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"Then what started it, Tom? What caused this fight? This happened long before you were tortured." |
The wall went up once more. "I already said that this is none of your concern, Mother." |
Merope finally snapped. "All right, you won’t tell me. So be it, Tom. If you did, then I would try to help, but have it your own way. Since you will not give me any details, all I have to say is this: Whatever the cause, you bear at least part of the blame yourself—and you must know that. At a minimum, you owe her an apology for blaming her for something caused by enemies of this family—and you likely owe her an apology for more than that. Embarrassment at what you know you ought to do isn’t a good enough reason to break the betrothal." |
"You promised me that if I didn’t want it, you wouldn’t make me go through with it," he accused. |
"If, near the wedding date, you have a good reason not to want to marry Hermione, then I won’t make you go through with it," Merope shot back. "But angry pride is not a good reason." |
"You didn’t put any conditions on it when you made the promise," he said petulantly. "You knew that I hadn’t been brought up noble, and you made it for that reason." |
"You have lived as one now. You’ve had three years to get accustomed to the idea, and I know you and Hermione used to be very close. It’s not as if you had never met and were expected to marry in a month! I also know that the only reason you don’t talk to her now is your own pride, not that you actually dislike her." She glared at him. "Do you think that she will remain single? If we jilt her, her parents will want to match her with some Muggle noble she has never even met—does that bother you?" she added, watching Tom’s face curdle. "You should consider what it means if it does." |
"It’s just that no witch should marry a Muggle," he muttered. "Look what came of it with you." |
Merope gazed at him through narrowed, skeptical eyes before continuing relentlessly. "Considering what her age will be, she probably won’t have a long betrothal. She will marry a stranger, and likely an old stranger at that, since most young noblemen would already be pledged by the time they are her age. Probably some childless widower looking to breed...." |
Tom’s face was twisting in revulsion, but that was exactly what Merope had meant to provoke with her crude choice of words. She took a deep breath. "Tom, you’re the last heir of the family. You will have to marry. Hermione cares for you, even now. I’ve seen it. She has an air of sadness about her and I think it’s because she believes you don’t care about her." |
Tom did not reply. Her logic was cold and brutal, but he could not argue with it. It wasn’t fair of his mother to manipulate him like this, he thought. She could present the face of a demure lady, an easy mark. He knew the story—the true story now—of his birth and the days leading to it. When everything had been taken away from her, his mother probably had been depressed, fragile, and vulnerable. But when she was healthy of mind, she was a lot more manipulative than she wanted anyone to think. She was a true Slytherin, like him. |
"I might indulge you if you had a valid reason. But that is not the case, and I will not indulge your misplaced pride. Enough of it, Tom. You have a responsibility to her. If you don’t want her to marry someone else, you have to fulfill the agreement we made—which you consented to, both by your signature and by your behavior with her. Oh yes, I know," she added as he flushed deep pink. "I am sure you were discreet at Hogwarts... but this means you consented to the betrothal, and it’s clear that you see her as "yours’ still, as you hate the idea of her marrying someone else. So," she finished pointedly, "the wedding will go forward, but you’ll both be happier if you patch it up first." |
He finally spoke up. "Mother, you assume a great deal. I have a feeling that soon, there will be bigger concerns for all of us." |
Merope looked grave. "I hope you—we—are both mistaken. But if we’re not, then that is all the more reason to cement ties and gather our family close." |
"Hermione isn’t really family," he said spitefully. |
Merope gave her son a level stare. "So if Malfoy harmed her, you wouldn’t care? Oh, I see," she said as Tom blanched in horror. "You don’t like that idea at all, do you? Well, then." |
With that, she turned on her heels and stalked out, but not before giving Tom a final, pointed stare. |
The first person Merope saw was Hermione. She had been on her way to find Severus, because she had sudden urgent business with him, but Hermione needed to know this too. She approached the younger witch in the corridor of the castle, halting in her tracks as they met. |
"Hermione," Merope said, catching her breath, "Tom has returned." |
Hermione’s face was expressionless, which made Merope’s heart sink. Oh, no—how bad was this estrangement? She wished Tom had opened up to her.... |
"I might as well tell you," Merope continued. "Brace yourself for something shocking, though." |
Hermione’s eyes widened. "What has happened?" she breathed. "Is he all right?" |
"He is," she said bitterly. "His Muggle father isn’t, though." She sighed. "I had concealed from him, for his own good, the fact that his father had abandoned us before he was born, and the right time to tell him the truth never seemed to come. He found out himself, I believe from the friend who left today, and went out to confront his father. It turned into a duel—" |
"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed. She had instantly guessed what had happened next. |
"Yes," Merope confirmed. "My former husband behaved dishonorably, and Tom killed him in the duel." |
"He killed his own father," Hermione repeated in a whisper, almost to herself. She gazed at Merope with wide, wounded eyes, though she was unwilling to say anything negative of Merope’s own son to her face. |
Despair continued to fill Merope’s mind as she realized how much this hurt and disappointed Hermione. "Hermione, please, talk to him—tomorrow, though," she added. "We have all had too long of a day, and it would do more harm than good now. For tonight, take some wine and try to sleep, and please don’t think of him as a murderer," she pleaded, trying to mend the breach between the two. "His father struck me just before I left him... he abandoned his family... he insulted me... and he tried to duel Tom dishonorably. Of course... this is going to change some things about this household and family, I should warn you now. I’ll have more to talk about tomorrow on that topic... and I am not saying that you should try to pretend that it has not happened... but please, talk to him tomorrow." |
Hermione was overwhelmed. Tom had taken a human life, and one who could not truly have defended himself against a wizard... she had known, she supposed, that he was capable of it, but now he had actually done it. Things would never be the same.... |
They haven’t been the same in almost two years, she thought sadly as she headed toward her bedchamber. She would have a house-elf bring her the wine, which she would certainly need. |
She reached her bedroom and entered it, closing the door sharply behind her. Crookshanks was waiting; he jumped on the bed as she flopped down and curled against her side. |
I wish I had waited to send my letter to my mother, she thought, petting Crookshanks. This would have been something I could tell her. Even though Tom is a wizard, she would understand about duels of honor. I wish I had waited. I wonder what she will have to say when she writes back to me. |
Tears formed in the corners of Hermione’s brown eyes, tears of unhappiness and stress. She let them trickle down the sides of her head and fall into the riot of hair that covered much of her pillow. |
The Tom she had loved at age thirteen was gone. The innocence of those early days—and it was innocent, she thought, even after they had consummated—would never return. If they did reconcile emotionally, it would always be darkened by everything that happened since then. And I am sure there is more to come, she thought. |
Based on what Regulus had told them, there was no time to spare. Malfoy and Lestrange already knew that the trap had been set, and evidently Merope had lost one of her allies as well as being made newly vulnerable. When she asked Severus to see her privately, Severus knew what she was going to discuss with him. It had been a day straight from hell, but it still was not yet over, and Severus was not even sure that they could wait till the cold light of day next morning to make their move. |
Merope closed the door behind them once they were in her office, sat down, and gazed across the desk at him. "Severus," she began, "I am sure you know what I have called you here to talk about." |
"I think I do," he said. |
She pulled out a document from one of the cabinets and spread it out. "This is the contract between my family and the Grangers. I can use it as a model, though of course, some details would be different, since we are adults." |
Severus felt a spark of irritation. After the years of unspoken attraction, this was how she was going to do it? By making assumptions and taking him for granted? It would literally be nothing but a business transaction? |
He swallowed his annoyance as best he could. "My lady—" |
"Please, call me by my name when we are alone." |
That request placated him a little bit. "Merope," he said, the address feeling strange, and yet natural, on his tongue. "You do me great honor. As I said before when you hinted at this topic, I will always do my duty to protect your family." |
She stared at him for a moment before her gaze fluttered down to the document. She swallowed. "Yes," she said quietly. "You always have, after all." She looked up at him once more, a forced smile on her face. "I regret to say that I doubt I can bear another child, though." |
"You don’t know that," he urged. "It’s not as if you have attempted to since Tom was born!" It was extremely bold, but she laughed, making his spirits rise a bit more. "But if your guess is right, it’s just as well, considering Malfoy’s blood-purity law for heirs." |
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Severus, do you really think that Armand Malfoy is going to be ruling the witches and wizards of Britain for much longer?" |
He was silent. He had not wanted to acknowledge the ultimate goal behind all of the subversion that he and Merope had engaged in; it was such a dangerous thing, but he could not ignore the fact any longer that Malfoy and Lestrange had to go. |
"After the meeting with Regulus tonight, I rather suspect that Orion Black wants Malfoy’s position," she said. "If so, he’ll have to settle with Lucius Malfoy... but in any case, Armand Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange are not going to last long, I think. And if I’m wrong, then it doesn’t much matter if I am fertile, does it?" she finished darkly. |
"Orion Black doesn’t deserve to be the high lord," Severus snarled. "What has he done? If anything, you should take a leadership mantle against Malfoy." |
"I don’t want to discuss this," she said abruptly. "At least, not tonight. This has been a long and terrible day, Severus." She pushed the contract forward. "We need to settle this as soon as we can. We need more than a verbal agreement to marry. We need a formal, magically sworn contract to thwart Malfoy. To that end, we need to negotiate." She took a deep breath and faced him. "You have always handled accounts for this castle, because you’re so skilled at it. I realize that, because of your faithful service, you have the right to ask for other things too." |
Severus swallowed his bile. Back to the business transaction it was, then. Perhaps it would change, and she would be able to acknowledge her feelings, once she had adjusted to the new reality her destructive son had created for them. "I have no desire to take over your family estate... Merope. I do not care what Malfoy’s law says. We can conduct our private business as we like. You remain the final authority." He sighed and rubbed his dark eyes, then took the contract and placed it in front of him on the table. "Let me make a contract for us based on this document." |
She nodded. "Yes. Having a binding contract is the most important thing." |
The time was past midnight when Merope finally sent an owl to Armand Malfoy notifying him of the magically sworn marriage contract that she and Severus had signed that evening. Hermione was in bed—well, in her bedchamber, at least, Merope thought, sipping another glass of wine. Severus had gone to his old bedroom in the castle as well after finishing the contract. He seemed vaguely put out, which did not make a lot of sense to Merope, unless this was not something he actually wanted but was doing out of duty. She fingered the rim of her glass as she entered the library. She had thought that he had feelings for her.... |
At least we can work together, she thought, crossing the room toward the tall windows to gaze out at the grounds. She remembered what Regulus Black had said of his own marriage. We’ll be friends, at least. And it may be that he is simply overwhelmed by everything tonight. There is still time. I should not make assumptions. |
Comforted, she turned around—and found herself face-to-face with Tom, who was clutching a book to his chest. |
"You just sent a letter to someone," he said. His tone was accusing. |
Her eyebrows narrowed. "I sent a letter to Armand Malfoy, in fact," she said evenly, "notifying him of the contract for a future marriage that Severus and I signed tonight." |
Tom sputtered, almost dropping the book. Merope glanced quickly at the title, which she noticed, with some alarm, was Blood-Rituals of the Morrighan, Goddess of War. He caught her looking and pulled it close to his chest again, gazing out defiantly at her. "You and Snape?" he repeated furiously. |
"You had better start to treat him with more respect," she snapped, "because even though we agreed that I will remain ruler of this castle, he will be your stepfather. I will not hear of any objections from you, Tom Riddle," she added. "You have done quite enough today already." |
Tom glared at her in outrage, huffed, and stormed out of the library, clutching the book of Celtic blood magic as tightly as he could. |
Tom stayed up late into the night, trying hard not to think about his mother’s decision or the appalling argument he’d had with her. He was not about to tell her, but her words about Hermione had troubled him. He did not want to lose her, especially not to some old pervert Muggle who—in his mother’s harsh words—was looking to "breed," and he realized that this very likely would be what her parents did if he and Mother reneged on their contract. Why wouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if they had taken an active interest in her personal welfare. They had hardly seen Hermione since she first started her magical education. Typical Muggle nobles who don’t care much about their daughters, Tom thought with contempt. Of course they would do that to her. |
And yet, he truly did not think that he should scale back his ambitions, the original source of their dispute. His mother was working against Malfoy—that he would grant—but her plans and strategies were all reactive, formulated in response to something Malfoy or Lestrange had done—or that she thought they would do. As far as Tom knew, his mother had no plan for a world without Norman wizards running it. If Armand Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange are killed, and no alternative is already put forward, then Lucius Malfoy will just replace his grandfather, Tom thought. |
Tom did not entirely trust Regulus Black either, who was, after all, a Black, even if he had been passing information to Snape. The Black family had positioned itself very well indeed in the beginning of the Norman occupation, with the head of the family seated on the Wizards’ Council. Now that the Council was dissolved, and Lestrange had manipulated Armand Malfoy into murdering Lord Arcturus, it made perfect sense to Tom that they would want not just revenge, but to replace the Malfoys. Tom did not see that as a positive outcome either. The family had been blood-traitors to their English heritage, with their toadying to the invaders. |
I will not allow my family to be pawns in someone else’s war, he thought. This conflict began because of us, not the Blacks and certainly not the Weasleys, Potters, or Longbottoms. We’re the ones who challenged the status quo; we should lead. But Mother won’t do it, so it is up to me. |
Tom turned to the stack of books that he had accumulated in his bedchamber. The urgency of establishing his own claim was greater than ever. He knew now that he could not simply declare himself to be a descendant of Mordred the Dispossessed and expect any witch or wizard in power to respect that. Even for people who could expect to live for over a century, six hundred years was a long time, and so much had happened since then. The basilisk of Slytherin would be useful in battle, but upon reflection, Tom no longer believed that using the threat of horrible death to support his cause was a good idea. It would sound too much like the things that had created the Gaunts’ bad reputation. He had reread the books about the Gaunts’ version of Arthurian history—at some point, his mother had removed the hexes on all of those books, even though the ones about the family history for the next six hundred years were still hexed—and he thought he knew what he had to do. |
Magical artifacts were incredibly important, he thought, pacing around his room. The sword Excalibur recognized Arthur’s bloodline. The Holy Grail may or may not have been a real artifact, but it was important to them too. Then, too, my people as a whole have long recognized the Thirteen Hallows of Britain.... |
Based on one of the books, The Dispossessed Children of the Wizard-King, the Gaunt family had a connection to some sort of highly significant magical artifact from long ago. The writer—the historian, Tom thought—was Hywel Gant, an eighth-century lord from the family itself, so it seemed highly credible to Tom. The family had several scholars, he reflected. Lord Hywel... and Lady Dunwen Mac Gant from the seventh century, to start with. He thought about what his mother had told him that night. They might indeed have practiced incest, and some of them might indeed have been mad—apparently, his own uncle and grandfather were among those—but others were geniuses. |
It was not clear what the magical object might be, or how old it was, but it seemed to be associated with a sea cave on the southwestern coast. The cave itself was rumored to have magical properties. According to Lord Hywel, the cave was where Princess Ceridwyn, the secret daughter of Mordred, apprentice of her grandmother Lady Morgana, and ancestor of all the Gaunts, had hidden after the disaster of the Battle of Camlann. She had supposedly placed the artifact there. Later, Lord Hywel had written, a legend had sprung up around it, with several variations but the same general theme. |
The legend was that the artifact would reveal itself only to the one who would restore the old line. The details varied: Some versions held that Princess Ceridwyn had been a Seer herself and had prophesied this; others said she had received a prophecy to this effect from someone else who was, perhaps her father or grandmother—or even that her mysterious mother, whose identity was now lost to time, was the Seer. Most tellings, according to Hywel, stated that the discoverer of the object would be the new lord of English wizards. |
If I can get this object, Tom thought, then perhaps that will be proof enough of my right to rule. He thought he knew where the sea cave was, based on that book and an atlas of magical sites. It would be difficult to get it after school started again, and in any case, did he really want to be here right now? Snape had never liked him, he thought grouchily. He was not sure he could stand the smug looks that Snape would have now—and he certainly was not going to admit this to his mother, but he was irritated that the Malfoys had manipulated Wilkes’s father. Best to have something productive to do, a real goal to seek, for the next few days. |
Tom stopped pacing and began to pack for a journey. He would get a little sleep tonight, but he did not intend to be there when Mother woke up in the morning. His serpent familiar, Dunlaith—the very one Hermione had given him, he thought with a pang—curled around his wrist. He decided to allow it. He would not be bringing her with him either; it would not be safe for a small snake to be around sea caves, so he supposed he might as well let his familiar stay near him for now. |
The wind whipped around Tom’s robes as he Apparated. On one side, the brightest stars twinkled in a sea of deep blues, and an array of cliffs tumbled lethally to a rocky coast and crashing waves. On the other side, grassy rolling hills gave way to a red dawn that was taking shape. This was approximately the place, but Tom did not have any guidance from his books about exactly where this sea cave was supposed to be. There could be any number of sea caves in those cliffs. They might even be magically concealed—in fact, the crucial one almost certainly would be. Tom would have to rely on his innate ability to detect traces of magic. |
With a sigh, he turned to face the dark side of the sky and walked to the edge of one of the cliffs. It was a long way to the bottom. Salty white seafoam poured over the rocks as waves crashed. Tom shivered. Whatever else he did, he would certainly have to anchor himself magically to the cliffside as he explored the area. |
"Lord Thomas is not here," the house-elf said to Merope. "He left a letter for your ladyship on his desk." The elf held out a sealed note to Merope. |
Merope exchanged a glance with Severus that was both annoyed and concerned. "Very well," she said, accepting the letter. "I will see what he has to say for himself. I hope he hasn’t done anything else foolish." She opened the note and read it. |
To Mother, Lady Hermione, and Lord Severus. |
I am going to be away for the next two days. Know that I am not going to do anything like the recent incident, and in fact, I don’t expect my travels to take me near people at all. I am researching an important piece of magical history. If I do not return by the third day, a description and map of the place I am going will appear on my writing desk. Mother, do not try to make this map appear early. If you do, it won’t work and may destroy the spell. I want to be alone for this period of time. |
Merope scowled. "I don’t know what he thinks he is going to find, but this appears very much to me as though he’s ashamed of himself and doesn’t want to face us." She handed it to Severus. |
He scanned it quickly. "Perhaps so. Maybe he should have some time alone to think about things, though," he said. "Are you sure you have no idea what he might be looking for?" |
She considered, grimacing as a very unpleasant idea occurred to her. "I’m sure—unless it is the Chamber of Slytherin." |
Severus’s eyes widened. "That is said to be in Hogwarts." |
"I know. And what is said to be inside it... well, I hope that’s not what he is doing." |
"He can’t get into the school when it’s closed," Severus reassured her. "Only the High Master can. If that’s what he’s looking for, he may come back sooner than he thinks." He returned the note to Merope. |
They went into the family dining room, where Hermione was standing and waiting for them. The family owl had already delivered the post, and she was obviously eager to take her seat and open the letter that the creature had dropped at her place setting. Merope smiled indulgently as they entered. |
"Good morning," she said to Hermione, sitting down. Severus and Hermione herself followed. Merope smiled at the house-elf who brought breakfast to them. |
"Are we not going to wait for Tom?" Hermione spoke up. |
Merope sighed. "Tom is not here," she said. |
Startled, Hermione dropped her knife. "Is he all right?" she exclaimed. "Where is he?" |
"I don’t know. He left a note saying that he was going to be away for two days to "research’ something. What I suspect is that he just wants some time to himself. He is a sixteen-year-old boy who has just done something hugely consequential—and I think it must have bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He is very proud, as you know. I think it’s best to grant him this." |
Hermione looked crestfallen for a moment, but then her face hardened. "Very well," she said. "There is something I need to tell you about, though." She looked down at her plate. "Something he has mentioned to me before—something I don’t like at all." |
"Has he mentioned Slytherin’s secret chamber to you?" |
Hermione gaped at Merope for a moment, but in the next moment, she realized that of course Tom’s mother was wise to some of his interests. "He has," she admitted, "and I worry that that’s what this is." |
"If it is, he cannot get into it. The school is closed, and only Albus Dumbledore can unlock the gates. I really think he just wants to get away from all of us for the time being, Hermione," she said reassuringly. "He has a lot to think about, and he knows it. For boys that age, it is often easier to think about uncomfortable truths alone." |
Hermione seemed to accept this, reassured by Merope’s assertion that Tom could not get into Hogwarts. |
Pointedly Severus glanced sideways at Merope. She met his eyes and nodded briefly. "I also need to inform you... Lord Severus and I have decided to marry." |
Hermione gasped, then quickly closed her mouth. "I—am surprised," she managed. "Pleased, of course, but this is so unexpected!" |
"Yes—to all of us, I think," Merope said, glancing wryly at him. He did not return the smile. She wondered at that, then turned back to Hermione. "But it is true. We think we will marry some time in October." |
"Well, congratulations!" Hermione said, smiling. "Does Tom know?" |
"He does. I saw him in the library late and told him." |
Suddenly Hermione found it a lot more believable that Tom really did just want to get away from the castle for a little bit. That news could not have gone over well with him, but if her sudden suspicion was right, Lady Merope and Lord Severus had decided to do this as a direct result of Tom’s killing of his father. Probably there was some sort of vile scheme that Armand Malfoy had in mind, a forced marriage to someone loyal to him, and this was a way to thwart it. It was a good thing that Lady Merope and Lord Severus liked each other, Hermione thought. |
She glanced at the letter next to her plate, which bore her mother’s name and the Granger family seal, as she quickly ate her breakfast. |
Merope seemed to understand what was going through her head. "You are excused, my dear," she said. "Of course you want to read your mother’s letter. Severus and I have to discuss some things anyway." |
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