A/N: Quick thank you to: fatcakes, Seed-of-Flame, xXxTom4everxXx, mimbulus-mimbletonia, Silver Tears 11, Hater-of-heartless-critics, ellamalfoy8, the. dead. addict. (Little extra thanks to you for pointing that grammar mistake out to me), Alana84, hippychick21, LeSinner, libaka, Gueneviere, SweetChoasandRevenge, and otter-weasel.shipper. Your times and reviews are deeply appreciated. Now here's the next chapter.

Chapter 38 – The Wedding Ball & Doubts

"If I have to play another bachelorette game or look at another flower-based tiara, I'm going to scream," Hermione grumbled as she kicked off her shoes and dropped back on her bed.

Tom was standing across the room trying to recall a spell that he had once learned to rid something of stench. He too had had a party. It had started much earlier than Hermione's had; at five o'clock sharp that morning in fact. The Duke, the King, Arthos, and various other men had all risen for a hunt. The Duke had even had a special white fox brought in in the spirit of such an occasion. After the hunt was over with Arthos being the victor, they made their way back into town and to a local tavern. There they ate lunch and began their consumption of alcohol. The festivities continued up at the castle when they returned for an early dinner and the opening of gifts to Tom. He had received many things, most of which he had no real use for. There was a gun with a finely carved case, a bow and arrow set for hunting, a new pair of riding gloves and boots, a box of expensive cigars and a bottle of alcohol, and many other things. By the time the party was over, Riddle stunk of strong inebriants, cigar smoke, and an intense scent of the forest. He could no longer stand it as it was giving him a slight headache.

"At least you got to sleep four more hours than I did," heobjected as he removed his jacket and boots and sat down at her vanity while still trying to recall the words for the spell.

"Yes, but you didn't have to put up with a bunch of giggling twits," Hermione grouched as she rolled over onto her stomach and watched him stare at the floor in thought.

"No, I had to put up with a band of intoxicated fools who did nothing but smoke, yell, and talk about hunting."

"I suppose we both had an equally painful time, then," Hermione sighed as she snuggled a pillow and stifled a yawn.

Hermione's bridal party had been just about the same. After a tea and cake breakfast, the ladies had taken to walking around the garden and going for a horseback ride. Proceeding that, they retired to the sun room to open gifts. Hermione, just like Tom, had gotten things that she would never intend on using. New shoes, hats, gloves, jewelry, bedsheets, and even lingerie among other things. Hermione had began blushing profusely and not from the wine that had been brought out either, but for the turn in topic that the conversation had taken. She had never thought that half of these ladies would talk of such things, then again, most were slightly drunken. She had thanked Merlin when it was all over at six o'clock that evening, and she had been able to retire to her room where Tom had been waiting for an hour. Now the two rested peacefully.

"No chance of your dolts in waiting popping in here, is there?" Riddle inquired as he stood and crossed the room to open the balcony doors.

"No. They were quite tipsy when I left," Hermione responded as she got up and made her way to the vanity. She picked up the brush and began untangling the mess of flowers from her hair while Tom continued to ponder the charm. Hermione knew it, but she wouldn't tell him. If he was too proud to ask, then she was too good to tell him. And besides, she sort of enjoyed watching him pace the room in thought. It kept him silent if anything. "Don't sit on my bed," she warned as he stopped to take a seat. "I don't want my pillows and covers smelling like a malodorous pub."

Grunting with frustration, Tom rolled his eyes and headed towards the balcony. He slid down the doorway and watched as she winced and whispered curses while pulling leaves, stems, and petals from her hair.

"I'll be glad when this is all... over," she stated with added emphasis on the last word as she yanked the brush through a large knot in her light brown locks.

"You and me both," he agreed. "Just don't forget what tomorrow is."

"What?" she asked, turning in her seat to look at him, one side of her hair fluffed like it had been blown dried far too much.

"The wedding ball," he answered.

"Oh, for the love of practicality!" Hermione exclaimed in aggravation, slamming the brush down on the vanity and pulling her wand from her sleeve. "These people take celebration to the extreme," she complained as she stood and cast a spell over her hair to remove the remaining objects and tangles. "And haven't you figured that spell out yet?" Before Tom could bark his response, she cast a spell over him and removed the awful stink. She huffed and dropped down onto the bed, mumbling something about ridiculousness. "I'll be so glad when this is over, and we can get back to working on returning to the proper place and time," she muttered before shaking her head and rolling onto her back to stare at the canopy in quiet reverie.

She wasn't sure when she had went to sleep or when Tom had left the room, but Hermione rolled over and saw that it was still partly dark outside. Had she been asleep all night? She must have. It had been dark last night when she and Riddle had retired to her quarters. Climbing out of bed, she walked in her bare feet to the wardrobe. Yawning immensely, she closed her eyes and let her fingers grope the stained cherry oak of the door, trying to find the brass handle. Her digits managed to find the cold metal and turn it. She rubbed her eyes and squinted as she tried to focus on what was inside the closet. Dress after dress. Maroon, plum, navy, hunter green, tan and gold, gray and pink, light blue. She had no desire to wear any of them. She wanted to be able to wear jeans and a jumper or even her Hogwarts uniform again.

"Riddle has no idea how lucky he is that he doesn't have to squeeze into a corset or a heavy, hot skirt," she grumbled as she yanked one of the dresses from its hanger, not even caring.

After dressing, she left her room and headed straight for Tom's. She knocked and entered. Hermione expected him to be asleep because he hadn't answered when her knuckles rapped on the wooden, hinged barrier. However, he was awake and dressed, standing in front of the mirror while admiring something pinned to his chest. He looked smug and arrogantly pleased.

"Morning person I see," Hermione commented as she leaned in the doorway. "That or something has you very happy. Which is it?"

"I have the capacity to be a morning person, but something has made me happy," he replied with a self-assured tone as he glanced complacently over his shoulder.

"What is it?" she inquired, genuinely curious and partly hopeful that it concerned her and the future as well.

"The King came for a visit this morning." Her hopes fell a little after this statement. "He bestowed a well earned gift upon me."

"Oh, and what's that?" she quizzed as she strolled farther into the room. It was then that her eyes caught the gleam of what he had been amorously gazing at earlier. A medal of some sort.

"See these decorations?" he remarked as she turned to face her and flashed the bars pinned to his chest, stars pinned below that. "They denote something very important." She had seen those honors somewhere else before. But where?

"What are they for?" Hermione pushed.

"I've been named the new ranking general," Riddle smirked. "I'll soon be King as well. Miraculous how fast power comes back in this era."

"That's why most royal posts were corrupt in some way," she noted, seeing an almost forgotten malicious glint in his onyx orbs. "Besides, we won't be around to rule for too long. In fact, not at all if we get back to work after the wedding."

"What makes you so sure of that, Granger?"

"I'm not sure... but I have to have faith in it."

"Why do you want to go back so badly?" he hissed, his temper slipping a little.

"Unlike you, I had friends and family back there. I had incentive for wanting to stay in the future... and I thought for sure that you wanted to go back as well."

"I had," he muttered disgustedly. "But just think of it! We know what's to come in the future. The inventions and the wars. We could have the longest running, most powerful reign there's ever been. We'd go down in history for sure."

"We-," she stopped as she noticed something. He had continually used the word 'we'. The old Tom Riddle wouldn't have cared to have anyone rule beside him. Surely he cared for her now, so she needed to use that to her advantage. But how? "We can't do that," Hermione picked back up. "It's wrong, and you know it. It's not only dangerous to the future and the delicate balance of things, but also to ourselves. Witches and wizards live far longer than any Muggle. If Muggles were to take notice of how we age much longer and better than themselves, they'd surely discover us. Then what?"

He knew she was right. In more ways than one, too. They couldn't escape the fact that they would age well and be discovered; that would cause turmoil among the communities of magic and Muggle. It could also prove dangerous to rewrite the future. What might happen if they did? Who would cease to exist and what occurrences would be disordered from their original state? But if he allowed her to talk him into returning, what would happen? Would the diary be destroyed again, thus destroying him? Could the diary even be found to do that? What would happen to him? What would happen to them?

She saw the furrow of his brow and the distance in his eyes that meant he was concentrating on something deeply. But what?

"Tom?" she uttered, stepping toward him.

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at her in silent observance. One question still lingered in his mind. What would happen to or even between them when they returned to 1997?

"I suppose you're right," he breathed indifferently. "It would be disastrous for us to remain. After the wedding, we'll go back to trying to figure out a way to get out of this time." She smiled fondly and eyed him with admiration.

"Now that that is settled, would you like to go see about some breakfast?" she suggested.

He inclined his head twice in a nod that gestured his approval before following her from the room. As he followed her down the corridor, he felt a hindrance in the back of his mind. Would she stick by him in defense when they returned or turn away from him and let him possibly fall at the hands of those who dubbed themselves righteous? It was after this thought that he recalled why he had never fostered the idea of love for fear of betrayal. Everything became a gamble once one allowed the sparks of such an idea to ignite a flame within one's self.

The castle was a bustling place all afternoon. People running here and there, banners hither and tither, servants speeding about with fresh linen table clothes in their arms and polishing floors. The kitchen was a sound room for a cacophony of clinking pots and pans, shouts from servants, roaring flames, and chopping knives. Even outside was full of commotion. Gardeners clipping hedges, rose brushes being pruned, windows being washed, and walkways were being rid of weeds or overgrown plants.

Hermione hadn't dared to move out of the library where she sat with Tom in the back. This was the first bit of peace they had gotten in a while, and much to her surprise and pleasure, Riddle had begun reviewing where they had left off with the plan on returning to the future. She could tell that he was a bit annoyed with the disturbances of the castle, so she kept quiet and merely read a book as he sat writing. However, her efforts to give him peace and comfort were thwarted when Janessa and Mary came jogging in.

"Prin-," Janessa began, panting, "-cess."

"It's time you were... getting ready," the other lady in waiting breathed from beside her companion. "Your father, the King, wants you and Aramis to be ready a tad bit early so that-"

"You may stand at the front door and greet the guests as they arrive," the the first maid finished. "He said it's the proper thing to do."

Hermione glanced at Tom for a moment only to find him glaring at her as though to say he wished they were invisible. Rising, she eyed him apologetically before turning and being led from the library by her maids. She followed them to a room that was void of any furniture except a large bathing unit, some vases of flowers, and a wardrobe where robes and towels were kept. They left her to bathe and afterwards, she suffered more than two hours of pulling, yanking, twisting, and brushing of her slightly knotted hair while sitting at the vanity in her room. Her head ached more than before as she watched them with a fearful eye while they laid out brushes, poofs, and tiny metal tins that contained only goodness knew what. Picking up one container, Hermione opened it and sneezed immediately. Powder burst into the air, and she found her nose burning as a terrible taste filled her mouth. The taste rushed her senses. Her eyes watered, her nose filled with the perfumed scent which overpowered her, and the taste made her mouth dry and bitter. Placing the tin back on the vanity, Hermione brushed her face off with a discarded towel.

"Ready?" Mary inquired as Janessa held an overly large brush in her hand with a container of deep crimson make-up.

"No," Hermione answered immediately with a firm, almost dreading tone. "I'll take care of that myself."

"Very well," Mary sighed while shrugging to her friend. "We'll go fetch your dress."

Hermione nodded, alleviation flooding her body as the two turned tail and moved swiftly from the room. Turning to the mirror once they had left, Hermione frowned. Her face was red from the earlier incident and the rubbing she had done to remove the substance. Exhaling intemperately, her lips made a noise much like a horse as she picked up a tiny container and a poof. Dabbing it lightly into the powder, she shook her head while examining the now covered applicator in her hand. Figuring it was best to just get it over with, Hermione applied her make-up lightly and left it at that.

Just as she was walking out onto the balcony, her ladies in waiting entered with her dress. Her eyes glanced the peridot garment for only a second before Mary and Janessa began pulling her towards the bed. She tried to give her protests as the two removed her bathrobe. She silently thanked Merlin for her undergarments, but was soon cursing the two in a muffled manner as they threw the dress over her head and began pulling and tugging it into place.

"That wasn't necessary. I'm more than... stop it!" she barked as they stood fiddling with tufts of her hair. "I'm more than capable of handling this process myself, thank you. You're dismissed."

"But your-"

"Go," Hermione interrupted, pointing to the door. "I'll handle it."

Bowing their heads, Mary and Janessa curtsied before moving in a quick, scorned manner from the room. Picking up her shoes from the bed, Hermione dropped them gently to the floor and slid her foot in while picking up a folded handkerchief from the bed. A pearl necklace and earrings dropped from it, so she quickly adorned them and left the room without so much as a check in the mirror. The faster she got this over with, the faster she could get out of the uncomfortable situation that was approaching. As she moved through the corridors towards the entrance hall, she thought of the irony of the situation. When she had been little, her father had called her his 'little tooth fairy princess', and she would make him sit at tea parties with her and her stuffed animals while they drank tea, ate sugar-free cakes, and listened to Hermione read a dentistry magazine. Now that she knew what being a princess was like, she no longer thought it was such an endearment for him to call her one.

She finally made it to the front doors, only to see Tom standing there looking bored, stiff, and slightly annoyed by a fidgeting Arthos who stood next to him trying to check his reflection in a polished, rose gold vase.

"Do I look all right? Her moth-mother and father a-are coming tonight," Arthos stuttered as he smoothed his hair and straightened the buttons on his uniform for the umpteenth time.

"If you keep messing with you hair like that," Tom growled, trying his best to control his temper, "then you're going to go bald very soon."

Hermione suppressed a smile as she stood at the bottom of the stairs figuring that if Arthos did go bald, it wouldn't be because he had been continually brushing his fingers over his hair, but because Tom would curse him for the irritation he was causing.

"Princess Ana!" Arthos called with nervous enthusiasm.

Riddle turned his head in the direction of her and narrowed his eyes as he carefully examined her beauty. She blushed slightly under his calculating scrutiny as she joined them, noticing herself how regal and handsome he was in his deep hunter green jacket, pressed white slacks, and shined black boots.

"Have you seen Princess Mima?" Arthos inquired, disrupting their admiring inspection of each other.

"No, I haven't," she remarked truthfully. "I haven't seen her all day in fact."

Tom smirked as Arthos dawned a worried expression. Hermione's unknowing torture of the boy was amusing to Riddle. He groaned inaudibly as the King approached from down the hall, servants following him clumsily with a bulky rolled carpet. They were obviously part of last minute preparations as they rushed past and began laying the carpet from inside the entrance hall, down the steps, and out onto the drive. A set of engraved wooden steps were sat at the end of the ornate floor covering, and the King beamed.

"Well done, well done. Ana. Aramis. You two are a few minutes ahead of schedule, so I'll brief you on the proper greeting that my father and mother informed me of," the older man addressed. "When the guests arrive, a coachman will open the door and assist them in getting out of their carriage. As they're doing so, you must smile graciously in warm welcome. The doorman will announce them in good order, they'll approach, you'll give a small inclination of you head and shoulders, but never a full bow. Once that nicety is exchanged, you may accept a hand shake or whatever they offer, tell them welcome and thank them for showing."

Feeling that this might not be too bad, Hermione relaxed, although her fingers were still clutching some of the folds in her dress out of anxious habit.

"Be sure to stand straight and tall; never slouch," the King continued. "Try not to yawn or look tired and at all annoyed while greeting guest. After an hour or so, they should all be here, and you may come into the ball room where you will be given an introduction after which you will mingle for a while, show interest in the gifts that are brought, and then propose a toast."

"A toast?" Tom repeated.

"Yes, a toast. In which you must once again thank everyone for coming, wish them their health, promise to try to have a successful reign, and the like."

"Your majesty!" hollered a boy who was throwing on a dress coat as he came running in from outside, stumbling on the steps as he did. "The first of the guests... they're arriving!"

"All right. Places, then," the King boomed excitedly.

Straightening themselves, Hermione and Tom followed the King outside and onto the steps where they watched a carriage making its way through the walls of the castle's outside barrier and around the circular drive. Hermione suddenly became very aware of herself and squared away her shoulders while extending her spine and holding her head high. For anyone who knew her, or even Tom for that matter, they would have been surprised at just how regal the pair looked.

Eyes on the coachman, Hermione watched as he flattened his uniform, changed his posture, and stood like a statue, posed to open the door. The clop of hooves slowed, and the sound of horses chopping bits, shaking their reins, and the carriage latches clinking was the only noise heard as they waited. The coachman opened the door, and the man standing beside Hermione, Riddle, and the King cleared his throat.

"Announcing his imperial majesty... King Bogdan Fane of Austria, his wife and her majesty, Queen Cosmina Elisabeta, their daughter, Princess Iemima Amariei, and their guest, Lord Ion Grigore," the doorman bellowed.

Doing exactly as she was told, Hermione smiled warmly while watching them approach the stairs. She took a moment to peer at Tom and found him looking unemotional, his face in neither a frown nor smile.

"Bogdan," Hermione's mock father greeted with enthusiasm. To this the Austrian king extended his hand while clapping the other king upon the shoulder. They then turned to Cosmina.

"My wife," Fane introduced with a thick Austrian accent as his wife held out her hand to the other man who accepted her courteous gesture and placed a gentle, quick kiss upon her knuckles.

"So nice to see you again, Cosmina. You grow more lovely each time we meet... I thank you both for coming to my daughter's wedding ball. She has nothing but gratitude towards you for doing so, isn't that right, Ana?"

"Absolutely," Hermione replied. "Both Aramis and I are so pleased you could join us in celebration of our betrothal."

Bogdan extended his hand to Riddle who shook it while staying as serious as possible. He bent slightly in a half bow to Cosmina who took her husband's offered arm and proceeded past the engaged couple into the castle. Meanwhile, Mima had been greeted by the King and paused only momentarily to introduce Ion Grigore, her father's friend, before passing by as well after asking about Arthos.

"He's just inside," Hermione whispered and looked back over his shoulder to see the young soldier stepping around the doorway, still as uneasy looking as ever. She smiled as he took Mima's hand and approached her parents, grinning broadly in what he hoped was a winning expression. Hermione would have continued to watch the scene, but the sound of another carriage and the doorman announcing another arrival stole away her attention.

"Introducing Count John Montagu and his wife, Countess Martha Ray!"

The couple made quick work of the salutation and once they were past, Hermione saw that another three coaches had arrived. Emitting a slight moan of boredom under her breath, she pondered how much longer she and Riddle had to go in the hour that they were supposed to spend greeting guests.

"I'm grateful that that's over with," Hermione uttered to Tom as they walked away from the door a little more than an hour later. "It was getting a little cold out there."

"I can tell. Your hands are like ice, and your cheeks and nose are pink," he commented as he took her arm and draped it over his own. "I suppose that this can only last a little while longer, eh?"

"We can only hope so," she sighed as they stopped outside the door and waited to be announced by the doorman who had been standing with them outside.

"Please welcome the guests of honor... her royal highness, Princess Anastasia, and her fiancé, General Aramis D'Artagnan!"

The fact that Tom was deemed general seemed to surprise a few guests, but it only caused him to embellish a smirk of arrogant importance as they entered the room. Hermione secretly rolled her eyes before nodding courteously to guests as she passed them. They joined the King, Lord Johnalin, a woman who appeared to be Johnalin's partner for the night, and some others.

"Congratulations, Princess," Johnalin spoke up, though the look on his face was distasteful and somewhat pained.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, though her exuberance in the statement was lacking.

"Yes, thank you, Johnalin," Tom butt in. "So nice to see you again. Where have you been lately? Haven't seen much of you."

Johnalin passed a glare to Riddle who gave a snide sort of half smile.

"I've been away in Paris at a boarding school for young boys. I'm teaching there now. Though your father has assure me, Princess, that there'll be need for me once again when the time comes for your own children to take up schooling."

Hermione tried not to let her expression sour as she forced a kind grin.

"Surely." With that, she turned away from him, and at the King's request, she and Tom began mingling among those who were in the room. It was one congratulations after another as they carried on short small talk conversations and received well wishes and blessings. By the time the night was half through, Hermione found her lower back aching from her perfect posture and the corset of the dress.

"It's far too warm in here," Tom whispered as attention was called to them, and they were each given a tall, crystalline glass filled three-fourths of the way full with a gold, bubbling liquid.

"Our happy couple would like to propose a toast," the King boomed, appearing to have already had far too many toasts judging by the tinge in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He turned to them and waited, Tom peeking at Hermione from the corner of his eye. She was apprehensively eyeing those around them, all of whom stared on in sweltering dresses, stiff, starched uniforms, and curious patience. Sensing that she wasn't going to speak up any time soon, Riddle took her hand and squeezed it, causing her to start a little as she snapped her head towards him.

"To our guests for joining us tonight in early celebration of our wedding," he shouted in pretend spirit. He paused and glimpsed the King who nodded for him to continue. "To my lovely Ana, whom I love dearly. May our marriage be happy and prosperous-"

"Here, here!" yelled the Duke, whom Hermione and Tom had run into only shortly earlier that evening. "With many children!"

Light applause in the room showed approval of the addition. Nodding only just so, Tom raised his glass.

"To many happinesses, triumphs, and joys as well as... our friends," Riddle finished before raising his glass to his lips, the congregation following his lead. Hermione smirked as he finished, it was quite amusing to hear him make such a speech.

"How about a dance between our honored couple!" the Duchess suggested as she stood beside her husband.

The crowd around them clapped their agreement and before either of the young people could protest, their glasses were whisked away, and the center of the floor cleared for them. Hermione felt flashes of reminiscence at events from the Yule Ball. The first dance for the champions, and her moment with Viktor as he twirled her around the floor past the other three couples.

Placing her hand upon Tom's shoulder and her other hand in his proffered one, she locked eyes with him and waited for his lead. The music began, and they began a waltz-like movement around a small circle of the floor. He wasn't as pushy or rough as Viktor had been, but he led perfectly instead. His movements were fluid, and his hands held her just right. Her feet barely touched the ground, and surprisingly, she found herself smiling, partly unaware of the crowd around her.

The music seemed to play on for what felt like at least a half an hour, and by the time it stopped, Hermione took notice of the fact that King Bogdan and Queen Cosmina, Mima and Arthos, Johnalin and his lady escort, and a few other couples such as the Duke and Duchess had joined their waltz. A round of applause was offered up to those playing instruments, and Tom and Hermione sneaked away to a secluded part of the room where they could spend a moment in peace and relaxation.

As they walked along, she felt the inklings of true happiness. Riddle was fantastic in most every way. But as she stood sipping from a glass of cool champagne which tingled in her nose and on her tongue, she thought of something. Would he be the same wonderful guy she had fallen for when they returned to 1997 or would he turn on her and continue with his plans to join his older counterpart in taking down one of her dearest friends, The Boy Who Lived, in completion of their evil plan to rule the wizarding world while ridding it of Muggles and Muggle-borns? Would his feelings for her, if he truly had any, prevail against the urge to be a powerful dark lord? Could she trust him? Hermione knew from experience that he was deceptive in many ways. He had fooled Harry with the memory he had showed him in the diary. Tricked Ginny and been dishonest with countless others. She bit down on her lip, trying to hide the frown on her face with her glass. Part of her wanted to ask him if he loved her and would stick by her. Then again, part of her didn't want to know what he might say because it could be a lie.