AN: Hello faithful readers! After taking a huge turn for the worse the past month, my health has been much better the past week and I am cautiously optimistic that I am recovering/ed. With that in mind, it is my intention to go back to somewhere between weekly and bi-weekly updates! I have so many ideas of where this story is headed and have genuinely missed being well enough to write.
Tom leaned back in his scaled desk chair, stretching out the stiff muscles of his abs and arms before he relaxed back down with his forearms resting on his mahogany desk. He unrolled the shirt cuffs that had been pushed up to his elbow before he rebuttoned the few buttons he had undone whilst he had worked for comfort's sake. The night had been long and though Tom had caught a few hours rest on the long, dragon skin couch that matched his armchairs, he remained rather tired.
Still, he thought as he stood and cracked his back with a satisfied smirk, he had certainly gotten quite a bit of his plans in order. Now he looked forward to putting a few of them in motion with Nott. He cast a 'Dies,' determining that Livius would be arriving soon and it was time to clear his desk and greet his second. Tom smiled coldly, wondering if his dearest bride would have calmed enough to join them for a polite tea.
While he had thoroughly enjoyed benefiting from the bond they had solidified so recently, it was necessary to ensure that Hermione did not forget what her place was here. She was welcome to her role at his left side as his wife and to her own pursuits, but he had important work that could not stall simply because she felt the need to discuss something or another. His crown jewel was a delightful creature and he, surprisingly, was finding it quite diverting to spend time with her, but his plans came first.
He flicked his wrist, sending his wand skimming along the skin of his inner arm and into his palm before he cast a quick spell to remove the wrinkles from shirt and slacks. Another wrist movement moved the scattered parchment into neat, organized piles. He crossed to the wet bar and poured himself a tumbler of fire whiskey before rekindling the fire that was still crackling with a thought and moving to the door of his study.
Tom shivered under the pleasurable caress of the wards, making sure they were firmly in place before setting off in search of his Gaza. He paused, disinclined to search the entire property, before taking another sip of his drink and leaning casually against the wall.
"Gilmy," he called.
The house elf appeared in front of him, ears quivering as she studied her feet. "Yes Master?"
"Where is Hermione at the moment?" he queried.
"Missy Mione be laying down in her special room, Master," Gilmy squeaked. "Master Livius be seeing to her and her ills."
Tom raised an eyebrow and felt a spike of worry lace through him that he attempted to beat down brutally. Fucking entreaties.
"What sort of ills?" He demanded sharply.
Gilmy shuffled her feet and swallowed, obviously feeling uncomfortable as the object of Tom's intense scrutiny. "The Mistress is be feeling sick, yes she is. She falling asleeps, but not be waking back up."
Sharp panic skewered through Tom, lacing up and down his spine in an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation as he ignored the little elf further and moved swiftly to the staircase to climb to the upper floor. His long stride ate up the distance quickly as he moved with purpose towards the study he had arranged for his Deliciae. He did not pause as he pushed the door open with more force than was necessary to be greeted by the sight of Livius kneeling by the lounge that his little wife was stretched out on, casting spells in quick succession in an attempt to determine the source of her malady.
Upon his arrival, Livius quickly stood and turned to him, face pale and eyebrows drawn together. He inclined his head respectfully before speaking.
"My Lord," Livius murmured. "I cannot determine the source of the lady's unconsciousness and you were unreachable in your study. I cast a series of-"
Tom cut him off with a snarl, fierce protectiveness and possessiveness wracking through his body.
"Be silent," he ordered the now sheet-white man as he crossed the room and took up Livius's previous position.
Without thought, Tom reached forward and brushed Hermione's hair from her forehead, forcing himself not to startle when she immediately gasped for air and grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip. Without opening her eyes, his Gaza sat up and launched herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
Tom grimaced slightly, unnerved by the strange and uncharacteristic show of affection before he remembered that they were not alone in the room. Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he lifted the woman in his arms with him as he moved to a seated position before settling himself onto the lounge where she had previously been and leaning back, allowing her to rest her body against his.
Livius stood wide-eyed and uncomfortable by the window and with a sharp nod, Tom directed him to settle in the desk chair he had provided for Hermione's work.
Ignoring his second for the moment, Tom turned his attention back to his little wife.
"Hermione?" he murmured into her hair, unsurprised when the still shaking figure in his arms gave no indication she had heard him. While the unconsciousness had ended, her coherence was still questionable and a theory, both disturbing and intriguing, was slowly forming in his mind as to why.
He had, of course, entreated for Hermione's need. He had sought to bind her to him more closely and while that goal appeared to have been accomplished, he had not anticipated that the repercussions of that entreaty would be so dire. If the way the normally hesitant woman was clinging to him so shamelessly was any indication, the repercussions were TRULY debilitating.
Fuck, he thought as completely foreign and uncharacteristic guilt (courtesy no doubt of her empathy entreaty) laced through his heart. He had created an ILLNESS in her. He had not intended to deny her the ability to fulfill the entreaty by retreating to his study overnight, and even if he had, he never would have anticipated her violent reaction to it.
As the guilt began to wrap itself around his consciousness, Tom hesitated. This was... interesting. If he concentrated, he could isolate the feeling of remorse as not actually belonging to him. That emotion was manufactured, and with effort, he could recognize it as such and-
Maybe not dismiss it, no, but at least minimize its impact.
He allowed his hand to run through his Gaza's hair, working passively towards her health and awakening as he considered his emotional state since the conclusion of the bonding ceremony. As a rule, Tom was not controlled by the whims of his... feelings. Emotions were distasteful, to be sure, and lesser beings allowed them to steer their every move. Some emotions were helpful and if harnessed properly, could be used and manipulated to his benefit. Others, however, served no purpose other than to distract and detract from his goals.
Guilt was one such emotion. If allowed the opportunity to go back in time and change his entreaty, Tom would not choose to do so regardless of his Deliciae's current state. The need entreaty served a very specific and sought after purpose and he would not give it up, not even to ease his little wife's discomfort nor the strain he felt from the bond. Considering that truth, as well as the fact that Tom Riddle had never truly felt remorse for any of the choices he had made in his life, it was easy to categorize the guilt he was feeling as artificial and, as always, useless.
The same could be said of his own discomfort in response to Hermione's following the ceremony yesterday. To simply feel BADLY because she did was... inefficient, to name the least of the issues with it. In regards to his other emotions since then; the rage was entirely familiar and organic. His lust for her could have been impacted by the bond, but he sincerely doubted it; he needed no help in wanting her. The possessiveness had been prevalent all along and interestingly enough, while it would be easy to dismiss the protectiveness as manufactured and false, he would allow himself no delusions: it was not. The protectiveness that he felt for the witch in his arms was entirely real and perhaps that made the entreaty for it a moot point.
Then again, without the entreaty, he certainly would have cursed her yesterday for saddling him with something so undesirable as empathy. He suspected she would still consider that particular provision from their bonding a necessary one.
"My Lord?"
Livius's soft voice broke Tom out of his musings and he looked over to the other man, noting his second's worry and obvious affection for the woman wrapped around his leader. Tom narrowed his eyes.
"The events of today will go no further than your own council," Tom warned him in a silky tone that had the other man suppressing a shiver. "No one but those in this room are aware of the details of our binding, nor the repercussions of such, and I will not tolerate this information being available as a weapon against either her or myself."
In all honesty, he trusted Nott as much as he trusted any other creature on this earth and if he was forced to allow this particular weakness to be known to anyone, the man in front of him would have been his choice. Of course, he could simply obliviate his second but he rather liked the idea of having the man's not insignificant mind at his disposal when addressing the current issue at hand.
"Of course, Tom," Livius said earnestly. "I swear it."
"Naturally," he confirmed, bringing up a hand to absentmindedly run along his wife's cheekbone. "I admit, I am surprised by the level of need the entreaty created. This is not what I anticipated when I planned this."
Livius nodded thoughtfully, biting his lip as he ran a hand through his golden curls. "It's possible that the desperation and frequency will decrease over time," he suggested. "We know bonds are living, sentient organisms. As her natural fondness for you rises, the bond will likely work on her less and less to create the artificial version."
Tom closed his eyes and sighed. "One can hope. This is largely inconvenient for all parties involved."
He felt Hermione squirm ever so slightly in his lap and leaned back, noting with no small amount of relief that her eyelids were beginning to flutter. She was waking, and although part of him dreaded her response upon reaching consciousness, the bond was skittering across his spine and reminding him that her protection was his responsibility. A third part of him, a part that was not being throttled by the compulsions of the entreaties, also reveled in the fiery response he would likely receive once she realized exactly what he had done to her.
His little Gaza's eyes blinked open and she slowly took in her position in his lap, hesitantly lifting her gaze until finally it met Tom's own.
He lifted an eyebrow and granted her a small grin. "Hello, Deliciae," he greeted smoothly. "How kind of you to rejoin us."
She closed her eyes on a sigh and sat up, bringing her hands up to push the hair away from her face. "How long was I unconscious?" She asked tiredly.
Tom's shoulder lifted in a half shrug. "Hard to say, since I was entirely mired in my work and unavailable. I emerged to find you in such a state. Livius?"
Hermione startled, eyes widening as she snapped them to Nott's; she clearly had not yet noted they were not alone. He gave an awkward wave to her and looked back to Tom. "I arrived around half past four, and when your little elf immediately brought me here, she was already out."
"Gilmy," Tom said calmly, watching as the creature popped into the room with downcast eyes. "Are you aware of when the Mistress left the land of the awakened?"
Gilmy nodded, ears flapping. "Yes, Master. Missy Mione be falling asleeps at one and oh clock."
Tom nodded. "Dismissed," He said. "You may go."
"Thank you, Gilmy," Hermione blurted quickly, shooting Tom a look of exasperation.
She watched the elf pop away and then seemed to realize she was still firmly seated in Tom's lap. She squeaked and made a move to get up, but he tightened his arms around her, holding her in place.
"Now Gaza," he chastised with a cruel smirk. "Let's not be hasty. It appears your need for me has resulted in you falling ill. By all evidence, it seems the compulsion is based on touch and I am not entirely sure we should remove you from the source of your, ah, medicine so soon. After all, you've only begun to recover."
Internally, Tom felt a part of him relax in relief. With his little wife safe and awake, the entreaties loosened their hold and he began to feel much more like himself.
Hermione's eyes narrowed and her fists clenched as she glared at him, magic skittering across her skin in her anger. His smile widened. There she was, his Valkyrie with her claws out.
"And whose fault, precisely, is it that I need to be in close, personal contact with you frequently in order not to faint like some 1930's silent movie damsel?" She hissed at him. "Really Tom, you've created a problem for the both of us. Do you really intend to move forward with your epic plans of world domination with me clinging to your front like a- like a- like a bloody spider monkey?!"
Tom raised an eyebrow at her outburst. 'A spider monkey?'
Livius coughed, a blatant attempt to hide a snigger at the imagery, and Hermione turned her blazing eyes to him in fierce warning. Tom watched with no small amount of amusement as Nott quickly averted his eyes and cleared his throat.
"Apologies, my lady," he murmured.
His Gaza grimaced at the address but otherwise ignored him, forcing her eyes back to Tom's.
"This is unsustainable," she growled at him, squirming again to move to her feet. This time, he let her go with a small smirk as he watched her build herself up. "I have plans, as do you, and you made certain promises regarding my position within your organization. I will be required to be able to be competent for long periods of time, often without your presence, in order to effectively fulfill my responsibilities and effect the changes that I intend to."
She collapsed next to him on the chaise, reaching an absentminded hand out towards his thigh before she caught herself and sat on the hand instead.
Tom smirked at her aborted attempt to pet him. "Don't be slow, Gaza. It does not suit one of your intellect. Regardless of your position and your plans, the chances of you ever being present in a meeting without me are slim to exactly none."
He regarded her coldly as she opened her mouth, likely to protest, but he cut her off. "This is a dictatorship, Lady Riddle. It would be in your best interest not to forget it."
Livius, Tom noted, was sitting silently and wide-eyed, his gaze shifting back and forth frantically as he watched his Lord and Lady square off. Sadly, unless he could gain some unforeseen leverage over his lovely bond mate, it was likely a sight his inner circle should grow used to; the woman was nothing if not stubborn. Now he could no longer even attempt to curse her into compliance.
Marriage, it seemed, was to be complicated.
"A dictatorship it may be," Hermione told him through gritted teeth, slamming her palm down on the chaise cushion for emphasis, "but I was assured certain things through our negotiations and our bond and I have every intention of taking full advantage of them."
She stood once more and glared down at him; cheeks flushed, hair and clothing disheveled, and lips quivering with pique. She was stunning in her rage and her magic swirled, once again spiking Tom's arousal and causing him to want nothing more than to sweep her from the room and put her right back where she belonged; under him.
"Married or not, bonded or not," she continued in a low voice, "I belong to no one. You don't own me, Tom Riddle. I will have what was promised, and if you think I'll let a little thing like needing to touch you stop me, you don't know me at all. You will not control me with this entreaty, or I will find a way to gut you with my own."
With that, she turned on heel and fled from the room. Tom watched her go with fury and lust pounding through his veins, a common mixture when it came to his Deliciae. He should chase her down and, once again, teach her all of the many ways he did, in fact, own her. It was a lesson she clearly needed additional instruction on. But alas, there was work to be done.
He turned his attention back to his second, who was watching Tom carefully with a guarded expression. Despite his efforts to remain impassive, the man looked distinctly ill, as if he expected his Lord to murder his new wife and force Livius to dispose of the body.
Well, Nott had just watched perhaps the only person who would ever survive threatening the Dark Lord do just that. It was an unfamiliar sight.
Tom sighed. "She has a protection entreaty, remember?" He said with exasperation. "I can't exactly hurt her."
Livius shook his head far too vehemently, the strangeness of the situation clearly shaking his usual iron composure. "I am not concerned about her fate, my Lord."
Tom smirked. "You've always been exceptionally poor at deception, Livius. I do not suggest you begin by practicing with me."
Before the Nott could respond, he stood and stretched slightly. "Leave her for the moment. If she wishes to be involved in the politics, she'll be forced to return to us soon enough," he said. "In the meantime, it is time for dinner and after, there are far more important things to discuss than the whims of women."
Hermione joined them at the table halfway through the meal and Tom did not even attempt to hide his delight at her small capitulation. She may have been furious at him, but nothing so small as rage would ever stop that woman from her noble work of attempting to manipulate his goals.
"How lovely of you to join us, Little Gaza," Tom commented blandly as he took a small bite of his roast pheasant.
Hermione, who evidently had gotten her anger under tight control, smiled at him. "I wouldn't miss a planning meeting for the world, dearest husband."
He bit back his smirk.
After supper, the group of three retreated to his study where he allowed both of them to pass through his wards and settle in front of the fire. Hermione moved with purpose to the sofa, kicking her boots off at the end before she curled up against one end with her feet tucked securely beneath her. Tom took an armchair and Livius, after a moment's hesitation, took the other.
He smiled coolly at his wife and follower before beginning. "Livius, allow me to re-introduce you to the newest member of the inner circle," Tom said, vaguelly flicking his fingers in the direction of his wife. "Upon our bonding, Hermione joined us as a sort of consultant. While you will retain the official capacity of Second, as my Deliciae intends to work outside the confines of our structure, in all ways her word will come after only my own. I assume you can make that clear to the rest of our organization?"
"Of course, my Lord," Livius answered, his face only betraying the slightest tick of surprise.
"Dinner party etiquette will be sufficient," Tom stated. "That being said, there is business to discuss. Is all well in the office of the Minister?"
Livius nodded. "Malfoy reports that Ignatius stays loyal to our cause as ever."
"As is to be expected," Tom said with a bored expression as he ran a hand through his hair. "However, before we move forward with the more obvious political plans, contingencies must be made to retain any power gained."
"Contingencies?" Hermione asked with a distinctly suspicious narrowing of her eyes. He bit back his smirk. That suspicion was well earned.
"Oh yes, Gaza," Tom confirmed with a heart-melting grin. "Contingencies."
Livius's eyes widened once more before he cleared his throat. "Such as?"
Without breaking Hermione's gaze, he flicked his wrist, bringing some of the papers from his desk soaring into his hands. He finally looked away to glance at the parchment he was fingering.
"Power, especially that won by the whims of the populace, is difficult to maintain. After the current Minister meets with her unfortunate accident, that position will go to our puppet," Tom explained. "When his favor dies down, the power will have to be maintained through other means, and I intend on having several layers of plans to ensure it stays firmly in my grasp."
Hermione sat up, alarm evident in her eyes. "Surely you can't mean to murder the current Minister? Wilhelmina Tuft has been an excellent leader and has brought peace and prosperity during her time in office."
Livius glanced at Tom, his eyebrows raised as he got his first real glimpse at the morals of his new Lady. He supposed that without his follower's understanding of her as a seer, she would seem a strange choice. Still, no one would ever question her position aloud. They knew better than to question their Lord.
"She's weak," Tom explained with barely concealed exasperation. "Harmony and rainbows are all well and good, but there has been no growth. Without challenge, we as a country grow stagnant. Magical Britain has been allowed to grow fat and happy while muggle society continues to grow and threaten our existence as they push further and further into the realms we have claimed as our own. You know this is the party position, Deliciae. You are well aware of what you signed up for, including a political coup."
Hermione swallowed heavily and released a breath, nodding slightly even as her face paled. "Yes, I- I suppose I did."
She paused, before visibly steeling herself and meeting his eyes once more. "You mentioned contingencies? A coup d'état requires military takeover and force. I assume that is what you're referring to."
Tom concealed a smile. There it was, his devotion entreaty working at her, as well as the contract they had put together for the bonding. Delicious.
"Yes," he confirmed, flicking his fingers between Livius and the wet bar. The man immediately stood and returned shortly with three glasses of fire whiskey which he handed out to all present parties. "Bastien continues to recruit members of the Aurors from within, but their support is not enough. While the backing of the official police force is crucial, we need additional muscle to secure a new political system. Once the people realize that magical Britain is no longer a democracy, dissension is to be expected and will need to be dealt with swiftly on a broader basis than the Aurors can cover."
Livius took a sip of his fire whiskey before responding. "And you want these additional forces in place before we take power, just in case the reality of the new political system is revealed too early?"
"Exactly," Tom confirmed, flicking his wand once to duplicate the parchments in his hand and then handing one to Livius and one to his Gaza.
Livius leaned back in his chair, casually studying the papers while Hermione sat up with a straight back, earnestly and diligently perusing his military plans.
A few moments passed before he watched his wife visibly bristle. He suspected which part she found so abhorrent and Tom smiled.
"Really, Tom? Absolutely not."
"Pardon, Gaza?" Tom asked calmly, taking a drink from his tumbler before eying her with what appeared to be mild interest. "Firstly, I suggest you mind that sharp tongue of yours. If you wish to communicate a concern, respectful discourse is always encouraged."
He watched her close her eyes and visibly swallow her rage (although he was sure when it was not an impediment to her goal he would be endowed with the full force of it later) and meet his eyes with banked fury in her own. "Noted," she grit out. "However, an inferi army is not only morally questionable and positively disgusting but hugely inefficient."
Livius leaned forward, glancing at Tom for permission (and receiving a small nod in reply) before addressing Hermione. "I disagree. It's frankly the very definition of efficient. Deceased bodies are by their very nature useless, and yet their use as inferi through necromancy repurposes what has ceased to be helpful into a tool."
Tom watched with amusement while Hermione appeared to swallow back bile, but continued on determinedly none-the-less.
"While I concede that point," she said slowly, "Inferi are logically a poor choice of army. They can only be programmed to meet one, simple command. If the creator changes his or her mind or deems a new strategy to be essential, the inferi become at best useless and at worse work in opposition to the new plans."
"They have the benefit of being utterly terrifying to any who stand up against them," Livius pointed out.
"Yes, but at what cost?" Hermione countered. "They... degrade over time and are easily vanquished with fire. Even if you remove all moral qualms, and I recognize that within the Death Eaters you certainly don't consider those a valid concern, I still maintain they are inefficient."
"So," Tom queried, curious how she could reconcile that troublesome morality with her argument. "If I insist on having a completely disposable force in addition to my other potential armies, you suggest I use sentient and living beings that have simply been designated for the suicide branch rather than risk inefficiency?"
"Not necessary," She stated firmly, fiddling nervously with the emerald around her neck. "I suggest Golems."
Livius and Tom exchanged a look while Tom allowed his mind to whirl off with the potential drawbacks and benefits of replacing inferi with golems. Although sanctity of life was certainly not a concept that entered into his calculations, no one wanted to be part of an organization that was willing to sacrifice large groups of its followers in order to achieve its goals.
Individual martyrs would be leveraged into heroes and used as motivational tools; utilizing people as cannon fodder only discouraged membership.
The need for a hugely disposable police force in case of certain kinds of potential resistance was clearly necessary, but Tom had admittedly been enamored with the absolute fear an army of the undead would inspire. If one removed that benefit, golems were an intriguing alternative. They were constructed from clay and earth, and therefore more difficult to destroy. They did not deteriorate over time. And perhaps most tempting, they could be programmed with more complex orders. While they had no will outside of their maker's, they were capable of following directions that were contingent instead of only following one path.
For example, an inferi could only follow a simple "kill if disturbed." With a golem, one could add "kill if disturbed, unless..." That was certainly a huge boon.
Tom glanced at Hermione as she anxiously awaited his verdict. He smiled slightly as he considered how her considerable brain was now his to harness, his to own, his to work with and through. And yet, despite all of the many bonuses to replacing inferi with golems, she was undoubtedly meeting her goals as well. The dead would not be disturbed and their remains would be respected, while sanctity of life for a broad group of people would be guaranteed.
Still his crown jewel, and the best acquisition Tom Riddle had ever made.
"Well played, Little Gaza," he murmured.
AN: This chapter was getting far too long, so I made a decision to cut the chapter in half. Next chapter will be a continuation of the meeting as well as another full staff Death Eater meeting, but a very different one from the formal meeting in chapters 5 and 6. I am really excited for it!