"Hermione, our Hogwarts letters are here!" She was trudging tiredly through the hall when Draco's peppy voice ricocheted off the walls. "I think… I think I've been made prefect! Hurry up or I'll open yours for you."

The witch shook her head and slipped into her seat across from him. "Really, Draco, you're impossible. Some of us like to have a lie-in every now and then."

He frowned. "You've been sleeping quite a lot lately. Are you alright?"

She had not told her best friend about what happened between her, his father, and his aunt. She had been having dreams about it, strange dreams that woke her drenched in sweat and flushed to her bones. She was usually able to drift back off, but the dreams were disturbing enough that she had privately asked Lady Cissa for Dreamless Sleep, citing nightmares. Narcissa has fortunately taken pity on her.

"Yes, I just had a headache last night and didn't sleep well."

He nodded, studying her face before deciding to let it go.

"There's another letter for you," he said offhandedly as he returned to his own, sliding the envelopes toward her. One was in Professor Dumbledore's flamboyant ink. It was oddly weighted and a badge fell out as she opened it.

The badge was red enamel and gold border with a 'P' on the front. She grinned, all of her recent worries momentarily lifting as she held it aloft.

"Ha!" Draco held his own, black and yellow, beside it. "I knew you'd be a prefect. Now we just have to aim for the Heads."

She rolled her fawn-brown eyes at that. "Like there is any competition?"

He shook his head at her faux confidence; she really was a shoe-in, whatever she may think. Hermione Granger, most brilliant student in decades, rule-abiding (mostly), eager to help… Draco couldn't imagine them giving the spot to anyone else.

"What's the other letter?"

Hermione pressed it to her chest. She had immediately recognized the efficient, perfect penmanship that was Professor Riddle's. "I am assisting in some research."

"A professor?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes."

"Which professor?"

"Really, Draco, can't I do anything in private?" she needled, turning red.

She saw the spread of his lips as he said, "It's Professor Riddle, isn't it?"

"Draco!"

"Alright," he acquiesced. "But everyone knows you're his favorite student. And I, at least, know he's your favorite professor."

She didn't respond, sipping her tea instead. It was darkly steeped and touched with cream. Hermione would wait until she was alone in her room to open the missive from Professor Riddle. And for this moment she would focus on breaking fast with Draco and celebrating the two of them becoming prefects.

Hermione,

I trust your summer holiday has gone well and that you are celebrating your newest title. I'd be remiss if I did not appropriately congratulate you. Thus:

Congratulations on your status as Gryffindor's newest Prefect! There is no one more deserving.

Now, dearest, we have some business to attend to. We need to set a schedule for the DADA club's meetings (and possibly come up with a more practical name; I will entrust that to your capable mind), as well as an itinerary.

I would like to work closely with you on this; I know your academic knowledge of defense is among the highest of your year, if not among all the students of Hogwarts. However, and take this not as a slight against you, but as an opportunity, your practical skills (while admirable) could be improved. I would like to meet with you once weekly so that we may elevate them to the level I know you can reach.

We can discuss this after the feast, should your duties not monopolize your time. Otherwise, send me your schedule at your earliest ability (not your class schedule, love, but that immaculate personal schedule you must make every year to ensure adequate study time). We will make you the greatest Defense student of your era under my tutelage.

Let me know if there is anything you should need. I shall be sending some advanced reading on the Dark Arts and defense. I expect you'll read them long before the semester begins, my brilliant girl.

Always,

T.M.R.

Professor of DADA

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione's heart felt too large for her chest as she finished the letter, her professor's words echoing in her head. It was far too easy to hear it all in Tom Riddle's smooth cadence, and her stomach swooped at the endearments and compliments sprinkled throughout.

She was "his brilliant girl," "dearest," "love." And he was going to privately tutor her! That enough was to overshadow the acknowledgement that Hermione was not the best at the subject. But he would make her the best. A promise from Tom Riddle was as good as done.

Hermione read and re-read the letter, practically squealing when she realized he was also going to send her books. Some of those books were about the dark arts.

"Oh. my." The weight of that hit her fully. Hermione was no stranger to dark books; the Malfoy library had a whole section on them. However, many were cursed and she knew better than to try and touch them. Most of the Malfoy ancestors had detested muggles and muggleborns, so some of the curses were specifically aimed at her status. Since that whole area was drenched in dark magic to the point it was hard to pin which might be safe to peruse, she avoided them all other than skimming the titles.

And dark books were kept in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. This would be her first real exposure to the topic.

That night Hermione's dreams were full of Tom Riddle's smooth voice, Lucius Malfoy's snake-head cane, and books in flight all around her.

"But father, why are you taking us to Kings Cross?" Draco queried as the patriarch guided the two students to gather their belongings.

Lucius Malfoy's jaw was sternly set. "Your mother is spending time with her sister as Bella will be returning home tomorrow." He'd been cooler with his son the last few years; since the sorting, truthfully.

Draco should have been a Slytherin. It was in his blood. While there may have been deviations in his wife's family, there were none in the Malfoy lineage. Perhaps he could have overlooked a Ravenclaw in the family, but a Hufflepuff of all things!

Lucius eyed the reason why, smoothing over his features to hide his contempt. Bella was right; this insidious little mudblood was poisoning his household. Draco was a badger and his wife doted on the girl as she would a daughter. And he, Lucius Malfoy, had enabled it all.

As head of his house, he should have set the tone for Hermione's treatment. Yes, since she was acting as a companion to Draco and the whole punishment to her in lieu of him had worked tremendously, he also should have made it clear the girl was not one of them. She should have been treated like an instrument or a pet.

Yes, a pet. It was natural to have fondness for one's pets, even if those pets served an important purpose other than companionship. Lucius was fond of his hunting crups, after all. Perhaps…

His eyes became more speculative as he watched the girl tugging her trunk along. Draco had picked her out of the orphanage like one might a pup; she was chosen for her intelligence and good manners.

Despite the recent Gryffindor fire he needed to put out, she was an ideal specimen of a mudblood. She was healthy and well-groomed, and knew how to behave in public. She might require a bit more training in how to approach her betters, but that could be easily remedied when next she returned home.

And she was… attractive. In the way one's pet should be aesthetically pleasing, of course.

An ideal mudblood , he chuckled to himself. Now that was an amusing concept. If only there was a way to make them that way.

An idea came to him and he smiled.

Notes:

Yeah, folks, we are diving down into the rabbit hole now. Well and truly.

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