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Convinced as Hermione was that Tom had opened the Chamber in a furor over the news of his mother’s pregnancy, she was curious how he would react now. She studied him as they ate their meal together. He was still pretty chilly with Snape, but then, they had never gotten along particularly well. There was no reason that would change immediately. There was nothing in his affect that was disrespectful, though, and no resentment at all toward his mother. |
If we can remove Malfoy and Lestrange, and undo their awful laws, then he won’t lose his inheritance, Hermione thought. He must realize that the present situation is not his mother’s fault, or Lord Severus’s, or especially the twins’. It’s Armand Malfoy’s fault, and why should Lady Merope and Lord Severus sacrifice this form of happiness for the sake of any awful policy of Malfoy’s? |
Late that morning, Tom approached Hermione in the corridor with a heavy book in hand. |
"What’s this?" she asked as he handed it to her. The title was The Dispossessed Children of the Wizard-King, and the writer was Lord Hywel Gant. She recognized that it must be a family history, and that this wizard was almost certainly one of his ancestors who just spelled the name differently, but she wondered what he wanted her to read in it. |
"It tells about the legend of the cave that held the Athame of Morgana," he said. "My own experience in it was... well, as I said, I will tell you about that if you want to know, but the nature of the magic in it was something of a surprise to me even after I read that book." He smiled mirthlessly. "This is some background about it, though." |
Hermione took the book to a parlor, pleased with the interaction. It recalled the times when they had eagerly shared interesting magical knowledge with each other, pleased with what they had just learned and wanting the other person to know about it too. It’s been so long... Hermione thought as she sat down and located the appropriate section in the index. |
As Tom had said last night, the book told of how the daughter of Mordred, apprentice of Morgana le Fay, had fled to a sea cave to hide from her Muggle grandfather’s supporters, allegedly staying in that area and surviving on fish and gathered food until it was safe for her to leave. Curiously, one version of the legend that Lord Hywel related claimed that she had left on the back of a Welsh dragon, which stayed with her throughout the rest of her life, and that was why none of the Muggles dared attack her even after she had returned to society and married a wizard nobleman. That seemed unlikely to Hermione; Tom had never been able to communicate with dragons, and his Parseltongue had come from Salazar Slytherin, not the Gaunt line. Perhaps it was possible, though, for someone to earn the trust of a young dragon and retain that even after the dragon was grown and perfectly able to kill its master. Some part of the legend surrounding the clandestine princess was true; she had placed her grandmother’s athame in the cave for some reason. Based on the location of the sea cave, there could certainly be Welsh dragons in the area. However, Hermione could understand why Tom had not focused on this part of the story. |
She then came to the part of the legend that told of how the finder of the artifact would restore the old line and become the ruler of English wizards. Suddenly it became crystal clear to Hermione why Tom had sought out this artifact—and the meaning of his gift was exactly as she had thought the night before. The athame really did symbolize his dream of ruling, and by giving it to her.... |
Doubts intruded. Did he give me this book so that I would read that passage and think exactly that? she thought. Could he want me to think this, so I would return to him and then he would have everything he wants, including me? A dark cloud suddenly covered all the pleasant thoughts that she had had that morning and the night before. |
He meant the things he said, she thought. Whatever ambitions he may have, he wants to share them with me. He does not want to own me; he does feel remorse for how he treated me. And if he really does respect me, he will listen to me when I tell him that this particular ambition is unrealistic. Besides, he can be lord of English wizards and witches without being the king, so a literal reading of the prophecy—if there was a prophecy—does not preclude that. |
She reached the end of the chapter and turned to the next, but this chapter had nothing further to say of the matter. Hermione closed the book and leaned back in her chair, thinking. |
That evening, Merope held a private Yule celebration for only the family. With Malfoy’s decree that observing the Celtic holidays was an act of high treason and therefore punishable by a horrible death, she no longer included the Muggle villagers in these events. Even Peter Pettigrew was not invited. Hermione did not disapprove of that; based on Harry’s report of Pettigrew’s interference in his family, she strongly distrusted the man’s intentions. |
"Tonight," Merope intoned, holding the ancient family staff high, "we solemnly observe the passing of time and change of the seasons. This is the darkest day of the year," she said, her gaze settling upon Hermione, Tom, and Lord Severus in turn, "but so it has been and must always be. Darkness is not to be feared or loathed. It is simply a moment in the repeating cycle. And as we gather together tonight, let us remember that without knowing darkness, we also cannot know light; without cold, we cannot comprehend what it is to be warm." She took a step forward with a powerful stride and set the Yule log aflame. |
Without cold, we cannot comprehend what it is to be warm, Hermione thought. Their love had been sweet and innocent, but even if they had never had their fights, it would have had to change. A long-lasting frost had nipped their springtime affections, but in some ways that might have made it easier for them to appreciate what they could have now. The comparison for the love that they could now have would be the bitter chill of estrangement rather than those warm youthful affections. There were so many sad ballads about the lost spring of innocent young love, but they seemed to have been written by people who had never known true pain. Indeed, the coming of age itself was the worst pain they seemed to have known—and that seemed laughable to Hermione now. Lord Severus and Lady Merope had experienced "cold" and "darkness," and their love was certainly not one of springtime. Adversity and rejection had given them a deeper understanding and appreciation of their mature love. Although she knew that she and Tom were still very young indeed, she realized that their estrangement—though regrettable and avoidable—could still have some good effects. There was no need to feel that the more mature love she could have with him was inferior to what they had had before. |
She stole a quick glance at Tom, who seemed lost in thought. He was thinking of his mother’s words too, she realized. She was not a Legilimens, but she somehow knew it beyond a doubt. |
I know what I am going to do, she thought as the log blazed away, bathing her in its light and warmth. |
She followed Tom after the observance. He seemed at first to be heading for his bedchamber, but when he saw that she was pattering after him, he changed course and went to the library. Hermione appreciated that; although he must have a suspicion, he did not know what she was going to say, and the implications of the bedroom would weigh heavily on their conversation. He held the library door open for her as she entered and closed it as soon as they were both inside. She took a seat in the same corner that they had had their discussion the night before, her gaze never leaving him as he followed. |
"I have made a decision," she began. "I thought all day about what you said last night, and... I believe you." |
His eyes widened, but he said nothing. |
"I believe that your remorse is real," she continued. "I don’t know what you experienced in that cave, but it must have had a profound effect." She met his eyes with hers and gave him a tentative smile. "I hope you will tell me about it. But I wanted you to know, I believe you, I never stopped loving you either, and I am willing to give you my trust once again." She extended her hand to him. |
He reached a hand across the small table that lay between their chairs and took her hand. She caressed his hand, feeling its warmth and pleasant dryness. |
"You want to keep our engagement, then?" he said quietly. |
She nodded. "I did not declare otherwise because it was what I truly desired. I just did not think that what I desired was possible anymore. You convinced me otherwise." She smiled at him again as he brought her hand to his lips wordlessly, almost as if in benediction. |
"I will never forget this," he vowed, rising from his chair, never releasing her hand. She allowed him to pull her from hers as well. "You will come first for me, always. Even ahead of my mother, as much as I care for her," he said. "I grant it will be close—" He was smirking in spite of the solemnity of the occasion. |
Hermione laughed. "That is as it should be. I’m sure she would agree—and she has Severus now, after all. I understand what you mean when you say that." She closed the distance between them, pressing herself against his body and wrapping her arms around his back. He had grown taller, and he was just able to tilt his head and rest his cheek against her temple. |
"We’re stronger together," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "I will always consult with you before I do something... and I’ll listen to you. I will never again dirty and degrade our affections, either. And I will insist that my—our—family’s allies treat you with the respect you deserve. I should have from the very beginning. I have chosen you to stand next to me and they will respect you as an honored member of this family and a witch." |
"In the end, we chose each other," she murmured. |
She raised her head, remaining in his embrace, and gazed upon his lips longingly for a moment. In the next, she lunged for him, her hands flying from his lower back to the back of his head. He met her halfway, and their lips pressed together in desperate need. The last time they had kissed, it had been in the midst of that ghastly argument. It had been two years since they had shared a truly affectionate, loving kiss like this one. |
He pulled away from the kiss, gazed at her with a deep and intense look, and squeezed her tightly, eliciting a gasp of delight from her. A goofy smile adorning her face, she moved in for a second kiss, this one with their lips open. |
It was so lovely to have his affections once more, she thought. Yes, she knew she could have continued the physical part of their relationship, but it would have curdled and turned sour very quickly. She wished they had not been separated for so long, but since they had, she did not regret that decision. Now, there would be no poisonous memories of intimacies that she had not truly wanted, no obligatory, unwanted kisses tasting of bile—not even the one during the fight. Every moment, every memory of this sort would be of genuine affection and desire. |
"Stay with me tonight," she murmured into his ear. |
He pulled away and regarded her with a startled look on his face. "You mean that, Hermione? And—all that it implies?" |
"I do. We’ve missed so much time already," she said, pressing close against him. "I want to at least try to make it up. Some of it." She gave him a lopsided smile. |
"But my mother... and Snape lives in the castle now. You know he prowls the corridors." |
"I doubt he does anymore, now that he has a wife who is with child." Hermione studied his face as she spoke the words; he did not flinch or wince. Encouraged, she continued. "As for your mother... she knew, Tom. She talked to me once about the potion. It was in the context of early marriage, but I know what she was really asking. She knew." |
Tom reluctantly agreed. "After my... confrontation... with my Muggle father last summer, we had a dispute. She told me then... not explicitly; I forget her exact words, but she heavily implied that she knew. Still, though...." |
"If she meant to put a stop to it, she could have. I don’t think she minds, honestly. And she knows of our troubles too. I think she would be happy, in a way." |
"You have not been taking the potion anymore, have you?" |
She shook her head. "I’ve had no reason to... but it’s unlikely that anything will happen. It’s... the wrong time. And I can make it tomorrow, just to be sure. Besides, we’re getting married in six months. Please," she urged, embracing him. "It’s not even "desire’ so much—well, it is," she blushed, "but more than that, I just want to be close to you again." |
Tom was not truly able to resist in the first place, but after that, his mind was made up. He held her for another moment before releasing her, taking her arm, and walking with her out of the library. They moved down the corridor and into the wing where the family’s private quarters were, ascending the steps and entering the hallway. |
Tom stopped outside his bedchamber, opened the door a crack, and hissed in Parseltongue. For a brief moment, Hermione had a flashback of the open door through which she had seen those eyes, filtered through cloth—but then a small, harmless brown grass snake that she was very familiar with indeed slithered through the door. Smirking, Tom stooped to pick it up. Hermione stifled a laugh. She supposed she could not fault him for wanting to have his familiar with him through the night. After all—she remembered with a swoop of affection—she had been the one to give this snake to him. |
Hermione’s heart began to thump as Tom passed his own bedchamber and walked with her towards hers, their arms still linked together. She opened the door, ushered him inside quickly, and closed it behind her. He held his arm over a table, and the snake uncoiled itself from his wrist and curled into a spiral on the tabletop, resting its head and returning to its cold-weather snooze. Crookshanks was seated on her chair. He eyed the snake with a complete lack of interest. Even though it was small enough to be prey for such a large cat, the intelligent creature knew that this was the familiar of his person’s mate and was not to be harmed. He also recognized the fact that his person was on good terms with the male again and that the services of his claws and teeth would not be needed now. He yawned pointedly and closed his eyes, curling up to sleep once again. |
Hermione pulled Tom gently toward her bed, drawing back the drapes to allow them both room to collapse on the mattress together. They did not waste any time. In the very next second, she had tossed off her outer robe and was at work on his. He pulled her close for another kiss while she detached the clasps. |
In short order, they were both garbed only in underclothes. He gazed at her eager, desirous face briefly before making a decision. In the next moment, he pushed her down upon her pillow and lifted the trailing skirt of her chemise. |
"Tom?" she questioned as he positioned himself between her legs. "What are you—oh!" |
Tom did not know what prompted him to do it. He had always been very reticent about intimacy around his male friends. Even though he had been disrespectful of his private times with Hermione, he had not wanted to discuss the subject in explicit detail with the boys. There was a line that was too far for him even at that time. He had certainly never read anything about... specific methods or approaches... in any books. He was not even sure if such books existed. In every manuscript he had read that mentioned the subject, it was spoken of either in very flowery, poetic, metaphorical terms, or—in the case of the older texts—in words that struck him as outright crudity with no detail provided, least of all about a woman’s pleasure. Whatever it was that was driving him, it was born of a deeply instinctual, primal urge. |
He plunged two of his fingers into her, eliciting a cry and a moan from her. "Do more of that," she urged. |
He was eager to oblige. With a wicked smirk adorning his face, he planted a kiss on her pelvis between her hips, then another one a bit farther down—and down—and down. As she moaned, he trailed kisses down her body until his lips were next to his fingers. Temporarily ignoring his own burgeoning desire for her, he began to slide those back and forth, noting with delight how she stretched and gasped at every motion of his hand. |
He plunged a third finger inside her, noting with pleasure how easy it was—the utter lack of resistance from her—and how this was entirely because of him, their intimacies from before, and her undiminished desire for him tonight. |
"Your mouth," she begged, "please, Tom." |
He placed a kiss upon her heated mound and suddenly had the thought of teasing her with his tongue. It was not something he had heard about from anyone, but it seemed eminently natural right now, precisely the thing to do. He plunged ahead, dipping his tongue into her heat, lapping her up as she stretched and gasped, her hands reaching for his hair as he moved his fingers increasingly rapidly— |
He felt her clench hard around his fingers just as she let out a cry of satisfied desire. In the next moment, she was trembling and shaking, so very close to him. He gripped her legs and placed kisses on the smooth patch of bare skin just above the damp triangle of curls, stroking her thighs and hips all the while as she unwound. |
Finally, her breathing returned to something approximating normal—but he was hungry. The aching desire between his legs needed satisfaction too. He did not want her to fall asleep, as she often had—as both of them often had—after their climaxes before. He could not explain just how he knew, unless it was some sort of magic, but he somehow knew that even though she had just reached satisfaction, she could still do it again. Acting on that instinct, he lifted himself up and propped his body above hers, gazing down at her face with unsatisfied longing. |
She gazed back at him. "More?" she murmured. She wrapped her arms around his upper chest, closing her eyes in bliss as he positioned his tip at her entrance. "Yes. Please—" |
He could not wait any longer. He pushed forward, entering her easily and quickly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threaded her fingers into his hair as he began to move. He filled her to the hilt, provoking a cry from her at the sensation that she had missed—that they had both missed—for so long. |
Although she had just had one climax, she quickly began to gasp and pant as his motions quickened, her desire peaking again from the ease of this so soon after the first time and the sheer blessed relief of finally, finally having him once again and the deep joy of knowing that they were reconciled at last. He picked up his pace as her breaths grew rapid. This was what he wanted, every night, for the rest of his life, he thought. He knew it would not actually happen that way, even after their wedding this coming summer, but he did not allow that thought to intrude at this moment. They were together again, in mind and heart as well as body. |
With that thought, he suddenly went over the edge. He let out a gasp and clutched her waist tightly as he had his release. She clenched around him at the sensation, having her own for the second time that night. Her slender fingers gripped his hair tightly, balling around the black locks, as she cried out. |
Finally, after what felt like forever and yet somehow far too short a time, they collapsed onto the mattress together. He slid off her and curled up next to her, kissing her tenderly on the side of her face. "Good night, love," he murmured. |
She wrapped her arms around his bare body. "Good night," she whispered. |
He hugged her in return, allowing his arms to rest gently on her. Her skin was smooth and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed as she curled closely against him, a smile forming on her face. |
Tom regarded her dark head with overwhelming affection as he held her. Good night, he thought, and may your dreams be as good as this night was. I may not be able to keep you from ever hurting again, but I will do everything I can to make up for the past two years. He placed a soft kiss on top of her head. This, I swear. |
Tom awakened the next morning to the awareness of Hermione’s warm body snuggled next to him. It brought an immediate smile to his face. Two years, he thought with a pang of regret mixed in with the happiness. It has been two years since we woke up like this. Unlike those times, Tom found that he did not feel any urgency to separate in the morning light. If his mother found them like this, then so be it. |
He nudged Hermione awake, watching as she stretched, cat-like. She was clothed only in the loose chemise she had worn under her robes, which was bunched around her waist. She observed the darting of his gaze downward as she threw the covers back and pulled the chemise down to cover herself, smiling wryly at him. |
"Not now?" he asked. |
She shook her head. "Tonight. We have all the time in the world now." |
"That’s true." |
He got out of her bed and picked up the robes that lay on the floor. Mother had mentioned an important discussion the day before yesterday, presumably about the path forward against Malfoy and Lestrange. She would be pleased to know that they were reconciled. Tom had a suspicion that the discussion would occur today, possibly even at breakfast. He left Hermione’s bedchamber and walked the short distance down the hall to his own. |
After he was dressed, he met her again at the top of the stone staircase, where she was waiting for him. She gazed at him, smiling, and embraced him around the neck as he bent down to kiss her. |
They separated and linked arms as they descended the stairs, walking very close together. Tom pushed open the doors to the family dining room, where his mother and Snape were already seated. She gazed at him and Hermione, taking in their physical proximity and body language. A smile of approval appeared on her face, and she nodded subtly at Tom as he sat down with Hermione. |
The elves brought the family breakfast, and they began to eat. Merope apparently had decided to wait until the end of the meal before speaking—if she did mean to start the discussion now. |
A sudden touch on his thigh made him jump. He shot a glare at Hermione, but it lacked any actual anger. She smirked back at him as her fingers drummed over his leg. He huffed under his breath and attempted to ignore her teasing, though it was difficult. Was this some sort of continued punishment, first refusing him in the morning and then this? I will return the favor tonight, he vowed to himself. |
The pressure on his leg lifted at the end of the meal when Merope cleared her throat to gain their attention. |
"As you are all fully aware, we have much to discuss as a family," she began. "A number of things have changed recently and I think it is important for us to come together and share our knowledge and ideas freely." Her gaze darted to Tom and Hermione pointedly, then shifted back to Severus. "First, the fact that I am about a month and a half with child. Of course, this is very early, but the blood law of the Council—or, I should say, Malfoy—is relevant." She met Tom’s eyes with hers. "I wrote to you that you would remain the primary heir of Parselhall. Lord Severus and I have agreed about this. Although I continue to be "Lady Riddle’ due to my ruling position, the twins will bear the name Snape, in recognition of the holding and title for which they are in line. Severus’s family has vassal holdings of its own, including the manor that was his mother’s. The twins will be in the line of succession for the barony after you and your line, Tom." |
"This means that you intend to do something about Malfoy," Tom said excitedly. |
Merope nodded, her face grim but resigned. "We have no choice anymore. Malfoy and Lestrange are out of control, now that Abraxas Malfoy and Arcturus Black are dead. They have decreed that witches and wizards like Hermione have no rights, that wizards can use the Imperius Curse on their wives...." |
"And they have essentially declared war on the magical culture of our homeland," Tom added. "High treason’ to celebrate the old holidays... "petty treason’ to cast spells in Gaelic... Normans can use the Imperius Curse on those without that blood.... They have to go." He gazed at Hermione briefly, then again at his mother. "I am concerned that the Blacks want to replace them." |
"Lord Black, Regulus’s father, seems quite ambitious," Merope agreed. She thought for a moment about telling Tom and Hermione of Regulus’s idea that their future child should marry a child of the Blacks... but no, that would create an instant digression from the topic at hand. It was possible, too, that the Black family would prefer a match with one of the twins, since they would have purer blood than the children of Tom and Hermione. She would mention it at some other time, then. |
"It should be us," Tom argued. "We should lead this. Even if Arcturus Black moderated Malfoy and Lestrange, he also collaborated with them in exchange for a seat on the Council." |
"These things will be decided in due time," Merope said. "First, we just need to talk—to lay everything on this table, in a manner of speaking—" |
"Our "Round Table,’" Tom put in, grinning. |
"I suppose so," Merope agreed. "The point is that we all know the same things. For my part, I can discuss our alliances. We have the families of Flint, Fawley, Avery, Wilkes, Nott, and Greengrass with us—and the majority of the House of Black as well. The only questions are Lord Cygnus and one of his daughters." |
"Lady Narcissa Malfoy," Severus clarified. |
"Bellatrix Lestrange, of course, is against us," Merope continued. "Severus informs me that she and her husband have a strained relationship... and if she really did kill one of her husband’s own vassals for the appalling thing he did to her daughter, it’s possible—unlikely, but possible—that she might abandon that side. However, I do not think she will join our side. The best we can hope for is that she will not fight against us. Still... we are fairly well fixed for allies. Unfortunately, we still lack vassals. Peter Pettigrew is the only one who has returned to my service. The Carrows have completely betrayed us, and Lord Fenrir has abandoned his wizardly heritage and embraced lycanthropy." |
"And I am not convinced that Pettigrew can be entirely trusted," Severus said. |
Hermione decided to speak up. "Nor am I. I heard from my friend at Hogwarts, Harry Potter, that he went to Harry’s father and told him what he had told you, Lady Merope, last summer—and that Harry’s father ordered his mother out of their home as a result of it." |
"What?" Tom said, startled. "What is this?" He had been vaguely aware that Pettigrew had told his mother something bad about Snape, but it had been around the same time that he had first gone to the sea cave, and he had ignored his family for the short period of time that remained in the summer after he had killed his father. Whatever Pettigrew had said, the storm had blown over quickly, given the fact that his mother had wedded Snape in October. He felt a disquieting sense of shame at the realization that he had been too self-absorbed and filled with spite to care. |
"You didn’t know?" Snape said, astonishment in his words as his brow furrowed. |
"If I did, I wouldn’t have asked," Tom said, an edge to his voice. Even after drinking the potion and reconciling with Hermione, he still found Snape to be hard on his nerves. |
"Very well," the older wizard continued in his surprise. He glanced down at the tabletop as he explained. "Pettigrew insinuated that I might be the blood father of Harry Potter because I briefly had a romance with his mother before she was married. She was not engaged to Potter at the time. However, she reconciled with him quickly, so her husband could indeed be the father. There is no way to know for certain." |
Tom stared at him, amazed. He was glad that he had not paid attention. If he had known this, his anger at his mother’s marriage—and jealousy of Potter—would have been even worse. "And Potter’s father ordered his wife out of the house over that?" |
Hermione nodded. "Harry did not want to go home. He did, of course, but he was reluctant." |
"Is that what Potter was talking about the day that... well...." Tom trailed off, not wanting to allude explicitly to the basilisk, but Hermione finished the sentence in her mind and nodded again. |
"So," Merope concluded, "it is fair to say that Pettigrew may be out for himself, to some degree. This makes it that much more critical to gain his full loyalty, of course. If anything would be worse than not having any sworn magical vassals, it would be to have a rogue in the castle. We must balance intelligent caution with considerate overtures." She turned to Hermione. "I was aware that you had a friendship with Harry Potter. Do you have any insight into why Pettigrew might have wanted to divide the Potter family? They were formerly of some prominence in Godric’s Hollow, during the time of Gryffindor. Are they trying to regain their position, perhaps?" |
Hermione was eager to speak on this topic. "I think they must be," she said. "There is a group at Hogwarts that are against Malfoy but are not aligned with the allies of this family. They call themselves the Friends of the Founders, because they represent all the Houses, and their parents also bear that name. The families include the Potters—though I suppose now it’s just Harry’s father—the Longbottoms of Hogsmeade, the Bones family, the Macmillans, and the Weasley family. Oh—and Luna Lovegood’s father is sympathetic to getting rid of Armand Malfoy, though apparently the others do not openly conspire with him." |
"What about High Master Dumbledore?" Merope said. |
"Oh, yes, I think he must be part of it too," Hermione said. "Mayor Longbottom tried to take the oath of fealty to him, but Malfoy voided it. And Sirius Black, who is Harry’s godfather... but Harry thinks he is on his mother’s side now." |
"His brother mentioned that he was courting a witch," Severus said. "Do you know if anything ever came of that?" |
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "Yes—they’re engaged now." |
"Potter disapproved of the courtship," Severus said, a dark smile forming on his face. "Black must indeed have been angered, if he defied his friend this way. Potter was always the leader of their wretched little team." |
"So it may be possible to have Sirius Black and his future wife as allies as well," Merope mused. "Who is she?" |
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