that... she did sort of need robes for the bonding. She held out the letter, which the owl took delicately in its beak before swooping off out the window.
Hermione cast a quick 'Dies' to determine the hour. The time revealed itself to be a quarter past nine just as the kettle screeched for attention and she moved to pour herself a quick cup of strong tea before shuffling into the shabby room that served as her current bedroom. The robes and dresses hanging in her closet stood in stark contrast to the less than elegant surroundings, an expression of a somewhat dubious decision she made to spend a portion of the limited galleons she was able to secure for herself in the 1950s on the trappings of a certain image and reputation.
Along with any number of books and sentimental objects that were packed for her trip back in time, Hermione had also chosen to stuff her beaded bag with quite a few of the oddities she had managed to scavenge from the castle. It wasn't too terribly much, certainly nothing nearing a fortune, but she had brought back enough treasures with her that after everything had been sold to a variety of reputable and disreputable sources alike, Hermione was able to secure herself what was needed. Namely, a room at the Leaky Cauldron for two months, along with seven dresses, seven sets of robes and capes, two cloaks, and a variety of accessories, all of a quality that a pureblood would approve of. It had been painful to waste so much currency when she had spent such a long time in her past wondering when any REAL food would cross her metaphorical plate again, but she had needed to secure Tom Riddle's attention and, if her current predicament was any indication, her plan appeared to have worked.
Selecting a periwinkle, peplum dress that hugged her form down to slightly above her knees, Hermione finished the look by tossing a matching cape across her bed and kicking a shimmery silver pair of heels towards the outfit to put on after her hair was tamed. She crossed to where a cracked vanity sat in the corner of the room and settled herself briefly on the threadbare, cushioned stool.
The vanity table itself contained no potions bottles like other witch's beauty collections often did, but rather a single tome of hair charms and a variety of combs. These, thankfully, Hermione had not been forced to purchase as Professor Sinistra, who had a weakness for this particular decoration intended for a woman's person, had left a wealth of the things abandoned in her quarters. They were, to a one, finely wrought and beautiful. Despite whatever other concessions she had made, Hermione still could not bring herself to charm her face as so many witches did until she was hardly recognizable with rouge and lip stain. Though she had mastered the hair charms after hours and hours of practice in preparation for her trip back in time, she left her skin clear and unadorned as she had done the majority of her life.
She flipped through the pages of preening illustrations until she settled on a French Twist, flicking her wand expertly as she murmured the words to the incantation, causing her normally disobedient mane to obediently secure itself to her head. She slid a heavy silver comb adorned with lapis lazuli embellishments between her scalp and her curls before moving to her wardrobe and slipping on the undergarments and seamed stockings she was slowly growing accustomed to.
As Hermione finally smoothed the ruffles of the peplum over her hips and glanced into the scarred mirror, she was shocked once again by the composed and elegant witch who looked back at her. In her mind's eye she still saw herself as she looked during the last time she had been with her boys, the last time she truly felt alive; that year of dirty hair and dirtier clothes. She pictured herself with skinny hips and cracked fingernails and eyes that never stopped looking this way and that way, searching for the next threat or the next goal. Now though, her hips were wider and her breasts were fuller and her eyes were significantly more haunted than hunted.
She wasn't sure if she felt it an improvement, though she suspected objectively it would be considered one.
Hermione swallowed a bit heavily and shut her eyes, reminding herself once again why she was doing all this. She came back in time for Harry, for Ron, for the world, and even a teensy bit for herself.
She was going to change things.
She was going to change EVERYTHING.
With a deep breath to steel her nerves, Hermione straightened her spine and slipped on her kitten heels. Another 'Dies' showed it time to head down and meet the women she would be spending her morning (and likely much more) with, so with a quick flourish to secure her cape she moved out the door to the hallway and set her wards. She secured her wand in her hair and cast a wandless disillusionment to conceal it before heading to the front.
She was greeted by a perfectly coiffed Jocelend Rosier, along with a more relaxed looking Angua Lestrange. Calliope Nott approached from the apparition point at the same time she emerged from the building and Jocelend moved to kiss both Hermione and Calliope's cheeks.
"We're just waiting on Epona," Jocelend explained brightly, linking her arm with Hermione's while the women stood in a circle and discussed plans for the morning.
Calliope was agreeing to tea but "only if we're done before two, I have a time-sensitive brew going at home," when Hermione spotted Corvus Avery prowling towards them with a diminutive woman tucked into his side. The woman had not been introduced at the dinner party as Tom had interrupted before they had gotten to the Averys, but Hermione remembered the look in Corvus's eye when they had discussed the 'Dagger of Repentance' after dinner and she had to suppress a shudder. Jocelend's body tightened beside her and Hermione fought to keep her face impassive as curiosity at the woman's response threatened to overwhelm her.
The couple stopped in front of them and Corvus smirked at the assembled group of women before bending ever so slightly into a distinctly mocking bow. "Ladies, you're all looking well today," he drawled.
Jocelend smiled tightly and let go of Hermione, stepping forward with the clear intent to pull who must be Epona forward with her.
"Lord Avery, how lovely to see you," Jocelend said, reaching for Epona's arm.
A large hand wrapped quickly into strawberry blond locks that were more strawberry than blond and Epona was yanked backward with a barely concealed grimace of pain out of Jocelend's reach and further into Corvus's side. Hermione's fists clenched and a silent hiss escaped between her teeth.
"Just a second, Joce," Corvus admonished with a feral looking grin that was all teeth while Jocelend's shoulders visibly tightened at the nickname. "Let me say goodbye to my wife."
Corvus used the hold he had on Epona's hair to turn her face and kiss her possessively, ignoring the way she stiffened into the kiss even as he pried her lips apart with his tongue. This was pureblood society, not muggle London where kissing so openly would be met with an eye roll and a snicker or two. Here in Diagon Alley as a pureblood elite, Hermione had read enough and seen enough to know one certainly did not kiss any woman that one considered a lady out in the open like THAT. Epona's cheeks tinted in embarrassment and humiliation while all of the other women averted their eyes in an attempt to diminish in some small way the woman's discomfort.
Hermione's fingernails dug into her palms as she considered the best way to extricate the witch in front of her from her husband without risking harm to Epona herself. His wand was hidden, likely in a sheath somewhere unknown, and the Lady Avery was currently between Hermione and the Death Eater like a rather inconvenient human shield.
After far too long, Corvus released Epona's lips only to smile down at her condescendingly. "Now, try to be good, Princess," he told his wife who he still held tightly by the hair. "Wouldn't want to hear about you girls getting into any trouble. Where was it you were going again?"
The woman swallowed and looked down causing Corvus to tut and force her head up with a painful tug to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow in warning, some silent communication passing between the two before Epona swallowed and smiled shakily.
"We're going to Twilfitt and Tattings," she told him quietly. "And after, to Rosier Villa for tea."
He released her hair to run a finger along her jaw and Epona flinched involuntarily. The world slowed and the same sort of film that covered her mind in the heat of battle began to shift into place. Calm crept through her veins as she determined that a strong stunning spell would likely work on both of them and then Epona could simply be woken while she secured Corvus. Her hand casually raised to her hair, intent on drawing her wand, when Calliope was suddenly beside her, gripping her wrist tightly and shaking her head imperceptibly.
Corvus ignored the flinch and smiled, grasping Epona's chin in his hand as he glanced at the women around him before placing a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead. "I certainly hope that's where you're going. I can't very well keep you safe if I don't always know where you are," he said with a chilling smile as his fingers dug into Epona's chin. "Be home by three, yeah? We have plans this afternoon."
Epona blinked rapidly and seemed to slump ever so slightly at the thought of home but she gave her husband a weak, small smile and nodded as best she could with his fingers clutching her chin.
"Of course, Corvus," she agreed quietly.
He released her and bowed once more to the assembled women before turning and strolling away, whistling some melody as he moved further down the street. Jocelend immediately pulled Epona to her side with her arm linked through the other woman's and everyone stood in grim vigil, watching as Corvus's form grew ever smaller. As soon as he was out of sight, Jocelend pulled the slightly shaking woman around a different corner and into an alleyway while the rest of them trailed after her.
The calm had already fled and outrage began to pump through Hermione's veins as she wheeled on Calliope.
"Why did you stop me?!" she demanded with the full force of her haughty disapproval. She fixed the other woman with a glare that would have had either of her boys stumbling over themselves to apologize and make amends. "Why do you all just stand around and let that happen? Surely this isn't the first time that man has behaved like this in front of all of you."
Calliope glanced at her and shook her head with a defeated, annoyed sigh. She pulled Hermione closer and forced her to wait until the others were out of sight in the alley before casting a surprisingly strong 'Clamitatio' spell, creating a din of noise to potential eavesdroppers that made their conversation indiscernible.
"Because, if you or anyone else makes any sort of scene, Epona will get drug back home and she won't get to spend time with us," Calliope explained. "That's just another few hours where she's under his heel with no hope of a breath of escape."
"But-" Hermione started to argue, but Calliope interrupted her before she could begin.
"And if you think by defending Epona to him you're somehow helping her, you're not," she continued, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing Hermione with a firm gaze of her own. "Every word you say? She will pay for it later. You will go home, safe and sound, and she will go home to that."
Hermione paced in front of the redheaded witch, her upset growing as the other woman refused to acknowledge that something had to be done.
"She most certainly DOES NOT have to go home to that," Hermione insisted. "This isn't the middle ages, Calliope; women have rights, even within the confines of marriage. If that's what he does in public, I can't begin to imagine what he's like behind closed doors. Why don't any of you help her get out, and furthermore, why are you trying to stop me from doing the same?!"
Calliope's eyes widened and she eyed Hermione with a mix of incredulity and anger.
"Are you mad!?" She practically hissed, latching into Hermione's arm and looking around as if afraid someone would hear her. "They're married, Hermione! This isn't some muggle handfasting we're discussing; this is true wizarding marriage, bound for life and all that entails. She's supposed to just leave?! You say women have rights in their marriage, but you know as well as I that depends on the ritual used and what the man vows- IF he vows anything at all! Do you honestly think the vows and the ceremony the Avery family used can be wriggled out of, or that he promised anything of real use to her? He'd use the bond to make her life miserable until death seemed preferable if she tried to escape! And do you truly think any of us can do anything, affect any real change?"
She huffed and shook her head. "Avery is Inner Circle now, same as Livius and Bastien and Rad and the others," Calliope continued, counting each man on her fingers for emphasis. "There is only one man who could possibly have the power to make him stop, and you tell me if you think Lord Riddle has any intention of interfering in the private lives of his followers."
Hermione rubbed her temples and fought not to screech in indignation. "This isn't about respecting someone's privacy, this is wrong!" She said forcefully. "This is morally reprehensible, this is-"
She cut herself off with a snap at Calliope's raised eyebrow as she realized what she was saying and how utterly- out of place it sounded, considering the circumstances. The Death Eaters didn't care about morality; ethics and the depravity of a situation were not valid arguments to them. Suddenly her work the previous night on superior occluding seemed woefully inadequate, as she had only addressed the sinful things Tom himself might do and really, that left her with rather a lot of unresolved problems when it came to his lackeys. The wives may not be Death Eaters in their own right, but they were married to these men, and how was she to know who was just as bad as their husband and who was involved involuntarily?
Her eyes filled with angry tears and Calliope frowned, reaching a gentle hand out to rest on Hermione's shoulder where she squeezed.
"Oh, Hermione," Calliope scolded, not without sympathy. "This is one of the least upsetting things you're likely to see as Lord Riddle's wife. I don't know why you chose to join the Death Eaters or to marry the Leader, but you can't- You can't respond like this and expect the others not to eat you alive."
Hermione tried, she really did, to stem the flow of frustrated tears that slid down her cheeks but they kept falling and Calliope sighed gently before handing her a handkerchief embroidered with the Nott family crest from her satchel. It was such an annoyance to cry when angry but there was nothing for it so she simply tried to breathe through it, taking the moment to form a strategy to fix this situation with Epona Avery. Calliope may have given up and the others as well, but she was not Hermione Granger for nothing and she simply would not let this pass.
"You didn't choose, did you?" Calliope mused aloud as she studied Hermione, nodding her head in understanding and looking distinctly tired. Hermione didn't confirm nor deny her speculations, simply allowing the other woman to draw her own conclusions on why she would be marrying Tom. "I suppose I just thought- Well, since Lord Riddle would never be subject to an arranged marriage, of course, that you... Well. It doesn't matter."
She looped an arm over Hermione's shoulder and held her tightly. "Look," Calliope said kindly, "Let's get you some pretty, pretty robes for your bonding ceremony and then we'll head back to Jocelend's and sort all of this out, alright? The women here, with us today? We take care of each other and you're about to be one of us. Your ours now. We can't fix everyone, as much as we wish we could, but we protect our own as much as can and we're going to sort out what your feeling and deal with it. Epona's situation is a lot more complicated, but a lot of us have done what you're doing. You think all of us were thrilled about our marriages to begin with?"
Hermione gave a small watery chuckle at that thought and pulled away from Calliope, drying her eyes and smoothing down her skirt. "No, of course not," she agreed. Maybe these women could be true friends and allies; maybe they could simply be useful. Either way, she had no intention of dismissing advice from anyone within her new social sphere without weighing it thoroughly for import.
"Definitely not," Calliope said with a wry grin. "But this is the way things are, and we'll help you make the best of it."
"Right," Hermione said with a firm nod. There was no sense in telling Calliope that she had no intention of accepting the status quo like a good girl. These women obviously had made their decisions already and maybe they truly didn't have choices, but she did and she intended to use them. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Calliope replied with a smile. "Let's go catch up with the girls."
When Tom arrived home for a quick lunch, he was surprised into stillness at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his flat. Hermione was settled in front of his door with her head buried in a book, feet tucked under her and looking every bit as if she was sitting on a plush armchair and not the dirty floor.
After a moment's pause, he climbed the stairs towards her and smiled charmingly when she looked up at him, noting the fiery look in her eyes and the tightness of her jaw without comment.
"Little Gaza," he greeted her smoothly, extending a hand to help her to her feet. "This is truly a surprise. I was under the impression you were shopping and taking tea with the most elite of pureblood wives this afternoon."
Hermione allowed him to help her stand before tucking her book into a bag that was clearly too small to hold it (and yet still held it just fine, clever girl) and clutching at the emerald around her neck nervously.
Tom smiled at the unconscious gesture. He wondered if she considered the necklace an adornment or a noose.
"No matter," he continued, brushing the curl from her forehead that it seemed was always escaping from whatever style she tortured her hair into. "Would you like to join me for tea instead?"
"Yes. Thank you, Tom," Hermione murmured before stepping aside to allow him to move the wards. Once again, he chose to let them drape over her skin instead of removing them entirely and he noticed with a pleased, private smirk that this time she did not comment on the caress of dark magic.
Instead of waiting for him to make the tea, he watched Hermione set the kettle to boil before moving to pull cups down from the same cabinet she had watched him use just two days ago. Tom settled himself at the table with a small amount of annoyance that she so liberally allowed herself access to his space, but more amusement than anything else. Did she even realize how she already began to fold herself into the spaces around him, how easily and smoothly she fit into his side?
His Gaza may be upset by it, but he doubted she would allow herself the luxury of ignoring how well they meshed together with one another.
Neither of them spoke until the tea was ready and Hermione was pouring for him, preparing his cup precisely how he had done it in front of her. Most people failed to do much of anything with the same precision Tom himself did but as he took a suspicious sip of the liquid placed in front of him, fully prepared to dispose of it and start all over, he noted Hermione appeared to be the exception. If he did not know better, he would have sworn he himself prepared it.
He savored the beverage as he watched her nervously nibble of her lip, letting the silence stretch to uncomfortable proportions before she finally gave in by banging her own cup down so violently that some of the liquid sloshed onto the table.
"I have a request, as a wedding present," Hermione said firmly, though her steely demeanor was somewhat undermined when she looked around and, failing to locate a tea towel, simply wiped the spill up with her sleeve.
Tom raised a single eyebrow as he studied the way she fidgeted in her chair. She certainly did not strike him as one to be overly invested in material trappings, but perhaps he had been mistaken.
"And what is it precisely that you desire?" He asked.
"Epona Avery," she answered while her chin lifted ever so slightly in a defiant gesture.
Tom's other eyebrow rose to the same height as his first as he considered such a ridiculous and rather strange request.
"I have to wonder what on earth little Epona could have done in the space a few morning hours to offend you so deeply that you'd wish for her death."
"What?!" Hermione gasped breathlessly, reeling back from the table slightly and shaking her head rapidly back and forth. "Merlin, of course I don't want her dead! That's not at all what I- I want her safe."
Tom bit back a frown. While that did make more sense, it was also an even more ridiculous idea than disposing of the little mouse of a woman.
"I assume this has to do with Corvus and his more distasteful proclivities?" Tom inquired politely, taking another sip of his tea.
Hermione huffed, indignation coloring her cheeks as she practically trembled with emotion.
"His 'distasteful proclivities'?!" she hissed. "I did, as you suggested earlier, go to get my robes and then have tea at Jocelend's this morning. Once we arrived in a private residence, I got an eyeful of just what sort of 'proclivities' that disgusting man has. A simple finite on Epona's glamours so that she could be healed and tended revealed much more than I have any interest in ever being privy to again."
"Corvus Avery is a sadist," Tom explained patiently, as if to a child. "When there is no one in interrogation for him to play with, Epona serves as entertainment. Did we not discuss how I allow my followers their hobbies in order to secure their loyalty? What concern is it of mine how he chooses to treat one magically weak woman?"
Hermione opened her mouth, likely to yell at him in an overly emotional and impulsive fit, but he continued on before she could make such a mistake and ruin a perfectly pleasant tea time by doing something that would require him to punish her.
"So what, exactly, shall I do and what is my incentive to do so? I could provide him with more playthings if that was your desire. He largely ignores Epona when there are less broken toys in his dungeon," Tom shrugged and took a sip of his tea. "I won't kill him, if that's your request. He's far too valuable."
"You are the only one who could evenly possibly leash him, Tom," Hermione exclaimed with pleading eyes, reaching across the table and taking his hand in her own. The warmth of her skin with her magic crackling across it, spurred forth by her wildly thrashing emotions, sent instant arousal up and down his spine. Tom's eyes fell to half-mast as he quickly reversed their positions, grabbing her wrist firmly and pressing it to the table.
"Yes, I could leash him," he replied, his voice husky as he ran his thumb over her jumping pulse. "But why would I?"
"Because I asked," she told him firmly.
He leaned forward across the table, keeping her hand trapped as he smiled coldly at her.
"No."
His eyes closed briefly and he bit back a groan as her magic surged with her rage at his dismissal. This was what she had been fighting so hard to hide from him and now she was losing control in a stunning moment of thoughtless anger. Fuck, she was powerful. He knew, of course; he could sense it and his wards could catalog it but feeling it thrumming beneath his fingertips was so much more than that.
Tom had women; he had them a hundred different ways and a hundred different times whenever the mood struck him but his Gaza was so much more than any of them had ever been. He opened his eyes to see hers nearly black from barely restrained wrath and all he wanted to do was bend her over the table and pound into her until he saw just how much more power would be forced out of her when he made her cum.
If anger was like this, orgasm might just level a building.
Her face was white in the throes of temper and her fist had clenched but he felt it relax under his grip. Though she still trembled, she outwardly cooled and by all appearances became much calmer.
She couldn't fool him, though. Her magic was still trying to burn the air around them.
"What can I bring to this conversation to make it worth your time to help Epona?" Hermione finally asked evenly.
Tom smiled.