Happy Christmas
Hermione stared at Tom as he slept. She blinked in the darkness and studied his chiseled face, his narrow nose and his full lips. She dragged her fingertips over his bare chest and whispered carefully,
"Tom."
He stirred a little in his sleep but didn't rouse. He grunted and rolled onto his back, and Hermione adjusted herself until she was up on one elbow. She cupped his jaw in her hand and said more firmly,
"Tom."
His eyes sprang open, and he stretched his eyelids and yawned. He shook his head a little as if to help wake himself, and he mumbled,
"What's the matter?"
"Tom. I don't want you promising yourself to Bellatrix." Hermione said the words with more confidence than she ever would have imagined possessing. She would never, in her old life, have imagined lying naked in bed with Lord Voldemort, bossing him about. But here she was, hovering over him, giving him instruction. She shook her head and said almost sternly, "I don't want you promising Bellatrix that you'll be with her. Even if it's a lie. If you want to use her to kill Dumbledore, you'll have to find another way. I don't like the idea of you sending her off to Azkaban with a hope and a dream that someday she's going to kiss and touch you."
His eyes flashed a little, and he said softly, "You're… selfish. When it comes to me."
"Isn't that what you wanted?" Hermione snapped. "You told me you wanted me to be selfish with you."
"Mmm." He sighed and reached up to drag his knuckles down Hermione's arm. He told her, "I could alter her memories and implant new notions so that she thinks she's had the idea to kill Dumbledore as a method of impressing me. She'll go back to school with the crazed idea that if she kills Albus Dumbledore, perhaps she'll win my affections. She'll get caught, and she'll be interrogated, and they'll find that Bellatrix Black is a lunatic murderer desperate for the affections of Tom Riddle. They'll bring me in for questioning; I'll insist I knew nothing. Bellatrix will go to prison."
Hermione felt her heart start to race in her chest. She remembered, very vividly, the way Bellatrix had carved the word Mudblood into her skin. She thought of how Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms, how she'd murdered Dobby. She loathed Bellatrix, she thought. And even in her lived existence, Bellatrix had spent a decade and a half in Azkaban. Would it be the very worst thing if Bellatrix went to prison in this time?
"What will her family think?" Hermione worried. "Their daughter will go to prison for trying to impress you. Won't that embitter Cygnus and Druella?"
"I'll reward them," Tom said quite thoughtfully. "Once Bellatrix is found guilty, I'll buy Cygnus and Druella a fine gift. I'll encourage Cygnus and Abraxas to draw up betrothment documents between Narcissa and Lucius, and I'll host and fund a grand engagement party for the pair of them. The Black family will be deeply in favour. And they will be reassured that Bellatrix's actions cast her as a heroine in my mind."
"This… could work," Hermione said sceptically. "It could all go horrifically wrong, or it could work. I'm not sure which."
"I'm not going to let you try and kill Albus Dumbledore," Tom snapped. "You haven't got it in you."
Hermione's cheeks went hot. Her lips fell open, and she insisted, "I am a very powerful witch."
"You are immensely powerful," Voldemort confirmed, "but you are not a murderer. And for all the doubt you possess about Albus Dumbledore, you fought alongside him in your past life. You and he were staunch allies. Do I think you could aim your wand at him and cast a Killing Curse? No. Do I think you could feed him a deadly poison? No. I don't think you could, Hermione, and I would never ask that of your soul."
Hermione huffed a breath. She knew he was right. As much as she wanted him to be wrong, she knew he was right. She harboured all sorts of negative thoughts these days about Dumbledore, and she'd decided that his death was necessary. But she had no confidence in herself as his killer.
"I would duel him myself," Tom said, hesitating for just a moment, "but I… well."
"You're not entirely sure you'd win." Hermione raised her eyebrows. Tom sat up slowly and stared at her.
"It's not that simple. He's a very powerful man, much as I despise him."
"Believe me. I know that much. What makes you think Bellatrix, of all people, will be able to take him out?" Hermione asked. Tom raised his eyebrows and said,
"Because he won't see it coming. I'm a Legilimens just like him. He isn't scanning every student's mind every minute of every day. When I adjust Bellatrix's mind, I will make her think of her family when the students go back into the Great Hall after the holidays. Then she'll suddenly whip out her wand, aim it at Dumbledore, and cast a Killing Curse. There will be nothing he'll be able to do. She'll be subdued and quickly detained."
"Right." Hermione petted at Tom's bare chest and whispered, "When will you meet with her to play with her mind?"
"Just before she leaves for school." Tom covered her hand with his. "New Year's Day. I'll invite her over to greet her for the holiday as an excuse."
"New Year's Day," Hermione nodded. She let out a shaking breath and noted, "I'm running out of time for Christmas shopping."
"You'll have to go without giving anyone any Christmas gifts this year." Tom smirked. "You can't go to Diagon Alley until Dumbledore's out of the way, I'm afraid. Don't worry about my birthday, either."
He winked a little, and Hermione scowled. Then she remembered - Tom Marvolo Riddle had been born on the thirty-first of December, 1926. His forty-second birthday was coming up. She needed a gift for him. But Bellatrix wouldn't be going back to school until January. Hermione needed gifts. She'd have to come up with ideas on her own, she thought.
At least, she thought, they had a new plan regarding Bellatrix and Dumbledore. She could deal with Christmas. She was, after all, a powerful witch.
"Dormez-vous dans la nuit enneigée. Li, Lo, Lu, Lée. Célébrez-vous la fête sacrée. Li, Lo, Lu, Lée."
Hermione peered into the violet parlour and marveled. Sylvie Malfoy was standing beside the piano, where Tom sat playing a simple but beautiful tune. Sylvie was singing a French wizarding Christmas carol. Lucius Malfoy was seated on a divan with Abraxas, both of them watching Sylvie sing and Tom play. Hermione came walking slowly into the parlour and watched as Sylvie continued singing in a breathy little trill.
"Allumez les bougies et le feu. Li, Lo, Lée, Lu. Velours rouge et glaçons bleus. Li, Lo, Lée, Lu."
The little marching Christmas carol ended, and Hermione clapped along with Lucius and Abraxas. Tom picked up his cup of tea from the table beside the piano and sipped, and he flashed Hermione a warm little smile.
"Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, My Lord," Hermione said. She'd awoken without him this morning; he must have come down early. They slept together nearly every night now. But on Christmas morning, she'd awakened to find a little card on the bedside table beside her that read simply,
Happy Christmas, 1968, to the witch who will not be born for another eleven years. How strange and beautiful it all is.
Hermione had put on a dark green velvet skirt and a black blouse, and she'd pulled her hair into a tight bun on the back of her head. She'd trotted down the steps and had heard piano and singing. Now Sylvie poured a cup of tea from the cart in the corner and offered it to Hermione.
"Abraxas and Lucius and I were just going to go open our own gifts," she said. "Can I have Dobby send in breakfast for you?"
"Rosemary scones," Tom said softly. Hermione curled up her lips and gratefully took the cup of tea. She nodded and said,
"Rosemary scones would be wondrous. Thank you."
After that, Abraxas, Lucius, and Sylvie left the violet parlour, and a few moments later, a tray of rosemary scones appeared on the tea cart. Hermione and Tom spent a few moments buttering up scones and then brought them to the small table in the centre of the room. Hermione stared at Tom opposite her and took a small bite of scone, sipping tea and whispering,
"I love you."
"As I love you," Tom said, his lips quirking up. He seemed quite nervous all of a sudden, and then he mumbled, "I've got two gifts for you, if you'll allow me."
"Oh. I've got one for you." Hermione felt embarrassed all of a sudden. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box. She handed it over to Tom and said, "This took me a few days of hard work, but I think they function properly now. Happy Christmas, Tom."
He seemed a little confused, but then he unwrapped the box and cracked open the lid. He pulled out the two small stones inside, which appeared to be flat rocks from a beach. He seemed awfully confused until Hermione took one of them, pressed her thumb to it, and shut her eyes.
Testing. Testing, one, two, three.
So she's let down her Occlumency shields and is holding a rock. What exactly is the purpose of this -
I can read your exact thoughts when you're holding that stone and I'm holding mine, Tom, Hermione thought at him. We both have to be holding them for it to work, but it's like synthetic, two-way Legilimency.
Suddenly Tom dropped the stone onto the table, looking shocked. Hermione grinned, but he looked alarmed.
"How did you perform this sort of magic?" he demanded. She scowled.
"I thought you'd like them," she said. "They're a… a weapon. They would allow us to have secret conversations, to communicate privately even in public, you know, and -"
"How did you do this?" Tom snarled again. Hermione blinked. She gulped and said,
"I created an Occlumency Charm and a Legilimency Charm and imbued each into the stones. Then used Modified Protean Charms to link them. It took a lot of trial and error, and the stones are Conjured, but I -"
"You are the most brilliant witch I have ever met in my entire life," Tom said softly. He picked up his stone, and Hermione pressed her thumb to hers.
I didn't think you were going to hate them, she thought. I'm sorry you hate your gift.
I absolutely do not hate the stones. I am terrified of how powerful you are, he thought back, his eyes glinting. This is exceptionally difficult magic. I don't think I could have created anything like this.
I'm sure you could have. Hermione rolled her eyes. You're Lord Voldemort; you can do anything.
Except live forever. His face shifted a little, and in his mind she saw a flash of her own memory, of his white corpse crumpled in front of Hogwarts.
Things are different here, Hermione insisted. This is a different existence, Tom, and you can make different choices. I came to change the past. Your Christmas gift is this weapon that I've created for you. Do you like it?
Yes, he thought. I quite like it. Would you like your first gift now?
Yes, please. Hermione smiled a bit and tucked her stone into her pocket. She could tell then that Tom was thinking something at her, but she shook her head and said,
"We both have to be holding them at the same time. They're linked talismans of sorts. I haven't made myself into a Legilimens, I'm afraid."
"Well, perhaps I'm glad for that." Tom narrowed his eyes and tucked his own stone away. He pushed his chair back and walked over to the piano. "Your first gift is also a creation. Something I made for you."
"What is it?" Hermione felt a warm flush come over her as he sat at the piano and murmured,
"It's a dream I had about you."
Her eyes burned then as he put his fingers to the keys and began to play. She realised instantly that he'd written this piece, a dreamy little wisp of chords and climbing arpeggios. His hands moved softly and delicately, so much more carefully than they did in most pieces where he banged on the percussive bass chords and tinkered maniacally with the high notes.
This time, his fingers painted a rainy day. She could see his dream. They were standing together, rain trickling upon their hair as they kissed. He had her face in his hands, and their lips were trembling together. His hands moved sweetly, with exquisite and mild caresses of the keys. Alternately rocking and then sitting tall, Tom seemed absorbed in his creation, until at last his eyes flicked up to Hermione and he played the final three chords of the piece. By then, she had tears streaming down her cheeks, and she found herself whispering,
"You wrote that for me?"
"It wrote itself," he insisted, "in a dream. You invade my every thought, waking and sleeping, and I find I no longer much mind. You are like ink bleeding into my consciousness, Hermione, and I am drowning in you, but I breathe you in and find that I am stronger than ever. I am born anew since you came here."
He rose then and took the three steps to Hermione, threading his arms around her shoulders and lowering his lips to her ear. He whispered to her,
"Your other gift."
He reached into his robes and pulled out something glittering and golden. Hermione gasped as soon as she realised what it was. It was a necklace - a golden chain with a pendant that perfectly matched the ring he'd given her. The pendant was a round ruby with diamonds encircling it, just like the setting on her ring. Tom unclasped the necklace and carefully put it around Hermione's neck. She stared up at him and shook her head.
"I can't keep taking expensive things from you."
"Someday I will buy you everything you could ever want. Someday they'll give it all to me for free, and you'll be beside me, taking it. Because, Hermione, you are… erm…" He bit his lip hard and shut his eyes, shaking his head. "You've come here and you're very intelligent and you're very, very powerful. And you're helping me do things so that I'll be successful. You're helping me win. And you've made me fall in love with you, and I… I have no desire for any of this to stop. Ever."
She panted a little then, pressing her hands to his chest and nodding. He still had his eyes shut, but she studied his face and whispered,
"You know I love you."
He'd said it to her, a great many times, and now it was her turn to say it back. He opened his eyes and asked her pointedly,
"Will you be a real Death Eater for me?"
Hermione froze. Her fingers contracted on the front of Tom's robes. She felt queasy for a moment. In the world she'd left behind, the Death Eaters had been the enemy. She'd fought against them at the Department of Mysteries. They'd raided Bill and Fleur's wedding; they'd terrorised the Quidditch World Cup. It had been a tragedy when Draco had become a Death Eater. They had been the opposing force at the Battle of Hogwarts. And after the war, Hermione had watched as, one by one, they'd been shipped off to Azkaban. The Death Eaters were everything Hermione was not.
But Hermione Granger was here, in 1968, and she'd been sent here by Odysseus Siegel to change the course of history. She'd been sent to alter events. Ron Weasley was gone, perhaps forever. Harry Potter had almost definitely been made Un-Born. And Lord Voldemort's new plan involved finding places in the wizarding world for all, including Beasts, Beings, Muggle-borns, Half-Bloods, and Purebloods. He just wanted to set the wizarding world apart from the Muggle world, and he wanted personal power. She'd made him a weapon as a gift for Christmas. She was in love with him. She was helping him conspire to kill Albus Dumbledore with a plot to use and frame Bellatrix Black.
She was already gone, Hermione thought. The Hermione Granger who had been so haughty against Voldemort in her old life? That Hermione was gone. She'd been replaced by the witch who had traveled through time and had sunken into Darkness. This Hermione, the one wearing jewellery gifted to her by the Dark Lord himself, had fully embraced her murky morality and had become, essentially, her own enemy.
"Yes," she said, raising her eyes to Tom. "I will be your Death Eater."
He took her face in his hands and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently. "Happy Christmas."
She rubbed at his arms and pulled herself nearer to him. "Happy Christmas, My Lord."
Author's Note: Okay. We've gone full on Dark Hermione now. Like she pointed out, she's trying to find the best way to kill Dumbledore (while being possessive of Voldemort - ha!)she's trying to help him be successful, she made him a super useful secret tool as a Christmas gift, and she's completely in love with her old greatest enemy. Oh, and she's now decided to become a Death Eater. No problem, right?
Thank you so much for putting up with my three-day delay. I was away for the weekend and literally didn't have my computer. It was torture. Gah. I'll be back to daily updates now.