A/N: Much thanks to RachaelLA26 for her beta work on this chapter! If you liked this (or hated it) please let me know about it in a review! I make a new mood board for each chapter of this story, find them on my Tumblr crochetawayhpff, my facebook Shan Crochetaway, or on the AO3 or Wattpad versions.

Chapter 8: Splinter

September 2002

Ministry of Magic

London, England

"No, it's really not fine!" Harry hissed at her. "He's the fucking Dark Lord, Hermione! You can't think you can control him."

Hermione sighed and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She and Harry had been having the same argument for a week and a half. They were currently in his office at the Ministry as she didn't rate an office, being not much more than a glorified secretary. She sat in his visitor's chair; they were supposed to be having lunch but their food lay forgotten on his desk between them.

"It's less about control, and more about molding him into a better person, Harry. Showing him a little love and giving him different choices. Different options." Hermione tried to explain how she knew it was possible, but the right words just didn't want to come out of her mouth. She was getting more and more frustrated.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're taking the piss, you know that? He was conceived with a love potion, he can't love anyone or anything."

"That is just conjecture and has never been proven," Hermione hissed. "That's Dumbledore bullshit and you know it."

"Dumbledore was a great man," Harry began, but Hermione cut him off before he could get comfortable in his 'Dumbledore was a great man' speech.

"Come off it, Harry! Dumbledore was just as manipulative as Voldemort! Probably more so! At least with Voldemort, his followers knew exactly what they were getting in to. Dumbledore hoodwinked you for six fucking years and then died and left you with an impossible quest."

"An impossible quest that I accomplished, Hermione!" Harry shouted.

"Really? Was it all you, Harry James Potter? You had no fucking help from anyone else?" Hermione snapped.

"Oh, come off it. You know, you were very helpful. But still, Dumbledo—"

"If you say, 'a great man,' I'm going to leave," Hermione hissed. "What about what Dumbledore did to Snape? Hmm? That wasn't all that 'great' of him, was it? And what about you? Leaving you with the Dursleys? You can't honestly tell me that was for your best interests was it?"

"But the blood—"

"How are you an Auror and still this damned naïve, Harry? There are other warding spells, other ways to hide someone. Dumbledore left you with abusive Muggles on purpose. Hell, he even knew you were living in a fucking cupboard! And he let it happen. Why do you think that is?"

"This isn't about Dumbledore," Harry said quietly.

"No, but you brought it up. So we're going to fucking talk about it. You see everything as so black and white, Harry. The world just doesn't work that way. Dumbledore was not the white king, standing on a shiny hill. He was grey at best, if not outright black. He left you in an abusive situation because it suited his purposes. It left you vulnerable and hungry for someone to look up to. Don't tell me it didn't," Hermione said. "I know this is a hard truth to hear about your idol, about your 'great man', but he was not a good man, Harry. Not even close. Good people don't let children get abused."

"The Dursley's weren't that bad," Harry started.

"Really? Weren't they? Summer between first and second year, they locked you in your fucking room for months! They only let you out to go to the bathroom and fed you once a day! That's worse than neglect, Harry. That is straight-up abuse!" Hermione was panting now, she was so angry on his behalf. She hated how much Harry looked up to Dumbledore. Hated more, how he couldn't see how similar Dumbledore and Tom really were. Tom didn't see it either but it seemed clear as fucking day to Hermione. Another reason she thought she could influence Tom in a good way. A way that wouldn't lead him to become a Dark Lord, again.

Harry just stared at her—he didn't say anything for a moment. Then he hung his head, covering his face with his hands, with his shoulders shaking and Hermione immediately felt like a git. She hadn't meant to upset Harry.

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, coming around the desk to rub his shoulders. "I'm sorry." Harry sniffled for a moment, then wiped his eyes and looked up at her.

"No, I'm sorry. You're right. The Dursley's were horrific to me. I didn't deserve that."

"No, of course, you didn't," Hermione said. "I'm just trying to get you to see that we have a chance to make Tom a better person than he was the first time around. Not only that; he's so bloody brilliant, Harry. Wizarding society could use someone who has his leadership abilities coupled with his brilliance."

"And that's where you lose me," Harry shook his head. "I can't believe that you think you can actually change him. People don't change unless they want to. And Tom Riddle? He's already a murderer, he's not going to change over a piece of trim." Harry at least had the grace to blush. "No offense to you, of course."

Hermione glared at him. "And if I'm more than 'a piece of trim' to him?" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him, immediately feeling defensive.

"He can't love, Hermione. He's never shown the capacity for it in the past. Why would he start now?"

"And who showed him love in the past?" Hermione asked, turning back to face Harry. "How do you know he can't love if nobody ever loved him?"

"Bellatrix," Harry suggested.

Hermione scoffed. "That was adoration at best. Not truly love. And despite that, Bellatrix was certifiably insane before she became a Death Eater and spent a decade and a half in Azkaban."

"It doesn't matter. The only way this turns out well is if he dies. Sooner rather than later."

"Harry…"

"No! Hermione, he's a menace! And to be honest, I'm surprised that you don't see it. You're a Muggleborn! He hates Muggleborns."

"I think it's more that he's attracted to power and—"

"No! Stop! Now you are making excuses for him. It's disgusting! I can't support this." Harry shook his head. "You know I can't support this. I don't even know why we're discussing it."

"Because you're my best friend," Hermione whispered. "I don't want to lose you."

"You will if this doesn't end. I understand if you can't do it. I'll kill him for you. I've already done it once." Harry shrugged.

"No." Hermione shook her head. "No, I can't let you do that. I have to believe he's a better person. That I can make him see reason."

"I hate to say this, and I never thought I would say this about you, Hermione, but you're an idiot. You can't change him. People don't change."

"I disagree," Hermione said sadly.

Harry frowned at her. "I have work to do."

"Right," Hermione said and left his office. Her heart was breaking at the loss of Harry's friendship. He hadn't said it, but she knew he was done with her.

September 2002

Hermione's Flat

Diagon Alley, London, England

Hermione returned home that evening with a heavy heart. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and have a good cry. She came home to Tom entertaining Malfoy and Nott. Again. They were his most constant companions and Hermione was starting to get sick of them. She sighed heavily and heaved her door shut, dropping her handbag on the table in the hall.

Malfoy's laugh was as annoying as ever and Hermione wished she could curl up in her bed. She didn't even want to see Tom.

"Hermione?" Tom asked from the sitting room. She'd walked straight past that door and to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. If she was going to have to put up with Malfoy and Nott, she was at least going to have a drink or two.

She didn't respond to Tom and took a long sip of her wine instead.

"There you are," Tom said. He was using his 'polite' voice. The one he used in front of his followers. Hermione hated the term 'followers.' It screamed of Dark Lord's and she wasn't sure she was up to having that fight with him today.

She turned to face him and he took one look at her face and turned on his heel. Hermione raised her eyebrow but didn't follow him. Instead, she drank more wine. A moment later she heard the Floo go twice and Tom returned to the kitchen.

"Where'd your friends go?" Hermione asked.

"I told them to leave. You clearly need a night without entertaining anyone." Hermione snorted into her glass.

"Are you telling me I look like shit, Tom?" Tom frowned at her but didn't rise to the bait.

"What happened today?" Hermione returned the frown and drank more wine.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over," she responded.

Tom entered the kitchen fully and pulled the wine glass out of Hermione's hand. "Well, obviously something happened. Let's get you out of these clothes at least. Maybe a bath?"

Hermione nodded. She felt like crying, but she knew that would freak Tom out, so she kept her tears to herself. He was being so nice to her. She wasn't used to him being so nice to her. He led her out of the kitchen and to the only bedroom. Their bedroom, since she'd taken Tom home with her from Albania. It seemed bizarre that her life had changed so drastically in four short weeks, but it had.

Tom undressed her slowly and climbed into the bath first, setting her in front of him, her back to his chest. He waved his wand to fill the tub with warm water and Hermione felt her body relaxing inch by inch. Tom ran his hands over her, starting at her hands, giving her a gentle massage. His hands went everywhere, squeezing and massaging all of the stress from her body. She melted into him, completely relaxed by the time his touches became more heated. He spent a long time cupping her breasts, toying with her nipples.

By the time he finally slipped his hand down her stomach, toward her core, Hermione was panting and aching with the need to be filled.

"Tom," she gasped as he finally, finally, placed a finger at her clit, swirling it around. Hermione bucked her hips, making the water in the bath splash out onto the floor.

Hermione sobbed when Tom slid a finger into her tight channel and she had something to clench her aching cunt around. "More!" she demanded and Tom obliged immediately by adding another finger and grinding the palm of his hand onto her clit.

"You are a fucking goddess," Tom murmured into her ear. "Never forget that."

It was enough to send Hermione careening over the edge of her orgasm. She undulated her hips, trying to force as much friction as she could out of Tom's hand. The moment she settled, Tom spun her around and she found herself facing him, straddling his hips.

"Now I want to see you come undone," Tom murmured as she slowly sank down onto his rock hard cock.

Hermione balanced her hands on his shoulders as Tom helped her establish a rhythm, his hands on her waist. He was looking up into her face and Hermione found the emotion in his eyes to be too raw, so she closed hers. Tom tweaked one of her nipples, before smoothing his hand up her skin and cupping her cheek.

"Look at me," he demanded and Hermione opened her eyes to see his deep blue ones staring into her soul.

Tom was panting with the effort. He had one hand clutching her waist, while the other tunneled through her hair, holding the back of her neck tightly. Hermione had never had anyone touch her there and found that she fucking loved it. She became wetter when his fingers tightened and her movements stuttered for a moment.

"Oh, do you like this?" Tom hissed, tightening his fingers again on the back of her neck.

"Yes!" Hermione hissed and slipped one of her hands down through the cooling water to begin touching her clit. "Yes. I fucking love it." And she did. She felt like a goddess.

Tom growled and pumped his hips harder, meeting her thrust for thrust. Hermione was bouncing on top of him and it was all she could do to keep the tempo when her climax flared and washed over her.

"Tom!" she screamed as her body hurtled over the cliff.

Tom held her upright as he pounded into her from below chasing his own climax.

"Fuck," he panted into her ear when he came a few moments later. "Fuck, you're so fucking good. Such a good girl."

Hermione whinged at the compliment, feeling her pussy tighten around Tom's deflating cock.

Tom chuckled lowly. "My, my, we have learned some things tonight."

September 2002

Hermione's Flat

Diagon Alley, London, England

Three days later and it was, at last, the weekend. Hermione planned to not even leave her flat for two whole days. She couldn't wait. When she came home from work, Tom was waiting for her with a surprise. On the coffee table in front of him was a small stack of extremely old looking books.

"What are these?" Hermione asked, stepping into the room and toeing off her shoes at the same time.

"Some research I thought you'd be interested in," Tom said from the sofa. He had a bottle of wine on the table before him and two glasses. He handed Hermione one as she tucked a leg beneath her and sat down next to him. She picked up the first book, reading the title.

"Druidic Sex Magics and How to Perform Them? What is this, Tom?"

"What do you know of sex magic?" Tom asked.

"Not much. Except that it's generally classified as a Dark magic," Hermione responded and took a sip of her wine. She savored the taste on her tongue, slipping her eyes closed for a moment. She missed Tom roll his eyes at her Dark magic classification.

"There is no Light or Dark magic, Hermione," Tom said patiently. "Only power and those who are strong enough and smart enough to grasp it."

Hermione lifted her eyebrow at him but said nothing. She wasn't an idiot, she knew that some magic was classified as Dark without truly being Dark. Although there were other magics that truly were Dark, whether Tom wanted to agree with that assessment or not. She was willing to withhold judgment on sex magic until she'd seen it for herself.

"And what do you know of sex magic?" Hermione asked quietly. She never asked about Tom's past, about what he was like in 1949. Part of her was desperate to know, but judging by his skills in the bedroom there was a very large part of her that didn't want to know. She didn't want to know that he had settled on her because she was the person who could help him the best in the future. That if it weren't for that snag, Tom would never choose her.

"I know about it in theory," Tom said. "I haven't ever practiced it." He shrugged and Hermione felt her heart unclench in her chest. She didn't know why it was so important to her, but suddenly, the fact that Tom had never done this with anyone else, really mattered.

"Right, and what's the point of it?" Hermione asked.

"The point? Power, of course."

"Power? What like a more powerful orgasm? I don't get it." Hermione shook her head.

"No, magic is energy, right? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it just is. But like a battery can store energy, right? That's essentially what our magical cores are: batteries storing energy. Sex magic builds up those energy stores, allowing you to store more magic in your core. Giving you a bigger battery."

Hermione blinked at him. Tom Riddle had just explained sex magic in almost entirely Muggle terms.

"What?" Tom asked.

"You sound like a Muggle." Hermione smirked at him. She laughed when he glared at her. "It's not a bad thing. Just… unexpected."

"Are you interested?" Tom gestured to the book in Hermione's lap. She looked down at it for a moment.

"Maybe. Did you have something in mind?"

Tom smirked then. "I do. We can start slow. But the end result would be that you have more magic. So tomorrow, concentrate when performing your spells, they should all come easier for you."

Hermione nodded. She wasn't sure if she quite believed him. But it was the weekend after a hard long week and she was looking to blow off a little steam.

"Here, or?"

"I've got it set up in the bedroom," Tom said as he stood and held his hand out to her.

"Confident, were you?" Hermione asked.

"Always," Tom murmured as he led her out of the room.

The bedroom was full of candles, some floating, others coating every surface. It was gorgeous and rather romantic. Tom had drawn a circle on the floor, moving the bed away from the wall to place it in the center of the circle. A small bag of salt sat nearby.

"I'll close the circle once we're both in it. Normally, during sex, your magic leaks out of you. The circle will contain it. Then at the point of orgasm, we'll have to utter the spell."

"Which is?" Hermione asked as she took in all the changes to her bedroom. Mirrors had been placed on several of the walls, including one on the ceiling. Tom caught her looking and explained.

"The mirrors will help direct the magic. The spell is Revertere."

"Really? Return? That's the spell?" Hermione laughed.

"I didn't say it was complicated," Tom murmured, gesturing for her to get inside the circle. "It's best it's not complicated. Would you be able to say a long chanting spell as you are orgasming?"

"I guess not," Hermione shrugged and watched as he poured the salt along the circle he'd already made with chalk. She felt the invisible wall of magic snap up around them the moment it closed. It seemed to grow warmer and she had no idea if it was because it actually had, or if the look Tom was giving her had warmed her skin.

"Strip," Tom commanded.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow but began removing her robes. Then she took off her shirt and skirt, all the while, Tom stood unmoving—watching her. Finally, she stood naked before him.

"Fucking gorgeous," he muttered as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. The feeling of his clothes on her skin should not have been as sexy as it was. He bent his head and kissed her firmly, one hand creeping up her spine to grasp the nape of her neck. Hermione thought she might melt from that move alone. Slowly, Tom guided her back to the bed. He pushed her down on it before he too stripped. Then he flipped her over to her stomach and Hermione found she was facing one of the mirrors. Tom climbed on top of the bed, straddling her waist. He moved her hair over her shoulder and began planting kisses down her spine. It was more erotic than Hermione would have thought.

She really liked what she saw in the mirror. Tom's naked body as he worshipped her's was almost too much for her to bear watching. His muscles rippled in the candlelight and Hermione gasped when he bit her bum.

"Tom," she whined as he slipped past her center and began kissing the back of her thighs. This was almost making love and she wasn't sure she would be able to handle it. When she caught his eye in the mirror, she found her hips moving involuntarily, searching for friction from the bed beneath her.

Tom smirked and shook his head, finally reaching a finger forward and sliding it through her folds, testing her readiness.

"Fuck, I'm so fucking ready," Hermione said as she bucked her hips, trying to get him to slip his finger inside her.

"Good," Tom murmured and he pulled her up to her knees, then pushed her legs apart until she was straddling his lap. Her back to his chest. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and teased her entrance with the head of his cock.

"Please," Hermione cried when Tom did nothing more than tease. She tried to sink down on him, but he held her fast and began tweaking first one nipple, and then the other. All the while, staring into her eyes in the mirror. Hermione didn't know what to do with her hands, she was in such a position that she couldn't reach much of Tom. She tried to reach a hand down to her clit to provide some relief, but Tom batted it away.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Tom murmured. "Or I'll tie you up."

Hermione's breathing increased. So far, she and Tom had kept their sex pretty vanilla, but she couldn't deny that she had a bit of a bondage kink. And a praise kink, as he'd found out last night.

"Oh, did you want to be tied up, Hermione?" Tom whispered into her ear. Hermione moaned and rolled her head onto his shoulder. She was desperate for some friction, her cunt was aching to be filled. "I'll need an answer on that," Tom prompted tweaking one of Hermione's nipples harder.

"Yesss," Hermione hissed.

Tom snapped his fingers and Hermione soon found her hands were tied together and hauled above her head to be held from a hook that appeared in her ceiling. She gasped at the sight of her body stretched so deliciously. The ropes were almost too tight and Hermione rolled her shoulders.

"Alright?" Tom asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Safe word?"

"Lamp," Hermione said the first thing that came to her mind.

Tom chuckled. Then he brought her hips down swiftly and Hermione found herself filled so quickly she screamed.

"So good," Tom moaned into her shoulder as he set a slow rolling rhythm. "You are so good," he praised her.

Hermione keened in response, knowing she was getting impossibly, almost disgustingly wet from the praise. The sound his cock made as it pushed its way inside her cunt was indecent. She felt herself redden when it turned her on even more.

"Oh, good girl," Tom murmured into her ear. "Now I know you want to come, but we only get one shot at this, so you're going to have to wait until I'm ready."

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. Tom rubbed his hands along her flanks, slowing his pace, even more, allowing Hermione to come back from the brink for a moment.

"Do you like it, Hermione? Being full of my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," Hermione groaned. He rewarded her by a particularly hard thrust, the head of his cock hitting her cervix.

"Good. I like filling you up," Tom murmured. "I'm going to fill you with my come soon. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," Hermione cried as Tom began tweaking her nipples again.

"Good girl," Tom crooned into her ear.

"Fuck, I'm going to come," Hermione warned just before her walls began tightening around his cock.

Tom sped up his thrusts, trying to match her pace. "Now!"

"Revertere!" they shouted at the same time, as each experienced their own orgasm. Hermione practically passed out from the intensity of hers. Tom proved his point by filling her with wave after wave of his come. Another snap of his fingers and Hermione was released from their bonds and they collapsed onto the bed.

Hermione passed out for a few minutes and when she woke back up, Tom was kissing her wrists and murmuring healing spells into the rope burn there. She hadn't even realized she'd hurt herself.

"Did it work?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Tom grinned wolfishly at her.

Hermione smiled and fell back asleep.

October 2002

Nott Park

Bedfordshire, England

"Granger, eh?" Draco prompted. They were seated in the only decent room in Theo's house, the library. Tom was nursing a firewhisky and cast a cool eye over the Malfoy heir.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Tom asked, lifting one eyebrow. Draco grimaced.

"Better you than me, mate."

Theo sucked in a breath just before Tom flicked his wand, sending a stinging hex at Draco.

"Let's make one thing perfectly clear," Tom said in a deadly quiet voice. "I am much more interested in consolidating power—and Granger is powerful, magically at least—than I am in ridding the world of Muggles and Muggleborns."

Draco gulped in terror at the sheer anger rolling off of his lord. Tom almost smirked, but he had a point to make and wanted to be sure that Draco was exactly aware of what that point was.

"Now, you and Theo can either get on board with that plan, or I'll kill you. You see, you already know too much, there is no backing out now. And Granger? She is off-limits to either of you. She is mine and I protect my own."

"Of course, my lord. We wouldn't dream of speaking against you or Granger," Theo said quickly.

"Right," Draco nodded. "I like living, and I too, want power. If Granger is it for you, I'm good with that."

"Good." Tom nodded at them both and changed the subject. He was doing a lot of things differently this time around, not least of which letting his followers in on the secret of his Horcruxes. "Have either of you come to any conclusion on the diary or the ring?"

"We've searched everywhere, my lord," Draco said, straightening as he launched into his full report. "Neither have been seen or found. I…"

"Go on, I'm not who I used to be, I won't kill you for delivering bad news," Tom said.

Draco nodded. "Right, I think they are gone. I don't think they would have traveled in time with you and I suspect that them being destroyed so… thoroughly in the past wouldn't allow them to have a second existence."

Tom nodded. "Hermione was quite sure that they wouldn't be found. She's rarely ever wrong." He pretended to ignore Draco's grimace at the casual use of Hermione's first name.

"Where are we on gathering support for our cause?"

This time it was Theo's turn to answer, but unlike Draco, he stayed slouched in his chair and responded like the pure-blood aristocrat he was. Tom appreciated that about Theo. Theo was ready and willing to support, but not interested in sucking up to Tom like so many other people in his past life were. He expected it from Draco but appreciated that Theo was different.

October 2002

Hermione's Flat

Diagon Alley, London, England

Tom made it a point to be home when Hermione returned from work. Most nights he even had dinner prepared for them both. It didn't take Tom too long to figure out that Hermione returned absolutely exhausted most days and barely had the energy to warm a tin of soup. That wouldn't do, and as soon as Tom had figured out a way to get her to change her job, he would.

Hermione rushed through the door and dropped her handbag and wand on the table near the door.

"Tom, I'm home!" she shouted.

"Dinner's ready," Tom said from the doorway to the kitchen. Hermione's flat was too small for a proper dining room, so they ate at the kitchen table.

"Smells good," Hermione smiled at him. "Oh, blast."

Tom raised his eyebrow.

"I forgot to get my cheque cashed," Hermione muttered. "I'll have to try and make it to Gringotts tomorrow."

"Cheque? Doesn't the Ministry just deposit your pay into your Gringotts account?" Tom asked. Why was the Ministry bothering with a cheque? They hadn't been used in almost three hundred years as far as he had known.

"I don't have one." Hermione sighed. Tom wrinkled his brow as he began serving them both some of the simple stew he'd made.

"Don't have what?"

This time Hermione's sigh was louder and more pronounced. "A Gringotts account. I don't have one."

"Why not? How can you not have one? How do you store your money?"

"In a Muggle bank account. I pay cash for everything else. Including rent. But savings is stored in a Muggle bank." She looked away as if she were wishing they were discussing anything else.

Tom slowly lowered his utensils to the table. "Why don't you have an account at Gringotts, Hermione?" His voice was low and menacing—even though that wasn't what he was going for—he just wanted to know why.

"I-I…" she trailed off and shook her head.

"Hermione," he said again, reaching a hand out to touch hers. When she looked up at him her eyes were full of tears and Tom felt like an arse.

"I don't know how full of an accounting you got of the war from your friends but you had one of your Horcruxes in Gringotts."

"Not mine," Tom reminded her. He was quickly finding out that the person he was post-1949 was not who he wanted to be this time around.

Hermione nodded her head but otherwise didn't acknowledge the interruption. "So, Harry, Ron, and I broke into Gringotts. Imperiused a goblin and went down to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault and stole the Horcrux. But by then the goblins were onto us and we didn't have much of an escape plan. I don't know if you've ever been to a vault at the deepest parts of Gringotts, but there was an old, half-blind dragon guarding them."

"Was?" Tom asked. He could see now why the goblins would be angry with her and her friends.

"Was. We broke her free and rode her out of Gringotts."

"You… you got on the back of a dragon and rode it?" Tom shook his head in disbelief. That couldn't be a true story, could it?

Hermione nodded. "Not the worst thing that happened to us during the war, but I found it the most terrifying. I hate heights."

"Merlin," Tom breathed. "So none of you have vaults in Gringotts?"

Hermione's laugh was bitter. "See, I didn't have a vault, I was still a student at the time. But Harry and Ron? Well, the Potters are a relatively old family. And Harry as heir inherited that vault. And even the Weasley's are part of the bloody Sacred Twenty-Eight. So Ron's family had a vault too. But me? I'm Muggleborn. I hadn't opened a vault yet, I figured it was something I could worry about after the war was over. It's not like I was making any wizarding money, all the wizarding money I had was given to me by my parents and then I exchanged it at Gringotts. At least they let me still cash my cheque and exchange for Muggle money."

"You mean you are the only one without a vault? Potter and Weasley both still have access to theirs?" Tom wanted to make sure he knew exactly who he was going to be murdering.

"Yes, haven't I just said?" Hermione gave him a strange look. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't like the look on your face." Tom immediately cleared his face.

"Just trying to figure out how a supposed war heroine gets royally fucked so badly." Hermione laughed.

"Well, considering I'm also a Mudblood and a witch, it's not so hard to imagine, is it?"

Tom glared at her. He wasn't sure how this turned into an argument, but he knew that before the year was up he would be getting her a vault at Gringotts.

"Did you never appeal? Don't your friends know?" Tom couldn't seem to let the subject drop.

"Circe, why are we still talking about this?" Hermione hissed. "Of course, Harry and Ron know. And of course, I bloody appealed it! It got shot down! Obviously! The last time I submitted an appeal to both the Ministry and Gringotts I was told that I would lose the privilege to use Gringotts at all if I kept it up! I'm lucky they let me deal with them at all, or I don't know what I would do. Probably lose my job at the Ministry. Have to work somewhere making shit, getting paid under the table."

Tom's blood boiled at the way she had been treated. He hated that nobody saw her the way he saw her. He hated that there were people in this world who discriminated against her like that. He didn't want to think that he used to be one of them. Couldn't they see how fucking perfect she was? How fucking brilliant?