This is my first ever Tomione story, I love Tom Riddle, he's a stunner, and Hermione is absolutely gorgeous, and insanely intelligent, so why not make a story of my own? I had a dream about this specific storyline; hopefully it will work as planned, and make enough sense.
As for the title, I chose 'Domina' because it translates to 'The Lady' and you will understand kind of why I chose to do it like that… hope you like it!
I do not own any of the characters; they are all under the creation of J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 1:
Hermione Granger watched as the clock ticked, her leg frantically bobbing up and down with clear frustration.
Her hands were clasped together to give off the image of innocence, however her dark eyes glittered with mischief.
Headmaster Armando Dippet was speaking enthusiastically, his hands moving up and down, and his beard swishing against his dark purple robes.
Hermione urged herself to remain calm, her magic trying to break against the boundaries that she's tried so hard to build over the past six years she'd spent in hiding.
She tried her best to not interrupt the old buffoon, biting her lip with vigor and tasting the familiar metallic liquid, her lip already burning from the little cut she caused.
"Oh Miss Granger, we are so very excited to have you here! A new teacher, and such a young one as well! But your experience is unprecedented, I must say. Very impressive, very, very impressive indeed!" he cheerfully clapped his hands together and began rambling once more about all the teachers she already knew about, but she feigned interest and kept her hands clasped together on her lap, her dark robes reaching the ground, and her black dress hidden underneath, along with her wand, which she tried her best to not reach for and Stupefy the blubbering idiot of a headmaster.
Although, she must say, he was much better than the old coot, Albus Dumbledore. The meddling old fool, continuously trying to search for her when she insisted that she never wanted to be found. She burned with fury at the mention of his name within her thoughts. She despised him, and everything he stood for.
She despised all of them.
What a waste of magic, honestly, she did not become what she is to watching these twats take over the magical world and turn it into a right mess.
Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't notice that Headmaster Dippet had stopped his frantic hand gestures and was now staring at her with so much fascination that she felt like throwing up.
She wanted to leave already, she'd spent twenty minutes listening to him, and nodding when she felt it was right, and leaning closer as if listening to him with curiosity about whatever he had to say.
Her documents that lay on his desk were constructed perfectly by her own hand. Getting all that false information was hard, but she was able to finally have it all completed just in time.
Headmaster Dippet was almost through with his mindless chatter, and soon she found herself following him down a long hallway, students running back and forth, some ignoring the young woman following their headmaster, a woman who looked no older than the seventh years, a woman who's chestnut curls cascaded down her back, her clothing simple yet accentuating every curve, her eyes dark and ambiguous, she was a mystery. Others however, took much more notice than she would feel comfortable with.
Many of them were the older students, boys shoving at each other's shoulders as the beautiful witch passed by them, an air of power circulating around her, almost electrifying, her magic almost making the hairs on their arm stand up, but she simply ignored their eyes, a small smirk forming its way on her lips, but she hid it quickly.
The headmaster stopped in front of a door that led into a rather large classroom, it was two levels, a stairway leading up to another room in which she presumed her office was held in, and the spacious area held desks and different artifacts, none of them dark of course, how ironic, that the dark arts prohibited the use of dark magic.
She wanted to roll her eyes at the insolent fools for teaching these children simple spells, no wonder the students here were such ignorant little twats.
She thanked the headmaster and he left the witch, allowing her to explore her new classroom.
Her hands touched the desk that was placed at the front of the room, this place had too much light in it, and so she whipped her wand out and held it towards the curtains, watching them snap shut and swallowing her into a darkness that was so very pleasant.
She climbed up the steps that lead to her little office, in which she would keep her little secrets, it will be guarded properly, she thought to her self. Any idiot who approaches the door will be lit up with flames before they could apologize for trying to evade her privacy. She wanted to smile at the sounds of horrified screams as soon as they recognize the power she truly holds, a filthy little mudblood with powers that would put Salazar Slytherin and Albus Dumbledore to shame.
They doubt her but they will no longer see the young and innocent Hermione Granger, she has changed, she has seen things that have corrupted her in the most beautiful way. Oh how beautiful it is to have seen the world, and witness such great power, and to bask in that power and become an undefeatable witch.
The welcoming feast was in an hour and she had much to do, she had to get ready, and go over that list of teachers once more before she was surrounded by fools once again, and force herself to participate in mindless conversation.
She slowly made her way out of her little office, and placed a little charm she knew on the doorknob, making sure cast a spell that would only allow her to enter the room, and to enforce punishment on anyone who dared even breath near this door, aside from her of course.
Quickly making her way down the steps, her dress swept against her ankles, the black material a nice silk that complimented her almost caramel-like skin tone.
She decided that getting ready would only make her late, and she was never late, everyone was simply too early.
She looked over the list of teachers, each one sounding much more boring than the other, old bats, the lot of them. She huffed, none of them were as young as she, and she would suffer alone, no one to drink with, no one to enjoy the things she loved to do, as a young woman who had too much life within her, she would have to settle with people she already disliked.
Horace Slughorn, potions. She grunted, she'd seen him once, at a bar in central London, he was chatting up the Muggle bartender, drink in hand and he his nasally voice filling her ears in the most excruciating way, she'd heard of him, and his ability to kiss any arse that had a smidge of power.
Professor Merrythought, the Charms teacher, much too old of course, she won't be much of a problem, no one was really much of a problem, but she had to watch out for those with a perceptive eye.
She read through the long list once more, before shoving it into her suitcase, and locking that with a similar charm she placed on her office door, before making her way to the Great Hall, where she could already here the enthusiastic chatter of students, once she made her way through the door, her hands folded into one another at her front, her walk smooth and her back straight.
She walked towards where all the professors were sitting, her eyes trying not to roam to the Slytherin table, where she knew he sat, but she could feel eyes on her, each pair burning a hole into her back, trying to understand why a witch so young wasn't dressed in a Hogwarts uniform and seated amongst them but was instead grabbing a seat next to their headmaster and Professor Slughorn.
She greated Horace with a kind smile, of course a fabricated one, and the man soon began to chat away, discussing things she could care less about, but she nodded her head and acted as if she gave a single fuck, and soon Headmaster Dippet stood, and made his way to a podium not too far from their table, speaking to the students, informing the first years of all the dangers they best stay away from, and wishing them all a good year, the students cheered of course, finding happiness in being back home with their friends, and soon food appeared in front of them and the feast began.
Hermione sipped on her pumpkin juice, and could feel eyes on her coming directly from the Slytherin table, she didn't have to look twice to see that a young looking Voldemort seated, eyes boring into her own, his little minions leaning forward and whispering to one another, some laughing and enjoying their meal.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, what a splendid little creature you are, she thought to herself, remembering the serpent-like man she'd seen in the future, but the Tom Riddle in 1944 was much more beautiful, so stunning, his hair swept in a small curl from his forehead, and his eyes dark, the color almost undecipherable, she wanted to look away, but she continued to analyze the young man, trying to understand him a bit before approaching him later on.
If this was to work, she had to make sure that young Mr. Riddle new his place, and not categorize her as yet another teacher who was in love with him, as Horace so clearly was.
She would not be a victim anymore, her eyes burned with something, something dark and powerful, and she continued to sip on her pumpkin juice, turning her eyes away to continue conversing with both Horace and Armando, finding herself bored once again, but she remained silent. Nodding and smiling when necessary, and awaiting for the night to be over, he first class was tomorrow, she will leave a lovely first impression, oh it will all be so splendid.