A/N: RachaelLA26 was the beta extraordinaire! 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 11: Treachery

February 2003

Hermione's Flat

Diagon Alley, London, England

Tom returned from an evening spent at Theo's to find Hermione surrounded by books. It was a sight he was becoming more and more used to. She was a very thorough researcher and at the moment, her mind was still on sex magic, which only pleased Tom. It wasn't just about the sex, which was the best he'd ever had, but it was about the single-minded way Hermione dove into the subject and wanted to know and try everything. It was the way he felt he had seduced her to seeing how magic couldn't so easily be divided into Light and Dark magic. If he could convince Hermione, a consummate Gryffindor most of the time, he had hopes that he could eventually convince the rest of wizarding society.

Dark magic was only Dark because it was more powerful. And leaders of societies had always been terrified of things they didn't understand and that they thought or perceived as more powerful than them. Tom broke that mold. He wanted to lead his society to a place where they regularly used those more powerful magics because they were better. Tom saw Dark magic like a new technology, even though it wasn't new at all. Dark magic was often much older than magic classified as Light, and Tom knew that if more people practiced Dark magic, then it would only get better. More powerful magic, that was practiced enough to be improved upon? That's where Tom wanted to see wizarding Britain go.

"So, you never did tell me your plans?" Hermione said without looking up from her parchment and quill.

Tom laughed. "I guess I haven't. It's nothing concrete really. I want to build a better world without becoming like the snake-face that I used to be." Tom curled his lip. He'd seen a pensieve memory of what he had looked like earlier that night and it made his stomach roll at the thought. He settled himself onto the floor next to her, idly flipping through her pile of books.

Hermione glanced up at him sharply. "How do you know what you looked like?"

"Draco shared a pensieve with me tonight," Tom said solemnly.

Hermione's face scrunched and she sighed. "Draco probably had it as bad as we ever did during the war."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. He liked the fact that she sympathized with Draco. He was sure part of it was because Hermione seemed to care about everyone, but also that perhaps she wasn't so opposed to some of his deeper schemes. The ones he hadn't told her about.

"Well, you lived in his house for one," Hermione said. She looked up at him, biting her lip as if trying to decide how much to tell him. "And well, I'm not sure exactly what Draco showed you, but I suspect he wouldn't have shown you the worst of it. You were… not just hideous, but monstrous. You fed people to your snake, which was a Horcrux. So ponder that for a moment and see if that doesn't make you feel ill. Actually, you fed the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor to your snake in front of Draco. I'm guessing he still has nightmares about that. I know I would.

"And that's not even getting into the fact that you allowed Fenrir Greyback to run wild." Hermione shuddered and Tom wondered what she knew of this Fenrir Greyback. She seemed to fear him.

"Is Greyback dead?" Tom asked.

Hermione nodded. "Casualty of the Final Battle, thank Merlin. But that's the point, Tom. You were awful. And having to live with you? You threatened his parents, gave him an impossible task. You were worse to Draco than probably any other Death Eater if nothing else for the fact that he was so young."

"Why?" Tom asked. Draco wasn't an idiot, and Tom couldn't imagine what he'd done to piss him off so much.

"Because Draco's father failed to get something for you. So you punished the whole family, by punishing Draco."

"Fucking Salazar," Tom hissed, recoiling from that tidbit of information. That was the sort of hippogriff shit he was trying to stamp out in the old guard.

"Right, so Draco probably had it worse than any of us. And you know the kicker to all of this?" Hermione was looking at him insistently then.

"Even Draco knew that having you win, in the incarnation that you were then, was only going to be bad for him and the rest of the world. Hell, the whole Malfoy family knew."

"Why do you say that?" Tom asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe I'm telling you all of this. It's history, and yet, most of it people don't know. It's not history anyone will write down…" she trailed off looking thoughtful for a moment. "You read Harry Potter - The Chosen One, right?"

Tom nodded, recalling he'd found it on her bookshelf in Albania all those months ago.

"Right, well during the war, we broke the Taboo. You put a Taboo on the name 'Lord Voldemort' and we were taken by Snatchers—not-quite Death Eaters—and brought to Malfoy Manor. I-It's hard for me to talk about because I was tortured there," Tom felt his blood boil at the thought that someone had tortured Hermione, "but the important thing is that Draco knew who we were. He knew. I knew he knew, and he didn't say anything. He lied to his parents; said he couldn't be sure. He lied to his aunt, your right-hand lieutenant, and told them he didn't recognize us. It bought us enough time to get away." Hermione shrugged and turned from him, but Tom wasn't going to let this go. He grasped her chin lightly, urging her to look at him.

"Who tortured you?" Tom asked, his voice low and threatening.

"She's dead too," Hermione said. "Also, not the point. The point is that you—"

"Not me," Tom insisted. "That wasn't me and it's not going to be me."

"Right, but still. The war was hard. Harder on people my age than most, for a whole host of reasons."

"Another reason the old guard has to go," Tom hissed.

"See, that's a policy I can get behind," Hermione smiled at him.

"Good," Tom breathed and leaned in, placing a kiss on her lips. "Now we just need to get you out of the DRCMC and into the DMLE."

"Tom," Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes.

"You should be making the laws, not enforcing them," Tom insisted. It was an argument they had been having with increasing frequency. "The DRCMC is a waste of your brilliance."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Hermione said. "But I'm not about to use your new role to better myself. I'll figure something out."

Tom pursed his lips but didn't respond. Instead, he pulled her from her books and led her back to their bedroom. There were more pleasurable pursuits than arguing about her dead-end career.

February 2003

Ministry of Magic

London, England

"Hermione! We have to talk," Harry said tightly from outside Hermione's cubicle. Hermione sighed, knowing that this had been coming for weeks, but Harry had been away on assignment. It seemed her reprieve from his shouting was over.

"Not here," she snapped as she stood and grabbed Harry's wrist. She guided him into the shared conference room and waved her hand, moving the sign to 'Occupied' as she shoved Harry inside and shut the door.

"You need to kill him, you know?" Harry began the moment he was in the conference room.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you insist on that being the only solution, Harry. You know I'm not going to do that."

"He's on the Wizengamot now!"

"I'm not living under a rock, Harry. I'm quite aware of what Tom is doing. And quite frankly, I agree with some of his viewpoints."

Harry recoiled as if struck. "You're fucking insane, you know that, right?"

"Why? Because I think there could stand to be a little change in the stagnancy of the wizarding world? Or is it because I believe that people can change? Or that a person who is twenty-four is different than he is at seventy-seven?! Which one of those makes me insane, Harry Potter?"

"If you don't kill him, I will," Harry threatened.

"Be reasonable, Harry. Nobody knows who he is and if you kill him, I'll know who did it. Do you really think the fame of being Harry Potter will keep you out of Azkaban for murdering a rising young star in the Wizengamot?

"Besides, it's obvious he isn't into blood purity anymore. He's just trying to help the wizarding world. He's doing more good than you or I are with our Ministry jobs," Hermione said.

Harry laughed and Hermione did not like the sound. He sounded bitter and slightly insane. "I never took you for a lovesick fool, Hermione Granger," Harry spat.

"Did you forget that I went to you, Harry, all those months ago? And you turned your back on me. Told me it was my problem and I had to deal with it. Well, I've found a way to deal with it. So fuck you."

"No, Hermione. Fuck you. I'm going to kill him. Mark my words," Harry said, deadly quiet. He opened the door of the conference room with so much force that it bounced off the wall and slammed shut after he'd walked through the doorway.

Hermione had no idea what to do. Harry had just told her he planned to kill Tom. She needed to warn him. But Harry had been her friend since they were eleven. She didn't want him to get hurt, no matter how much of an arse he was being to her. She ran her hands through her hair as she thought through the implications of that conversation and decided she should head back to her desk and maybe write out a list of probabilities. Arithmancy had always calmed her in the past, perhaps now it would help her figure out what she should do next.

On the way back to her desk, Hermione decided a cup of tea would help settle her nerves. Her hands were shaking and she needed something to help calm her down. A tea cart was usually stationed just outside the door of her office, so she made her way there, mulling over Harry's words. It's not that she didn't believe him, but she did wonder how he thought he could get away with it. Nobody knew who Tom was. And, probably more importantly, nobody would believe Harry if he started trying to spout off about who Tom really was. Hermione was savvy enough to realize that all of the connections Tom had made in the past few months would protect him from that.

No, the real problem was if Harry started rallying the DA and Order crowd. They would believe Harry and Ron. And they were the ones who might cause the most trouble for Tom. And by extension Hermione. She sighed, giving the witch behind the tea cart her order as she drummed her fingers against her thigh. She would have to tell Tom, but she didn't really want to tell him now. Harry would tip his hand somehow, Hermione knew that about him. Harry always tipped his hand and he was particularly bad about keeping things from her. Although, since they weren't really talking, maybe he could surprise her? A knot that had formed in her belly during her conversation with Harry, twisted and Hermione felt like she might be ill at the thought of Harry actually succeeding in killing Tom.

The witch handed her a to-go cup of tea and Hermione thanked her as she walked back through the doors of her office. The main door led to the bullpen area where Hermione and the rest of the support staff sat. The rest of the office was ringed with larger offices and conference rooms on the outside walls. It was as she was passing her boss' office that she overheard her name.

"...Granger's doing…" the voice got quiet enough that Hermione couldn't hear it anymore. She frowned and cast a wandless, nonverbal Notice-Me-Not on herself. Then she stepped right up to the door of the office, pressing her ear to the glass.

A deep rumbly voice was speaking about departmental assignments and Hermione almost walked away when the sound of the voice clicked and she realized that it was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, speaking to her boss. Why in the world was Kingsley all the way down here? In all her years at the Ministry, Hermione was sure she'd never seen him in the DRCMC.

"What have you got Granger working on?" Kingsley asked.

Her boss chuckled. "Shite work. Just something to keep her busy."

Hermione gasped. She covered her mouth quickly and glanced around, hoping nobody heard that. It seemed her Notice-Me-Not charm held because she was completely ignored.

"Good, keep that activist bitch busy. These shakeups in the Wizengamot are wreaking havoc on everything. The last thing I need is for her to be anywhere near them. She's got too much popularity with the masses," Kingsley said.

Hermione's body felt like it was burning as the rage built inside her. What the fuck had she been doing with her life? Had her entire career been tampered with in this way? She'd actually thought that Kingsley was one of the good guys. It seemed he was more of the same from the past. She'd never used whatever influence she carried with him out of respect for their friendship. Obviously, there was no friendship. Nevermind the fact that she'd saved his life on the back of that thestral in the battle of Seven Potters. That fucking arsehole!

Trying to breathe deeply, to calm herself, Hermione found that task was going to be impossible. There was no way she was going to be able to sit meekly at her desk doing 'shite work' while her boss yucked it up with the Minister for Magic behind her back. Hermione had half a mind to march into her boss's office and demand to know what the fuck was actually going on in this Ministry, but she knew that was the Gryffindor in her. She needed to not fuck things up for Tom. Better for her to pretend she hadn't overheard that horrific conversation.

And Kingsley. Not only was he purposely keeping her away from meaningful work, but he was using her celebrity to get what he wanted. It made her skin crawl. It was fine for Hermione to use her celebrity on Tom's behalf, Tom didn't really want her for that, it was a side benefit. But for someone else? Someone she'd thought was a friend? Honestly, she kind of wanted to hex Kingsley. But she knew that would get her nowhere. Perhaps Tom would duel her later. She needed to hex something.

Hermione dumped her full teacup into her trash can and picked up her purse. She wasn't staying and she certainly wasn't begging off from her boss. They weren't going to fire her, and if they did, all the better for her. She wouldn't have to figure out how to leave her job and not burn bridges at the same time. Maybe she wouldn't show up tomorrow either? She wondered how long she could not show up to work before they finally decided to fire her?

Hermione stormed out her office and toward the Atrium. She was too angry to Apparate and decided to Floo back to her flat. Tom had picked up a lovely bottle of red wine over the weekend, perhaps she would crack that open when she got home.

In her anger, Hermione almost forgot about her argument with Harry. When someone on her lift got off on the DMLE floor, Harry's words came flooding back to her. Merlin, fucking shite, she was having a bad day. She wondered if it could get worse, and then immediately cursed herself, again. Of course, it could get worse.

But perhaps her bad luck for the day had run out.

Halfway across the Atrium, Hermione remembered she had planned on stopping by the grocers on her way home. They had almost nothing for dinner and since Tom had started in the Wizengamot, they had been sharing dinner preparation duties. Hermione sighed and decided she'd Apparate after all. There was a small corner grocer near her flat in Diagon Alley, she'd go there and then go home and open that bottle of wine.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione joined the queue for the Apparition chamber and mentally flipped through some of the recipes they'd made recently for ones that she knew what ingredients were needed and would be easy enough to make.

Finally, it was her turn to use the chamber and she pictured the small alley outside the grocer and disappeared with a small pop.

It was snowing when she landed in the alley outside the grocers. Hermione stomped her feet, trying to get the feeling back in her legs when she felt the sting of a curse graze her arm. She fumbled for a moment before whipping out her wand, looking all around her for the threat. Nobody was paying her any attention. There was no panic, no pandemonium. Perhaps it was just an accident?

It seemed unlikely, but stranger things had happened. She slowly spun in a circle, assessing everything around her again, but didn't find anything out of place. She had just taken a step forward toward the main alley and the door to the grocer when she was hit with a stinging hex, this time on her calf. She spun in a circle, trying to find her attacker but again, nobody was even looking at her.

Must be Disillusioned, she thought grimly. Once was perhaps an accident, but twice was no accident. She was clearly being targeted. But by whom?

"Show yourself," Hermione said loudly, facing the back of the dead-end alley.

Nothing but the wind and the snow. She began backing slowly toward Diagon when a flurry of curses came her way. Hermione blocked and dodged as many as she could, but they came hard and fast, was there more than one attacker? She had to think so with how fast the magic was coming her way. She could finally hear someone panting and perhaps that was a different person muttering their curses under their breath.

Hermione had backed away during the volley of curses and suddenly found herself against a wall. Fuck, the last thing she needed. She had been trying to draw them out to Diagon, but apparently, they had been subtly guiding her until her back was against a wall.

The number of curses grew and it was everything Hermione could do to hold them off when a Knockback Jinx caught her shoulder and her head slammed back into the wall behind her. She faltered on her feet for a moment before consciousness left her and she slumped to the cold, wet, snow-covered ground.

February 2003

Diagon Alley

London, England

Hermione didn't know how long she was out for, but she didn't think it was too long. Her head was killing her but her robes weren't too wet. Nor was she completely covered in snow, despite the fact it was coming down quite steadily. She glanced around the alley, looking for her attackers, but either they had gone, or decided she'd had enough.

She stood on shaky legs and was able to make it to Diagon without being accosted again. Her stomach rolled and she forewent the grocers in favor of just going home. She knew she shouldn't have thought her day couldn't get worse.