A/N: Thank you for all your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this one!

Please let me know what you thought of chapter thirty-five and be on the lookout for chapter thirty-six soon!


There was no denying that there had been a growing distance between Tom and his wife since the beginning of his campaign. He had known that she most likely wouldn't like the direction he was taking when it came to muggleborn legislation and so he'd tried to keep her out of it for as long as possible. He was somewhat amazed that he'd managed to keep it from her for as long as he had.

But, something that Dumbledore had said to her during their confrontation at that party at the Ministry had worried her enough that she was willing to dig into years worth of legislation that Abraxas had been trying to pass and confront him about it. It was an argument that he knew was brewing for a while.

Of course, he was not as tactless as Abraxas was in his more overt efforts to rid the world of muggleborns. He was not planning to kill children in their sleep. But, he absolutely detested the idea of muggleborns coming into their world and being coddled and protected at the expense of the proud pureblood culture that he had come from. He longed for the time of his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, where dark magic was practiced without question, until the muggleborns came into their world, with their close-minded views and demanding that everything be changed for them.

Tom also hated the way that muggleborns thinned the barriers between their world and the muggle world. Each admitted muggleborn seemed like a ticking time bomb who could reveal magic to the masses. And, Tom hated muggles most of all. He would never forget what his father and his grandparents had done to his mother or the vile woman that ran the orphanage he was brought up in. He could not abide by the possibility of them infiltrating his world.

He wished Hermione could understand that she was a unique witch, one of the few people he'd met who had fully embraced magic for what it was and didn't try to shut out things she didn't like. She was willing to experiment and participate without judgment. She had such rose coloured glasses if she thought that there were others who would react the same way.

And so they had argued with one another, about the brand of politics that he was a part of. Tom didn't particularly like to be questioned. But, he generally trusted Hermione so he listened to her words. She seemed convinced that he would fail, a stance that seemed especially antagonistic, but he believed was ultimately from a place of concern. He'd tried to reassure her that the laws wouldn't affect her - there was absolutely no way that he would give up Hermione, not now that he'd found her.

They had gone continued, awkwardly, each unsure of what to say to the other, but he had determined that it had gone on long enough. Tom could admit that they hadn't made much time for one another lately. It was strange - despite now living together and being married, they had lost some of the closeness they had cultivated when they were just dating.

Tom arranged for them to take a surprise weekend away together to a magical enclave in Cornwall, near Penzance.

"Are you sure that Abraxas can spare you for a whole weekend?" Hermione asked, half teasing, half sneering.

"Despite what you think, Abraxas doesn't control everything that I do," he answered sharply. "Do you want to go or not?"

Hermione agreed that she did want to go and a short portkey later, they were in a small seaside town, all unpleasantness between them forgotten. They purchased some sandwiches at a small shop before taking a walk out along the pier so that they could watch the tide come in. It was nice to chat about anything that wasn't politics for a change, but most of their discussion revolved around the baby, whose due date was creeping ever closer.

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked him, her brown eyes searching for any sense of deceit.

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose," he said, hating to reveal any weakness to her. "But I feel like the two of us...we are the best equipped to figure things out. Mostly I'm excited for her to finally be here. To get to see the face of the little creature who's been kicking me all these weeks."

Hermione smiled at that. "I'm excited, too. I can't wait to see who she takes after," she said, wistfully. "I hope she gets your hair. But, I'm nervous, too. I've never done this and I worry it will be too hard."

He cupped her cheeks, pink from the cool sea breeze, so that she would look at him. "There is nothing too hard for you to do. You are the most powerful and inspiring witch I've ever known and ever will know," he praised her. "And don't forget that you will have me in your corner. Every step of the way."

"So, you don't regret me? Regret having your arm twisted into marrying me?" she asked, freeing herself from him so that she could turn away, obviously concerned about his reaction.

"Never," Tom said fiercely, nostrils flaring. "How could you ask me that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just worry that someday you might find me...unworthy of you," she said, her voice cracking a bit.

Unwilling to accept that, Tom wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. "There is nothing that you could do to be unworthy of me," he said, fiercely, absolutely sure of himself. "There is no one that could compliment me the way that you do. If you are not my witch, then I do not have a witch."

Hermione turned in his arms again. "But Malfoy-"

He cut her off with a press of his lips to hers. "Malfoy can think whatever it is that he wants," he insisted. "But in the end, it's what I want that matters. And I will never not want you."

"You always get what you want, do you?" she asked, her nose scrunching as she tried to fight a smile.

"Surely you've realized that by now, darling," he quipped. Even though they were light and joking, he knew it was the truth, deep down in his bones. He would do anything to get what he wanted. He would do anything to make himself happy. And he could not see any possible scenario where Hermione did not make him happy, even if their politics didn't line up all the way.

Staring into her big doe eyes, he was overcome with an impulse to look into her mind, something that he hadn't thought to attempt in months, too worried that she would notice the intrusion and lash out. But, now, she was so open and trusting with him, he doubted that she would even feel the subtle caress of her mind. And if she did, he was sure he could lie and excuse it.

Impulsively, he pushed forward to read her thoughts. Tom was an incredibly skilled legilimens and occlumens, something that he had been practicing since he'd first discovered it in Fourth Year. It was a very handy skill to have, especially considering that Dumbledore was one as well. He had been woefully unsurprised to learn that the professor would attempt to use it against students.

Only, Tom supposed he didn't exactly have the moral high ground there. He'd used it against more unwilling participants than he could count, including his friends.

Her mind was beautifully open and free of any deception. She wasn't trying to keep him out and in fact, all he could feel was her conflicted feelings. Even though he had done his best to reassure her, he could still feel her concern and nervousness, not just for herself, but for their daughter as well. He just couldn't understand the lingering fear. Hadn't he just told her not to worry about it?

She was openly annoyed with him still, frustrated that he didn't seem to value her opinions when it came to the election. He didn't really know what to do with that. He'd heard her concerns, but he'd dismissed them. It should be a non-issue now. A small vicious part of her was even hoping that he would fail miserably, just so that she would have the knowledge that she'd been right. Even though she was hoping for his downfall, Tom adored that little part of her. He knew the characteristic well enough himself.

But mostly, underneath it all, he could feel her love for him. It was almost all consuming, threatening to knock the breath from him. Of course Tom did not doubt her feelings for him, it was another thing entirely to feel the weight of them. He preened, knowing what a big part of her life he'd become in less than a year. She appreciated his looks and his power, but mostly, she loved his mind.

It would have been easy to get lost in the feeling of it, all of her attention going to his head, but Tom couldn't help but push a little bit harder now that the opportunity had presented itself. Ever since she'd mentioned the name Voldemort, he hadn't been able to shake a small nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

He looked for how she'd discovered the name, but was confused by what he found. He couldn't find any specific memory that referenced it, over even any whole memories, save the conversation where she'd asked him. Instead, he found fragments of some former life Hermione had lived, too thoroughly destroyed to understand.

Still, what he was able to glean confused him more than he expected. One of the earliest memories was of a young Hermione, tucked away in a library scribbling in the margins of a book. He could barely make out two words: basilisk and pipes. Another memory whipped by - Hermione crying at a memorial for someone named Cedric. Before he could catch a breath, he saw another memory. Hermione was huddled with a boy with messy, black hair and she said a name. His own: "Tom Riddle."

Tom began to feel a hint of fear slithering up and down his spine as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. None of it made any sense to him. Hermione was clearly far too young to have known him then. And he certainly didn't remember her.

A blink and the memory shifted again. Hermione was in a tent, with the same wizard as before, a bit older. The rain was pouring outside and he could tell she was cold and hungry and hopeless. The boy was talking, but the words were too muffled to make out. Still, Tom could read his lips. Voldemort...horcurxes.

He stilled again and pulled back from her mind, his eyes searching her face to see if he could detect any hint that she had been aware of his intrusion. He allowed himself to be a bit relieved that she didn't seem to have noticed. So, if she had been keeping these from him, she at least didn't know that he knew.

It seemed that the source of all of Hermione's off-handed comments was the black-haired boy from her memories. She'd been younger then, but clearly they had discussed him at some point. He was once again struck with the fear that perhaps Hermione wasn't so perfect for him, but rather, she'd been designed that way - her mind and her magic and her interests carefully constructed for the express purpose of drawing him into her web.

"Shall we go get some dinner?" she asked, finally. She was so casual and unbothered that it put Tom at ease. "It's nearly dusk."

He pushed the fear from his mind, reminding himself of the genuine love Hermione held from him. There was no faking that. Not to mention that they were married to one another and expecting a child together. Would an...operative really go to such great lengths to get close to him? No, he decided, that was a step too far. He couldn't see his Hermione doing something like that.

He surprised himself. Instead of wanting to push her away from him, on the chance that she might hurt him, he was instead overcome with the need to keep her closer than ever. Still, the state of her mind would not leave him. There was something else there, hiding under the surface. And eventually, he would have to uncover it.