A few weeks after Mabel disappeared, Hermione, Tom, and the Knights were gathered in the Room of Requirement.
"I can't believe that the Aurors think she ran away." Rosier said around a mouthful of sandwich that the elves had made.
"What else would have happened?" Tom grinned.
Hermione smirked. "Her sister thinks something bad happened to her. I told her the Aurors were probably right, 'after all, who would want to hurt your sister?'."
"You didn't." Tom chuckled.
"Oh," Hermione simpered. "But did."
Tom shook his head. "That is mean."
"So?" Hermione shook her head, her curls brushing against Tom's face. "We need to find more playthings, perhaps muggles."
Nott choked on his tea.
"Alright there?" Dolohov asked.
"Yeah." Nott nodded.
"Anything for you." Tom agreed.
Hermione snorted. "You are not in any position to give me anything."
"Nothing?" A feral smile crept across the young Dark Lord's face.
"Nothing, yet." Hermione nipped his ear. "Perhaps in a few more years."
Tom scowled, but said nothing as Hermione was sitting against his chest and no one else's.
"My father has invited all of you back to the manor for the summer." Cantankerus announced after Charms.
"Well, that was nice of him." Hermione smiled.
Tom threw his arm around Nott's shoulders. "Tell your father we would be more than glad to accept. I'm always happy to talk with him."
"Oh." Hermione frowned. "And what do you two talk about."
"The same thing we do, Mia." Tom gracefully took her hand in his and kissed the back of her knuckles.
Laughing (which Tom thought sounded like fairy bells), Hermione spun under his arm. "Well, in that case, perhaps I should be in your discussions. I do have some excellent opinions."
"So modest." Dolohov grinned.
"But of course." Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder and ignored the look Dumbledore was giving her. "One of us has to be, and we all know it's not Tom."
Tom visibly preened. That was the first time she had ever referred to them in the plural.
"You're both conceited." Malfoy frowned.
"It's called sarcasm." Rosier snorted. "It's the language our lady speaks, so you might as well get used to it."
A slow smile spread across Hermione's face, she liked being called their lady.
Watching Hermione smile, an idea formed in Tom's mind. If he could get all his followers to call her a lady, then no Pureblood would ever question her. She would be the golden girl, his golden girl. Not that she seemed to mind being claimed by him, Tom mused. She was constantly laying her hand on him, or, when they were with his Knights, sitting in his lap. Tom chuckled, he was just as much hers as she was his.
A/N: Look what I did in classes today! Instead of listening to my professor talk about the syllabus for 50 minutes. Seriously, I'm a senior in college, I do know how to read.
Also, reviews are very nice and I would appreciate them very much.