"Alls fair in love and war."

Chapter 12: Tea and Thestrals

Morgana Parkinson adored tea on Sundays. She loved the ritual of waking up early, birds singing their good mornings as she walked to her bathroom, the smell of fresh flowers hanging in the air. The sound of hot water splashing into her clawfoot tub as the steam opened her pores made her feel like she was in her own personal sauna. Morgana spared no expense of her husband's vast fortune to buy herself only the very best of potions, elixirs, and lotions to make her appear the most beautiful and youthful as she could; and the hours spent in front of her vanity only proved that. She was walking art. Not a blemish in site, not a hair out of place. She lived for the way her friends would "ooh" and "ahh" at her appearance, begging her to tell them her secrets and the products she was using, but she never gave the whole truth out. Sure, she would recommend various products, but it was none she was actually using herself. The products she recommended weren't good enough for her, but she figured they were good enough for her friends. They often wondered why their hair never shone like hers, why their skin never seemed as smooth at her recommendations, but Morgana said it must be down to superior genetics, and they were none the wiser.

All of this what was she adored about Sundays. To be at a table decorated with tea and various sweet treats, with her friends sitting around her, talking about the town's latest gossip or to trade secrets about their husbands or future prospects of marriages. It was what she did every Sunday.

And that's where she was this Sunday, like clockwork. Walburga Black sat next to her, Marissa Greengrass next to her, Ephesia Selwyn, and Druella Rosier.

"Are you looking forward to Cygnus proposing, Druella?" Marissa smiled warmly at the youngest girl at the table.

Druella gave a small smile, twisting her napkin lightly in her lap so the other women at the table couldn't see.

"Yes, of course. It is wonderful how Walburga's mother, Irma, has organized everything for us."

"Well, she probably would have thrown a fit if she didn't", Walburga rolled her eyes," My marriage to Orion will have more pomp and circumstance than should be allowed."

Morgana snickered at her friend's distaste of her marriage to her first cousin and took solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one who was displeased with her arranged marriage.

"At least you two have marriage prospects", Ephesia sighed," My mother has been going at the Malfoy's since my early years at Hogwarts and they still haven't budged."

"Although Abraxas is handsome, do you really want to be betrothed to him?" Morgana sneered," He seems like he likes to play the field, regardless of if he is courting someone or not."

Ephesia nodded understandingly with a small frown on her face, small tendrils of her white, blonde hair falling forward out of their tight bun," You are correct in your assumptions, but I think we all know our mother's do not care. She will have me betrothed to a Malfoy whether it be Abraxas, or even his windowed grandfather."

She smirked, making light of the situation and the women chuckled with her.

Morgana adored her Sunday's. They were everything she needed to forget their mother's judgmental eyes and the girls to relax in each other's company.

But as the daily paper was delivered to their table, Walburga going on to the group about her upcoming wedding that she was not looking forward to, Morgana's Sunday was suddenly in jeopardy. Her thin lips puckered as she gazed at the article in the paper about the new socialite on the scene.

Dumbledore's New Friend: Socialite or Skilled Duelist?

It would seem there is a new name on the tip of everyone's tongue following a very exciting night at the local dueling club. Word quickly spread that this socialite is more than what she seems. Having just arrived in England only a few weeks ago from America, Miss Vulpecula is taking Diagon Alley by storm.

Dressed in only the best outfits, coming right of the runways in Paris, to volunteering at the local library, it is no wonder that she has many other hidden talents. She has quickly become an integral part in the social scene, seen walking and chatting with names like Alphard Black, Abraxas Malfoy, and even Hogwarts' very own Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

The latest trendsetter is rumored to have been offered a position at the very prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as a teacher's assistant in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Miss Vulpecula was the newcomer at the local Dueling Club where she was seen entering with Alphard Black, but leaving with one, Tom Riddle, local shop boy of Borgin and Borkes. It seems she is making her way through the social circle, not sparing anybody. A close source says that neither man is courting her, but this reporter will be keeping a close eye on this budding socialite.

Morgana set her teacup on it's saucer with more ferocity than she intended to because the clang of glass meeting glass silenced the conversation between her friends around the table.

"Is something the matter, Morgana?" Walburga raised an eyebrow.

Was something the matter?

Yes.

Yes, there was.

She could feel her teeth pressing together tightly as she thought of that girl being escorted by none other than Tom Riddle. Who the fuck did she think she was? Morgana almost wanted to scoff at the idea of this innocent girl being escorted by their Lord. The girl didn't even know who he was. She was probably just taken in by his handsome face. Morgana felt a twinge in her chest and her mouth deepened into a frown at the thought of Tom escorting the girl on his arm. It was clear enough that the reporter thought about writing about it. Was he trying to see her? Was he trying to get to know her?

How dare he…

Morgana was the one that threw him parties. She was the one who was at his beck and call whenever he needed a party prepared or a message sent out to people. She was a loyal follower and supported his cause. She coveted the nights they shared together in school. Yes, he was with several girls while they were in school together, but he always came back to her and although he never proposed or talked about wanting to marry her, she knew in her heart he felt the same way about her as she did about him. And at the Christmas Eve ball that was attended by the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she thought maybe, just maybe, he would have proposed to her in front of everyone. But Abraxas' big mouth got in the way and ruined it all for her. Tom Riddle wasn't even supposed to attend, but having spent every holiday with the Malfoy family, he was their plus one and unfortunately her mother overheard Abraxas talking to his friends about how her and Tom saw each other frequently while they were patrolling at night, Tom being Head Boy and her being a prefect. She recalled how her mother quickly pulled her aside and told her if she was to continue seeing the Half-Blood Tom Riddle, she would disown her and leave her penniless and told her how the Parkinson family's son was planning on proposing to her after she graduated.

And that was that. She had no say in the matter. The Parkinson name was too treasured and respected to even think about saying no. She was wedded to their heir the week after she graduated, and Tom Riddle spoke to her again about their affairs or even so much as looked at her. He only spoke to her when it was about meetings and throwing dinner parties for his followers, and even that was becoming less frequent than it used to be. She knew in her heart that if Abraxas hadn't ruined everything and let her secret be known, she and Tom could have run away together and got married before her mother even knew about it.

No. The girl had to be a ruse, she settled with herself. Dumbledore was wanting to recruit the girl to teach at the school and she knew Tom had been looking for a way to get into Hogwarts. He was simply using her. The girl was a pawn, nothing more.

"Morgana?" Walburga said her name again, interrupting the onslaught of thoughts she was having.

"Hm?" Morgana looked up at her friends looking back at her, questioning in their eyes. Neither of them knew of her deep affiliation with Tom Riddle, and they never would. They wouldn't understand, especially Walburga. Her family oozed Pureblood righteousness.

"No", Morgana plastered on megawatt smile," Nothing at all, sorry. Slip of my fingers."

"What's in today's paper?" Marissa Greengrass peered at the pages in front of Morgana.

"Oh, nothing of importance", she extended the paper to the woman," The woman that joined our dinner party the other week is in the paper, apparently being named the new socialite."

"Oh, how funny of a coincidence", Marissa took it and read it over while Walburga rolled her eyes.

"Isn't she new in town?" Druella asked the table," I overheard Alphard and Cygnus talking about how Alphard escorted her to lunch and shopping. I think he fancies her."

"I sincerely hope not", Walburga's nose crinkled in disgust," She seems a little too friendly for my taste."

Druella side-eyed her future sister-in-law at her public disgust of the woman in the paper."Well, she must be interesting for a column to be written about her if she has been seeing hanging around Alphard, Dumbledore, and Abraxas", Ephesia sighed with defeat," Maybe if we invited her over for tea, I could use her as an excuse to get closer to Abraxas."

"Don't demean yourself to silly games, Ephesia" Walburga asked the air," Everyone is only interested in her because she's new. She isn't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She'll be forgotten in a week."

"I don't think so, Burgs", Marissa commented, still looking at the paper," Not with the people she has been affiliating with, especially with her working with Albus Dumbledore. It says here she is actually going to go to Hogwarts to be a teacher's assistant."

"How unfortunate", Walburga expressed her displeasure," You couldn't pay me to go back to that school."

"Oh, you could for me", Marissa smiled," I'd probably do it for free. I loved my time there."

Druella smiled and nodded her agreement.

"Me too", Morgana muttered quietly, her thoughts drifting to the pair of dark eyes that used to take up her school days.

"Anyways, I'll have to invite her over soon. It's been too long since we've made her acquaintance."

Morgana quickly took the paper back, folding it, and placing it onto her lap, silencing the conversation about the girl that was now a thorn in her side. She would just have to become very good friends with her so she would know if Tom was getting close to her. Settled with her new plan, she resumed drinking her tea and talking with her friends.

It was Sunday tea after all, and she just adored tea on Sundays.

Dumbledore twirled his wand through his fingers as he gazed lazily at his ever-loyal phoenix perched beside his desk, the sound of students enjoying the last day of the weekend wafting through his open windows. His thoughts couldn't help but drift to the girl he met for tea and what a mystery she was. He was certain of a few things. The girl knew far more than she let on, she was an excellent dueler, and she was lying about where she came from. A girl that young would have never mastered her level of dueling by her age without a massive catalyst to cause it. And the only catalyst he could think of was the girl had experienced life or death situations. But what was a pretty, young girl like her doing in life or death situations?

Running with Tom Riddle perhaps…

He would be a fool not to decipher the placid look she had on her face when the boy's name was mentioned. She purposely put on a mask to make herself seem impassive and he couldn't figure out why. There was no way she was already close enough to protect him and Albus didn't think she would anyways. He could tell she was a kind girl underneath her crusty, hard exterior and if there was one thing Tom Riddle was not, was kind.

No one got under Albus' skin like Tom Riddle. He knew he was responsible for killing Myrtle Warren, but he could never figure out how. He knew the why. She was a muggle-born witch. The thought made his stomach churn. The poor girl's body was left in the bathroom like a piece of wet tissue paper. Like she was discarded trash. And no matter how hard Albus tried to help her ghost remember what happened, her answer was always the same. She only remembered one thing.

A big pair of yellow eyes.

And that was it. That's all he had to go on. And Tom Riddle didn't have big, yellow eyes.

It wasn't like he didn't try to reason with the boy. He gave him plenty of chances during his 7 years of attending Hogwarts and Tom brushed him off every single time. It made him sick to know that there was a murderer in his school. A murderer that was only in his fifth year and not only that, received an award for framing the third year, Rubeus Hagrid.

Would there never be justice for the Myrtle Warrens and the Rubeus Hagrids of the world? Would skilled-tongue snake charmers like Tom Riddle always be one step ahead of him?

No.

Because he had already defeated his beloved, Gellert Grindelwald, and helped make the wizarding world safe again. Anytime the man floated through Albus' mind, he felt a pang of loss and guilt in his heart that he felt would shatter him any second. Whoever said 'it is better to have loved and loss than to never have loved at all' was entirely full of shite Albus had decided as he watched the man he loved get sent to Azkaban because every time he thought of the love he had lost, he felt like it ripped a small piece of him away.

He couldn't let that happen to Miss Vulpecula he had resolved with himself. Albus didn't get the impression that she was romantically involved with Tom Riddle, but he knew Tom better than either cared to admit. And Tom Riddle loved power. Albus knew the boy was obsessed with obtaining power and worst of all, keeping it to himself to have and to own. He wouldn't be surprised if Tom was already working out a ploy to harness Miss Vulpecula's talents for his own and keep her like a pet.

To get close to her.

To let her in on his secrets.

Albus sat upright in his chair as thoughts started circling in his brain like a whirlpool. Could he possibly persuade Miss Vulpecula to his advantage? Could he in good conscious use her to get close to Tom Riddle to finally have justice for the lives Tom had ruined?

A brief flicker of disgust swept through his morals at the thought of using the girl to get close to the monster he knew resided in Tom Riddle's body, but if it was for the greater good… If the girl only knew what Tom had done to innocent students while he himself was just a child, surely she would understand where he was coming from in wanting to get justice? It would also let him keep a watchful eye on the young girl to make sure she wasn't slipping underneath Tom's powerful prowess. It would clearly be advantageous to all, right?

Yes.

The opportunity was too good to pass up. He had been looking for a window to convict Tom Riddle guilty of killing Myrtle Warren and framing Rubeus Hagrid for too long when the opportunity was being presented to him on a silver platter in the shape of the powerful, young witch. She would understand. She might not even have to know.

Albus quickly pulled out parchment and a quill from his desk and set to writing to Miss Hermione Vulpecula to start at her leisure as a teacher's assistant, eager to get to know her better, and to also know her cohorts better.

Justice was in arms reach.

Hermione fidgeted with her hair once more in the reflection of her mirror as she waited for Tom Riddle to come pick her up.

Like a date.

It wasn't a date she scolded herself. It was a meeting with her new "boss" to go over her meeting with Dumbledore. How different the meetings with both the men were. One, the champion of what is good in this world, the other, the definition of everything evil and bad. And both made her nervous. She already knew he was going to use her as a pawn to get closer to Dumbledore and use her as an access to Hogwarts. He did the same thing to Draco. Maybe by Riddle using her like this, she would be saving Draco from ever being used like a pawn again.

Of course, that would be if she wasn't able to kill Tom Riddle in this timeline.

Which she would. And she will.

But not tonight…

She didn't have to be a fortune teller to know that killing him wouldn't be plausible tonight. It would be an automatic failure if she were to try, even if they were secluded with wherever he was bringing her tonight. He was too fast of a dueler. He was too powerful. And she had no firm grasp on his powers yet. How far into the Dark Arts he had submersed himself in at this point. It would be a fool's errand to underestimate him. Tonight was the night to start studying him. Learn his ways. And she loved learning. It would be her ultimate, immersive experiment.

"But soft!"

A male voice broke through the windows in her bedroom from the street.

"What light through yonder window breaks?"

The thumping of her heart answering the voice, Hermione carefully walked over to her window and opened it wider, sticking her head out to see the Devil himself leaning against her picket fence.

"Are you really quoting Shakespeare to coax me out?" Hermione asked, baffled.

This couldn't be happening…

Voldemort couldn't possibly be quoting Romeo and Juliet to her. He responded with a sharp grin, revealing shiny white teeth that glinted in the moonlight, his black eyes darker than the night surrounding him. He was a black hole formed into a man, everything around him was pulled towards him like he had his own gravity.

"It is the east, and my little fox is the sun."

My…

Her cheeks burned as she inhaled sharply through her nostrils. She backed into the light of her room and just the window on Tom Riddle's sharp grin and closed the curtains.

"You can do this", she whispered to herself. "Do it for Draco and Harry."

Grabbing a cloak and buttoning it to her neck she stalked downstairs, wand in her hand just in case and approached her door, opening it to find Tom Riddle waiting for her in the frame.

"Merlin!" she jumped back," You startled me!"

"Awfully jumpy for being a big, bad wolf", he snarked. He wore all black like every time she had seen him, his black turtleneck peeking out from his own black cloak that reached his black loafers.

"You look like you're dressed for a funeral", Hermione snarked back. Riddle snickered in return.

"Then we make quite a pair", he gestured his arm for her to take it," Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes", she pushed his arm away," Obviously."

"I'm apparating us", he extended his arm again," So you may want to hold on."

Hermione's nose crinkled in displeasure at having to snake her arm through his and did so slowly and begrudgingly. As soon as her arm was linked through his, he turned her quickly and pressed her chest against his, holding her firmly around her waist.

"What the hell?" she yelled out," Let me go."

"No."

And a resounding crack followed.

They appeared on a cliffside immediately and Hermione pushed hard to get Riddle away from her.

"Who apparates like that?" she scolded him whilst straightening out her cloak. Riddle looked less than enthused as frown settled on his face.

"Keep pushing me like that and I'll leave you here", he threatened. She said nothing as she eyed him carefully, the lion in her wanting to yell at him for threatening her, but her logical side knowing that Voldemort didn't make idle threats. He would leave her here and she didn't even know where 'here' was.

Looking around, 'here' was a barren cliffside overlooking a vast ocean that extended into the horizon. There wasn't a tree in sight, no person, no buildings. Just open cliffside to the left and right as far as the eye could see. The waves below crashed loudly against the walls of rock sending sea mist into the air. A large rock mass was the only thing that was risen out of the sea in front of the cliffside.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, hand hovering over where her wand lay in her cloak.

"I wanted to show you something", Tom told her," But it depends if you can see it or not."

"See what?" she did a 360 and faced him," There is nothing to see."

"Are you always this patient?" he asked rhetorically as he bent down and sat on the ground cross legged.

"Are you always this mysterious?" she asked back and reluctantly followed his lead, sitting across from him. She was silently grateful that he advised her to dress warmly as the sea air sent a chill down her back.

"Usually, yes." Hermione eyed him as he pulled a blade of grass out of the ground and twirled it in his fingers. Again, she cursed Harry's name for not telling her how charming the young Tom Riddle looked. The cliffside shadowed in darkness made him stand out even more, his raven colored hair blowing across his forehead, his red lips clashing against the pale skin of his face, dark lashes surrounding his eyes.

Stop studying his looks and start studying him.

"Why do you call me little fox?" Hermione asked again.

"How was your lunch with Albus Dumbledore?" he asked, ignoring her question and not looking from the blade of grass in between his fingers.

Hermione sighed as her right eye twinged.

"Fine", she gritted out.

"What did you talk about?"

"Things."

"What things?"

"Things about me."

"What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"Hermione…"

"Tom…"

The blade of grass was dropped as a thunderous look crossed over his face," Stop being so bloody obtuse. What did he talk to you about?"

Hermione was about to reply cheeky again when one look at his face made her breath catch. A single red ring was now surrounding his black irises. Voldemort's red eyes…

Swallowing the lump in her throat and keeping her voice even," He was wondering about my dueling skills because he heard of my duel with your friend the other night and he offered me a uh, job I guess."

"A job?" His eyes flashed crimson and then back to black," What kind of job?"

"He wants me to be a guest teacher's assistant in this class called Defense Against the Dark Arts", Hermione informed him," Have you heard of that class, Tom?"

His eyes were wide, and she could practically see him frothing at the mouth. Everyone knew in the future how he wanted to teach that class and cursed any teacher that would.

"Yes", he said," I have heard of that class. I used to take it when I attended school. This is excellent little fox. You did excellent."

A small smile came to her at him praising her before she could even stop it. Even now she loved praise, even if it was from none other than Tom Riddle.

"I accepted the job offer, of course", she told him," I'm just waiting for the invite."

Tom only nodded, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

"Did you want me to do anything else, Tom?" she asked innocently," Did I needed to do more?"

Be the loyal follower he needs you to be.

His eyes looked towards her as he gave her a polite smile," No. You did fine. I would like to start training you one on one in dueling though starting soon. Be prepared for that."

"Of course,", Hermione nodded, her heart soaring. Her studying would be starting, and his death would become that much closer.

As silence fell between the two of them, Hermione couldn't help but note that it didn't feel awkward or tense. It felt comfortable as the two of them retraced themselves into their own heads, both thinking of the same things but for vastly different reasons. She didn't often find herself in the company of people who were content with being in silence, enjoying their own thoughts and found that she enjoyed it rather than people who try to fill the voids with needless conversation. And although she still didn't quite know where she was, the night sky and the sounds of the waves lulled her into a peaceful mindset that couldn't be replicated with a sound machine or pictures.

Unsure of how much time had passed between them, Hermione was almost about to close her eyes from feeling so at ease when the sound of swishing grass had her on alert. Immediately she was on her feet with her wand in her hand, posed to strike at wherever the sound was coming from.

"Merline, Hermione…"

She looked down at him in alarm as she took in his appearance. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"What the fuck reaction was that?"

"I heard something", Hermione muttered, still looking around her," Something is here."

She continued to ignore him, her assassin skills now boiling at the surface as she took in her surroundings. She felt like a fool, scolding herself for feeling too comfortable anywhere.

"Hermione…" Tom's voice rang out behind her, but he was ignored. The only thing in her ears was the rush of blood and heat from being posed to attack. Her skills couldn't be diminished unless she knew the area was clear, until she knew she was safe. As she walked down the cliffside hill, her eyes found what made the sound.

A field of Thestrals greeted her, their heads bent as they picked at dead flowers in the field.

"Thestrals."

She stated as she heard Tom walk up behind her.

"So, you can see them?"

"Of course I can see them", she said miserably. If she could see a Thestral for every dead person she knew, the cliffside wouldn't have been able to be seen.

"Who died in your life?"

"Who didn't die in my life?" she said before she could stop herself," Everyone died."

"In America?" he asked with confusion, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't see him. All she was seeing was a slideshow of all of her dead friends and family at the hands that were commanded by the man next to her.

"Hermione?" she felt her shoulder be pushed lightly.

"What?" she snapped out of her trance and looked at him. Her goosebumps gone, her ears stopped roaring, and her blood had slowed down.

"Are you okay?" He looked concerned, but she knew it was a façade.

"Yes", she nodded," Of course I am, sorry."

"You said everyone died", he told her," Who is everyone?"

"Did I?" Hermione laughed," Slip of the tongue. My mother passed away recently, and she felt like everyone to me, you know? She was my only friend back home."

Tom nodded, but she wasn't entirely sure he bought her lie.

"Can I go home, Tom? I'm getting tired."

"Of course."

This time he kept her at arms length.

xoxo