Disclaimer: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman, in possession of the rights to Harry Potter, must be in want of pretty much nothing because that's the best thing that you could ask for. I am, sadly, not that woman.
A/N: While I was writing this chapter, I listened to New Blood by Zayde Wolf and Dangerous Game by Klergy. Both are fantastic!
o-0-o
Hermione was distracted for the rest of the week, unable to get her mind off of Tom's "study group". She worried about joining. She worried about getting branded with the Dark Mark (dear Merlin). She worried about what the other Death Eaters would think if a Muggleborn joined.
Mostly, though, she worried about Tom's influence over her.
Since she had met him, she had become Lady Persephone, devised a plan to take down the Ministry of Magic, become branded with a soul bond that connected her to him, something the Ministry had classified as Dark magic, and was now about to join the Death Eaters. She knew she had changed, but how much would she change even before they graduated?
She would not let him get into her head.
I'm about to become an official Death Eater.
She hadn't realized that she'd sent it through the soul bond until she heard Tom's amused response. How long have you been repeating that to yourself?
A while, she responded wryly.
You should put it out of your mind. We have Potions in a few minutes, and you need to impress Slughorn.
Why?
Because today, he hands out the invitations to his Slug Club.
Oh. And you want me to join?
It's imperative that you join. It will be an excellent way to impress the others.
Because I'm going to be a Death Eater. I'm actually joining the Death Eaters. Merlin's beard.
No, he responded patiently, you're simply masquerading as a Death Eater to earn their trust.
But I'll have to be branded, won't I?
Yes. But it won't be worse than the soul bond.
Don't I have to kill an innocent in order to get the Dark Mark?
There was a pause. Where in Salazar's name did you hear that?
Harry.
She could feel him scoff. Of course the Chosen One would say that. No, Hermione, you don't have to kill an innocent.
But –
I expect that I required that later on, when I became insane and... unsightly.
Hermione giggled. Unsightly was a word for it. Gray skin, no hair whatsoever, red eyes, and slits for nostrils. Unsightly was rather understating it. You won't make any more Horcruxes, right? How many do you have at the moment?
He paused. Just the one. I plan on making more.
She swallowed. How many more?
Five. Six Horcruxes total. Seven is the most powerfully magical number, so if I create six Horcruxes, my – my soul will be in seven pieces.
Merlin's pants, Tom. That's really dark.
She could feel his smile through the soul bond. I want to live forever.
But, she responded, desperate, you saw in my memories that it didn't work. You ended up only living half as long as the normal wizard. You achieved exactly the opposite of what you originally intended.
Which is why, this time around, we will do things different. A quiet rise to power, rather than a full-scale war. I won't put score by that foolish prophecy – I have always considered Divination complete nonsense, anyway; I don't know why my future self considered it so important – and I'll keep more of a rein on the Death Eaters. We'll establish a new world order in place of the Ministry.
Tom, if you make more Horcruxes, you'll lose your humanity. You'll still turn out like you did in the future. No one will want to follow someone who looks like a snake.
I'm sure you can figure out a spell to counteract it, he replied dismissively, and as worried as she was, Hermione felt euphoric at his praise and confidence in her abilities, in her.
I'm sure I would cry myself to sleep at night if you lost your charming good looks, she responded sarcastically, and she felt his laugh through the soul bond.
That's why I know you can come up with it, he teased. The stakes are high.
Hermione grinned to herself as she made her way down to Potions. It was so easy to forget that he wasn't a normal student, just like everyone else.
o-0-o
She caught his eye as she entered the Potions classroom and moved over to sit next to him, ignoring her usual spot at the next table over. Slughorn didn't seem to mind too much, and apart from Tom's surprised look which he quickly smoothed over, she knew he wouldn't either.
Wonder what we're doing today?
Amortentia, by the looks of it.
Love potion? she asked scornfully. I mean, it's incredibly complex, but hardly necessary. She grinned. Although, it might be interesting to find out what you smell, as you can't feel love.
I can feel love, he argued, his lips quirking up. I just hate people.
She laughed, then struggled to hide it as Abraxas shot her a questioning look.
"All right class, settle down, settle down," Slughorn called from the front. "Now, can anyone tell me what this is?" He indicated to the cauldron up front.
Hermione's hand shot up, and she saw Tom smirk a little. Good. Make him like you.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Slughorn asked, looking pleased.
"It's Amortentia, sir," Hermione replied.
"Which is?"
"The most powerful love potion in the world."
"Very good, and how did you know?"
"Its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and the steam rising from it in characteristic spirals. It's rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example," she said, walking over to it and inhaling the comforting scents, "I smell... freshly mowed grass, and parchment, and –"
She blushed fiercely and returned to her seat.
"Wonderful, Miss Granger, wonderful! Take five points to Slytherin!"
Excellent, Hermione. His smile turned slightly mischievous, a look she would never have thought she'd see on his face. May I ask what the third thing you smelled was?
Nope. Sorry.
He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking slightly, and turned back to pay attention to Slughorn's lesson.
Hermione couldn't concentrate. She took notes dutifully, marking ingredients in her copy of Advanced Potion Making, but her mind kept returning to the Amortentia at the front of the classroom.
Pipe smoke, she thought miserably. I smelled pipe smoke, and his cologne. Merlin's beard, I'm in trouble.
"Now that you all know its effects, as well as how to make it, divide up into pairs and start brewing. You have until the end of class! Remember, it's disastrous should you get it wrong."
"I can get the ingredients for both of us. It'll save us a trip," she told him.
He nodded, and she set to gathering the ingredients from the storage at the front of the classroom. Standard potioning water, ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint (both the flower heads and the leaves, remember), powdered moonstone, two knives, two mortars and pestles. I think that's everything.
She tried unsuccessfully to clear the intoxicating scent of the Amortentia from her mind.
After they'd divided up the ingredients, she poured twenty four fluid ounces of the potioning water into her cauldron and stocked a low flame underneath it. As she bruised six peppermint flower heads with the mortar and pestle, she tried to ignore Tom's presence next to her, albeit unsuccessfully. Stupid. It's just because he appreciates you, that's all. You can't forget that he's Voldemort, Hermione. You can't afford to forget. Stupid, stupid.
She sprinkled the flower heads into the water, dropped twelve whole peppermint leaves into it as well, then three tablespoonfuls of the powdered moonstone, one tablespoon at a time, stirring anti-clockwise three times between each spoonful. While the potion was still moving, she sprinkled the rose thorns in as well, and the potion turned a shimmering pink. Perfect.
She stirred seven times anti-clockwise, then placed the ashwinder eggs one at a time and stirred.
"Ten minutes," Slughorn bellowed from the front. "Your potion should now be almost done. Remember, you are partnered for a reason."
Of course. She had wondered about that part; this made much more sense. As steam began to rise, she took her knife. "Tom, can you...?"
He took the knife, made a tiny cut on his finger, and let a drop of blood fall into her cauldron. It shimmered, and then the light pink color changed to a mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rose from it in spirals. She inhaled its wonderful scent before she'd realized what she was doing.
"Brilliant," she grinned. "Are you ready for yours?"
He gave a short nod, and she used the knife to make a small cut on her finger as well. His potion changed to mother-of-pearl as well.
"Professor," Hermione called.
"You're finished already?" Slughorn looked impressed and hurried over to inspect their cauldrons. "Why, they're perfect! Take ten points, both of you."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione beamed.
"And," he added, leaning in conspiratorially, "I hope to see you at my dinner party tomorrow night, Miss Granger."
Excellent work, Hermione.
"I'd consider it an honor, sir," she said truthfully.
"Wonderful, wonderful!"
As he walked away to inspect others' cauldrons, she turned to Tom. "Why didn't he acknowledge you?"
"I was invited last year," he said.
Hermione nodded in understanding and turned back to her cauldron. She gazed at the spirals of steam rising from her potion and tried not to smell pipe smoke.
o-0-o
"You mean you got an invitation?" Oraia squealed. "That's wonderful, Hermione!"
Hermione smiled. "I don't really know what to expect."
"They're rather boring, honestly," Abraxas said from where he was lounging with casual elegance over the arm of a chair. "But they're extremely exclusive, and excellent for moving up the social ladder quickly."
She frowned. "You mean he has good contacts?"
"Excellent contacts," Lucretia said. She leaned in closer, her dark eyes sparkling. "Rumor has it, he's friends with the Minister of Magic himself."
Rufus frowned. "I dunno about that, but he has contacts all over the place. The Daily Prophet, the Ministry – blimey, even Quidditch!"
"Anyone who aspires to be anyone strives to be in the Slug Club," Cecily said, picking at her nails.
"Is it just a dinner party?" Hermione asked. She knew all of this, of course, but it was interesting to see what people thought of the Slug Club at its height.
"There's a Christmas party as well," Lucretia smiled. "Excellent for dressing up, and sometimes he brings distinguished people as guests."
"Really," Hermione said, her eyebrows rising. She nodded slowly. "Can I just go in my uniform?"
Dorian shrugged from where he was sitting, one arm around Oraia. "I mean, sure. Most people do."
"I think it's pretty fun, actually," Abaris said. "Free food."
Hermione laughed. "I'll look forward to it."
o-0-o
Hermione stayed up late that night studying, once again alone in the common room, and she had just finished Professor Merrythought's essay when she heard Tom's voice through the soul bond.
Are you ready?
For what?
Our first lesson. Meet me in the Room of Requirement.
Excellent, she thought. This will give me some leverage at the Slug Club meeting tomorrow.
She packed up her things neatly into her book bag and, after concealing it behind a statue of Slytherin, she made her way to the seventh floor. Standing at the stretch of blank wall next to the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, she thought, I need a place to meet with Tom. Somewhere we won't be detected.
The doors revealed themselves and she stepped through to find herself in a rather large room. There was an area over to the back for dueling, with practice targets and cushions, the walls were covered by bookshelves filled with books of all kinds, including, she noticed with a slight twist in her stomach, books on the Dark Arts, and there was a large fireplace and two comfortable-looking armchairs.
It was perfect.
Aside from the Dark Arts books, of course. Nothing could induce her to open one of those.
Tom walked in a moment later and cast an appraising eye around the room. They both sat in an armchair, and Hermione soaked in the warmth that the fire provided. They had already had their first snow, and the castle was extremely drafty.
He smiled as he leaned back casually. "You do remember what I told you in the Chamber, right?"
"Talk less, smile more. Which is more important than I think, I'm sure."
He nodded. "If you want to learn anything from a conversation, it's important that you're not always rushing in to prove your point. Listen. Soak in what everyone else is saying, as well as what they're not saying."
Hermione nodded slowly. "That makes sense. 'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than speak out and remove all doubt.'"
Tom smiled. "Precisely. Staying silent and letting everyone else talk will allow you to piece information together, sometimes vital information. When you do need to talk, ask questions in order to gain more information from the speakers." He thought for a moment. "Think of it this way. When you speak, you are repeating information you already know, but when you listen, you gain information you don't know."
"Okay," she said slowly. "So..."
Tom gave her a half-smile. "Practice at the dinner party tomorrow. Charm Slughorn. Say only what is necessary, and I guarantee that you will gain respect."
Hermione tilted her head and leaned back in the chair. "I can do that. This will also help me as Lady Persephone, right?"
He nodded slightly. Hermione thought for a moment. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to wheedle out of him? Slughorn, I mean."
Tom's dark eyes glinted slightly in the light of the fire. "Ask him what he thinks about wizarding discrimination. Not in that way, of course, but see what he thinks about the opportunities for purebloods versus the ones for half-bloods and Mud – Muggleborns."
She smiled slowly. "Consider it done."
o-0-o
Hermione took a deep breath, smoothing out her hair and straightening her Slytherin tie, before entering Slughorn's office. She found Tom, Abaris, Rufus, Dorian, Oraia, Cecily, and Lucretia all sitting around a large circular table, as well as many other faces she didn't know. Slughorn sat at the head, and he beamed when he saw her.
"Welcome, Miss Granger, come in, come in!"
Hermione took an empty seat between Tom and a boy with bright red hair that she didn't know, but suspected was a Weasley. Slughorn waved his hand and a plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding materialized in front of her. Her stomach growled impatiently, and seeing that everyone was already half-way done with theirs, she dug in hungrily.
It was absolutely delicious, and she enjoyed every minute of it.
"Miss Granger?"
She looked up to see everyone staring at her impatiently. "I'm sorry?"
He asked you what your blood status is, Tom told her, sounding amused. Say pureblood.
"I'm a pureblood, sir." Several heads nodded approvingly. If her friends were surprised by her lie, they didn't show it.
"Fascinating. Are you, by any chance, related to potioneer Hector Dagworth-Granger?"
"I am, sir," she replied truthfully. She had researched her ancestry extensively and found that she was indeed related to him, albeit distantly.
"Well, that explains it!" Slughorn said genially. "I haven't seen potions as perfect as yours in all my time at Hogwarts, except for Tom here!"
Hermione smiled. "All thanks to your teaching. How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts, sir?"
"Thirteen years," he beamed. "Been teaching here since 1931."
Hermione nodded, and as Slughorn turned his attention to Rufus, she felt the familiar pull of the soul bond.
That was very well done.
Thanks, she beamed. I'm sure you're better.
Don't be humble; it doesn't suit you. And I have just had more practice. For your first time, that was very well done.
She smiled and caught his approving eye.
The roast suddenly disappeared, to be replaced with a large bowl of ice cream. She'd attacked the roast with a vengeance, so there thankfully hadn't been much food left on her plate, and she ate the ice cream slowly, savoring it. She smiled. Strawberry. That had always been her favorite. She even used the scent in her shampoo.
"What do your parents do, Miss Granger?"
Perfect. Think, Hermione, think. "My mother is a Herbologist, and my father works for the Ministry."
"It seems everyone works for the Ministry nowadays. One either works for the Ministry, or he teaches at Hogwarts. Of course, there are other alternatives, but those seem to be the most prevalent," Slughorn sighed.
"What do you think about the job opportunities, sir?" Hermione asked carefully.
"Pitiful, pitiful," he said, shaking his head. "Especially for Muggleborns. Why, they can hardly get jobs at all!"
Good, now introduce the idea slowly.
"Do you suppose, sir, that this is a good thing?"
Slughorn looked surprised. "A good thing? Heavens, no! They may not be as powerful, but they're still a part of our society."
We can work with this, Tom said through the soul bond. He might be a useful ally, with the many contacts that he has.
Yes, she replied, as long as someone doesn't mess it up –
"Why should Mudbloods deserve to get jobs?" Macnair spat. "They're filth."
Hermione bristled, and Tom laid a cautionary hand on her arm.
"I will not have that word used in my office, my boy," Slughorn said gruffly. "And secondly, as I said, Muggleborns make up a large part of our wizarding society, and deserve to be treated as such. You mustn't think I'm prejudiced."
"What jobs would you have Muggleborns take, sir?" Tom asked.
Slughorn looked relieved at Tom's question. "They'd make good teachers, I believe. Hogwarts has always been a bit discriminatory in that regard, always hiring purebloods. I think half-bloods and Muggleborns would make excellent professors."
There were mixed reactions around the table, with some reacting strongly and others nodding approvingly.
Slughorn looked at his watch and let out a yelp of surprise. "Merlin's beard, you all need to be leaving. I wouldn't want you all to be out after curfew."
There was a scraping of chairs as everyone got up to leave. She turned toward Tom to say something, and his eyebrows rose slightly.
"You have a bit of – " he began.
"Of what?" she frowned.
He smirked slightly. "Here." He tilted up her chin and brushed at her bottom lip with his thumb, and she inhaled sharply. After he took his hand away, she saw a little strawberry ice cream on his thumb before he rubbed it off with a clean napkin on the table.
"Thanks," she said, swallowing.
"No problem," Tom said, looking amused.
"Was that there the entire time?" Her cheeks reddened.
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and she whirled around to see Slughorn, carrying a box of crystallized pineapple. "It's nearly curfew, Tom, Miss Granger. I suggest you hurry back to your dormitories."
"Yes sir," Hermione said, blushing even more.
Great. So she'd had ice cream on her lip, and now Slughorn had seen the entire exchange between her and Tom.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
"We'll be on our way, Professor," Tom said, and he escorted her out the door. They stood in front of Slughorn's office for a moment, Hermione feeling rather awkward and having no idea what Tom was thinking.
"Well, good night, then," she said uncertainly. He nodded. They stared at each other for a moment longer, then he brushed past her to go to the Head Boy dormitory, his scent lingering before fading entirely. She gazed after him, then turned and went in the opposite direction.
As Hermione descended the stairs to the dungeons, she mused over the Slug Club meeting. It had all gone rather well, but she would have preferred Macnair to have not made that horrible comment about Muggleborns. She had been successful in seeing Slughorn's stance on blood prejudice, and the food had all been rather delicious. She thought about how she and Tom would take over the Ministry. She thought about how she would become Lady Persephone.
Mostly she thought about pipe smoke and cologne.
o-0-o
A/N: I have a playlist on Spotify for dark Tomione. Here's the URL: open.spotify.com/playlist/2aIl1RWCY0PFHcxwGbkpbA
Hope you enjoy :)
Thanks for reading, and don't forget to comment!
~ DarkLadySwan