A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thanks to Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter! I truly do not deserve her. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter twenty-six and be on the lookout for chapter twenty-seven soon!
Albus did not make a habit of reading the Daily Prophet, mostly because he detested the way that the coverage seemed to change every time the government did. Since Tuft had taken office, it seemed that the newspaper had devolved into drivel, fluff and social pieces meant to make the general public feel good now that the threat of Gellert Grindelwald was handled.
They made no mention of the danger that was lurking in society still, staying just out of the periphery. But, Dumbledore wasn't blind to it. He knew that he could never let his guard down.
He wouldn't have even looked into the paper, but of course Horace couldn't help but brag about his former students, especially the ones he thought were exceptional. And hearing that Tom Riddle had gotten married was enough to pique his interest.
Albus thumbed through the pages until he found the society section, where families could print various notices bragging about this and that. Beneath the fold, he was surprised to see a small photograph of Tom Riddle and his wife, Hermione Riddle nee Granger, smiling up at him. The text accompanying the photo bragged about the guests in attendance, a veritable who's who of the blood supremacy circles. It seemed that the wedding was even held at the home of Orion Black.
The wizard felt his blood run cold when he watched the tiny portrait of Hermione look up at Tom with a genuine smile on her face, looking absolutely pleased as punch to be wrapped up with him. Despite the fact that she was a muggleborn.
It was not the first time that he wondered how things had gone so horribly pear shaped.
When he first met Hermione Granger, she had caught his attention with her earnest declaration that Tom Riddle was a threat that needed to be eliminated. But, he'd quickly convinced himself that she was a plant, sent to destroy him by Gellert. Wasn't she really too perfect? Didn't she just say all the right words?
Maybe he'd acted rashly, but he thought he was doing the right thing by obliviating her. A few rearranged memories and she had completely forgotten the false narrative she'd crafted about being from the future. He didn't have to, but he'd helped her get her footing in the wizarding world and sent her on her way. He'd meant to forget about her completely.
But, for whatever reason, she'd continued to be a problem.
Learning that she had come to cross paths with Tom Riddle wasn't that alarming, but then he'd heard whispers that they had gone on a date. And then, he quickly began to suspect that she was delving into dark magic, same as Tom and his friends. He suddenly found himself keeping much closer tabs on her. Albus wasn't stupid. He'd seen Hermione's scores. He knew that she was a powerful and intelligent witch and the thoughts that she was falling into the wrong hands...
She'd more than fallen, though, if the marriage announcement was anything to judge by. This called for a firmer touch, he decided.
Standing from the breakfast table, Albus let Armando know that he had to take an urgent trip into London, before penning a quick note to his friend, Undersecretary Swift. The man owed him another favor. Dressing in a traveling cloak, he made his way to Hogsmeade to floo to London.
Albus chose a back room at one of the less frequented pubs in Diagon Alley, off the main road, for his confrontation with Hermione. He asked the barkeep for a firewhiskey, before settling into one of the open seats. Then all he had to do was wait.
And, he did not have to wait for long. Hermione Riddle, in all her wild glory, entered the pub and strode into the back room like she ruled the world. She looked smart in a set of deep green robes, though Albus could tell that they were not entirely her fashion. She looked around the room and stilled upon finding him as the sole occupant.
"No," she said firmly, her nostrils flaring as she shook her head back and forth. "I told you that I didn't want anything to do with you."
A quick wave of his wand prevented her from leaving so easily, but he had no illusions that he could hold her here if she really wanted to leave. She drew her own wand, though she kept it at her side. "Just give me a few moments of your time, Miss Granger," he said, hoping that it didn't sound like he was begging. "And then you never have to see me ever again if you don't want to. But, I believe that I have something of great value to talk to you about."
He watched as her hand tightened around her wand and her jaw clenched while she thought over his words. "Fine," she finally agreed, crossing the room and sliding into the seat across from him. "Well, what do you want? You've already caused me enough trouble."
"I understand that you've recently celebrated a wedding," he said, hoping to keep his tone neutral, so as not to upset her more than she already was.
She turned her head to one side. "And yet you still called me Miss Granger," she said, sounding amused.
"Would you prefer Mrs. Riddle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You seem like a...modern sort of witch, who wouldn't like to be absorbed by her husband's identity."
Hermione smirked at him. "Or would you prefer not to say my husband's name? You've made no secret of your opinions on him," she countered.
He waved his wand and conjured a second glass, before pouring her a portion of the firewhiskey he was drinking. Sliding it across the table, he tried to smooth things over. "A toast, then. To your nuptials," he proposed, raising his glass.
She took the glass, but did not appear amused at the gesture. "We both know that you do not...approve of my marriage. But I am also not looking for your approval, Dumbledore. So, what is the real purpose of this sit down because it's not to toast me," she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.
Albus took a deep breath, unsure of the best way to approach Hermione. Usually, he had a good read on people, but with this witch, he felt like he was left in the dark. "I did want to talk to you about your wedding," he said. "Just to...make sure that you have made the choice of your own accord."
"What?" she questioned, furious. "Of course I did."
"The only reason I ask is because of the first time that we met..." he trailed off, kicking himself for having obliviated her. "I know that you don't remember anymore, but you were so adamant that Tom Riddle was a grave threat to this world. You knew it then, and I had hoped that there was still some part of you...something inside of you that could...sense your true feelings about him."
"How dare you presume to know what my true feelings are about him!" she said incensed.
"I know that deep down you must know that he is an evil wizard, Hermione," he continued, hoping that she would see reason. "I rebuffed you before and it was wrong of me. But, if you are trying to deal with him on your own, you don't have to. I can help you."
"I don't want your help!" she argued. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Maybe you are the one with memory problems and not me, Dumbledore. I only just met Tom last July. I had never met him before then, so I never would have come to you, telling you that he was an evil wizard!"
"Only met him in July and you are already married," Albus said, the gears in his mind turning. His gaze settled on the untouched glass of firewhiskey in front of Hermione and he came to the horrific realization. "You — you are pregnant, aren't you?"
She blushed a deep red color, but didn't respond.
"Of course, why else would you get married so quickly," he muttered, almost to himself.
Again, that angered her. "Don't presume to know anything about my relationship. I'll have you know that Tom and I are in love with each other," she said, though her face looked a bit peculiar, like she was unused to using the word to describe him. "He and I have a...a connection that you wouldn't understand. We are meant to be together. It's like we've known each other our whole lives."
Albus made a pained noise. "No, no, no," he said, frustrated again that he had misstepped so horribly when it came to Miss Granger. "You must just be misinterpreting your connection. You feel a connection because deep down you remember the concerns you brought to me about him."
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, her eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears. "I never came to you about Tom." She stood up from the table, the chair clattering behind her in her rush to get away from him.
He knew that he had pushed her too hard, but he also knew that something wasn't right — something wasn't quite as perfect as she wanted it to be. He knew that he might yet be able to get her to see reason.
"Please, Miss Granger—"
"I told you not to call me that," she snapped.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riddle," he said, grabbing at her arm to get her to stay just a little bit longer. "Even if you don't know what I am talking about you must know what sort of wizard your husband is. You might have an interest in dark magic, but he lives it. He is a dark wizard, Hermione. You cannot deny that."
"You are not the sole arbiter of what is right and wrong," she said, biting her lower lip. "We should always question the rules."
"Of course. You are very wise," he agreed.
"Don't try to flatter me," she said.
"Surely you must know the sort of people he aligns himself with," Dumbledore said, his voice dropping low to nearly a whisper. "Black, Malfoy, Lestrange. These people have extreme views that they are not going to give up. They hate muggleborns. They will do everything in their power to remove muggleborns from this world. They do not accept anyone who is not pureblood. They don't think you belong. They don't think that you are a real witch."
She turned to glare at him. "Oh, I guarantee that they have no illusions about my magical prowess, Dumbledore," she said pointedly. "I am well acquainted with Black and Malfoy and Lestrange and Nott and all of Tom's friends. He hasn't been keeping me a secret."
"Then you have no illusions about who they are either," he argued, hoping to get her to understand. "Don't think for a minute that they would make an exception for you if it wasn't for Tom."
"You don't know what you are talking about," she said, tears springing to her eyes once again, threatening to fall this time.
"Think about your child, Hermione," Albus pressed, twisting the knife. "Why would you want to subject your child — your half-blood child — to the tyranny that the purebloods want to enact? You know better than this. I know it."
"Fuck you, Dumbledore," she said, turning on her heel and unlocking the room so that she could leave, slicing through his spells like butter.
"I am here to help you," he called after her. "You only need to ask."
Hermione didn't make any motion like she'd heard him. Dumbledore watched her leave.
For once, Albus left a meeting with Hermione feeling hopeful. While she was obviously upset, he thought that he might have made an impression on her. He knew that it would be difficult to remove the scales from her eyes about Tom now that they were married, but he was hoping that her maternal instinct and her sense of justice would help her see that Tom and his associates were not good for her.
He trusted that she would make the right decision.
