Good evening! Back to work tomorrow so it will be a few days before I post again. I don't want to give away anything but I'm excited for what is coming in the next few chapters. I have lots of reviews which need a reply, I will try to get to that! Many thanks for them all, I am delighted you loved it. Tom is in the driver's seat again, and those of you who are keen to see Hermione strike back, as it were, are going to have to keep your pants on. Ahem. They will not, though. At least, not in this chapter. You are warned.

LionsWing, you shall have to be patient for Hermione. Glad you liked the lemon and Tom's manipulations.

juliaa, glad you like Lord Voldemort's little future 'moment'. Why would he do such a thing? Hehe.

Cecile, thanks for the help with my French! I have fixed that chapter. Thanks for the review, I'm delighted that you like the story.

Anon, this new bond is quite an interesting thing. As with all else in this tale, however, it will take a while for its nuances to be fully appreciated. ;)

Okay, here we go. Enjoy!

"Albus, I do hope your visit means that you have finally conceded the wisdom of my plans to revitalize the wizarding world." Gellert was still a striking man, but there were streaks of lines around his mouth, which had hardened with time and rendered him less attractive.

"Ah yes. All of your pronouncements about your activities being 'for the greater good'. You'll pardon me, Gellert, for believing that the only good with which you are concerned is what is in your best interest."

That earned him a tossed babbling curse, which Dumbledore easily deflected. Gellert's eyes narrowed, and he flicked his wand toward a door, doubtless summoning some of his minions to make Albus' life more difficult. "You've changed, Albus, and not for the better. I had hoped when I heard you were sniffing around about time travel that you had finally decided to explore your dark side, but I can see that I was mistaken."

"This is long overdue, Gellert," Albus Dumbledore said placidly, his beech wand flying to petrify two of Gellert's men who sought to stop him. Gellert retaliated with a Reducto charm that was powerful enough to topple one of the stone columns supporting the ceiling, surrounding them both with a cloud of dust.

"Tsk, tsk, such restraint, Albus—and after such a ruthless ending to the men I sent to Hogsmeade! Why hold back now, friend? Or has your Ministry really gotten its act together enough to hide them in custody from my spies?"

Gellert's wand, the Elder wand, flashed, and Albus brought his shield up just in time, the magical ropes fraying and dissolving.

"I don't know what you are speaking of," Dumbledore replied evenly, sending a cascade of diamond sharp icicles at Grindelwald.

Gellert dispelled it easily and threw a few more curses at him, testing him. "I am fairly certain they are dead, Albus. No one reliable saw them leave your little village next to the school. Call me cynical, but I do know how you are when you lose your temper."

Albus' eyes narrowed briefly at that. "Suffice it to say, you will have very few followers willing to go where I will send you."

Gellert barked with laughter. "You know the wand I wield, Albus. The wizarding world will be sorry to lose a great wizard such as yourself, but a message must be sent."

Thus began the wizarding world's most infamous duel. It was nearly three hours later when Albus Dumbledore finally summoned the Elder wand to his hand, Gellert Grindelwald sprawled, tied up with a little curse of his own making at his feet. As he had dueled, any friendly feelings he had ever felt for this man had died speedily.

"Go on, then. Finish it!" Gellert demanded.

Albus' tone was maddenly calm. "I think not, Gellert. You do not deserve such an easy death. As you put it so eloquently, a message must be sent…for the greater good."

"Tom."

"Hermione."

He stood aside and let her enter, well aware that she was a roiling mass of thought and emotion. He thought briefly about easing that, but decided he would rather hear her first salvo before touching her. So, he waited. She stood silently by the window, taking in the charmed view of the Forbidden Forest. She glanced over at him, and he remained silent, simply quirked one eyebrow at her.

The dam broke. "Your magic won't let me string two thoughts together!" she accused, although that was not the first of many things she had intended to say.

"You will find it more difficult to focus without me," he replied simply. "It is because I initiated the bond, not you."

He neglected to mention that that particular effect would wane as the bond matured. She would figure it out for herself, and in the meantime it might help keep her in line.

"So you have rendered me subservient," she spat, turning to fully face him. "How could that possibly benefit you? Other than to show me your dominance, a task which is easy enough without a High Magic bond! So what is really going on? You haven't attempted Legilimency, although that should be possible with this—tie you have created—"

"I should think you know better by now than to expect me to be an open book," he said coolly, a bored expression on his face.

"I don't need an open book to know that you aren't finished with your plan to use me as your own personal crystal ball."

Tom laughed. "I've already used you as a crystal ball, dear heart. After all, we were clearly not the best of friends in the future, and yet I've bound you to me more intricately than any servant."

"Because you need something from me," Hermione retorted. "My memories are the obvious choice…but you are never obvious, are you, Tom? So what else could I possibly bring you…"

She was degenerating into a speculative rant, and he'd had enough for today. Let her overzealous brain work on that question later. He wanted to enjoy her other attributes now.

"Quiet, little hellcat."

He was beside her before she even realized he had moved, his hand sliding beneath her shirt to firmly hold her at the waist, her skin melting at his touch as her mind calmed. His expression was disgustingly placid, but his magic told a different story. He was reacting to her, too. There was some comfort in knowing he wasn't as in control of himself as he liked to claim.

"This is worse than the other bond," she said, and he knew she meant the effect of their skin to skin contact. Her spirit rebelled against it while her body practically bowed with resistance at her attempt to sever it, her expression stubbornly fierce.

"Then you shouldn't have broken it," he said matter of factly, enjoying the way her aura flared against his at that, like an angry wave against the rocky shore.

"I had no choice but to break it," she retorted, her fingers flexing with a snap of energy toward his. He absorbed it without flinching, holding her easily with a stare expressing his amusement while the hand on her waist heated up her skin to an almost uncomfortable degree, causing her to squirm while he looked down at her patronizingly. She said, "You've spent a lot of time playing with Heka, haven't you?"

Tom let the back of his hand whisper down her cheek. "You do not need to know it all, Hermione."

She captured his hand with her own and nipped one of his fingers with her teeth out of pure irritation, then relaxed it into a half kiss, half suck of his fingertip when his hand on her waist moved smoothly down, beneath the waistband of her trousers and pants to stroke her bum. Her magic was humming contentedly at the attention from his, and it was pointless to deny that she found it arousing. She did not have to give into it immediately, however.

"I want to know what you're up to," she insisted. "There is no requirement for me to be oblivious—and surely you know I will persist in finding out what you're planning."

"Well," Tom drawled, his breath on her ear making Hermione's breath hitch in a manner that surely indicated some pleasurable contact to follow, "Right now I'm planning to shag the shit out of you for hours, and then perhaps I'll let you rail at me again."

Hermione winced at the thought. He had not exactly been gentle with her, as her clean up efforts in the shower had proved. He noticed and prodded her, "Did you think I was going to let such a fine Saturday night pass without enjoying your tight cunt again? I think not, my dear."

"Don't call me that. You hold nothing dear except yourself," Hermione said even as he rapidly stripped her of her shirt and trousers, pulling her to his bedroom. She expected him to use derogatory epithets, so that didn't bother her—but terms of endearment in a warm tone were too upsetting to the fragile understanding she had managed to forge of what existed now between the pair of them.

"I'm hurt that you could say such a thing," he replied in a tone that said quite clearly that he was mocking her. "You are my bondmate, pet, and therefore nearly as precious to me as myself."

"Nearly for you is as far as Hogwarts is from Merlin's cave," she retorted, her eyes unwittingly straying when he pulled off his own shirt. "And we both know that I don't have to sleep with you again at all. As unpleasant as it may be to you, I do still retain a degree of choice in the matter."

"I warned you not to try my patience," Tom said calmly enough, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he pulled her to him. "Don't try to tell me you don't squirm with pleasure when I do this," he said, deliberately brushing his thumbs across her breasts, twice, the sparse hair on his stomach tickling her own as he moved her steadily back toward the bed.

"Be that as it may, I can make this more difficult for you," Hermione said, resisting the impulse to press herself into him. "Unless you're prepared to give me something I want."

Tom's eyes sparked with amusement. "Bedside negotiating? Why Hermione, what a dirty girl you are."

She could tell he liked it, though, his magic subtly ramping up and causing her own to flare, which made her just a bit too needy, too fast. "I want to know what you did to me that day in the Room of Requirement," she said quickly, before his hands found out just how much she was responding to him.

"Whatever can you mean?" he said innocently, peeling her bra off and applying himself to the task of thoroughly distracting her.

"The day you tortured me…and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" she hissed quickly while she could focus on the conversation and not the wet, lush pop of his mouth as he left one breast and turned his attention to the other.

"What are you willing to give me for that memory, dearest? And a shag today is insufficient, before you offer," he said, leaving the second breast a hard peak and pushing her easily down onto the bed. Oh yes, she was quite aroused already, from the scent wafting from between her legs.

"I'll shag you as often as you want," she said as he divested himself of his own trousers, her pants shimmying down her legs with a helpful little wandless spell he invented on the spot. "That's cheating!"

"Hermione," he said with a lovely, deep voice. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll think twice before bargaining like this with me, pet. We both know I'll shag you as often as I want anyway."

"And if I make you come first? Will you agree to my bargain?" she asked breathlessly, arching involuntarily when he smoothly parted her legs and dipped his head.

"Oh, by all means…I accept," he said arrogantly, right before he took the first taste.

Several hours later, Tom disentangled himself from his sleeping…whatever she was, her hair a riot of curls on his pillow. The corner of his mouth turned up as he considered the sneaky manner in which she had won her little bet. She had been quick to get a binding vow from him on the subject, too, before letting him ravish her body in a very thorough manner. His little witch was growing quite proficient with wandless charms. His lips moved in a hiss of Parseltongue, testing the term he had read earlier on his tongue—mate. Yes, that would suit her; and very soon if he had his way. He flexed his wrists, any marks long gone. However, the memory of her mouth…now that would linger. This reminded him of the last instruction.

He cooled considerably at that thought. Rising, he clothed himself in an instant, then flicked several charms around the bed. It was time to see what other little secrets his mate had kept from him, apart from those she closely guarded in her mind. It wasn't difficult to decide what his first stop would be.

Moving about the castle at night was never an issue for Tom, but he had a moment's hesitation before deciding to apparate into her bedroom. If Rosier had not managed to talk his way into Miss Tynwyn's tights, he would simply Obliviate her.

The room was empty. Apparently Evan was going to get his Ostara gift of a pretty pureblood bride. Dismissing the irrelevant girl from his mind, he began looking around in Hermione's things, checking for wards and blood traces. There was nothing in her chest, nothing in the desk, nothing under the bed. Hmmmmm. He turned around the room, noting that nothing was out of place, the ordinary stone walls, the flagstone floor, scattered rugs…nothing unusual. Well, fortunately, he had a new way to look for anything she might like to hide. He murmured a little clause from their vows…a very useful little clause that prevented any dangerous secrets between them. Of course, the definition of 'dangerous' was quite vague, wasn't it? It was all about intent…

"Oh, you are a clever girl…" Tom said under his breath as his wand pulsed once, then twice. "How much energy did you have to pour into this little self-sustaining gem?"

She had a hidden crevice gouged out in the stone of the castle itself. Since the castle would attempt to heal such minor injuries, she had a repeating Reducto charm in place, feeding off of the energy of the castle itself to keep the folio well hidden from prying eyes, a more advanced glamour making it look as if the stone were untouched. That would have taken quite a bit of work to get the castle to accept it.

"My sweet, you continue to surprise me," he murmured, leafing through the papers in various styles and ages of handwriting. She was trying to work out how to get home. He found the notes in her own handwriting to be the most interesting, however. It took him a bit to get the castle to accept the revocation of her charmwork, the stone beginning to fill in. Let her think he had taken them, or that the castle had swallowed them up. He almost wished she would blame him if she had the opportunity to discover the theft.

It was while he was musing on how he would enjoy punishing her for sassing him when his wand vibrated. He shrunk the folio and put it in his pocket, then disapparated straight back to his bedroom.

Hermione was thrashing around on the bed in the throes of a nightmare. That he even considered comforting her made him scoff at himself. Less than twenty four hours of sex, albeit an incredibly different, magically enhanced form of sex, and he was already compromising his principles. He stiffened noticeably—he knew himself very well, it would seem. He would not have a newly acquired asset turned into a weakness. Thus, he had no compunction about trying to slip into her mind, pleased when her dreaming mind allowed him to be pulled into the nightmare that was tormenting her.

It was like viewing a memory, but not through a pensieve. Instead he was swamped with her feelings alongside the events as they happened. Tom had little difficulty adopting the mindset of a passive observer, his mind missing nothing as Hermione's heart raced and she was swept along by the currents of her dream. Her feelings were easy to dismiss, for the most part—he had seen many of the same fears and terrors in plenty of others.

Acromantulas swarmed over walls and a giant's foot narrowly missed crushing them as they rushed forward, seeking egress from the castle. Duels were taking place all around, flashes of light that dimmed as all the happiness in the world seemed to be sucked out of her, her otter evaporating as the hellish dark it of despair overwhelmed her—that damn locket, whispering its filthy innuendo, the broad shouldered back of a boy leaving in anger, his red hair dull against the bleak landscape—there was nothing left to draw on before blackness encroached...

The vision blurred and she was crouched down behind a dirty pane of glass, hearing a terribly thin, cold voice saying, "You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen…"

A giant snake struck, a spurt of blood lacing the pane as shrieks of pain, then a grunt, heralded the close of the attack, the greyish hem of robes trailing away, the large patterned skin of the snake rolling behind in an ensorcelled cage.

"Harry! We've got to help him!"

A face bounded by greasy hair was paling rapidly, blood pouring from the wound in his neck which he could not staunch.

"Take it—take it—" Memories poured forth from his eyes, and she conjured a crystal vial for them, holding it out, trembling. Her hand seemed to waiver, blurring, then was pulled back to life by the cold, lifeless visage beneath her hand. It was a different face, thin, mustached…her eyes moved to the next corpse, a woman with pink hair, then a small boy, almost unrecognizable.

"No…no…no…" The tears were falling, she couldn't stop them.

"Hermione."

She tried to shake off the hands. She didn't want to receive comfort, didn't want to be interrupted in this grief, this aching sadness at such loss…

"Hermione!"

She woke with a start, her head bumping against the pillow from the force Tom was using to shake her awake. Her lungs sucked in a noisy breath, her heart pounding as she reoriented herself to time and place.

Tom regretted the necessity of waking her from a dream that was clearly a jarring mishmash of real experiences that haunted her still. A battle at Hogwarts—and only one person would have a snake like that! That he could use their bond to infiltrate her mind during dreams was an unanticipated perk, but he could not stand the sensations that had crawled through her at the end. It was like something crawling through his magic, completely untenable and more distressing than mere pain—he had had to wake her up, to sever that sensation at its root before it caused him more distress. Incredibly, he had the fleeting thought that whatever it was, it actually made her stronger.

"You were having a nightmare," Tom explained impatiently, and Hermione took in his clothes, instantly suspicious.

"Why are you dressed?"

"I couldn't sleep. I retrieved this for you from Dumbledore's office," Tom said, holding up the crystal vial containing her memory of her arrival.

"What? He'll know that it's been taken!" Hermione said, but Tom was unfazed.

"Would I leave it empty?" His usual arrogance was now back in place, and Hermione closed her eyes briefly to think.

"How?" she asked.

"A memory of darkness is hardly enlightening, no matter its source," Tom said. "Shall I?" he offered, holding up his wand.

"No thank you," Hermione said with narrowed eyes, Accioing her wand and reaching to pull the vial from his hand. She wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him with one of her memories and her mind.

"No questions for me about how I made it past his wards?" he taunted, leaning forward so his face was close to hers while his arm tilted backward, keeping the vial out of reach.

"I don't doubt that there are few wards within this castle that you could not wrench apart should you wish it," Hermione said, eliciting a flash in his eyes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Hermione."

"It is not flattery, simply truth. Now did you intend to give me back my memory, or are you merely playing another of your games?"

"You, my dear, have never been a game," he offered, scooting her bottom closer to him on the bed as he let her fingers close around the vial. She ignored the way he nuzzled his mouth into her neck, withdrawing the strand of her memory from the vial and replacing it in her head.

"That was unenlightening," she said a few seconds later, then tried to shove him away. "Ease off, Riddle!"

"We have two hours until breakfast begins," he said, his fingers working at the sheet between them. For a moment he sounded like nothing more than a hormonal teenage boy, and she shoved him again, her magic increasing mildly in a manner that probably indicated she'd try to hex him.

"I'm too sore for another go, you prat!" She would have blushed if she weren't so annoyed, well aware that she was stark naked beneath the sheets of his bed, and that he would not hesitate to take advantage of that fact shortly if she didn't stop him. Tom held up a different vial, this one containing a crystal violet colored potion.

"I can fix that, dear bondmate. Simply a little stop in Slughorn's potion stores—the only catch is that it has to be applied vaginally."

"I need to get back to my own room," she tried, and Tom smirked.

"I assure you that your roommate won't miss you. I'll take you back in enough time for you to be noticed going to breakfast."

He was rubbing her neck now, massaging it with one hand while he pressed kisses on her cheek and lips, his other hand stoking the swirls of their mingled magics again. It has to be said that Tom's magic was wildly persuasive. When Hermione felt the lush swell of arousal as he massaged the potion into her tissues with his more than capable fingers, she had to admit that Tom's idea of bedplay was quite intensely pleasurable. She only wondered how long it would last.

October 31, 1981

Lord Voldemort pinned the group of Death Eaters with his basilisk stare, tilting his head to the side. "I trust you understand me when I say that I will neither forgive nor forget should you fail to accomplish this task."

"Of course, my lord!" Rabastan Lestrange said with a bow as Rodolphus inclined his head coldly. Bellatrix exchanged a look with her husband, and offered, "My lord, if there is *anything* we may do to assist you with the Potters…"

"Do you think I require your help, Bellatrix?" Voldemort asked coldly, his wand pointed at the witch so quickly she could only gulp in fear.

"Of course not, my lord! I LIVE to serve you, my lord, I would do ANYTHING…"

"Enough! Just determine where the Longbottoms are hiding their brat!" Voldemort said, the lung compression hex turning her face briefly into a satisfying shade of puce before his wand flicked away and he turned to face his potions master.

"Severus," he said impatiently, walking away from the four plotters. "Walk with me."

Voldemort had little doubt that Bartemius would find out who the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper was. It was merely a matter of time. Severus was valuable, sparing his time from tedious potion brewing when he had other, more pressing matters to attend. Thus he was willing to hear what his potions master had to say before heading to Godric's Hollow.

"My lord, I would make but one request of you," Severus said urgently once they were far enough away from the others for Voldemort to cast a Muffliato charm. "Lily Potter, my lord. Please—"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He wanted no misunderstandings here. "Severus, you are a highly talented potions master. I respect your skills and your unwavering loyalty. As such, I am prepared to grant this boon you seek. However—" he paused to look Severus directly in the eye, "—should your…friend not step aside, you must accept whatever consequences she brings upon herself."

Severus was practically writhing in pain at the thought, but he nodded, doing his best to mask his response to the picture those words painted. This was insufficient for Voldemort, however, because he physically manhandled him, shoving him up against the wall with his forearm pressed against Severus' thin chest.

"Are we clear, Severus?" he asked pointedly, his eyes flashing like ruby coals in the dark hall.

Severus wanted to lick his dry, cracked lips, but he could not when he was pinioned like a butterfly by the Dark Lord's gaze. "Perfectly."

Voldemort released him and moved away without a backward look. Enough of these petty requests. It was time to complete the calculations and prepare for the evening ahead. Pettigrew glided silently up to him, and he gave the sly man a moment of attention.

"Be prepared at 7 pm sharp," Voldemort said, and Pettigrew bowed his head.

"Of course, master. I live to serve you…"

Voldemort swiveled his head, petrifying Pettigrew with his look. The expression on his face was always gratifying—that of an eager puppy desiring praise, but equally willing to accept a kick to the head. This particular man fed on praise, keen to know someone appreciated him. He would take scraps of praise forever before daring to stand on his own, and that is how Lord Voldemort knew he would always be his.

"I know you do, Peter. You are one of my most trusted servants."

"Thank you, master!"

The little man practically preened under the compliment, but he had no more time for niceties. He waved him away and entered his chambers, releasing the charms holding his Arithmancy work at a standstill. There was something missing, a variable that wasn't accounted for here…yes, there was Hermione, that arrogant Black bastard, Severus' twisted past with Lily…Herecles…but it didn't add up. The equations were off, and in such a way that he knew something was out of order, throwing off the entire series. Frustrated, he incinerated the papers and slammed his fist on the desk.

"Enough!" He took a deep breath. His temper was quite short now, and things were setting him off that should not. He recognized this loss of control as dangerous, but it was too late to fix it, for now.

This was why he'd never liked Arithmancy. Divination was far more reliable, especially with a specific prophecy. Resolved, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. Yes, that was better. He hated indecision. It was quite clear what had to be done. A flick of his wand revealed that a few hours remained until his little visit to the Potters. Plenty of time for a visit to Richmond.

He despised the need for a glamour, but it was quite effective. It formed almost without thought as he approached the Muggle playground. He had to deliberately slow his steps, but the disguise was worth the effort. There was Mrs. Granger, laughing as Hermione ran around the playground, shrieking at the flurry of leaves she was throwing up in the air around herself.

"Oh, Mr. Delvolmot, how are you?" Jean Granger smiled pleasantly at the old man, who wheezed as he lowered himself to the park bench. She was quite used to the attention Hermione garnered from the old age pensioners in their neighborhood.

"Ah, bit of pneumonia a while back, just getting back to myself…" he said, pulling a small candy from his pocket. "May I?"

Mrs. Granger's expression was wry. "Low sugar, I hope?"

"Of course," Voldemort said with the false indignation of the elderly who are certain of getting their way.

"Hermione, look who is here!"

The chubby toddler's sparkling brown eyes lit up when she saw the oval lolly in his oustretched hand, and she ran as fast as her legs could carry her over. "Tanks," she breathed, her hand touching his own to accept the lolly.

"Oh, you can do better than that," Jean laughed, and Hermione threw her hands around his neck and squeezed. Voldemort felt the anger recede, the pleasant warmth a steady promise. She broke away and ran off laughing again, the prize lolly in her hand. She was remarkably accepting of the fact that she would not be allowed to have it until later, a hint of her natural self-discipline already present. She was swirling the leaves around again, Voldemort and her mother both watching her fondly. It was a small thing for him, to cause them to swirl in lovely patterns, the rising wind making it plausible—one of those occurrences Muggles deemed 'magical' without internally actualizing that magic was, in fact, what it was. The sound of Hermione's childish squeals of delight and her goodbye hug echoed in his mind as he watched them depart for their home and he returned to the demands of reality. Time was a cruel mistress.