Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.
Chapter 7 - The Meeting
Theo stood in the boardroom, looking out at the view without really seeing it. The skies were clear, which some might take as a good omen, but he was still simmering from the events of the night before, although he didn't particularly regret the loss of a non-asset such as Goyle. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm and focus; he couldn't afford any distractions in this meeting. The door opened, and he could see the faint outline of her figure reflected in the glass as his guest entered the room, closing the door behind her. He waited for her to get closer before finally turning to smile at her and offer a greeting.
Her shock was visible in her expression and in the way she held herself, and it was followed almost immediately by anger. Theo found that he rather enjoyed having surprised her, and allowed himself the faintest of smirks at her discomfort. After assuring her that he'd arranged for her presence in order to answer some of her questions, he invited her to sit, gesturing toward a chair so that it slid away from the table for her. He issued a silent summons for tea, and the house-elves obliged while remaining invisible, lest their presence upset her.
The tea gave her a chance to voice her doubts, her disbelief that he could possibly be responsible for everything she'd been investigating for the better part of the last decade. He allowed her the opportunity to express herself, and had to wonder if she'd always been so chatty. It was a habit he would have to curb, and he made a mental note of it for later as he finally interrupted her.
"You don't think I'm capable of it, is that it?" He tilted his head slightly, observing her quietly until she started to squirm at his close scrutiny of her; he had phrased the question carefully, his voice soft and his tone slightly cool as he waited for her reaction.
Her mouth opened, then closed, as she considered the question. "I suppose I don't really know what you're capable of," she finally admitted.
It was precisely the opening that he'd been looking for, and he was quick to seize the moment. "I'll be honest with you, I never considered myself to be first choice for this position," he told her. It was mostly true, so his 'honesty' appeared quite genuine. "Certainly, none of my fellow Slytherins would have predicted it, back before the end of the war." With the exception of Blaise, who knew better than anyone else what Theo was capable of, that statement was also true. "And yet, here I am, with the resources and power at my disposal."
"The resources and power of what, exactly?" she wanted to know, and the open curiosity on her face combined with the way she leaned toward him told him that she was buying his story.
With just a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, Theo replied, "To borrow from the cliche, the resources and power of the forces of darkness." He arched an eyebrow at the disbelief in her expression, as if he hadn't expected that to be her reaction. "You didn't think such things were random, did you? That Riddle and Grindelwald happened upon their power by accident? There are reasons behind such things, Hermione. The universe has a purpose, a grand design for good and evil. I didn't ask to be the one in charge, but now that I'm here, there's no going back, and failure is not an option I can accept. It is, perhaps, the reason I was chosen to take up this role." The delivery was timed perfectly, sounding just rushed enough to make her think he was desperate for her approval and understanding, yet still vague enough that his true motives remained a mystery. He drew back, artfully feigning nervousness, as if he'd given too much away.
"Is that what this has all been about, then?" she sneered, the scorn twisting her expression. In spite of himself, Theo was almost glad to see it, was glad to see that the pursuit of knowledge hadn't completely driven the fire out of her. He had plans for that fire. "The same old rhetoric? Eradicate or enslave Muggles and Muggle-borns so that the pure-bloods can interbreed themselves into extinction?"
Theo's eyes widened in faux horror that he knew appeared quite genuine, and he shook his head as he hurried to correct her assumption. "I'd like to think of myself as being slightly more imaginative than my predecessors," he said, with a disdainful sniff. "After all, it's been tried before and failed, and I'm hardly going to waste my time attempting to resurrect ideas that should have been wiped out over a century ago. Besides, Riddle himself was a half-blood, which made the old guard's views that much more hypocritical, really." This was the easiest part, and he knew she'd believe it because even though his father had been outed as a Death Eater, Theo had taken care never to go anywhere near that path, however chummy Malfoy had occasionally tried to be, back in school.
Her disbelief was clear, and he wondered if she was thinking back on those Hogwarts years, looking for a memory to condemn him with. This concerned him not at all, because he knew that such a mental search would turn up nothing; he'd learned to be careful in his thoughts and words and deeds long before entering the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
When discussion resumed, she was still skeptical, but her questions suggested that she was at least willing to hear him out, and so began the delicate tightrope walk of laying out his plans for her, or at least as much of them as he was willing to share at this juncture. It was a bold move, a calculated risk, and to her it must have seemed a leap of faith, because she didn't know him well enough to have any idea of just how calculated the risk was. It was still too early for her to be able to comprehend the ambition behind his meticulous attention to detail in every aspect of his grand scheme, but he'd been through this scenario so many times in his head that he had a fair idea of what her responses were going to be even before she did.
It was a delicate process, the careful manipulation of words and expressions, but Theo had long since turned it into something of an art form, and certainly Hermione never had the slightest suspicion that she was being led by the nose to precisely where he wanted her. She played into his hands without ever realizing it was what she'd done, and he gave her strings the slightest of tugs, the gentlest of pushes. When she refused his initial offer to join him, her tone one of righteous indignation, she had every reason to believe she was doing so of her own volition, and Theo felt a heady thrill at having her so close to hand. He sowed the seeds of doubt almost as an afterthought, just before opening the door to hand her over to Tracey, who would escort her back to the guest quarters. What she didn't hear, of course, was the single non-verbal command he issued to the woman whose skill in mind-magics almost rivalled his own, "Proceed with Plan B."