March 1939

Hermione Lestrange was on a mission. The young girl slammed the old tome she had been reading shut, frustration clearly written all over her tired face.

"Nothing. Again," she murmured while shuffling through her notes again.

After her return to Hogwarts, Hermione started investigating how they had ended up in the past. Unfortunately, the extensive book collection of her beloved school offered no answers so far.

What am I supposed to do now? Chewing her lips, Hermione started packing all her belongings back into her bag, frustrated by how little she had accomplished in the past three months.

"Oy Lestrange, did your friends finally ditch you for good?"

Startled by the sudden noise, Hermione nearly hexed the nosy Slytherin standing a few feet away from her.

"To hang out with your other Gryffindork housemates?" Rosier added.

Rolling her eyes at the older boy, she discreetly slid her wand back into her robe. "It might've slipped your notice, but I'm a Gryffindor too." Grabbing her bag, Hermione was on her way out when the boy spoke up again.

"Yeah, but not a real one. You're just there 'cause you want to provoke your old man." Rosier knew precisely how to push the girl's buttons after months of continuous bickering between the two.

"Oh, shut it, Rosier. I don't have time for this right now." She tried to get around the smirking boy, who in turn tripped the younger girl, laughing as she managed to catch herself before falling right onto her face.

"Why, you stupid"- before she could finish her sentence, Rosier interrupted her.

"-As fun as this whole thing is, we need to talk." Rosier drawled.

Hermione furrowed her brows at the boy's sudden change in behaviour, not entirely sure what to make of this development. Unfortunately, all her conversations with Rosier had been less pleasant so far. "What could you possibly want from me?" she stated. "You hate me."

"It's about Riddle. Abraxas told me about what he can do. You know, speaking to snakes and stuff."

"…And stuff?" she mocked, used to them throwing petty comments at each other's heads instead of having an actual conversation.

"Don't be a brat. I'm older than you, so show some respect."

Hermione scoffed at his words, pressing her books even closer to her chest. "In your dreams. What is it that you want to talk about exactly?"

Rosier nervously looked around, checking if they were alone. "I think he's the heir of Slytherin."

Reluctantly impressed by his deduction skills, Hermione pursed her lips. What am I supposed to tell him now?

"So?"

"If he really is Slytherin's descendant and not some mudblood, then I need to get into his good graces," he answered, folding his hands behind his back.

"Why do you care about such things?" Hermione scoffed.

"Why wouldn't I? Connections are everything in this world."

She snickered at his last words, not sure if she had heard him right just now. "Really? I'm the sole heir to the Lestrange fortune, and my family belongs to the sacred twenty-eight. So, by your terms, we should be best friends."

Rosier rolled his eyes. "You're a blood traitor who doesn't know her place. You're definitely not a valuable asset in my books."

"And still, you're standing here right now, asking me for help." she snapped back.

"Because Abraxas told me, you know Riddle better than anyone else for whatever reason. What else am I supposed to do?" he hissed, barely able to contain his frustration at her constant jabs.

"Eat a flobberworm for all I care." Hermione tossed her hair back. "Would you look at the time? I shall be off then." she chirped, knowing the boy wouldn't cause a ruckus to stop her from leaving, with Madame Pince sitting just a few rows away from them...


June 1939

"So, even though they can do magic, witches are forbidden from getting their own Gringotts vault?" Tom Riddle asked. "And here I thought you people were ahead of muggle society."

Taken aback by his surprisingly progressive statement, Hermione tried to think of a proper answer.

"Witches are not meant to handle their own money. They'd just spend it on trivial things," argued Malfoy to her other side.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. The three were sitting far from prying eyes at the very back of the library.

Resting her chin in her folded hands, Hermione regarded the blonde, her smile all teeth. "Care to elaborate on that statement, Abraxas?" It was the first time Hermione had used the boy's first name to address him, and she watched gleefully as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Well, not you, of course. But you're not a girl-girl."

From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Riddle lean back in his chair, a mean smirk crossing his features at his housemate's impending demise.

She was seriously tempted to snap at the boy for finding this whole thing funny. "As a matter of fact, I am a girl. And I don't appreciate you talking about girls as if we are stupid." Hermione said through clenched teeth, fed up with the constant chauvinism she had to deal with in this era. It was getting ridiculous.

"It's a fact that witches are not as strong as wizards Les- Hermione. Even you can't deny that." Abraxas continued to argue, much to Riddle's apparent amusement.

At his silent snickering, Hermione turned to face the quiet boy, daring him to speak his mind.

"Abraxas is right. Most witches are pretty useless regarding advanced spell work."

Hermione bit her tongue. She had to retain at least a certain amount of decorum in her role as the eleven-year-old daughter of a pureblood supremacist. Later. I can deal with this when we're all a little older.

"Frankly, I'm appalled at how you're conducting yourself right now, Abraxas." Hermione unfolded her hands and pushed back her chair. "I need to finish my assignments. If you'll excuse me."

She swallowed her pride and graced the two boys with a sugary smile worthy of her status as a pureblood heiress. A proper witch was never supposed to act crass or aggressive in front of a wizard. Not that she'd ever followed that ridiculous sentiment, but this time, it allowed her to swiftly leave the conversation without offending Abraxas' fragile ego. If Rodolphus could see me now. Acting how I'm supposed to! Hermione involuntary shuddered at the thought of the crazed man.

"Don't be cross, Hermione. I apologise." Abraxas pleaded, but Hermione had enough of those two for the remainder of the week.

Acknowledging her desire to leave this argument behind her, Riddle stood, "until next Wednesday then, don't be late again." Then, holding out her bag, the boy regarded her with a warm smile.

Hermione had to suppress the urge to flip the boy off, reaching for her offered bag. Dark Lord, my ass…


Hermione didn't know how, but she somehow managed to survive her first year at Hogwarts without significant incidents. Compared to her first year in the future, her school life here was pretty uneventful.

"Only two more weeks and we're finally free! I can't wait to get home and play some Quidditch." Charlus Potter grinned giddily.

Hermione raised her brows at the boy's overwhelming enthusiasm, feeling something akin to jealousy at her friend's excitement to go home. I'd rather spend the summer with Riddle at the orphanage than with the Lestranges. Merlin, two whole months. I don't know if I can keep my mouth shut for that long anymore.

"Promise that you'll come visit Minny! You too, Hermione." The Potter heir looked at them expectantly.

While Minerva eagerly agreed to visit the boy, Hermione smiled apologetically, playing with the food on her plate.

"I'll have to ask my father, but I'll try my best, Charlus."

Noticing the sombre mood of the girl, her two friends hurriedly turned their conversation away from Hermione's family life. She appreciated their efforts but couldn't stop spiralling for the rest of their dinner.

When everyone was finished, Hermione excused herself from the table and went up to the library. Hands balled into pale fists, she fled towards her sanctuary, feeling her heartbeat quicken with every step she took. Entering the quiet library, Hermione was relieved to see that Madame Pince had already retired to her chambers.

With practised ease, she manoeuvred through a few narrow aisles before plopping down on one of the two armchairs that were perfectly hidden in a corner right between two tall bookshelves. Why am I feeling so miserable right now? Hermione tried to control her erratic breathing, irritated with her mind's unexpected state of panic.

"Merlin, it's just the holidays, Mione," she whispered.

Still, all she could see was Rodolphus' grinning visage every time she closed her eyes.

Hermione was no stranger to flashbacks, but until now, she had either Harry or Ron to lift her back up when she was feeling down. Here she only had herself. And that clearly isn't enough. She contemplated telling Minerva what was plaguing her mind for a second but quickly decided against it. She wouldn't understand. She's a child. I don't want to burden her with my worries.

Looking down at her trembling hands, Hermione was again reminded that she was no longer an adult. Her mind might've been that of a young woman, but her body most certainly was not, and her brain couldn't keep up with the constant mental and physical strains she was put under.

She had been with the Lestranges for nearly two years, and it had started to take its toll on her mind and body.

She wasn't as okay as she liked to tell herself. Not at all. Despite all her attempts to adapt to her new life, she was still struggling. Some nights, she still prayed to wake up in her old body and pretend that her life with the Lestranges was nothing but a bad dream. A habit that was becoming increasingly unhealthy.

"I cannot do this for another fifty years." Hot tears blurred Hermione's vision, but she refused to cry again. Get a grip. Things could be much worse.

"I want to see Harry and Ron again. Is this really too much to ask?" Shivering, she pulled her robes closer to her body. She had been just fine for so many weeks. So why did she have to revert back to her pathetic pre-Hogwarts self again? Hermione did not want to return home in a fortnight. The thought of having to pretend to be the charming, pretty daughter for Rabastan's fiancé made her physically ill. I can't do that, not for two whole months.

Loreen Mulciber stood for everything Hermione tried not to be in this world. The perfect pureblood heiress with nothing but her name and money to boast with. No ambitions besides making a good match and popping out a bunch of little heirs. It was a shame, really.

Sighing, she rubbed her tired eyes, slowly calming down again.

"Lestrange? What are you doing here?"

Hermione jumped at Evan Rosier's sudden appearance in her sanctuary.

Digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from drawing her wand, she wiped the tale-telling trails off her face, most definitely not wanting the boy to see her cry.

"I could ask you the same," she replied frostily.

"I heard someone talking over here, so I wanted to see who it was." The boy took notice of Hermione's dishevelled form and puffy eyes. Still, he wisely decided not to tease the miserable girl any further.

"Well, now that you found out, why don't you leave me alone again? I'm not in the mood for company."

Rosier pursed his lips. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He was clearly uncomfortable.

Hermione scoffed at his words before slowly shaking her head. "No, I don't, so please leave." Merlin, how does this boy always find me at the most inconvenient times?

"Don't be a brat. I'm just trying to be a gentleman here."

Noticing his twitching lips, she felt her tense form relaxing ever so slightly.

"Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are, Rosier?"

"Says the pot calling the kettle black," he replied cheekily.

"You're older, so you should act accordingly, not going around bullying little girls like myself," she said flippantly while crossing her legs on her spacious seat.

"'You're a nosy know-it-all who happens to hang out around my housemates suspiciously often. You're just the perfect target."

Hermione watched his annoyingly perfect curls fall into his face as he threw his head back, laughing at Hermione's irritated face. Merlin, this boy is too pretty for his own good. She sneakily stole another glance at him. Didn't Abraxas say he turned thirteen last week? Eleven-year-old hormones be damned; this is just plain disturbing.

Hermione was aware that her body was inching closer to hitting puberty at an alarming rate. However, going up against a dark lord seemed like a piece of cake compared to that mortifyingly awkward phase of her life. At least she didn't have her period until she turned thirteen in her past life.

"So, wanna tell me now why you're crying your little heart out in the library?" Rosier asked with a sombre expression on his face.

Hermione scrunched her nose at his persistence, turning her gaze to the ground. She couldn't tell Minerva about her worries, but Rosier seemed a good alternative. He came from a somewhat similar background, and she was not actually friends with him. After tonight, they would go their separate ways and never talk about this evening again.

"I- I don't want to return home." Hermione began, still not looking at the Slytherin. "Abraxas might've told you already, but I'm not on good terms with my father." Playing with the sleeves of her robe, she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

"Yeah, but who really is? Parents can be quite overbearing sometimes." Rosier joked lightly in an attempt to make Hermione feel more comfortable. It was rather unsuccessful.

"I know, but it's just that"- The words seemed stuck in her throat.

"Does he"- a heartbeat of silence passed before the boy mimicked a closed fist hitting the palm of his other hand. "lose his temper with you a lot?" Rosier's low voice caught Hermione off guard.

He seemed to interpret her stunned expression as fear and began rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry, Lestrange, I know it's not that uncommon, but still- I understand it's terrifying. My father is the same."

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Evan was just a boy.

The thought that he had to grow up in a household like hers was horrifying. How did she end up here? With the Rosier heir crouching before her, sharing their messed-up childhood stories.

"Well, since I've gotten my wand, it's more of a duel-over-dinner situation with father and me, but still"-, she attempted to joke.

To her relief, Rosier's face lost some of its seriousness.

"That sounds like something only you'd do." His smile was radiant.

With his golden curls and verdant eyes, he was the complete opposite of Riddle. Hermione mentally slapped herself. Merlin, I'm turning into Lavender Brown.

"Still, it must be bad if even the brave Hermione Lestrange hides in the library, bawling her eyes out," Rosier murmured.

"This is a one-time thing. I just got a little overwhelmed at dinner," Hermione replied with a strained voice. Nervously gnawing on her chapped lips, she put on her brave Gryffindor face.

"Sure, do your friends know about all this?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, and it will stay this way. They don't have to worry about something that can't be changed."

"Potter's bleeding Gryffindor heart would probably cause him to do something stupid like telling his parents, and that would just lead to more problems for you at home," he mused.

"Father would hex me into oblivion if the ministry sent some people over." Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"I'm sorry I treated you so poorly, Hermione. I had no idea how bad you actually had it," Rosier looked down at his perfectly polished shoes.

"Did you call me by my first name, Rosier? How inappropriately forward of you." Hermione teased with a scandalised expression, her hands clutching her heart in faux shock.

The Slytherin laughed at her exaggerated reaction. "After a year of courting, I think I've earned that right- Hermione."

"If you think pulling a girl's hair counts as flirting, I pity the woman who has to marry you someday."

"You're still too young to understand. Give it two years, and you'll fall for my irresistible charm."

"Keep dreaming, Rosier. You're way too posh for my liking," she answered, her previous worries forgotten.

"I'm handsome, filthy rich and a pureblood. What else could a witch ever want in a man?" he asked with an air of superiority around him.

"I'm just going to become a successful witch myself and not get married at all."

Rosier sceptically raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you say. I'm glad you at least stopped crying." he finished on a more serious note.

"Thanks, Ro- Evan. It seems I just needed someone to talk to about all this." Hermione was honestly surprised by how good she felt, well, as good as her peculiar situation allowed.

She loved Minerva and Charlus to bits, but there were so many aspects of her personal life that she could not share with them at this point, maybe never at all. Keeping all her negative feelings to herself was not good for her mental well-being.

"No worries, people like us need to stick together." He looked down at Hermione's questioning gaze and sighed. "From the few things you told me, I gather that your father is pretty bad as well. Without a mother, we will most likely take the full brunt of their temper."

Hermione nodded in agreement before fully realising what Evan had said. "Wait, where's your mother?"

"Ran away with her muggle lover when I was four, father tried to bring her back, but he still hasn't found her 'till this day," he spat.

"I'm so sorry, Evan."

The boy laughed bitterly at Hermione's words. "We come from surprisingly similar backgrounds if you think about it. Everyone knows your mother left you at your father's doorstep as a baby."

Hermione cringed at his comment about her supposed life story Rodolphus had fabricated.

"Where did everyone even get this information?" she groaned.

"News travels fast if you're the last scion of one of the sacred twenty-eight," Rosier unexpectedly leaned over to her, ruffling the surprised girl's tangled hair. "That hair of yours is a disaster. Would it be so hard to brush it sometimes?"

Speechless, she slapped his hovering hand away. "You can't just touch a girl's hair out of the blue or insult said hair, for that matter!" she pouted, irritated at the boy's shifting moods. One moment he could be talking about serious things, and the next, he'd tease her again. It was infuriating.

"Come on, just because we're bonding over our sad childhoods doesn't mean I have to stop teasing you. That's what makes our relationship so special."

"You're a prick. Why am I even bothering with you?" she huffed before turning her gaze to the small watch on her wrist. Not wanting to be caught out and about past the curfew, she stood up, pulling her dark robe closer to her body.

"It's getting late. I don't want to get in trouble so let's go." she gestured for him to get up as well.

When they reached the library doors, Hermione turned around again, regarding the boy standing a few feet behind her with a tentative smile.

"Thanks for the company Rosier but I think it's best if we keep this whole thing to ourselves."

"Of course, I can't be seen getting all lovey-dovey with a little Gryffindork after all," he answered nonchalantly.

Hermione lightly punched his arm.

"Why do you always have to be so-urgh!" Then, frustrated with the boy's teasing, she threw her arms in the air before turning on her heels.

"Bye, Hermione! I'll visit over the holidays for sure," he called after Hermione.

Horrified at his words, she vehemently shook her head. "Don't you dare to show your ugly face at my place. You'd just ruin my well-deserved holidays..."


"We're free!" Charlus Potter sprang up from his seat. "Finally!" He eagerly pushed down the window of their carriage as the red train slowly halted at King's Cross station.

Hermione slowly put her belongings back into her small trunk, the book she had been reading sitting neatly on her summer coat. She was wearing her familiar but slightly too short black robes again. It was high time for Winny to readjust them.

"I can see my parents over there." Charlus pulled their grumpy friend to the window, pointing at some point in the large crowd of waiting parents and relatives. "Look, Minny, that's them. The woman with the big blue hat is my mom."

"I can't wait for you to meet them. My mother is really excited that I made some female friends at last."

Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds, mentally preparing herself to meet the Lestranges again. I wrote once a week, Riddle is making a lot of progress, and I invited him over. Rodolphus will not hurt me


"Bye, Mione. Maybe we'll bump into each other in the village sometime," Minerva told her, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

The young witch took a deep breath, trying to burn the faint smell of ink and old parchment into her memory. She probably wouldn't see her friends for two months as much as she wished she could.

"I'll see if I can find some time." She watched her two friends disappear into the crowd.

"Hermione, dear, over here!" At the familiar sweet voice of Loreen Mulciber, Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment to push back the annoyance that was quickly engulfing her rational mind. What is this woman doing here?

Hermione forced herself to smile before swiftly turning around.

"Mademoiselle Mulciber, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. You too, uncle." The young witch pushed her trunk into Rabastan's waiting hands as hard as she could, watching satisfied as the man staggered.

She turned her attention back from her traitorous relative to his fiancée with a stretched smile. "Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it."

Loreen preened under her future niece's approval, eager to prove herself to the Lestranges. They apparated back to the manor, where Hermione immediately fled to her rooms, not wanting to face Rodolphus any sooner than she had to.

"Missy is back!" Hermione nearly suffered a minor heart attack when her favourite elf suddenly appeared in front of her just as she had closed her door.

"Winny! I missed you a lot." Hermione grabbed the startled elf's bony hands and pulled Winny with her towards her wardrobe. "I need you to help me readjust most of my robes. I've grown quite a bit over the past year." she rambled, excited to finally have her elf with her again.

Winny had been her first friend in this time, and to Hermione, the little creature was more like family than a servant.

"Winny will do her best to make Missy's robes look lovely again."

Hermione beamed at the elf's words and readily held her arms up so that Winny could easily adjust everything. Then, with a simple snap of her fingers, the elf dressed her and began working on the robes…


Dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair. Hermione quietly enjoyed her pumpkin soup, watching her uncle and his girlfriend, no fiancée; Hermione corrected herself, discussing some trivial matters. Her father silently ate his meal, occasionally rolling his eyes when Loreen contributed to the conversation. Yes, she was enjoying herself quite alright.

"We have many things to discuss after dinner, daughter of mine."

And there went her pleasant dinner. Hermione just nodded and tried to think about what he could possibly punish her for now. She'd done everything he asked for and more!

A while after Rodolphus had left the table, Hermione had also finished, her appetite long gone.

"See you next week, Hermione. Rabastan and I are going to visit my Aunt Hestia in Kent tomorrow," Loreen chirped.

Hermione's stomach sunk.

Rabastan, who had noticed her freezing up at his beloved' words, tried to calm Hermione. "My brother is quite satisfied with your overall performance, don't worry."

Hermione looked at the man as if he had suddenly grown a second head, not used to someone in this household being kind to her. She furrowed her brows, searching for any deceit in his eyes. When she found nothing, she gave him a curt nod before leaving for her father's study.

She purposefully took her sweet time on her way, admiring the grand portraits in the entrance hall before climbing up the stairs...


"Took you long enough. Sit down, girl." Rodolphus sat on one of the leather couches at the right end of his study.

She carefully stepped into the room, expecting him to suddenly get up and throw hexes at her.

"I'm surprised, Hermione. You're actually quite useful when you're trying." Rodolphus sipped on his drink. He leaned forward, holding his glass lazily in one hand and a bundle of letters, which Hermione immediately recognised as her own, in his other.

"I did as you asked." She hid her clammy hands in the folds of her black robe, not wanting the man to see her fidgeting under his piercing gaze.

He had forgone the clean-shaven face typical for this era in the privacy of his home, instead sporting a dark beard like he did when she had first seen him during the war. It was an unsettling sight.

"As you should. When did our lord want to visit?"

Hermione shuddered at the man's excited gaze, not liking his involvement in Riddle's life at all.

"He'll stay over my birthday."

Rodolphus nodded, deep in thought. Probably already planning all the fun things he'd do with his precious dark lord, like hunting some poor muggles or whatever that man thought was suitable.

"You're turning twelve this year, right?" he began. "Invite his friends too. Makes this whole ordeal less awkward for the boy."

Tom Riddle doesn't have friends. Hermione wanted to protest, but one look at the half-empty whiskey bottle on the side table beside her father made her keep her mouth shut. A drunk Rodolphus was much harder to talk to than a sober one.

"I understand. Is there anything else?" She carefully watched the man as he narrowed his eyes at her polite voice.

"Stop fidgeting. It's unbecoming of your station," Rodolphus began. "Scared I'll lose it again just because of a little drink?"

Hermione winced, not sure how to answer his question.

"I was married to Bellatrix Black; half a bottle was barely enough to tolerate that woman. You should start worrying after I finish that one." He pointed at a particularly fancy-looking fire whiskey.

"I'll remember that. May I be excused?" At this point, she didn't care to indulge in his whims any further.

"I want you to write me a list of everyone you invite by tomorrow evening. You may leave."

Hermione nodded quickly before rushing out of the study and back to her bedroom…


September 1939

Hermione was a walking ball of anxiety at this point. Rosier was scheduled to arrive the following evening, which meant Riddle and his cohort would be joining them at the manor not soon after.

The past weeks had been exhausting enough. The girl didn't know how she was supposed to keep up a somewhat pleasant appearance this week. Her request to invite her friends over had been denied repeatedly. After much arguing and even sometimes crying on her part, Hermione was mentally and physically exhausted. Her only escape had been her gardens, the warm summer breeze and colourful flowers providing temporary relief from her draining days.

Hermione was also still on the lookout for any clues regarding their arrival in the past. Still, all she had found was a worrisome amount of dark textbooks in their private library.

She was lounging on one of the benches in a more secluded part of the estate's surrounding lands when Winny appeared in front of her.

"The young Master Rosier has arrived. Missy should greet the Mister."

Sighing, Hermione shut her book about magic-use in the middle ages and followed her elf back to the house as she still wasn't allowed to apparate.

"Hermione! How are you?"

She found Rosier standing with her much too eager-looking father in one of the larger sitting rooms of the house.

Dropping into a small curtsy, she greeted the two. "I'm well. Thank you for accepting my invitation, Ro-Evan." Her smile was just a little too bright to be real. They both knew she hadn't written to him because she wanted to, which made her strangely feel less wary about his presence in her home.

"You have a beautiful house, Mister Lestrange." he addressed the older man, who clapped Rosier's shoulders with a satisfied huff.

"Feel free to explore the manor, boy. Hermione will gladly show you around." He glanced at the scowling girl, daring her to object to his order.

After years of living with the man, she knew when to keep her mouth shut- Most of the time.

"That's very generous of you, Mister Lestrange. I'll come back to that for sure."

Rodolphus nodded, eventually dismissing the children after a few more minutes of exchanging pleasantries.

Hermione eagerly grabbed Rosier's wrist and pulled him after her to where Winny had conjured a small blanket on one of the verdant hills a little further away from the manor. She leaned back on her hands before grabbing one of the sandwiches from a small silver tray beside her.

"I forgot how"- Rosier turned his head. "Wealthy your family actually is. You always look so scrawny with that hair of yours."

Hermione scoffed at his words but continued to nibble on her snack instead of arguing back.

"I was surprised when your owl landed on my windowsill. But after meeting your old man today, I can see why you'd rather invite me over than deal with him," he said while picking one of the sandwiches.

Still not being used to someone knowing about her family's issues, Hermione furrowed her brows at his words. "Did he say something to you?"

"He told me how I reminded him of an old friend with a really creepy look on his face."

She snickered at his incredulous voice and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds passing by for a moment. "He can be pretty intense. As long as you play nice, he'll do as well, though."

"Right." Evan drawled, sounding anything but convinced. "Anyway, when are the others coming?" he sat up. "I know Abraxas is arriving the day after tomorrow, but what about the rest?"

Hermione pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Well, Riddle joins tomorrow, and Dolohov will arrive the same day as Malfoy."

When she didn't continue, Rosier looked at her questioningly. "What about your Gryffindor friends?"

"A half-blood and a blood traitor? Here? My father would rather set the whole house ablaze." she answered, the words leaving her with a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

The Slytherin looked at Hermione with pity clearly written all over his face. "That sucks. But why is Riddle coming, then? Did you tell your father about the whole heir of Slytherin thing?"

Surprised that she didn't think of that explanation herself, Hermione simply agreed. "He's just trying to get to him before it's official, and the other families want to have a piece of him as well."

A few hours passed as they chatted amicably before Winny eventually called them to dinner, and the two children eagerly went back inside…


"You must be Tom Riddle. What a great pleasure to finally meet the boy who can keep up with my daughter at school."

Hermione watched Rodolphus enthusiastically shake Riddle's hand, never having seen such a happy expression on the former death eater's face.

She shuddered at the sight of the crazed man beaming at her schoolmate. She and Evan were standing a few feet away from the pair, waiting for Rodolphus to call on them as it was custom.

"Hermione, Evan, I will leave Mr Riddle to you two until dinner. I have to attend a meeting at the Ministry."

After he'd left through the fireplace, Hermione signalled Riddle to follow her and Rosier. "Let's sit down in one of the sitting rooms. Winny will make us some snacks." She guided her two visitors through the endless corridors of the manor until they arrived in a bright, cosy room at the back of the house, overlooking the estate's vast gardens.

Riddle looked around the room with an unreadable expression. "The way you talk and dress makes it easy to forget your privileged upbringing."

Rosier tried to hide his snort by coughing into his arm.

Hermione's cheeks grew hot at Riddle's words, still not being used to her future arch-nemesis cracking jokes on her behalf. "Not you, too, Riddle. Evan has been giving me enough about this already."

"It is quite peculiar. You always running around defending your mudblood housemates while coming from a family like this yourself." Riddle sat beside Rosier, pointedly ignoring Hermione's furious gasp at his words.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Riddle and let Hermione be." Rosier suddenly spoke up sharply.

Surprised at the boy's defensive remark, the young witch pursed her lips. Riddle seemed to be slightly taken aback as well, carefully watching his housemate next to him. "Oh, since when are you two so friendly with each other?" he finally asked, his calculating gaze turning to Hermione.

"We're not. He's just a mindful guest," she replied curtly before taking another sip from the tea Winny had quietly served when they had entered the room.

Riddle was clearly not buying her excuse. "I see."

She narrowed her eyes at Riddle, unsure how to act around the boy. He'd never miss out on the chance of using their budding friendship to serve his own ambitions. As the hour grew late, the children split up and retired to their rooms, a lingering tension settling over two of the three children's shoulders…


"Happy Birthday, Hermione. I hope you enjoyed the present I got you." Antonin Dolohov came to a halt in front of the blushing girl, expertly putting her hand in his and blowing a light kiss on the back.

Hermione knew this custom was alive and well in the upper circles of wizarding society. However, it still didn't make the whole thing any less awkward for her. She cleared her throat. Thanking the boy for his gifts, Hermione tried to get rid of the warmth in her cheeks by drinking some water. They were all seated around the large dining table, enjoying their dinner.

"Are your father and uncle not home?" Abraxas asked from his seat next to hers, causing Hermione to scowl.

"They're at my uncle's fiancée's house to discuss some important matters. Probably how many chests of galleons that woman comes with if she marries my uncle," she murmured into her glass.

The wedding was still a thorn in her side. Not only would Rabastan leave her on her own with his mad brother to start his own family, but he'd also bring that awful woman with him every time he would visit them.

"Ah yes, mother mentioned that the Mulciber daughter is finally tying the knot," Abraxas said with a thoughtful expression, his index finger resting on his lips. "Her parents were starting to get worried she'd never settle down."

"Really? She's only what, twenty-four?" Hermione scooped up another bite of her delicious chocolate pudding.

"Exactly. Normally people from our background get married right after we finish school."

Hermione nearly choked on her dessert at the blonde boy's words. Why were these people so eager to settle down when most of them would outlive the average muggle by decades?

Rosier, who had listened to their conversation, laughed at Hermione's shocked face. "Most of us were betrothed to someone at birth. Something like what your parents did in France would be unthinkable here."

Hermione was unsure if he was referring to them having a child while still attending school or having her out of wedlock. Probably both. She shrugged at the boy and continued her dessert.

"Marriage should be about more than just duty and pleasing your parents."

Abraxas rolled his eyes at Hermione's statement, rudely pointing his fork at her face. "Oh, come on, we all know the only reason you're not already engaged to Rosier over there is that your father is waiting for a better offer."

Hermione threw Malfoy a nasty glare. "Why do you think it'd be Rosier and not someone back on the continent?"

"'Cause my father owled the Lestranges an official proposal in June. Our families have always been close in the past." Rosier chimed in.

The shattering of Hermione's cutlery onto her plate halted every conversation around the table. "Say what now?" Her sizzling hair betrayed her calm demeanour.

"My old man just doesn't want another Parkinson or Bullstrode on our family tree," Rosier snapped back. "Don't look so angry. It's not as if your father has already agreed."

Hermione didn't even hear his argument. I'll murder him if he thinks he can marry me off to some Death Eater kid.

"Lestrange, are you listening?"

Malfoy asked next to her, but she was still fuming at the audacity of her father.

Hermione was brought back from her fantasies of killing that man in any imaginable way by someone lightly shaking her shoulder. Malfoy looked questioningly at her, with the others around the table equally unsure. Except for Riddle, of course. He continued his meal as if Hermione hadn't just smashed every glass on the table with her crackling magic.

"I'm terribly sorry, everyone. I forgot myself for a moment," she spoke softly. "Please, finish your meal."

The elves waiting on them discreetly took care of the mess she'd made and conjured new glasses for everyone. As they picked the remaining glass splinters from their food, it became apparent to three out of the four guests around the table that Hermione Lestrange wasn't someone to be messed with…


I'll kill him. Curse his sorry ass until he doesn't know up from down anymore. Hermione sneered at everything and nothing in her chair in Rodolphus' study, waiting for the man to return from his trip. After dinner, Rosier, Malfoy and Dolohov returned to their own homes, leaving her alone with Riddle. Rosier had tried to talk to Hermione after the other two had already gone, but she had just brushed him off, apologising again for her rude behaviour. It was not his fault that their parents were both assholes that didn't care about what their children might think of their decisions.

She had left Riddle to his own device after showing him his room and went straight to her father's study, determined to wait for him. She eyed the countless piles of letters and other documents on his desk, contemplating if the risk of Rodolphus finding her going through his stuff was worth taking. Before she could decide, the doors to the study opened again, and she turned around to face the man she had been waiting for.

"Well, that's new. Usually, you wouldn't enter this room without a wand pressed to your neck." he drawled while taking his coat off and throwing it into his own house elf's waiting hands.

The creature bowed hastily before vanishing with a plop, leaving the two alone again.

"I need to talk to you about something." She started, but her father interrupted her.

"Where's Riddle?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk.

She rolled her eyes but answered nonetheless. "Probably in his room or the library. I told him to feel free to explore the house."

Rodolphus swung his wand to light the candles on the room's walls, engulfing everything in a warm hue. The shadows under his eyes seemed to darken in the flickering lights, and Hermione tensed under his intense stare, all her previous courage suddenly forgotten.

"I see. Well then, what do you want?" he asked.

Hermione sat up a little straighter. "Why didn't you tell me about the Rosiers' proposal?"

Rodolphus lifted a brow at her accusing tone. "Because I chose not to. As long as you do your job, you don't have to worry about anything, my dear," he explained, his last words sounding more like a threat than anything else.

Cold eyes met her own. "Why should I believe you? The moment Rabastan has a child, you'll get rid of me." Hermione felt resentment welling up in her chest at the thought of the Lestranges replacing her.

"You're my only child. Killing you would be a waste." Rodolphus sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "When the time comes, and our lord becomes the Minister of Magic, you'll either prove yourself useful in some way to him or"- he smirked at Hermione's horrified expression when she realised what he would be saying next. "-or at least bring the next generation of followers into this world."

She felt as if someone had pulled the floor from under her feet. Her mind tried to comprehend what Rodolphus had just said, disgusted that he'd go as low as selling her off to become some trophy wife to a death eater. Even if it was Rosier.

"You can't force me. I'll never agree to this!" she exclaimed, but Rodolphus just shrugged.

"Make sure to stay useful to Riddle, and I won't have to," he grinned lazily at her. "But don't forget that you're endangering your precious people in the future with every act of defiance."

Hermione dug her fingers into the seat until she felt her muscles cramping up painfully, trying to calm her erratic breathing. That man held all the power in their relationship, and he knew it.

While he had nothing to lose, Hermione risked the lives of everyone she ever cared for in the future. The Weasleys, the Potters and her parents. He would hurt them if she disobeyed him. I'll find a way to stop him, but for now, I must play this game. Just a few more years.

"I'll work hard then," she swallowed her scowl. "Father."

Rodolphus nodded. "One more thing," the shadows in the room seemed to grow even darker. "My brother is going to marry that dim-witted witch he fancies next summer, so be prepared."

Hermione scowled. " I'll tell Winny to purchase some more formal robes then."

He inclined his head again and dismissed her with a short wave of his hand…


"Unicorn hair won't make any difference in that potion," Hermione argued while carefully stirring the bubbling liquid she and Riddle were brewing in the manor's kitchen.

The boy just scoffed at Hermione's words and proceeded to cut the flobberworms on the board before him into small slices. "It will. The base of the potion changes, making it last at least twice as long if you stir it long enough over a low flame." He unceremoniously dropped the worms into the cauldron, making Hermione hiss at him when some purple liquid landed on her apron.

"Watch what you're doing, Riddle. You're disturbing my stirring!" she shrieked.

He snickered at her angry expression. Hermione finished up the potion by adding some of the unicorn hairs Riddle had rudely shoved into her face, looking purposefully doubtful at him while doing so.

"Told you so."

The potion turned a lighter shade, and a sweet scent started to permeate the air around them. Why must he always be right? It grated at her that Riddle was outdoing her in every subject, even though she was technically seven years' worth of schooling ahead of him.

"Alright, you win. I was wrong; happy now?" She knew she was acting childish, but her academic pride had been wounded continuously since she had met Riddle.

And if Rodolphus' stories of his youth were to be believed, he wasn't even in his prime yet. According to him, when he was but a boy, Voldemort had been a young man whose magical prowess surpassed even the likes of wizards like Dumbledore and Grindelwald. But unfortunately, all that potential is wasted on a person unable to feel compassion or love.

Sometimes Hermione felt something akin to regret when she contemplated what great things Riddle could have achieved if he hadn't been born a complete psychopath. It was indeed a waste.

"I'll take the potions we brewed with me to the orphanage."

Hermione looked back up to Riddle, who was currently filling their project into small vials with a concentrated expression on his face. His grey eyes narrowed at her when he noticed her sceptical gaze. "Don't be such a spoilsport. I want to see how muggles are affected by those potions."

"You can't just use those kids as your guinea pigs. It's unethical." Hermione argued.

"That whole place is unethical. You saw for yourself how bad it is." Riddle answered curtly before taking off his own leather apron.

Hermione didn't know how to respond to this statement, seeing as he wasn't entirely wrong. "Still"-

"-Leave it." Tom snapped.

"I apologise."

She never knew when to hold back with Riddle. Sometimes he seemed to appreciate their playful bickering, only to shut her down a second later. The young witch knew she'd have to tread carefully over the following years if she wanted to influence Riddle.

Later, Hermione and her father saw Riddle off, Rodolphus apparating with him back to London before returning home with a serene smile.

"It's truly amazing how intelligent our lord is, given his age. I can't wait for the day he takes over."

Hermione shuddered at her father's gleeful expression.

"As a reward for your hard work, you may visit one of your mudblood friends over the next holidays if you keep it up."

Hermione's eyes widened. Excitement bubbled up in her stomach. I can finally meet her brothers she's always gushing about. A genuine smile stretched over her lips. Hermione's feet moved before her brain could stop them. The hug lasted only for a second but still long enough for the girl to recoil sharply.

Wanting to be swallowed by the floor, Hermione tried to convince her traitorous mind that his approval meant nothing to her. Unfortunately, the lingering warmth in her chest told a rather different story…


Rodolphus' eyes followed Hermione's retreating form. He was more than satisfied with the progress he had made with the little witch over the past two months. The potion was finally showing results if her reaction to his words was anything to go by. He looked down at his arms, still tingling pleasantly from his unruly daughter's affectionate gesture. When was the last time he'd hugged someone?

"Winny!" He waited for the small elf to appear next to him before handing the creature a thin vial filled with a silver liquid.

"Continue to put this in every of my daughter's drinks. Same for the Hogwarts elves."

The girl's gullible elf took the vial with a severe expression before apparating away again. Rodolphus returned to his own chambers, a satisfied smile ghosting over his lips. Everything was going according to plan…