authorsnote: wasn't sure where to go with this, but now I've got it and ooooooooo boy, it is going to be something.
do follow/fav for a WILD ride.
songrecs: running up that hill - kate bush
also did some minor rebranding: 16/08/2022, title, summary, few bits, story still the same.
She didn't remember returning to the cottage, didn't remember the journey, the tug of apparition, didn't remember any of it.
Didn't remember Tom … Riddle taking her hand, pulling her away, as she'd stood, fixed, frozen, staring at the scene before her, the victors who'd taken her home, who somehow lived and had claimed the rights of battle. Didn't remember him shaking her, saying her name, and then when she didn't respond, whisking them away, his hand holding her wrist tightly, the jerk of apparition not even shocking her senses.
She didn't remember landing, her knees buckling, Riddle with a sigh quickly steering her to the couch and placing her on it. He offered no words of comfort, just a blanket tossed over her shoulders as she began to shiver.
Did he even know how to comfort? To offer kindness? If she were a betting woman…
But she didn't focus on any of it, on the journey, on her little seat now on the sofa, shivering, staring at the fire Tom summoned with a click of his fingers. She didn't see any of it, her mind filled, focused on what she'd left behind.
All of them, the Death Eaters, those who had tortured and killed her friends, had tried to do the same to her, sat in the Great Hall, her home, Harry's home, laughing and eating, victors.
Bellatrix, the woman who had tortured her, smiling maniacally.
Lucius and Narcissa, arrogant once again, all vestiges of fear long gone, lording it over the proceedings.
Dolohov, the man who still invaded her nightmares, who terrified her sometimes more than Voldemort had, grinning and laughing with his friends.
All of them, marked and branded, their leader dead but the cause still long alive as they lived, and they had, somehow.
Victors.
If she were capable of moving, she might have vomited.
"I told you not to cry" Riddle's words cut through the air, breaking her out of her little catatonia, and she shot him a vicious glare, Dark Lord or not, terrified of him or not, he deserved the venom in her gaze.
"I'm not crying" She ground out, teeth clenched, it was true, no tears had come, perhaps she'd cried them all out? Perhaps she was in too much shock? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…
"No, this is worse" Riddle said, rolling his eyes delicately. He really was handsome, and she decided she was certainly in shock as her mind threw that thought at her. Yes, he was handsome, incredibly so, but what did that matter?
None of it mattered, nothing at all, if this was how it was bound to end, if this was what all of their suffering, sacrifices, pain, if this was what it all came to, what did any of it matter?
What was the point?
The thought that all of them, that Harry had died for nothing, it made her shake, her shoulders trembling, and she didn't even register as Riddle sighed, and then made his way over to her, to where she'd shot to her feet to practically hiss at him, though she had no defiance now, only a cold feeling spreading across her chest as she shivered.
"Calm down" He spoke matter of factly, as he steered her back to sit down, no emotion, no empathy in his tone, how he faked it she didn't know but he didn't bother in front of her, oddly she found that comforting.
"Do you think you're a sociopath?" She asked, as he stood over her, not able to understand her pain, only exasperated by it, or perhaps baffled she didn't know, did she want to know?
He was the enemy; she'd do better to remember that.
"No" He scoffed then and sat down next to her, to her surprise, "I feel things, I just don't let that limit me"
"Limit you?" She said, almost aghast, turning her head to look at him then, his tone so unflinching and again, his words spoken as fact that it shook her of her thoughts just for a second, "What about humanising you?"
He rolled his eyes then, that was what he thought of that, "I have no interest in being humanised"
"Then what does interest you?" She asked, why she didn't know, what did she care? Maybe it was to stop her screaming, breaking down and shrieking until the walls blew out, it was a close-run thing.
"Power" He spoke immediately, didn't even have to consider it, didn't' even pretend to.
"Why?" She asked then, eyebrow raised, it was odd, having this discussion with Lord Voldemort, though she supposed he wasn't Voldemort yet, was he?
Careful Hermione don't go rationalising him.
Her mind reminded her quickly not to go down that route, but uncharacteristically for her she ignored it.
Perhaps she'd already cracked and gone mad, that seemed almost likely.
"Because I deserve it" He said, again without hesitation.
"That's not a desire" She threw back, and felt an odd little thrill, arguing with him was like with no one else, no one else had ever been able to keep up.
Careful Hermione.
"And besides, you don't deserve it" She near sneered; typical pureblood attitude, though he wasn't a pureblood, clearly, he had their entitlement.
"No, I've earned it" He said, and weirdly she could tell he felt the same thrill as her. Dangerous.
But she didn't stop.
"How?" She asked, and then she was turning fully to face him, blanket shrugged off, tucking one of her legs under her, fully paying him her attention, as though settling into a debate. He turned to her too, resting one of his legs across the other, eyebrow raised, mischief flashing in his eyes.
Mischief was possibly too light of a word, but he'd drawn her in.
Just as intended.
"How have you earned it?" She continued, all shaking gone, all fear, just a need to win the argument settling in, her fingers practically itching, "You haven't ever sat in a free and fair election, haven't won the people or campaigned"
There was another roll of the eyes, perhaps even bigger than before, and he looked so condescendingly at her she had an urge to slap him, her fingers certainly itched all the more, she only resisted as she didn't want their back and forth to end.
Careful.
"You think democracy works?" He said with a scoff, "I know I'm a little out of date, but from what I remember democracy still leads to those highest in society choosing their leaders, no one else gets a say"
"Oh sure" She mocked back then, scoffing, not realising she was the mirror of him when she did that, he saw it though, saw it and smirked, "You didn't win the people! You're a tyrant"
"A tyrant who is the most powerful magical being alive" He said with such confidence she almost respected him for it, "Who better to run the wizarding world?"
"But that is still tyranny!" She said, not bothering to argue his point, he was incredibly magically gifted, perhaps the best, there was no denying that, "The Minister of Magic is elected!"
"And what real power does the Minister hold?" He asked, keeping her on her toes, where she liked it best, "You and I both know, likely even now with the pace the Wizarding World changes at, that the Wizengmont, unelected officials from the old pureblood families run everything, has that changed?" He asked.
"No" She could hardly lie, it was still that way, she hated it, "But.."
"But what?" He asked, "You think prattling about fair elections and muggle loving will change that?" He said shaking his head, mocking practically dripping from his tone, "The only ones able to get power in this world are those who can take it"
"That's still just tyranny, worse than the Wizengmont because it would just be you, your wants, your whims" She hissed, fists clenching then, "And your wants are to eradicate people like me!"
"No, it isn't" He scoffed again, and that stopped her dead in her tracks.
"What?" She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. What was he talking about? Voldemort, the one from this time, the madman but the man still determined to rule over everything, he had been reverent about blood purity, just like those surrounding him.
"I hate muggles" He sneered, and he looked slightly scary, a hiss like sound accompanying it, "But muggleborns? You're a quirk of nature, but still magical, you're still a witch, not quite as much, but still one of us"
"One of you?" She knew she sounded aghast then, slightly offended too, "Oh thank you! I just about make the club do I?" She said sarcastically, and Riddle raised an eyebrow at that, perhaps they didn't have sarcasm in the 40's, perhaps he was just shocked she seemed utterly at ease with him, arguing but not scared. "From what I remember, you wanted to have only a pureblood society"
"Hardly, I want an all wizarding society" He said with a shake of his head, "But, the easiest way into power is getting those already on side with it, hence the purebloods"
"A political plan?" She said, and then she laughed actually laughed, though there was no humour to it, almost cackled even, eyes widening in shock, "Your entire groupie club want to kill me because that was your best way to get into politics?" She asked, and she near shook with laughter then.
This was what it came down to, a man who hated muggles yes (and for that alone she'd oppose him yes), but otherwise had simply gone with the popular view, all to get power.
"You fucking sellout" She threw at him, and then in an instant she was pressed back onto the sofa, wand at her throat, apparently she'd pushed him too far.
"Careful Hermione" And yet he didn't' sound angry, though there was something to his tone that made her shake, "I've been nice so far"
"Nice?" She said, though the sneer from her voice was gone, she wasn't a complete idiot, and he did have his wand to her jugular, though she'd never been one to back down, "You're the reason my best friend is dead, the reason I have this" She squirmed then to raise her arm, pull back her sleeve and show her scar, the word 'mudblood' imprinted on her skin forever.
She was proud of it, but to look at it still made her flinch.
"That was not me" He said, "That by the sounds was an insane man who I have yet to, and won't become"
"And what you're better?" She said, shaking her head, the mocking in her tone clear then and back, even as he pressed his wand to her skin, even as she shook a little in fear, even as she felt something else, warm in her chest as he pressed into her, to her shake, she felt it, she wouldn't back down, never, she hadn't when she'd gotten the damn scar.
"I could be" He said, and then he was smirking, even eased his wand back, and then terrifyingly, perhaps the most terrifying thing he had done so far, he fixed a curl away from her face and even nudged her cheek with his knuckle, utterly terrifying.
Terrifying and the warmth in her chest spread, spread and solidified, and she knew her cheeks were pink.
"Could be?" She was whispering then she realised, the tension in the room having slammed through the wall like a bus. Gone was the debate, this was something else.
"You saw who won" He said, his head cocked to the side then, studying her, he looked almost fascinated by her, "Wouldn't I be better?"
"I…" She'd gone to say no, an emphatic no, a resounding no, but then she saw it flash over her again…
Bellatrix and Narcissa grinning together. Lucius chatting away to Rodolphus, the House Elf's hurrying around fetching them food, Rowle and Dolohov eating at the table she'd sat at, her friends gone, dead or imprisoned most likely.
What was better?
"Exactly" He said, grinned then, triumphant, he'd won the argument apparently, as he eased away from her, and the brief flash of longing near crippled her as he stepped away, stood to his feet, smirking now, he knew he'd won too, "Who would be better Hermione?"
"You're Voldemort" She said, it was obvious but she needed to say it, "Lord Voldemort"
"Not yet" He said with a shrug, evidently he didn't care about that now, but he'd said it himself, he'd said what he wanted, how on earth could she accept that? "I'm Tom Riddle"
Wouldn't I be better?
Careful Hermione.
Careful about what?
What else was there? Everyone was gone, the evil had won, was he worse? He hadn't killed her on the spot or spat on her as any in the hall would have done, he'd talked to her, he was still evil yes, but not like Voldemort, not like them.
"I can't" She said shaking her head, but he was still smirking because he knew, and so did she.
"You can" He said, again as though it were fact, and perhaps it was, "You don't want them to win"
"To the victors…" She mumbled, even as Riddle pulled her to her feet, and nudged her chin up with his thumb, to force her gaze to him, as it all settled back in, what had happened, what she had seen, who had won.
"To the spoils" He finished for her, but he didn't stop, "And that will be us"
A nod, before she could even think of it, she nodded even as he kept a thumb under her chin, holding her gaze, a nod was all it took.
Careful Hermione.
Too late.
sooo thoughts?
yup, it is happening.
lots more to come, lots of bantering, lots of arguing, romance to come (slow burn bby), do enjoy.
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speak soon
