Disclaimer in Chapter one.
Author's note: My dear readers, finally a new chapter. It kinda was hard to write and I struggled with it for a while. Hope you enjoy reading it more than I did writing it at some points XD
In case you forgot: Amy Belby is an OC and no maincharacter. She had an appearance in first chapter as Tom wheedled the Founders' book out of her. She's a Ravenclaw and fell quite hard for Tom ;) aw, delusional girls, falling for Riddle *shakes head* Now, that's something that could never happen to me ⌐⌐ No, sir. lol
I'm so grateful for all the reviews I get *-* It makes me so happy reading your input. So a huge thank you to:
Chelseabaabyox3, LoriAnnRut, timi55, morpheusandmuse, DArk 16EtErnIty z8, Annie, ugottalongway2go, Mareen, KnoKnayme, vamp1987, sKyLaR KnIgHt, Ceralyn, justy13, absolutemalfoy, tHevoLtuRi'SdARkpRiNceSS, ThereAre666Ways2Love, Arcade fire is blazing, Reallylucky, Pinky Prattle, HereToRead84, Trestreschic, LadyBalacenia, 372259, Gleeislove, SamarKanda, Samantharenee, Emikadon, Guest, NY GE Pyromaniac, MuggleBornWY, Sin-and-Smokin, L Guerrilla, hollanddj13, R. B. Evans, Nerys, FadedSunset, reader204, Molly Dooker, MagdalenaZ, Jen103, XxTaintedxDaggerxX, Atlantean Diva, Sethera, Alyette, Gabby0515, iRuby, mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura, le-femme-cavalier, KamiaKeller, Barryium, Nikif, LaPetiteDreamer, Virivie, Reesessweetie, summerful21, azulaiii, HelloIamGracie, Astrid, Vampireluph, Painter510, BeNeRre, tomione rules, pinta15, CherryBoomx2, Shan84, Vita Artista, Serpensortia17, Lizzywithfire, LilyGirl101, Shubhs, Simidiane, Guest, Lolita, UnbreakableLittleMind15, Sara, Reeto9, 2tf, ImmortalObsession, karen-c0ffey, lilmisslovely24, greenholstein, Estelle, FutureErotic, TwilightGirl100195, Auburn, Guest, Anonymus, anon,
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Chapter Fifteen: Frozen Poison
"I do not like nosy people digging into my life."
The polite smile on Tom's handsome face didn't quite fit the threatening wand in his hand.
"I… I'm sorry, Tom," Draco Malfoy stuttered shakily.
He knelt before Tom on the floor. Dark red blood ran from the blond's nose and he stared at Tom with fear in his grey eyes. Tom merely smiled at him indulgently. He didn't lower his wand, though.
"I see."
There was disappointment colouring Tom's tone and it made Malfoy twitch fearfully. The blond's hand trembled as he tried to wipe the blood from his face. He looked up at Tom pleadingly and quickly assured, desperation in his voice,
"I was just being curious. I didn't mean anything by it."
Tom eyed the other Slytherin. A sadistic smirk played around his lips as he watched the fear he had created. Lazily he tapped his wand against his thigh and asked in a disgustingly friendly voice,
"So you ambushed Hermione in a dark corridor, stopped her from leaving and questioned her, but you did not mean anything by it?"
Frantically Malfoy shook his head. "I- I didn't. Really. I just talked with her. A… a friendly conversation. I didn't question her."
"Surely you didn't," replied Tom, his words like sweet poison from his lips.
He flicked his wand and a painful gasp left Malfoy. New blood ran from his nose and he groaned pathetically while he grasped his head, fingernails clawing in the skin at his temples. Tom snickered and lazily ended the curse. Malfoy shakily looked up at him. Abruptly, the false affability dropped from Tom's features, replaced by a menacing glint in his blue eyes.
"Listen, Malfoy," he hissed, his voice twisted into a murderous threat. "Your nosiness is not appreciated at all. Should you ever try something like this again, you will pay."
Malfoy tensed anxiously. His face was deathly pale, traces of blood still visible on his skin. Fear lacing his tone, he avowed,
"I- I won't. I promise."
Tom sneered at him. A flick of his pale wand and Malfoy was blasted away and crashed violently into a wooden wardrobe. The blond groaned painfully as he sagged down on the floor.
"I hope you don't," Tom whispered, danger lurking in his tone. "For your sake."
Without waiting for any reply, he strode over to the exit from the dorm. Tom didn't speak to anyone as he crossed the Slytherin common room. His dark magic still angrily stormed around him and he enjoyed how the other Slytherins shied away from him with fearful expressions.
Tom smirked darkly as he left Slytherin domain and walked down the corridor towards the stairs. Hopefully this would teach Malfoy a lesson. If not, Tom would enjoy teaching him again. A pity that he still needed Malfoy. His family's connections were too useful for Tom to simply get rid of Draco. He had to admit, though, Malfoy had been helpful with the next step of Tom's plan.
…and Tom always rewarded his helpers.
An unsavoury smirk ghosted around his lips as his thoughts greedily danced around his plan. It had been so long in the making. Tom had come a long way since he had read Magick Moste Evile in his third year and had stumbled across the notion of Horcruxes. Oh, that had definitely peaked his interest. Now four years later, everything fell nicely into place. Ravenclaw's Diadem was already in his possession and Tom was quite confident that sooner rather than later he would gather all four Founders' objects.
Tom reached the Moving Staircase and climbed the stairs. He nodded politely as he met Slughorn. His thoughts, though, still danced around his plan. Gathering all four Founders' objects was merely the first step in Tom's plan. The more important part came after that. Finally he would transcend the tragedy that was human life. Tom would turn the four objects into anchors, securing his body forever.
After all, wasn't five a very powerful magical number? According to alchemists the whole universe was built upon five elements: Water, earth, air, fire and ether. In the Dark Arts, the number five represented an incredibly potent source of magic, symbolised by the five-pointed star, the pentagram. It was a brilliant plan to use the four Founders' objects. The Founders of Hogwarts had lived a thousand years ago and yet their names were immortal. With their help, Tom would join them in their immortality.
Tom narrowed his eyes in anger as his triumph was, once again, spoilt by doubt creeping up on him. Ever since he secured Ravenclaw's Diadem in Albania, ever since Hermione had saved him from that stone statue's attack, something had changed. Disgusting doubt had started to relentlessly fester in Tom and his plan – his wonderful plan – had lost its appeal. Fury stirred his magic and Tom balled his hands into angry fists. He didn't know what had triggered these doubts, because he was normally not prone to indecisiveness. Still, was his plan the right thing to do?
Should he really rip his soul into five parts?
Tom irritably shook his head, trying to clear it. Four objects, five parts. He would be immortal, powerful, a legend. What held him back? There was no room and no reason for doubts. Tom's eyes flared in a dangerous light as his doubts still leaked back into his thoughts. Five was a very powerful number. Surely. Tom knew his plan already was ambitious. Still, this tiny little flaw in his plan didn't want to leave him alone: After all, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number…?
"Tom?" a girl's voice disturbed his thoughts.
Tom turned around. A disgusted sneer begged to take shape on his face. Amy Belby stood before him. Tom forced a friendly smile and replied kindly,
"Yes? Can I help you?"
The Ravenclaw blinked a few times, obviously mustering courage. Tom, on the other hand, was only filled by annoyance. Finally the little wench found her voice and whispered timidly,
"Tom… What happened?" Sadness wrapped sickeningly around her voice. "I- I thought we were… Before the Christmas break, you made the impression you liked me…"
Tom wanted nothing more than to grab the girl by her stupid hair and ram her face into the corridor wall until she finally shut up. Still, his control was perfect and he continued to smile at her blandly.
"You know," Amy continued beseechingly. "I really like you. I thought we had something… special."
Nausea crept up on Tom as he saw that ridiculous hope daring to seep into her eyes. The Ravenclaw reached out for him and grasped his hand. A shudder of disgust overwhelmed Tom. Amy must have mistaken that bodily reaction for something else and smiled up at him.
"I wrote you so many letters during the break," she told him and blushed. "Did you not get them?"
"No," said Tom, his tone calm and controlled. "I'm afraid I did not."
"I see."
Now there were tears swimming in Amy's eyes. Tom wanted to wrinkle his nose in revulsion. Such weakness. Amy tightened her fingers around his hand and looked up at him pleadingly.
"I like being around you. I really do, Tom," she breathed softly. Then she swallowed and asked timidly, "Why… why do you have a new girlfriend?"
This was getting ridiculous. Did this girl really think he had ever considered her to be his girlfriend? Disgusting. Tom didn't reply because, frankly, he couldn't be bothered. In face of his silence, the tears finally spilled over and rolled down Amy's cheeks. Thankfully she let go of Tom's hand and tried to wipe the tears away.
"I can see that you like her," Amy said, her voice chocked and soft. "But… please, Tom, I know you feel something for me. We could be happy. Together."
Now, Tom was generally a patient man, but this Ravenclaw girl was testing him.
"Can we at least talk?" asked Amy sadly.
Tom wanted to hiss at her that he never talked to the likes of her, but then he changed his mind. He was a little stressed lately. Procuring the Founders' objects wasn't easy and there was no room for any mistakes. Malfoy had been a nice stress relief but not nearly enough. Tom peered at Amy and suddenly an ingratiating smile hovered around his mouth.
"Yes, Amy," he said charmingly. "We really should talk."
Relief crossed the girl's face and Tom had to fight so his warm smile didn't turn into the smirk it really was.
"In here?" he suggested kindly and gestured at a near-by door.
Amy nodded happily. Tom opened the door that led into an unused classroom and let Amy enter first. He followed her quickly and closed the door. Amy had wandered into the classroom and now scanned him with big innocent eyes. She hadn't even noticed the silencing charms he'd spun around the room.
"Tom?" she whispered while a soft smile hovered around her lips. "I don't have anything against Hermione Rookwood. Please, believe me. I just…"
She took a step towards him und fluttered her eyelashes at him. Hope glimmered in her eyes and Tom had to work to hide a sneer.
"I just want to be with you," Amy whispered, her voice quivering. "Tom, please, come back to me. Give me a chance."
Tom pressed his lips together as he stared down at the pathetic girl. His self-restraint was breaking down and soon he couldn't hold back anymore. Cruel, cold laughter filled the classroom. Amy's eyes widened and she stared at Tom. His hand shook with his laughter and he was barely able to aim his wand. Tom still managed to send a disarming spell at the unsuspecting girl. With ease he fished her wand out of the air and slipped it into his pocket. Amy, still shocked by the Head Boy's uncharacteristic behaviour, gasped and stumbled a step back.
"What are you doing, Tom?" she asked, apprehension in her thin voice.
A vile smile contorted Tom's features as he looked at the confusion on Amy's face. Then he sighed pityingly and shook his head.
"Oh Merlin. How can you be so stupid?"
Belby's eyes widened and she stared at him as if she couldn't believe he just said that. Tom snickered coldly. He took a step towards her until he towered over her. He could see the uneasiness slowly creeping up on her.
"T- Tom?" Amy croaked weakly. "What's w- wrong with you?"
Tom scanned her with frosty blue eyes. He raised a hand and ran his index finger slowly over her cheek. Amy shuddered, fear flooding her eyes.
"Nothing is wrong, Amy," Tom purred, not bothering to hide the predatory tinge from his voice anymore.
The girl gulped and shortly pressed her eyes shut. In amusement Tom watched as she gathered her courage.
"Look," she said in a quivering voice. "I don't want you to break up with Rookwood… but… please, don't just throw away what we had, Tom."
Her earnest request was so horribly naïve. An evil glint blazing in his eyes, Tom whispered, thoroughly enjoying the destructiveness of his words,
"Do I really have to write it down for you? The only thing I ever wanted from you, Amy, was the Founders' book. Nothing else."
The girl gasped softly in face of this revelation. Tom didn't care. Instead he smirked at her.
"I needed that book."
He raised a hand and twirled a strand of Amy's hair around his finger. She flinched away from him. Tom's smirk widened and he snickered,
"Not many people are allowed to get into the Ministry's Archive. But I knew your father worked there." Tom brushed his fingers over the girl's cheek and sighed, mock pity twisting his voice, "Oh, Amy. It was embarrassingly easy to charm that book out of you."
Abruptly the girl took a step away from him. Disbelief was visible all over her plain face as she stared at Tom. He simply smiled back at her.
"Y- you…" Amy stuttered. Then her voice grew firm with anger. "How could you? I trusted you!"
"Well," Tom purred, cruelty hidden behind fake kindness. "It's not my fault you're pathetically gullible, now is it? I'm sure your daddy would be so proud of you."
Disappointment and anger twisted Amy's face as she glared at Tom. He gazed back at her, unimpressed.
"I can't believe this!" Amy yelled, her fury making her voice unpleasantly shrill. "This- this whole time, you used me. You…" She wildly shook her head. "And to believe I even defended you as my friends warned me away from you."
"Poor Amy," Tom scoffed viciously. "You should have trusted your friends. It seems this whole thing is your own fault."
"How can you stand there like… like nothing is wrong?" Amy yelled, her voice shaky and hoarse with tears. "You son of a bitch!"
"Can't argue with that," Tom replied, satisfied smirk on his face.
"You know what, Tom Riddle?" the girl screeched. "I'm going to tell Dippet. I'm going to tell Slughorn and McGonagall and everybody who wants to hear that you stole that book from me."
A dark look crossed Tom's face, but Amy didn't notice. She angrily stomped to the exit door. Her hand already hovered over the doorknob, as she was harshly grabbed by her arm. A painful gasp left Amy's mouth as Tom whirled her around and slammed her into the door. Surprised by his brutality, the girl's frightened gaze flew up at him. Mercilessly Tom tightened his grip on her until she whimpered in pain. Then he bent down and whispered into her ear, voice cold as ice,
"Not so fast, little girl. We are not yet finished."
"T-Tom," Amy said fearfully. "Let go. Y-you are hurting me."
"Of course I am," he spoke to her, his voice like velvet wrapped around an edge of steel. "It's what drives me."
A fearful sob left Amy and she tried to wriggle away. It was futile, Tom would not let her go. Driven by an intoxicating feeling of power, Tom brutally grabbed the girl's jaw. Then he forcefully pressed his mouth over hers. He could feel her hands pushing against his chest, desperately trying to make him stop. Her screams of protest were muffled as he engaged her in a painful kiss. Mercilessly he bit her lips until blood flowed down her chin. He enjoyed the taste of her blood and fear.
"Stop," Amy cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, please, stop."
Her plea only made him snicker cruelly. His fingers had twisted themselves into her hair, tugging harshly. Her whole body now trembled in delicious fear.
"Why should I?" Tom purred sadistically. "Isn't this what you always wanted, Amy love? Some private time with me?"
She frantically shook her head, barely able to contain her sobs. Tom's hands had long since left her hair. They lazily skimmed over her vulnerable body. For a moment Tom's fingers danced over her breasts, his touch forcing another sob from Amy. Then his hands wandered further down, until his fingers brutally bit into the soft flesh of her thighs. Ruthlessly he wrenched at her, spreading her legs.
"Hm," Tom drawled, malicious intent in his dark voice. "I'm going to enjoy this."
"No!" Amy screamed, terror in her voice. "Get away! Get away! Get away!"
A cold heartless snicker left Tom's lips as he let go of her. The girl sagged against the wall in a crying, sobbing mess. Revulsion crept up on Tom.
"Please," he told her condescendingly. "Don't get ahead of yourself."
His cold blue eyes wandered over the trembling girl. He bent down to her and revelled in the fact that she fearfully recoiled from him. Then he hissed into her ear, voice frozen over with malice,
"You really think I would waste my time fucking someone like you?"
The girl flinched at his harsh words but Tom continued, "I would never be able to scrub your filth off my body."
Tears streamed down Amy's face as she sobbed uncontrollably. She could only cry, "Please, let me go. Please."
"Not before I've exhausted your entertainment value," was Tom's merciless reply.
Lazily he whirled his wand and whispered, "Crucio."
Amy crashed down on the floor. Her body twisted and turned in grotesque angles and Tom thoroughly enjoyed watching it. A blissful smile adorned his face as he observed the girl's agony. Her screams echoed magnificently in the classroom. Tom closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Then he breathed in deeply. The girl's screams still cut through the silence and Tom felt liberated.
As he ended the curse, Amy cried desperately, "Please… Stop…"
She still lay on the floor, her body trembling all over. Tom could see tears glistening on her cheeks as she stared up at him, pure terror in her eyes. He squatted down and Amy whimpered fearfully in his close proximity. Tom smiled comfortingly down at her and gently skimmed his fingers over her cheeks, wiping away the tears.
"Shh," Tom soothed gingerly. "Don't cry, Amy."
The girl shuddered under his touch. Her voice was rough with tears as she begged, "Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone."
Tom raised his hand and admired her tears which now clung to his fingers. Then he opened his mouth and slowly licked over his index finger. With his eyes closed he moaned softly as he could taste the salty tears on his tongue.
Through hooded eyes Tom glanced down at Amy. Horror and disgust were clearly visible on her face as she stared at him. It made him smirk, his white teeth flashing dangerously. Abruptly Tom stood up and once again towered over his victim. As he raised his wand a frightened cry left Amy's mouth. Encouraged by her fear, Tom whirled his wand.
"Crucio."
Rapturously Tom observed how Amy twisted and convulsed in pain. His eyes glowed with a malicious light. Ah, the advantages of the Torture Curse, Tom mused with sick fondness. Truly the Cruciatus Curse was a thing of beauty.
After a while he flicked his wand and ended the curse. Amy's agonized screams slowly turned into sobs and she curled into a painful ball. With his foot, Tom shoved her cruelly so Amy ended up lying on her back. Fat tears rolled from her puffy red eyes as Tom smirked at her.
"It was a pleasure," he said, the kind tone of his voice contrasting sharply with the sadistic glint in his eyes.
Then Tom again brandished his wand, sending a simple Stupefy at the girl. Amy lost consciousness as soon as the red light made contact with her chest. Tom scanned her for a moment before he whispered softly,
"Obliviate."
This little piece of magic would take all memories of this incident from Amy. A cruel smirk slid on Tom's face. The spell would only take memories, not emotions. Amy might not be able to remember this encounter, but the delicious fear Tom had evoked in her would not leave. From now on, Amy Belby would be haunted by an inexplicable terror whenever she saw him …whenever someone spoke his name.
An unsavoury smile distorted Tom's handsome features. He carelessly tossed Amy's wand on the floor, then he left the classroom. An easy, innocent smile on his lips, Tom sauntered to the Heads' common room. After all, there still was that Transfiguration essay he had to write.
†
With a cheerful smile on her face, Hermione entered the Heads' common room. Charms class had been positively enlightening today. She looked very much forward to researching more about the charms Professor Flitwick had introduced today. Still smiling broadly, Hermione spotted Tom sitting on the sofa.
"Hey, Tom," she greeted mirthfully.
Dragging a schoolbag full of books over to the sofa, she plopped down beside the Head Boy. He was scribbling away on a roll of parchment. Hermione craned her neck to see what he was writing. Transfiguration essay, she realized. Hermione had already finished that essay yesterday. A rather smug smile curved her lips. Her gaze left Tom's essay and instead wandered to his face. As her eyes dropped to his chin, the smugness quickly left her.
"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" Hermione asked in concern.
"What?" Tom looked at her, confused.
Hermione reached for her robe pocket and pulled a handkerchief. Cautiously she raised it to his chin and rubbed a small blotch of dried blood away.
"Oh," said Tom as he eyed the handkerchief.
A strange look crossed his face, as if he were amused by the sight of the blood. An eerie dark light in his blue eyes made chills darting down Hermione's spine. Then the expression was gone and Tom simply smiled at her.
"I must have cut myself while shaving."
Hermione brushed away the uneasy feeling that had bubbled up in her. Instead she reached for her wand and asked eagerly,
"Do you want me to heal it? I know the perfect spell."
The smile still curved Tom's lips as he gazed at her amusedly. "No, that's not necessary."
Disappointed, Hermione put the wand away.
"It's the Episkey Spell," she told him sullenly. "We looked into it during Charms."
Tom cocked an eyebrow. Hermione took that as an invitation to go on. So she explained, a smile fighting its way on her face,
"It's a Healing Spell. Really useful, but only for minor injuries. It can heal cuts and even some fractures in bones."
Hermione leaned comfortably back in the sofa and continued her story. Tom had by now returned to his Transfiguration essay but she didn't really care whether he was listening or not.
"I think I'm going to look more into Healing Spells," she merrily gushed on. "I don't think they teach any Healing Magic at Hogwarts. Most of them are really complex."
Hermione continued to list healing spells she wanted to learn and lectured about their advantages and disadvantages. All the while Tom worked on his essay. It was a good while later, and Hermione had almost exhausted her list of spells, that he spoke again. Tom put his quill away and casually rolled up his parchment.
"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," he stated in his deep velvety voice,
Hermione was pulled away from her healing magic and raised her eyebrows at him. Tom ignored her and said,
"I have to take care of something important during that weekend and it requires your help. So don't go and make any plans with your little friends."
"I can't go to Hogsmeade anyway," Hermione said listlessly,
"Oh? And why not?" inquired Tom loftily.
"Because I'd need permission from a guardian," she replied morosely.
"Really? How do you know? Are you suddenly an expert of Hogwarts' rules?"
Hermione harrumphed and lectured him condescendingly, "For your information, I read Hogwarts: A History. I know everything now. By the way-" She gestured at the bookshelf near-by. "-even the Head Boy is not allowed to take books from the Restricted Section of the library. You really should return them."
"Is that so?" Tom snickered before he supplied, "Anyway, Hermione Rookwood is seventeen. So you don't need a guardian for anything anymore. You're off age and are allowed to go to Hogsmeade."
Hermione's eyes widened with pleasant surprise and she blurted excitedly. "So I can go to Hogsmeade? That's brilliant. When's that Hogsmeade weekend coming up again?"
Tom merely smirked at her and tsked, "I told you I have other plans."
Hermione glanced at him, disappointment crossing her face. "What plans?"
Tom flashed her a smile. "We need to go to Cornwall."
"Why?" She frowned at him in bewilderment.
"You disappoint me, Hermione," he informed haughtily. "I believe I told you about Hepzibah Smith and the locket?"
Realization dawned on Hermione's face and she sat up straighter on the couch. Disappointment over her lost Hogsmeade weekend forgotten, she eyed Tom excitedly.
"The locket? Wasn't that one of the Founders' objects?"
Tom inclined his head. "Yes. Slytherin's Locket. As of now, it still is with Hepzibah Smith." A sinister smirk appeared on his face. "I intend to steal it."
"What?" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.
"Let me correct that," Tom purred conceitedly. "You will steal it for me."
As Hermione could only blink at him in outrage, he continued easily, "Smith lives in her family's old manor down in Cornwall. Unfortunately that manor is protected by a lot of wards."
"And you… want me to break them?" Hermione whispered feebly.
"Merlin, no," Tom replied amusedly. "The wards are centuries old and quite powerful. It would be too risky trying to bypass them. You'd have Aurors swarming around you in seconds."
Hermione shook her head in confusion. "Then what do you want me to do?"
Tom reached for his robe and pulled an envelope from the breast pocket. Hermione recognized the envelope. Draco had given it to him a few days ago in the Slytherin common room. Tom handed her the envelope and explained,
"The Smiths are an ancient and very powerful family. Hepzibah, being the only living descendant, is rather influential. In two weeks, Smith is hosting a soiree. Obviously the political and financial elite will be attending this party. It's a huge thing"
Tom slid a bit closer to Hermione and threw her a smug smile. "During the soiree the manor's wards won't completely disappear, but they will be cut down a bit."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "So, you want to use the occasion to break into the manor?"
"Exactly," Tom said contently.
He gestured for Hermione to open the envelope. She obeyed and pulled a piece of parchment out. Her gaze skimmed over the parchment while Tom explained,
"On the parchment you find a list of the caterers responsible for food, drinks and entertainment."
Tom reached over and pointed to one name on the list. Clutterbuck Crispe's, Hermione read.
"See here? This one's mainly responsible for providing staff such as waiters." He glanced at Hermione. "You can probably guess who those servants are going to be."
"Mudbloods?" replied Hermione warily.
Tom nodded. "This is where you come in Hermione. You are going to pose as one of those Mudbloods from Crispe's. With that, you'll be able to enter the manor's wards without a problem. As soon as you're inside, you'll search for the locket and bring it to me."
Hermione stared down at the parchment in her hand and swallowed thickly. Tom wanted her to sneak in by pretending to be one of Crispe's Mudbloods? To then… raid the manor? Hermione's stomach knotted uncomfortably. She glanced up at Tom and said tentatively,
"I- I don't think I can do this. Why don't you do it? Draco said he could get you an invite."
"Don't be silly," Tom snapped. "As soon as the locket is missing, everyone is a suspect. Aurors will look into everybody on the guest list. I can't possibly risk that. Between the Minister of Magic and myself, who do you think they will suspect first?"
"B- but won't they trace it back to me?" Hermione stuttered fearfully.
"No," Tom replied carelessly. "You are just another nameless Mudblood. After the deed is done, you'll simply disappear. No-one will remember your face. Even if, they won't draw the connection to Hermione Rookwood. With the Polyjuice, you don't even look the same."
Hermione looked up at him pleadingly. "Please, Tom. I really don't think I can pull this off."
Tom's gaze turned hard as stone. Not a shred of compassion was visible on his cold face, only anger ghosted around his handsome features.
"You belong to me, Hermione," he told her sharply. "I am not asking you to do this."
As Hermione heard that relentless edge of authority in Tom's tone, she tensed up. Her Dark Mark burned forebodingly and she instantly bowed her head, eyes cast down. Years of experience at Malfoy manor had taught her how to react in such situations. Hermione just wanted to open her mouth and relent as a thought hit her.
This isn't Malfoy manor.
Warily she peered up at Tom. He wasn't Draco. That realisation drove Hermione to do something she had never done before: She argued back.
"D- do you know what you are asking of me?"
A dangerous frown appeared between Tom's eyebrows and he snapped caustically, "You can't refuse."
Hermione breathed in deeply as his anger washed over her but she still dared to move on and explained cautiously, "Breaking and entering… stealing from a witch. If they catch me, I'll get… I'll get executed."
Hermione nervously fiddled with the hem of her robes as she looked up at Tom. If she had dared to talk to Draco like this, he would have instantly cursed her. Hermione was glad that Tom hadn't yet done that, still there was a dark glint in his eyes. He glared at her for a moment and Hermione feared he would lash out at her. After a while, though, Tom merely sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His ice blue eyes flicked back to her and he asked in a surprisingly calm voice,
"Do you trust me, Hermione?"
She was taken aback by the sudden request and could only stutter, "Er… I'm not… I guess, I think so… yes?"
Tom nodded, satisfied. Then he leaned a bit towards her and said, a pleasant warmth to his voice, "Then you have to trust me in this. Believe me, my plans never fail." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently into his side. "You don't have to worry. No-one will catch you. I'll make sure of that."
Tom's closeness and his comforting arm around her made Hermione feel inclined to believe him. She had never felt safer with a wizard. Shakily she smiled up at him and nodded her head.
"Okay. I'll do it."
Instantly there was a warm smile on Tom's face. With that smile he looked even more handsome. Hermione nestled against him and put her head down on his chest. She completely missed the triumphant sheen flaring up in Tom's eyes. It twisted his whole expression into something else entirely.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
It was a few days after Tom revealed his plan to Hermione that she sat in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Hermione still thoroughly enjoyed how she could sit at the Gryffindor table and just eat whatever she wanted. Her plate was filled with scrambled eggs, sausages and tomato slices. Hermione had borrowed a Daily Prophet from someone and smiled happily as she studied the paper. Her eyes grew wide with wonder as she stumbled about an especially interesting article.
The Order of the Phoenix strikes again
The terrorist group known as the 'Order of the Phoenix' once again makes an appearance. This time, the group targeted the Snatchers' district office in South London. Yesterday between 10 and 11 p.m. members of the Order, armed with their wands, broke into the building. Using extreme force, those unknown men overpowered the Snatchers' night shift before they proceeded to break open the holding cells to release a batch of Mudblood children back into the Muggle world. Luckily none of the Snatcher officers got injured during this terrorist attack but the loss of livestock and the resulting financial damage is considerable. (For more information read pg. 9 to 11)
In wonder Hermione stared down at the newspaper article. She had never heard of something like this. The Order of the Phoenix? Incredible. A group of wizards who fought to free Mudbloods? Contemplatively Hermione threw a glance at Tom. He sat at the Slytherin table, sipping from a cup of tea. She wondered if he was a member of the Order. After all, Tom was the first wizard she ever met who was nice to her. He even allowed her to go to school.
"Hermione?"
Hermione blinked and turned her head. She found Ginny Weasley smiling at her. The red-head amicably patted her on the shoulder and said,
"Class is starting. Wanna walk together?"
Hermione smiled at her friend and nodded. Ron, who sat a few seats away, crammed half a sandwich into his mouth before he got up and followed the two girls out of the Great Hall.
"Bah," Ron said around the sandwich in his mouth. "History's next. I hate History."
Hermione threw him a reproachful look but silently conceded. Ginny smirked gleefully and announced,
"Thank Merlin, I'm in sixth year. I've Transfiguration."
Ron shrugged. "Not much better."
Chatting animatedly, the group climbed a flight of stairs and strolled through the second floor's corridors. Hermione stopped as she spotted a girls' toilet near-by.
"Go on without me," she told her friends. "I need to use the bathroom."
Before she could walk over to the toilet, a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Confused, Hermione turned and looked at Ginny. Grim expression on her face, Ginny said,
"You shouldn't use that toilet."
Hermione furrowed her brow. Shortly she glanced at the toilet's door. Then she looked back at Ginny in question.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
Ginny shook her head and whispered tentatively, "You really wouldn't wanna go in there. There's a ghost."
It didn't clear up Hermione's bewilderment. Raising her eyebrows at Ginny's strange behaviour, she stated,
"What's so bad about a ghost. There're loads of ghosts in Hogwarts."
Ron, who had stepped to his sister, sported the same uncharacteristic glum expression. His voice, too, was strangely serious as he said,
"Yeah. But trust us, you wouldn't wanna meet Nagging Neville."
"Who?" inquired Hermione cautiously.
"Nagging Neville," repeated Ginny. "He's the ghost that haunts the girls' toilet."
"…okay," said Hermione slowly. "I can see why a male ghost isn't so much fun in a girls' toilet. But… it's not that bad."
She eyed her two friends in suspicion. Both Weasleys were still weirdly subdued. They threw pointed looks at each other, before Ron cleared his throat and explained,
"Well, Neville… He got murdered in there."
Hermione's eyes widened and exclaimed, "Oh Merlin. Murdered? Are you sure?"
Ginny nodded and said darkly, "Yeah. The worst part is, it happened not that long ago. Only two years, in fact."
Hermione's gaze flew back to the girls' toilet. Trepidation mounted up in her as she eyed the innocent looking door. Someone got murdered? She swallowed nervously. Ron gently grabbed her arm and led her away from the scene of crime.
"Poor bloke," he said gravely. "He was a Hufflepuff. Our year. I didn't know him well, but he really was an okay guy."
"I'm so sorry," said Hermione gingerly. "It must have been horrible. What… what happened to him?"
"No-one really knows," Ron replied sombrely. "Neville was found dead in the bathroom. The teachers said some kind of animal must have got him."
Hermione's eyes widened with surprise. "An animal. Inside the castle? Did they find it?"
"Yes," continued Ron. "They actually did. It was an Erumpent."
"That's… that's…" stuttered Hermione. "…impossible. An erumpent? But… they are really dangerous. How could it get in here? They live in Africa…"
Ron sighed and grabbed Hermione's hand. He held it gently as he supplied, "It was only a small one. A baby. Apparently a student illegally raised it in the castle. One day it escaped and… poor Neville had to pay for it."
Ginny, who had been suspiciously silent, snorted as she heard her brother's explanation. Anger twisted her voice as she hissed,
"That's bull, and you know it, Ron!"
Ron looked at his sister, silent apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Gin. I know she was your friend. But she shouldn't have kept the Erumpent."
Ginny gruffly shrugged his arm away from her before she cried furiously, "Luna is not responsible for Neville's death."
"Ginny, calm down," Ron said soothingly, still taking a cautious step away from his angry sister. "We know you like Luna. And I'm pretty sure the whole thing was an accident, but Neville's dead. I think Luna should be grateful that she only got expelled. It could have been worse for her."
Ginny glared mutinously at her brother. Hermione, who had followed the whole conversation, now asked timidly,
"How can you be sure it was that girl, Luna?"
Ginny sent her a grateful glance and replied, "That's exactly it. There's no real evidence."
Hermione frowned. "And she still got expelled?"
Ginny nodded, fury in her pretty eyes. "Yeah. Even her wand got snapped."
Hermione flinched at the notion. She knew how horrible it could be without a wand.
"Luckily, Luna could stay at Hogwarts," Ginny continued. "Professor Trelawney took her in as an assistant."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. She knew Trelawney was the Divination professor. Hermione had never visited any of her classes. Apparently Tom was of the opinion that Divination was a waste of time. Pursing her lips, Hermione glanced at Ginny and inquired cautiously,
"How do they know it really was your friend's Erumpent that killed Neville?"
Ginny pressed her mouth into a thin line as if she had to fight to hold back an especially sharp reply. She released a long breath of air, before she answered, bitterness lacing her voice,
"Maybe you should ask your boyfriend."
"Tom?" Hermione said, completely surprised. "What does he have to do with this?"
Ginny's expression grew even darker as the conversation hovered around Tom. Before her volatile temper got the better of her, Ron replied hastily,
"Riddle was the one who captured Luna and found the Erumpent."
"He even got an award for it." Ginny spat, fury twisting her voice. "The liar! As if Luna could be the Heir of Slytherin."
Hermione warily glanced at the angry red-head. "Heir of Slytherin?"
"Before Neville was killed, there were a few nasty incidents where students got injured. It was rather creepy actually," Ron explained cautiously. "People started to think it was the revenge of the Heir of Slytherin. It's an old myth, Salazar Slytherin left a monster in Hogwarts. A monster that only his heir can control."
†
Hermione was still rather shaken from the news about that boy's – Neville's – murder as she sat in her next class. History of Magic, though, was so annoying that soon indignation over Carrow's lecture drove away all thoughts about the Heir of Slytherin. Dark look on her face, Hermione clasped her quill angrily. She glanced at her seat neighbour. Tom was listening attentively to the professor but Hermione knew he could pull that look off even when he was daydreaming away.
"Of course we have Grindelwald to thank for that," Carrow's nasty voice echoed through the classroom.
The professor stood before her class and smiled sharply. She raised her thin eyebrows and quizzed, "Does anyone know how Grindelwald got the Mudblood problem under control? Ms Patil?"
Parvati tensed and looked at Carrow, wide-eyed. "Erm… he… Grindelwald founded the Department of Bloodlines?"
"That is correct," Carrow purred sweetly. "In 1947 Grindelwald opened the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines. Since then, every witch and wizard needs to be registered with this department. Thus it is possible to clearly keep the line between Purebloods and the Mudbloods we so graciously allow into our world."
Graciously? Hermione thought angrily. She gritted her teeth as she stared at the smug smile on Carrow's face. The professor lazily leaned against her desk and continued sanctimoniously,
"Without us, Mudbloods would be stranded in the Muggle world, completely over-challenged with their limited magical power. They would hurt themselves and the people around them. By welcoming them in our world, we are saving them."
I suppose I should thank you then. The bitter sarcasm rang through Hermione's head while her 'limited' magic began to stir angrily.
"The Department for Bloodlines is essential for keeping our blood clean from Mudblood influences," Carrow's annoying voice lectured. "While it simultaneously allows us to save the Mudbloods from a miserable existence in the Muggle world."
In a fit of rage, Hermione pressed her quill too tightly into the parchment, piercing a hole. The professor remained to be oblivious to Hermione's frustration and smiled sweetly at her class. Rosier raised his hand and Carrow nodded at him invitingly.
"Was it also Grindelwald's idea to use Mudbloods as slaves?" he asked curiously.
The terribly sweet smile on Carrow's face even widened at her student's request.
"Now now, Mr Rosier," she chastised lightly. "Mudbloods are certainly no slaves."
As she heard that Hermione threw in a scandalized breath of air. Luckily Carrow didn't notice but instead happily declared,
"We gladly welcome them into our world and give them a place in our society."
She slightly shook her head and threw an indulgent smile at Rosier. Hermione felt sick as she saw the nasty glint in Carrow's eyes.
"Mudbloods are quite helpless without wizards instructing them," the woman continued. "By no means are they slaves. No. You have to see them more like children. They need someone to lead them, to watch after them and, sometimes, to discipline them."
Hermione's magic gave another angry budge and she would have loved to pull her wand and curse that wretched woman. She already trembled with supressed fury and could feel her magic slipping away. Hints of it bristled dangerously in the air around Hermione. Before she completely lost control, she felt a sharp pain in her Dark Mark. Hermione winced and yelped softly, the shock making her anger break down. She turned her head and glanced at Tom beside her. He stared at her with his piercing blue eyes. There was no emotion visible on his blank face but he almost imperceptively shook his head. Hermione gulped before she lowered her head.
"Ms Rookwood?" Carrow announced.
Hermione's eyes shot to the teacher. With mounting anxiety she realized that Carrow had noticed something. The professor narrowed her eyes at Hermione before she asked sternly,
"Have you been paying attention?"
Immediately Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor."
Carrow pursed her lips in contemplation and asked suspiciously, "Then I'm sure you can tell me how Mudbloods got treated before Grindelwald's reform."
Hermione nervously looked up at the professor. Her Dark Mark still hurt dully. Shakily Hermione admitted,
"I- I don't know, Professor."
For a second Carrow's hard gaze bored into Hermione. Then, unexpectedly, the stern expression dropped from the teacher's face and she smiled kindly.
"Very good, Ms Rookwood," she praised, eyes sparkling fondly at Hermione. "Take five points for Gryffindor." Turned to the whole class, Carrow pronounced, "How Mudbloods got treated before Grindelwald was an utter disgrace. You would do well by following Ms Rookwood's example and forget that blot on the history of our great nation."
On top of her anger and confusion, Hermione now felt dirty. She pressed her mouth in a thin line and stared at Carrow. She wanted to take those five points and shove them down the woman's throat.
Throughout the rest of the class Hermione's mood didn't lift at all. It became even worse as, after Carrow had concluded the class, she stopped Hermione before she could leave.
"Ms Rookwood? Please, stay behind."
Glumly Hermione waited by the teacher's desk as the class filed out of the room. As the other students had left, Carrow's attention fell on Hermione. For a moment the professor scrutinized Hermione, making the other squirm uncomfortably. Finally Carrow implied,
"I've seen you talking with Lupin, Ms Rookwood..."
Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "Yes?"
A horribly twisted form of concern ghosted over Carrow's face before she simpered, "I know that you come from a respectable family. Why, the Rookwood name goes way back."
Hermione's skin crawled but she still forced a smile on her face. "Of course, Professor."
An eerie smile on her face, Carrow said with false worry, "Seeing you with Lupin is quite…" The woman shuddered theatrically before she advised, "It's best for you to stay away from that man. Believe me, you do not want to be associated with people like him."
"What do you mean?" Hermione fought to keep the indignation from her tone.
Carrow took a step towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "Lupin has a very dubious family background."
"Is that so?" Hermione pressed through gritted teeth.
The professor nodded importantly. "Yes. Rumour has it that he is a Halfblood."
"Only rumour, though?"
A devious smirk slid on Carrow's face. "More an open secret, actually."
The woman ran a hand over Hermione's arm in a display of faux care. "His mother, Annabel Lupin, was a witch. Shady character, though she was. Developed a disgustingly close relationship with one of her male Mudbloods. She was never married but still gave birth to a child."
"Remus Lupin?" asked Hermione cautiously.
Carrow nodded. A dark flash passed her eyes and she suggested nastily, "Now, one may wonder who the father of that child was. Because no-one really knows. Annabel paid her way out of further investigations by the Department of Bloodlines."
"Why are you telling me this, Professor?" Hermione said, unable to ban all coldness from her voice.
The indulgent smile was back on Carrow's face as she assured, "I am just a concerned teacher looking out for my pupils. I don't want filth like Lupin to taint you."
She squeezed Hermione's arm in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture but only made cold chills darting down Hermione's spine.
"Now, run along," Carrow chirped lightly. "I don't want to deter you any longer."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
Two weeks later, worries about Carrow or any heirs of Slytherin were far from Hermione's mind. Feeling incredibly jumpy, she scurried after Tom through a small village in Cornwall. It was a rather nice village, close to the sea and obviously a tourist magnet during summer time. Hermione, though, couldn't appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. She had kind of hoped Tom would change his mind about stealing Slytherin's Locket. Unfortunately he hadn't and that was the reason for them being in this village now. It was also the reason for Hermione being back in her true form. Yesterday had been the last time she had taken Polyjuice potion and by now it had completely worn off.
"What if a Professor notices we are gone?" Hermione asked Tom anxiously.
In contrast to her, the Slytherin was calm and relaxed. Nonchalantly carrying a backpack over one shoulder, Tom grinned at her.
"Don't worry. Everything is taken care of."
Hermione frowned at him and insisted, "You are Head Boy. What if someone needs something from you? Like Dippet?"
Tom simply draped a comforting arm around her waist and supplied, "There's still the Head Girl. And my… friends will cover for us."
Hermione wasn't satisfied at all. The grin on Tom's face widened as he took in her sour mood. He raked his fingers through her long curly hair and whispered seductively,
"I quite like having the old Hermione back."
Hermione blushed fiercely und felt very self-conscious as Tom's heated gaze wandered over her.
"Come on."
Tom gently nudged her forwards and towards one of the village's cosy terrace houses. Bed and Breakfast, a sign pronounced. Hermione stepped reluctantly over to the entrance. Her hand wandered to her left forearm and nervously clenched around it. The Dark Mark was hidden under her pullover sleeve. Now that she was back in her old body, should she again behave like a Mudblood? Hermione wondered glumly whether she should reveal her mark, like Mudbloods were supposed to do in public.
Tom, having seen her nervousness, told her, "This is a Muggle inn. So don't worry about your mark."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she heard it. "A Muggle inn…?"
Tom chuckled and opened the door, letting her enter first. Hermione felt rather tense as she entered the B&B. She wasn't at all comfortable with Tom's plan to break into Smith's manor. Hermione felt horribly jittery as she waited for Tom to get the room key. Silently she followed him up a flight of narrow stairs to their room. Tom opened it and Hermione hesitantly followed him into the room. It was small but nice and clean. White floor-length curtains hung by the window and moved softly with the wind. A twin-bed stood in the middle of the room. On the bedside table Hermione spied an electric kettle and cups for tea. The thought that Ron's dad would like this very much shortly flashed through her head. Hermione glanced at Tom. He had crossed the room and looked out the window, scanning the terrain. Cautiously Hermione stepped over to him. His starkly blue eyes shortly flicked over her.
"See that house over there?" Tom asked, pointing at a hill a distance away. "That's Smith manor."
Hermione frowned. She could see where the village ended but on the hill a bit further away was no house.
"I can't see anything."
Tom arched an elegant eyebrow at her. "Really?"
He reached for his wand and lazily waved it over her. Hermione gasped as she could see a huge manor house materializing on that hill. Seeing her reaction, Tom nodded, satisfied.
"Well, there's a lot of Muggle in you," he told her haughtily. "Maybe that's why you couldn't see past the Muggle repellent charms."
Hermione felt a little hurt by the condescending touch in his voice, but didn't voice anything.
"We have roughly an hour before the caterers arrive," stated Tom's silky voice. "You should get ready."
Hermione peered up at him and nodded. Tom grabbed his backpack. After poking through it he pulled a cloth from it. Tossing it to Hermione, he ordered gruffly,
"Get changed."
"Yes, Tom."
Glumly Hermione peered at the cloth in her hands. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a knee-length baggy dress. It was an ugly, non-descript shade of blue. Hermione swallowed down an unpleasant feeling as she looked at the uniform. Aside from the colour, it looked a lot like the dress she had been forced to wear in Malfoy manor. Feeling rather shaky, Hermione disappeared into the bathroom.
It felt like she was shedding more than her clothes as she slipped out of her jeans and pullover. Very reluctantly she put them away and reached for the blue dress with shaky hands. Nausea bubbled in her stomach as she slipped the ugly dress over her head.
Before she left the bathroom, Hermione's eyes flicked to the mirror. She felt a painful twinge in her chest as she stared at her reflection. All traces of 'Hermione Rookwood' had disappeared. Hermione hadn't seen her real face in weeks. Now it stared back at her. Bushy long hair, brown eyes and pale skin. The blue dress hung from her thin frame, looking more like a hospital gown than anything else. It had short sleeves and did not cover the Dark Mark. Cold chills ran down Hermione's spine as she stared at the mark. She wanted to scream for 'Ms Rookwood' to come back, because all that was left right now was Penny, the slave girl.
Tom lounged on the bed but got up as Hermione left the bathroom. A smirk ghosted around his lips as he stepped over to her. Hermione felt horribly exposed as she stood in front of Tom with her ugly dress while he looked handsome as ever in his sleek clothes. Slowly something constricted around her chest. Dressed like this and with her mark exposed, Hogwarts was nothing but a dream and Hermione was harshly thrown back into her past at Malfoy manor.
Tom's icy blue eyes slowly wandered over her body, taking everything in. Hermione's lower lip quivered slightly. With her memories of Malfoy manor spooking through her head, it was painfully easy to slip back into the old routine. Hermione lowered her head and servilely bowed to Tom. He still didn't say anything. Slowly he circled her, his soft steps muffled by the thick carpet. Suddenly there were two hands on Hermione's shoulders and she flinched. Tom stood directly behind her, so close that she could feel his chest against her back. He leaned down to her and Hermione shuddered involuntarily as she could smell his cologne.
"Don't fall back into your Mudblood-mode," Tom whispered into her ear, his seductive voice sending goose bumps all over her. "I need you tonight, Hermione."
He placed a soft kiss on the skin right under her ear. Subconsciously, Hermione tilted her head to grant him better access. Tom's hands left her shoulders and slipped down. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him, while his other hand clasped her left forearm. Hermione's Dark Mark tingled as it was in direct contact with its master's skin. It didn't hurt. On the contrary, it was quite a pleasant feeling as Tom's magic washed over her tattooed skin. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she felt Tom placing more kisses on her neck.
"You are not going in there to serve those Purebloods," Tom's silky voice crooned. "You are going to steal from them."
Hermione's eyes were still closed and as she felt his soft lips wandering over her skin, she was able to forget the blue uniform she was wearing. She relaxed and allowed herself to lean into the body behind her.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'My times of hope were cast in shade
And pleasure dimmed by longing,
For it was then an evil genius
Began to pay me secret visits.
Our meetings were quite dolorous:
His smile, his glance mysterious,
His venom-filled and caustic sermons
Poured frozen poison in my soul.'
- Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
(* 1799 †1837)