AN: Sooooo... it's been an awkwardly long time. I have a million reasons for this and I am very, very apologetic but ultimately, life and mental health just imploded and writing became very, very difficult. I did write a Christmas fic for a fest I had signed up for before the issues started, but this story specifically requires a lot of brain power to write because there are a lot of moving pieces to keep track of. I just could not seem to do it, and I haven't written anything aside from that one shot in over two months. Then, of course, I had to get back in the swing of things and it took me a moment to re-read the story and all of my notes, but here we are! A new chapter, finally! You, my readers, are some of the best and most patient of readers and I thank you, once again, for your kindness and patience. You make it so worth it to keep coming back to, even if I've been lost for a bit. Thank you again!
Tom kept a firm hand on his wife's lower back as they walked into Gringott's bank. She was flanked on her other side by Orion Black, who was looking far too pleased to be here for a man who didn't, actually, know why he was here. All that the Elder Black had been told is that he was to come up with a reason to access his vault and he was to bring the Riddles as his guests.
Three Days Ago
"You summoned me via owl, my Lord?" Orion began with a charming smile, helping himself to Tom's fire whiskey before plopping down on the sofa in the sunroom. "Bit of a surprise, really, since you usually stick with the Morsmordre on my forearm but I am, as always, at your service and mercy."
Tom suppressed a sigh. If there was one member of his Death Eaters who was consistently too familiar, it was Orion Black. He wasn't entirely sure the man was even aware of how to properly grovel. It was to his benefit that he was so very good at what he did and had therefore never had a reason to need to beg.
Hermione snorted into her tea and he winked at her.
"The Morsmordre is for when I require your presence immediately," Tom drawled, stealing the fire whiskey from Orion that he had not bothered to ask for and drinking it himself. "Seeing as that particular version of summoning makes it impossible to provide you with an appointment time, owls are sometimes a necessary inconvenience. I'm happy to provide you with a little crucio if the lack of pain is not to your liking."
Orion's pupils dilated slightly and he swallowed. His head bent in the very smallest sign of acquiescence he could get away with. "Apologies. How may I serve, my Lord?"
"I will need you to accompany myself and the Lady Riddle on a visit to Gringotts," Tom told him, choosing to accept his pitiful display of obedience in favor of getting on with things and getting him out of Nidum Serpentis. "Your vault is in the 700's, correct?"
Orion tilted his head. "My personal vault is 819, but the Black Family vault is number 711," he answered. "Which do you need access to?"
"The Black Family Vault," Hermione told him, taking a sip of her tea.
Orion flashed her a wide smile before settling his attention back on Tom. "And what will you be needing to retrieve from my vault, my Lord?" he asked. "All that I am is yours, of course, but our time in the bank may move more quickly if you direct me to what you need."
"Nothing," Tom answered blankly. "Retrieve whatever you wish. It should, however, be something that will take you a small amount of time to locate; somewhere in the range of 20 minutes or so."
Orion blinked but seemed to understand inane questions would likely result in an unpleasant afternoon for him and therefore chose to keep any queries to himself. However, he did turn to Hermione with that charming, Black smile.
"How would you feel about some Black Family Jewelry as a late wedding present, my Lady?"
Hermione grimaced. "With the utmost respect, Orion, I'd rather not own anything Walburga has ever deigned to wear to accompany that fashionable disdain."
Tom was unable to repress his snort at that.
Orion smirked. "Rose Gold, then," he determined. "Wallie says it's common."
He stood to leave then, turning to Gilmy to take his cloak as she carried it into the sunroom.
"Wallie?!" Hermione mouthed incredulously to Tom as soon as his back was turned.
The Dark Lord shrugged.
Now, Orion stepped forward slightly ahead of them, strutting up to the desk of the Head Goblin with a smile. Although lesser vaults could be accessed by any of the Gringotts goblins, anything between 600 and 900 required the permission of the Head Goblin himself.
Orion rapped his knuckles on the desk, leaning forward to read the goblin's nameplate. "Ah, Mr. Wageart," he started. "I need to access my vault this morning."
Wageart leaned forward and peered impassively at Orion before leaning around him to study Hermione and Tom. Tom pinched his little wife's side lightly when she immediately began to fiddle with the beaded bag clutched in her hands.
Wageart leaned back and resumed writing on the parchment he had previously been updating. "Wands," he intoned in a bored tone. "Everyone's wand who intends to visit the vault, Mr. Black."
"Of course," Orion said with a grin that the old goblin could not be bothered to note. He presented his wand and stepped aside, allowing Tom and Hermione to do the same.
It was a process Tom, himself, despised and a key reason why he did not maintain a vault at Gringotts. He was not accustomed to handing his magic over to anyone, not even in the form of his conduit, and allowing any party to run their greedy little hands along or brush up against his magic in any way that he had not explicitly consented to was absolutely repugnant to him. His Gaza was, as with many things, an exception to this rule. The goblin in front of him decidedly was not.
The allure of the Philosopher's Stone, however, kept Tom momentarily calm and complacent. He reminded himself that despite his distaste for the process, goblins were very proficient keepers of the economy and fiercely clever little creatures for positioning themselves as such. In his rise to power, it would be much more advantageous to secure them as allies than to be forced to commit genocide of the British version of the species. He doubted, for example, that the French branch of Gringotts would be inclined to engage in business with his regime if he had murdered all of their brethren.
Wands were returned and a goblin named Drukz was called upon to direct them to their chosen vault. Tom held out a hand to help Hermione into their cart and for the first time since they'd entered the bank, truly saw her face.
His chest tightened dramatically.
He had not been paying any attention to his little Gaza, but he now noted her pale face, wild eyes, and clammy hands. It seemed that the memory of her previous break-in was weighing on her more than she had admitted.
Tom bit back a grimace. Such an inconvenient time for her to be feeling things.
"Gaza," He murmured, calling her attention back to him. Brown eyes snapped to his and he stroked a thumb across the back of her hand, pulling her into his side as they settled into the cart. The goblin was, thankfully, paying little attention to his temporary human companions but it was only a matter of time before he noted Hermione's rather suspicious demeanor.
"Breathe," Tom said ever so quietly, burying his lips beneath her curls so that his words could slide directly into her ear with no one else the wiser. "All is well; I have considered all aspects and contingencies. You need only-"
His voice cut off as his Deliciae turned abruptly and captured his lips with her own, sucking the air from his words into her own mouth as if she could absorb them directly onto her tongue. She did as instructed and breathed him in, pulling back a moment later to exhale. Tom noted somewhat distantly that the cart was now moving, Orion was blatantly staring, and the pain in his chest had retreated.
Without turning away from where his wife's lips hovered an inch from his own, Tom turned his attention to Orion with a pointed and glacial glance from the corner of his eye. Orion paled and quickly tore his attention away, smoothing his robes down and twirling his wand in his fingers in an attempt to appear busy.
Bringing his attention back to the woman in front of him, Tom raised a single finger and stroked it once across her plump bottom lip before he sat back in the cart and refocused his mind. Arousal, while inevitable when his Gaza's lips stroked his, was distracting and therefore quickly discarded. Thief's Downfall approached and Tom smirked, his mind effectively shifting to focus entirely on the Pukwudgie currently begrudgingly nestled in his wife's beaded bag.
One Day Ago
"James," Angua greeted with a small, fond smile. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
James said nothing, glancing at Angua with a blank expression before regarding both Tom and Hermione with suspicion.
She sighed, clearly disappointed but resigned to James's manners, before continuing. "I'd like to clear my debt, James. In recompense for the life debt I have held for these many years, it is my desire that you aid Lord Riddle in whatever way he wishes. At the end of the service, I will hold the debt discharged and you will be freed from your obligation to me, in full."
James inhaled, scowling as his suspicion evidently deepened. "And what is this service he requires, Madame Lestrange?"
Angua glanced at Tom, who simply looked back with an impassive countenance. "That is not for me to know, James," she stated carefully.
"You would send me off to do some unknown service for an unknown wizard and then call that equal?!" James spat. His eyes shifted frantically about the occupants of the room before he took a step back, clearly considering bolting for the exit.
Tom lazily flicked his wand into his hand as he looked at Angua coldly, watching with satisfaction as panic flitted across her features. This was, after all, her asset and despite how she may wish otherwise, she was the only one with leverage over the creature. It fell to her to control it.
His Gaza stepped forward, hands outstretched pleadingly, and Tom bit back a sigh. Evidently, his little wife saw the matter differently.
"James, please," Hermione began, stopping in the middle of the room with an earnest expression. "I assure you, there is no need for your mistrust. The service is delicate, and by its very nature, requires a great deal of subtlety. While the deed itself should not be overly dangerous for you or any of the participants, the knowledge of it will be so. It is to Angua's benefit she is not privy to it."
James stalled and fixed her with narrowed eyes, no longer attempting to retreat but not acquiescing to stay either.
"If you would simply give us a moment to explain," she continued, pressing her advantage, "I think you will find that the bargain is quite reasonable when measured up against a life debt."
The Pukwudgie's jaw tightened as it seemed to struggle with itself momentarily before nodding rigidly. "I'll talk to YOU," it said, pointing a gnarled little finger at his Gaza before shifting to point at Tom himself. "HIM, I don't trust."
Tom paused, momentarily torn between anger and amusement at the spunk of the little thing. A year ago, he would have cursed it immediately for its cheek but now, that same cheek reminded him of someone. The brief stall of his wand reminded him that he had no idea where else to secure a Pukwudgie with a debt and the creature was needed for his plan to work.
He bit back a sigh; he was obviously going soft. Angua looked terrified and miserable at the turn of the conversation though, as she should, and that at least soothed him a bit.
He allowed the Pukwudgie to lead his Deliciae from the room, unconcerned for where they may go so long as his little wife wore his collar around her neck. With the emerald nestled between her delicious breasts, he could find her anywhere.
Tom let his eyes wander to Angua, who was sitting rigidly on the chaise with her eyes downturned.
"I have suffered a great deal of disrespect in your home today, Lady Lestrange," he advised her coolly, twirling his wand between his fingers lazily as he lounged on the loveseat. "I take no pleasure in the necessity of correcting such a state, but that creature is your asset and therefore, your responsibility."
"I understand, my Lord," Angua replied shakily. Despite her obvious fear, she rose from the chaise and moved to kneel in front of him, prostrating herself at his mercy.
Begrudgingly, Tom felt his respect for the woman rise. Some of his seasoned Death Eaters begged to be spared an earned punishment, yet here the society wife was more than prepared to take whatever he deigned to provide.
Tom considered the woman before him before leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. "The gift of your life debt, wherein you would serve me by giving me it's usage, is a gift that would entitle you to a favor," he mused, watching as Angua resolutely kept her eyes deferentially averted to the floor inches beneath her face. "I would allow you to choose to use that favor to excuse your asset's dismal manners. You may be forgiven the need for this suffering if you so choose."
He watched her lift her head high enough that he could study her face as she licked her lips and stared intently at his shoes. "You are most gracious, my Lord," the woman whispered. "But if it pleases you, I will retain my favor for a later date and suffer your displeasure as you see fit."
Tom felt a shiver of delight run up his spine. Rad, it seemed, had chosen well when selecting a wife; Lady Lestrange was not to be underestimated. Pain was bearable, and a favor from the Dark Lord himself, collected at the right time, was invaluable.
The crucio was necessary, of course, but perfunctory and short in this case. Angua thanked him for the correction and was admirably quick in pulling herself back together. By the time his wife and the Pukwudgie returned, Tom was enjoying a relaxing tea. The satisfaction after Angua's submission was almost post-coital and his contentment was still slithering through his veins.Hermione had managed to convince the creature to aide them and his gratification only increased.
It was not until he had returned to Nidum Serpentis that evening with his little wife tucked into his side that he realized that he had allowed Hermione to negotiate on the Death Eater's and more importantly, the Dark Lord's, behalf.
This bond was downright insidious.
Now, though, Tom supposed it had been an ultimately wise, if ill-thought-out, decision. James was disillusioned and tucked into Hermione's bag which had been charmed with an undetectable extension charm since before she had even considered traveling back to him. In the memory, it had become clear that the bag did not appear to be subject to the magics of the waterfall and as they passed under it, his theory was confirmed. Despite the stiffening of the woman beside him, they emerged unchanged and unmolested. Tom smiled coldly at his Deliciae, a reminder that as he had told her earlier, all would move forward smoothly and as he planned it.
He would not speak for the Lord Voldemort she knew in the other timeline, mad and inefficient being that he was, but this version of himself very rarely made mistakes.
A few minutes later, the cart slowed to a stop in front of a landing.
"Vaults seven hundred and ten through seven hundred and twenty," Drukz drawled in a bored tone, directing them with an outstretched, gnarled hand towards the vaults.
"Very good," Orion said pleasantly, strutting ahead towards where he knew his own vault to be. Tom steered his wife forward, noting that while her face was still pale, she appeared to have settled into a determined sort of momentum. His chest gave no pulses of distress, which he took to be a good sign of her emotional stability.
Excellent. While he could forgive her the dips and dives of her emotions, a heist was certainly no place to explore them.
While Hermione's memory had led him to believe they would be briefly facing a dragon, that particular security measure must have been reserved for people approaching the vaults from less conventional paths, as they saw no such creature. They moved past vault 710 and stopped in front of the Black Family Vault, with Orion attempting and failing to engage the goblin in discussion about the increased security methods as the vault number increased.
"Mind you," Orion was saying, "I find it to be quite efficient not to have to maintain a key, as it were, to access my-"
"Vault Seven Hundred and Eleven," Drukz interrupted, running a finger down the door in a caressing fashion before he turned back to their party. "Please return to the cart after your business is concluded."
The goblin walked away as the vault door swung open, leaving Orion to stare after him.
"Not the most chatty fellow," The Black patriarch mumbled under his breath as he strode in through the now open door. His Gaza grinned beside him and Tom bit back a sigh of annoyance before following Orion inside.
Once in the vault, Orion turned to Tom and Hermione. "So, we're here now," he said, pausing to wink at Hermione. "I do believe I promised the Lady some jewelry."
He glanced back at the many treasures behind him and took a step towards the left side. "Rose gold, did we say?" he verified.
Tom flicked his wand into his hand and pointed it at the elder Black brother's back. "Stupefy," he said blandly, watching impassively as Orion slumped to the floor.
Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. "Was that really necessary?" she asked with exasperation. "There are other spells-"
"No, it was not," He answered coldly, pulling the beaded bag from her hands and opening it. He heard her huff behind him, but she kept silent as he summoned the Pukwudgie from the bag and set the creature on the floor.
James, it appeared, was furious at the treatment and his mode of transportation, but he said nothing as Hermione once again went over the plan with him.
"So you'll enter the vault using the finger provided and your magic. It's similar enough to goblin magic, so it should register as just another worker accessing the vault," she told him, brushing off his little jacket before the creature pointedly removed her hands and glared at her.
"Right. So sorry," Hermione stuttered, smoothing her hair and taking a step back. "You'll enter the vault-"
"Get the manuscript," James interrupted impatiently. "Duplicate it. Return it to its exact previous position and return to this vault."
"And back in the bag," Tom said with a cold smile.
James inhaled and his eyes flashed, but he visibly forced himself to relax. "And then my debt is repaid. In full," he said aloud.
"With our gratitude," his Gaza added with a quelling look in Tom's direction which he ignored.
James grunted and looked at Hermione, gesturing to his body. "Well?" he said impatiently.
Hermione quickly disillusioned the Pukwudgie before reaching for the beaded bag and plunging her hand in. Her face twisted with distaste and Tom bit back a chuckle of amusement.
Two Days Ago
Antonin settled into Tom's dragon skinned armchair, glancing from the Dark Lord to Hermione before he cleared his throat.
"Antonin," Tom greeted him, taking a sip of his firewhiskey as the Russian nodded and gave a half bow.
"My Lord," he answered, but Tom cut him off with a tsk.
"Informal meetings require dinner party etiquette, as you are aware," he reminded the man.
"Of course, Tom," Antonin replied immediately. "Apologies." He glanced at Hermione and offered her a tentative smile, which she returned much more warmly than either man expected.
"Hello, Myshka," His Gaza said teasingly, and Tom watched with something between amusement and jealousy as Antonin Dolohov flushed with pleasure.
"Hello, Kotik," he responded in kind, wilting back into his chair only when he caught the lift of Tom's eyebrow and the flash of his eyes. His little wife must have caught it too, because her eyes filled with something like apprehension, presumably for her sworn wizard, and she immediately leaned into his side and planted a small kiss at the base of his neck.
Tom buried his hand in her curls, keeping her face pressed against him as he stared at Antonin coldly. Hermione lifted her head to whisper in his ear. "It's only a pet name, Tom, and a reminder of our status," she soothed him. "He is mouseling to my kitten; prey to my predator."
The explanation did, in fact, unruffle him, though he silently dove into Dolohov's mind even as he kept his wife concealed with her lips against his ear.
'Caution, myshka,' he breathed disdainfully into his lackey's mind. Antonin swallowed heavily and nodded, flinching as Tom wrenched his way free before gently releasing his wife.
"Where is the artifact ?" The Dark Lord asked, placing a possessive hand on Hermione's thigh as he took another drink of his fire whiskey. Perhaps he'd have Dolohov come back at another time and explore the man's thoughts fully and painfully to ensure that he harbored no delusions about his place with Tom's wife. The thought calmed him and allowed him to regain his composure.
"I brought it, my- Tom?" Antonin faltered, hand halfway into his robes as he grimaced and swallowed. Tom bit back his smile. He found himself quite enjoying the Russian's predicament. His Lord had already admonished him for being overly formal, but now the situation clearly required groveling. Tom likely shouldn't enjoy the other man's discomfort so much, but he reveled in it. Unease could be so very delicious.
"On second thought, 'My Lord' has quite the ring to it, little mouse," Tom drawled, looking deep into the golden color of his fire whiskey.
"Tom!" his Gaza began to admonish, but he tightened his grip on her thigh in warning. It would not do to have her question him in front of his followers. Merlin knew she'd do it enough in private, but it could not be seen to be allowed in public.
Hermione's jaw tightened and her hands became claws but she nodded tightly. Antonin, for his part, sat perfectly straight and produced the goblin finger from his pocket. He held it aloft, eyes on the floor. To his credit, he only flinched slightly when Tom took the finger.
"Dismissed, little mouse," Tom stated with a bored tone, ignoring the man entirely as Antonin stood and bowed and his wife seethed beside him, her magic beginning to spark in her rage in the most intriguing of ways.
"Thank you, My Lord," Antonin said miserably just before he left the study and apparated off the property.
Hermione immediately stood and rounded on him, anger flailing wildly as it burst forth from her and ran up and down his skin like fingertips. Tom's lips lifted to expose his teeth in a feral, wicked grin.
"Accio Goblin Finger," Hermione said somewhat miserably before holding the severed, preserved digit aloft. It disappeared, presumably tucked into the creature's clothing and the couple stood in silence for a moment before Tom's Deliciae reached out and linked their fingers together.
"Well," she stated unnecessarily. "I suppose he's off. Best wake Lord Black, don't you think?"
Tom looked towards the unconscious body of the eldest Black brother and grimaced.