September 1945
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Venice was bathed in a soft, golden light that seemed to make every corner of the city radiate warmth and enchantment. The gentle lapping of water against the sides of the buildings echoed through the narrow canals, filling the air with a soothing melody.
Chattering witches and wizards went about their daily lives along the winding cobblestone roads, their laughter and whispered conversations blending together with the sounds of the city. The scent of freshly baked pastries drifted out from Hermione's and Evan's favourite cafe, enticing passersby with their heavenly aroma.
As the evening wore on, the city took on a magical quality, with the flicker of old-fashioned streetlamps illuminating ancient architecture and casting a warm glow over the faces of those lucky enough to be wandering its streets. The soft murmur of voices from the tables around them and the distant strains of music seemed to add to the sense of mystery and magic that permeated every corner of Venice.
This was a place where the ageless beauty of the city itself seemed to be a reflection of the love and passion that existed within the hearts of those who inhabited it.
"You gonna eat the rest of your cake?" Evan inquired, his eyes pointedly wandering over her forgotten dessert.
"I will," she replied with a cheeky grin and put a piece of the sweet delicacy in her mouth.
Evan watched her with a betrayed expression, mischief sparkling dangerously behind his faux crestfallen look. "You're too cruel, love. Won't you take pity on this starving man?"
Rolling her eyes, Hermione swallowed another piece before relenting to his disarming charm and scooping the rest of the cake onto his plate. "You're such a menace."
"And you love me for it."
Hermione scoffed, "Maybe a bit."
They fell into a comfortable silence, peacefully enjoying each other's company. The two had been in Venice for a little over two months now. Their parents had ordered them to extend their holiday over the summer in a ridiculously ill-veiled attempt to advance their relationship to a more permanent level. It had felt like a midsummer night's dream to Hermione.
With each passing day, they delved deeper into the heart of the city, immersing themselves in its rich history. Despite the tumultuous times that surrounded them - with Italy in the midst of a political revolution following the end of World War II - they remained undeterred, determined to make the most of their time.
They explored hidden alleys and bustling streets alike, taking in the sights and sounds of a city so unlike the ones they knew from home. The pair marvelled at priceless works of wizarding art hidden away in unassuming buildings and savoured the delectable flavours of the city's finest restaurants. And of course, they indulged in plenty of wine, not even bothering to tally up the costs.
But now, with their vacation drawing to a close, Hermione couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. Evan would have to return to his ministry work, while she would accompany Rodolphus to his weekly meetings.
The world of the old wizarding families was a labyrinthine maze of wealth and power, one that Hermione had never truly understood until she became a part of it herself. Before becoming a Lestranges, she'd always assumed that the vast fortunes of these families were built on shady dealings and illicit schemes. But now she knew better.
It wasn't just luck or underhanded tactics that had enabled the Lestranges to amass their immense wealth. No, they owned vast swaths of land and had their fingers in an awful amount of magical enterprises. The extent of their reach was mind-boggling.
But it wasn't just their money that gave these families their power. They held sway over almost every aspect of government, pulling strings and manipulating laws to maintain their grip on the wizarding world. From financial policies to building permits, they were the ones who called the shots, and Hermione felt a sickening sense of disgust at the depth of their corruption.
When Voldemort had returned in the future, she'd seen firsthand how deep that immorality truly ran. The Ministry's response to the threat had been woefully inadequate, crippled by the same rot that had infested every corner of the wizarding world. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
"Anything special you want to do tomorrow?" Evan interrupted her spiralling thoughts, and she furrowed her brows. "For your birthday." He clarified.
"Oh." She'd honestly not expected them to do anything. Maybe a nice dinner, but that was it.
"Great, then my plan will do." Rubbing his hands together, the young man across from her stood.
Wary of his sudden enthusiasm Hermione let him pull her after him towards their temporary abode. At first, she thought he was joking when he presented her with the central palazzo Evan dared to call their home, but she shouldn't have been surprised that his family had vacation homes all over the continent. The Rosiers were, as she'd learned in the past months, very influential figures in the international trade of magical creatures. A highly lucrative business, as Evan had assured her.
As they passed through a rather dingy street, Evan's grip on Hermione's arm tightened. She could feel the tension in his body as he glared at the ragged figures of what she assumed were werewolves huddled in a corner. "It's a shame they're allowed to roam around freely," he spat, his voice laced with disdain.
Hermione felt a surge of anger rise in her chest. "They haven't done anything wrong, Evan. Leave them be," she said firmly, trying to keep her voice steady.
Desperate to get away from the scene before Evan could say anything else, she quickened her pace. But the young wizard had other ideas. "Come on. You can't honestly tell me that you support these half-breeds," he sneered.
Her heart sank at his words. She knew that Evan had some problematic views, but at this point, she couldn't do much to stand up to him.
Later, when they were back at his family's mansion, Hermione tried to put the encounter out of her mind.
"Pray tell what you've plotted in your pretty head, then, Mr Rosier." Hermione teased a little forcefully.
Evan rewarded her with an impish smile, "You'll see. All you need to do is put on your most bedazzling dress and get that thing you call hair on your head under control."
"You"-
Evan skilfully evaded the soft pillow she sent flying towards him.
"Beautiful thing! Your best feature truly," he clamoured as she grabbed another.
"Brat!"
Evan laughed, "Don't be cross with me, darling. So, the lady doth not protest the dress I so kindly ask her to wear?"
"Why do I need a most bedazzling dress tomorrow?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
She really didn't like surprise parties. The last one had ended with Avery in her bed after all.
"Oh, you know I can't tell you that now."
Her quasi-boyfriend leaned forward, "Would ruin the surprise, don't you think?"
Huffing, Hermione jerked her head, "All right, but don't expect much. I didn't pack for an occasion that would require- dazzle."
"No worries. I took care of it." Her friend looked decidedly too smug. "I ordered the house elves to get your measurements weeks ago and ordered everything necessary."
Hermione's indignation at Evan's comment quickly turned to amusement as she watched the excitement dance in his eyes. She couldn't help but find his passion endearing, and a smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. Despite her initial reservations, she found herself captivated by his ramblings, caught up in the thrill of his enthusiasm. It was oh-so-tempting to overlook his bigoted words from before and Hermione clenched her teeth. She'd atone for her unambiguous stand sooner or later...
"Happy Birthday, love."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she followed the young man towards the grand entrance of the building they had apparated to. "The muggle opera? How did you"- she began, her voice trailing off in surprise.
"You've been eying the posters for weeks. One would have to be blind not to notice," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as Hermione took in the magnificent building and the billowing dresses of the other attendees. Memories flooded back to her of her parents and their love for the opera. Standing there, she felt a sense of nostalgia and gratitude wash over her.
"You don't know how much this means to me," she whispered, locking eyes with her friend.
A burst of emotion overtook her, and without thinking, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a fleeting kiss on his stunned lips. "Thank you so much," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The young man was taken aback by her sudden display of affection, in public nonetheless, but quickly regained his composure. "I- you're very welcome," he stuttered, his cheeks turning a charming shade of pink. "Let's get inside before you ravish me on the spot," he teased, taking her hand and guiding her through the bustling crowd.
Hermione couldn't stop smiling as they went to find their seats, her cheeks already aching from the constant strain. The lump in her throat grew when the lights dimmed, and she felt a few tears rolling down her powdered cheeks. Evan hadn't noticed her emotional struggle, captivated by the sudden darkness that engulfed them without the aid of magic.
"Look, Hermione, the pictures on the stage are moving by themselves!"
She watched as he pointed with boyish excitement at the moving background. Merlin, that man will be the death of me. Hermione had always found the Rosier heir attractive, but at that moment, she couldn't even bear to look at him for fear her heart would burst. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for her. He knew nearly nothing about the muggle world and still went through the effort to procure tickets, prepare their evening attire, and sit next to the people he feared would burn him at the stake if they knew of their magic. It was so unbelievably sweet. She was at a loss for words.
"Hush, it's starting," she whispered over his excited chattering as the first haunting note left the bowstring of the orchestra to their feet. Quickly losing herself in the tragic story that was unfolding on stageā¦
A few days later, Hermione watched her house elves vanish with her last remaining bags in tow. She and Evan stood at the front of their temporary home, overseeing the hustling and bustling of the elves as they put white sheets on every piece of furniture and put the flowers adorning most surfaces of the manor under a stasis spell.
"Ready to brave the British weather again?" Evan asked wistfully, his eyes following one of the elves as it cleared the pathway leading towards them with a snap of its spindly fingers.
"Absolutely," she replied with a smile, "I'm looking forward to a proper cuppa and some real scones."
Evan grinned at her, "You and your scones. I don't know how you manage to survive without them."
The two of them chuckled at the memory of the many poor servers they'd bothered in search of Hermione's favourite treat.
"Our portkey should activate any minute now." Evan looked down at her, "Sure you got everything?"
She nodded, "I've checked and double-checked. I have everything I need."
"Good. Then let's do this," he said.
As they grasped each other's hand, the portkey activated, and they were whisked away back to England, leaving their summer adventure behind...
"Hermione! Look at you, you're positively glowing!"
Turning around, the young witch watched Loreen hurrying down the stairs towards her. She looked much better than the last time she'd seen the woman, her informal robes fluttering prettily behind her.
"Thank you." Hermione replied, feeling a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long time.
Loreen took in her niece's tanned skin, raising an eyebrow. "I can see you forwent your parasol."
Hermione shrugged off her aunt's disapproval, not wanting to let anything spoil her good mood. "I did, and I have no regrets."
As they made their way towards the sitting room, Hermione asked about her father's whereabouts, but Loreen informed her that he was out of town on business.
"Business?" Hermione wondered, a little annoyed that Rodolphus hadn't informed her of his plans.
Loreen seemed to read her thoughts and said, "They will be back tonight. He and Rab had to attend to some important matters in London."
Hermione nodded, but couldn't help feeling a little left out of the loop. She decided to let it go, though and excused herself to go rest in her room.
But before she could leave, Loreen grabbed her arm and said, "You can't just come back from spending months with a man as handsome as Evan Rosier and expect me not to ask what happened between you two."
Hermione's mind raced. The memory of innocent touches and fleeting kisses flooded her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. Despite the disappointment etched on her aunt's face, Hermione knew that getting engaged to Evan wasn't what she wanted. "Nothing happened."
Loreen sighed. "Ah. A pity."
The alluring charm of Evan Rosier could not mask what was lurking beneath. Hermione knew better than to tie herself to a man like him, not now, not ever. There was a lot of bad in Evan that hadn't vanished when he set his sights on her. He was his father's son, ruthless in his approach towards politics and business. Evan had no regard for the welfare of the magical creatures he traded or the struggling people in their society. He was never one to spare a word for Minny in school, despite their frequent encounters in class and the corridors. His growing prejudice towards muggleborns and half-bloods was becoming more apparent with age.
During their stay in Venice, Hermione found herself dismissing his derogatory comments, but she couldn't ignore the reality of her privileged life. Evan Rosier would never have given her a second glance if she were still Hermione Granger. The thought chilled her to the bone, a stark reminder of the danger that lay ahead if Tom took over the ministry unchecked. Tom.
As Hermione finally managed to escape her inquisitive aunt, she hurriedly made her way upstairs to her rooms. It had been too long since she had last spoken to Riddle, or as he preferred to be called now, Lord Slytherin. She couldn't help but wonder what he had been up to since claiming his titles and what remained of the Gaunt estate. Rodolphus had been ecstatic when he heard the news. She knew he'd worked for years to clear his Lord's path of any obstacles but never gathered up the courage to ask what exactly he had been doing all this time.
Sitting at her desk, Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip as she tried to compose a suitable introduction for her letter. She knew Tom was working hard to make a name for himself at the Ministry, so she decided to start with a question about his latest projects. She poured her thoughts onto the parchment and by the time she was finished, her candle had shrunk to half its height.
Sealing the letter, she called for an owl and directed it to Tom's late father's house, where she assumed he was still staying. Just as the owl took flight, a house-elf appeared in her room, announcing that dinner was served. Hermione was about to follow the elf, but it stopped her with a disdainful look.
"Burkeg will prepare a change of clothes," it said, eyeing her dishevelled appearance.
Hermione took the hint and freshened up in her bathroom, returning to find a neatly laid-out set of robes waiting for her. As she got ready, she couldn't help but wonder what Tom's response would be to her letter.
Hermione's father was never one to pass up an opportunity to torment her, even at the table. "So, I guess Rosier Sr. will not be welcoming a new daughter-in-law in the near future?" he jibed, causing Loreen to shake her head.
"I was too busy corrupting poor Evan's mind with the wonders of muggle culture, I'm afraid," Hermione retorted, a smirk playing on her lips.
Aunt Loreen let out a disapproving tut, but before she could say anything, Rodolphus piped up, "I've expected nothing less." He waited for the elves to serve him before turning to Hermione, "Ready to relieve me of some of my duties then after I so graciously let you off the hook for the entire summer?"
Hermione nodded eagerly, "Absolutely. It's not as if there is much else to do now."
Loreen cleared her throat, clearly taking offence to Hermione's statement. The girl suddenly realized why witches had children so early here - there was only so much else to do to pass the time cooped up at home and having tea with the other wives.
Rodolphus cut through the awkward silence. "We'll talk about your responsibilities tomorrow," he announced, and with that, everyone returned to their dinner, eager to enjoy the delicious spread laid out before them...
December 1945
As Hermione immersed herself in mountains of correspondence in Rodolphus' study, the days had grown shorter. She had been given her own desk and spent countless hours with her father in there, sorting out the bane of his existence since their arrival in this era. Despite the tedious nature of the work, Hermione had taken to the administrative parts like a fish to water. Rodolphus was delighted with her progress, and they worked together seamlessly.
"When you're done with these, we're going for a quick trip to the ministry. I want this signed by today." Rodolphus waved a stack of papers over his head, looking frazzled as he continued scribbling.
Hermione's mind drifted to her old friends, whom she hadn't seen in months. "I haven't been there in ages. You reckon Evan will be in?"
"Forget the Rosier boy. You're spending way too little time with our Lord. Go visit him when we're there." Rodolphus' tone left no room for argument.
Hermione scrunched up her nose in annoyance but nodded in agreement. "All right, all right, I'll go. Happy?"
"Very." Rodolphus stood up abruptly, and before Hermione could protest, he had grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the fireplace. He tossed in a handful of floo powder and barked, "Ministry of Magic!"
"Must you"- She managed to complain before reappearing in the ministry's busy entrance hall.
Hermione stumbled as she emerged, disoriented from Rodoplhus' shove.
After a few seconds, the fire lit up again and out stepped the man in question. He patted down his expensive robes and pulled his hands through his tousled locks before gesturing for Hermione to follow him. "This won't take long. Why don't you visit your friends while I finish this?"
She sighed as they went their separate ways at the elevators. Tom was currently working in the Department of internal affairs, which made her feel uneasy. But as she navigated through the bustling halls, she steeled herself to face her future- Lord? She shuddered but knew that she needed to get used to that terrible thought.
As Hermione strode through the winding corridors, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. "If it isn't Hermione Lestrange," It was Avery, the former Slytherin, looking as smug as ever. "Here to see Tom, I presume?" He gave her a wink that made her want to roll her eyes.
"Avery, I'd say it's a pleasure, but my parents taught me not to speak lies," Hermione shot back, trying to keep the contempt from her voice.
"Still as charming as a rattlesnake," he chuckled deeply. "Let me escort you. It's quite a maze down here. Wouldn't want you to get lost after all."
Before Hermione could object, Avery grabbed her hand and rested it in the crook of his arm. She reluctantly allowed him to guide her. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
"How's the ministry work treating you? Or are you just here for decorative purposes until you're old enough to join the gentlemen's club?" Hermione asked, her tone laced with haughtiness.
"I'll take that as a compliment since you just called me attractive," Avery retorted with a smirk.
"I most certainly didn't," Hermione hissed.
"The job is surprisingly enjoyable. Tom and I work a lot together, and let me tell you, his lordship is even more intimidating than back at school," Avery said.
"Is he now?"
Avery choked on his breath as Tom suddenly appeared behind them, a folder of forms tucked under his arm. His dark curls were perfectly styled, and his chiselled jawline seemed sharper than ever. Hermione had to resist the urge to stare.
"Ri- Tom! Didn't hear you there. Were you behind us the entire time?" Avery stammered, clearly embarrassed.
The other man rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Lestrange. Good to see you," he said with a dazzling tilt of his lips that made Hermione's heart flutter.
"I came to see you," Hermione said, her heart racing as she tried to keep her voice steady.
Tom's calculating gaze locked onto her, making her feel like she was under a microscope. "Really? I can spare a few minutes. Follow me."
Hermione did just that, feeling a pang of envy as they passed the offices of the elite pure-blood families. She despised the way they treated others as if they were beneath them. Tom's office was no different, with its extravagant furnishings and air of prestige. As Avery quickly left them alone, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what Tom had in store for her.
His charismatic air was so overwhelming that Hermione found herself questioning if she had ever truly built up an immunity to his pull. Despite her previous efforts, the months they spent apart seemed to have stripped away any defences she had built. It was almost ridiculous how easily he could draw her in.
As they reached Tom's office, he took a seat at his desk while Hermione awkwardly settled into the chair across from him. His chin rested on his folded hands as he waited for her to speak, and Hermione felt as if she was about to be reprimanded for breaking a rule.
"What an honour that you spare me a couple of minutes of your precious time, Miss Lestrange," he said in a pleasant tone that belied his icy glare.
She shuddered, feeling the weight of his anger directed at her. "I apologize for not coming sooner. My father has kept me busy."
Tom's expression showed he was clearly unhappy with her. "No offence taken. So, why are you here?"
Oh, he'd clearly taken offence. The witch felt a lump form in her throat, struggling to find the right words. "I just wanted to see you again. It's been too long."
He looked at her stoically, and an awkward silence filled the room.
"How are you, Tom?" Hermione asked, desperate to break it and ease the tension.
Tom's demeanour softened, and she watched as his shoulders relaxed. "I'm well. The work is challenging, and thanks to your father, I have encountered little objection to my presence here."
Hermione felt the knot in her chest loosen. She didn't want their first meeting in months to end in conflict. "I'm glad. You deserve it."
He rewarded her with a self-satisfied grin. "I do."
Despite his confident tone, Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. The new Lord Slytherin had managed to secure a position in the Ministry at the young age of nineteen. With the support of most of the old families, it wouldn't take him another decade to seize power. It felt like only yesterday that she had met the quiet boy at Wool's Orphanage. He had little in common with the well-dressed wizard sitting across from her.
"The Lestranges will always support you," Hermione said, the words feeling like ash in her mouth.
Something in his eyes shifted, "I know."
The room grew colder with each passing moment, and the silence stretched on until Hermione couldn't take it anymore.
Her eyes darted around his office, taking in the impressive collection of books behind him. Clearing her throat, she mustered up the courage to ask, "How's Walburga doing these days?" The question hung in the air as she waited for his response.
"I'll propose to her over the Yule holidays," Tom replied nonchalantly, catching her off guard.
"Oh- Congratulations." Her heart skipped a beat as she stumbled over her words. Silver eyes seemed to watch her in the back of her mind, his sinister intent echoing through her memories. She hadn't forgotten his words from so many months ago.
Tom's voice broke through the quiet. "I expect all of you to behave yourselves since she'll be around quite frequently," he explained. "It's convenient that you came. Saves me the trouble of sending an owl."
As Tom leaned back in his leather chair, the warm glow of the chandelier cast shadows over his pale face.
Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as he spoke. "We'll resume our weekly gatherings starting next week."
She had expected something like this to happen and was surprised it hadn't already. Tom seemed to sense her thoughts and continued, "I wanted to wait until everyone settled into their new positions. Rumours are that Grindelwald's days are counted. Dumbledore will confront him any day now."
"Once he's been taken care of, there will be plenty of opportunities to gain his previous supporters' favour. You'll take care of the French families."
Her anxiety reached a fever pitch as Tom spoke, memories of war and dread flooding her mind once more. Hermione found herself trembling under the weight of it all.
Her breath caught in her throat. "The French side of my family has been all but eradicated, and we have no sway there anymore," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tom's lips twisted into a thin line as he lectured her. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to gather support for our cause across the continent. Don't disappoint me, Hermione."
"What are you even trying to achieve? I know you want to be Minister, but what"-
"It's called politics for a reason. I'll be Minister soon enough, but why stop there?" Tom interrupted her, his tone ominous.
"People are tired. They'll not support another war after the devastation Grindelwald caused," she pleaded, hoping to reason with him.
But Tom simply rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about another war, for Merlin's sake. There are other much more efficient ways to gain power." His smile was like a knife, sharp and deadly. "But this is all far in the future. For now, we're going to introduce some changes here."
The air was thick with tension as Tom spun his web of grand schemes before Hermione, his eyes gleaming with ambition. He spoke of his plans with a fervour that sent shivers down her spine. These were the same plans they had discussed in secret for years, but something was different this time.
His words were like poison, slowly seeping into her mind, clouding her judgment. She had known him for years and had seen his ambitions grow, but now she was starting to question whether this calculating, affluent version of a dark lord was the answer.
"You're talking about altering the very fabric of our society," she said, her voice shaking. "Do you really think this is the right path to take?"
Tom's eyes glinted with a dangerous light. "It's the only path," he said firmly. "We must take control, shape the future according to our ideals."
Hermione felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. "But at what cost? The muggle-borns and supernaturals who might suffer under your rule?"
Tom's smile was chilling. "They will thank us in the end," he said. "When they see how much better their lives are with our people in charge."
Hermione shook her head, feeling sick. She had to stand up to him, but it was getting harder every year. The Lestranges had been loyal to him from the start, and he was aware of this. She was in a position where she would only ever benefit from his rise to power.
"No," she whispered, almost to herself. "I can't let this happen."
Tom leaned in closer, his voice low and dangerous. "And what will you do? Stand in our, in my way?"
Hermione's jaw tightened. "If I have to."
Tom chuckled softly. "You're brave, dear, I give you that. But you'll come around. You'll see that what we're doing is for the greater good."
Hermione felt her stomach turn. The greater good. How many times had she heard those words before, always spoken by those with the darkest of intentions?
"I think it's time that I returned to my father," she said, her voice weak.
"Of course," Tom answered, his confident mien never faltering. "I'll send you the details for our gatherings by the end of this week."
Hermione forced a smile, feeling the weight of his remarks bearing down on her. "I look forward to it," she said, before scrambling out of her chair.
As she fled towards the elevators, she could feel the corridor walls closing in on her, suffocating her. She had to do something, to stop Tom and his knights from changing the face of magical Britain forever. But the task ahead of her seemed almost insurmountable, and she couldn't help but wonder, once again, if she was fighting a losing battle. She tried to muster the courage to speak out against him, but it seemed as though Tom had an answer for every objection she raised. She was trapped, caught between her loyalty to her family and her duty to the wizarding world...
