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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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Hermione nestled close to him, satisfied with his reasoning. "That is true. Obviously, this family—your mother"—she glanced respectfully at Merope—"has earned the respect of magical noble peers who are capable of being reasonable. It’s unfortunate that that does not include the two families who control everything."
"It will someday soon." He squeezed her hand and gazed at her meaningfully.
Merope gazed serenely at them. "Lord Regulus bestows quite an honor," she said. "I admit I am concerned about the fact that his brother does not know of his plans, though. If his brother is getting married, he will have a household of his own and may have the means of refusing his family’s demands."
"I actually have my doubts about that," said Severus. A malicious light gleamed in his black eyes. "Black has lived with his friend Potter for years, living off Potter’s charity, eating his food, taking up space in their home. It’s because he grew up as a noble and never bothered to excel in any kind of magic that could be used for practical ends, just showy things. He has not the skills to earn his own money. He is just the typical sort of useless spoiled noble who never bothered with such things." Contempt dripped from his words.
"But his bride-to-be—she was not a noble, and I’m told that she has a child."
"That is true," Severus said, "but she was widowed only a year ago, apparently. She certainly did not waste any time."
"If you are implying that she is marrying him only for security, why would she take on a man who was "useless,’ another mouth to feed?" Merope challenged.
Tom leaned back in his seat, enjoying his mother and stepfather's debate. A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Perhaps... it is not just for security," Severus grudgingly admitted. "There may be real affection in the case. In fact... there must be, since Black could have just stayed with Potter. He started to court this witch long before he fell out with Potter. Yes, it must be that. In any case, I do not believe that he is in much of a position to refuse Regulus and their parents. Will he storm and rage? Probably. I know the man. But he’ll do it, in the end." He scowled at Tom and Hermione. "Much joy may you have of the connection. Better your child than mine."
"Severus," Merope scolded.
He looked ashamed for a moment. "I... apologize," he grated. "Perhaps Black would be less hostile to you, Tom, because of the friendship with his godson. For your future family’s sake, I hope so."
Tom did not reply. He merely squeezed Hermione’s hand again.
Pettigrew did not show his face until well after sunset. The four members of the family were in the library when the house-elf Fionn entered the room and gingerly, almost apologetically, explained to her mistress what had just happened.
"He says that he knows Mistress will want to speak to him," the elf said. "Fionn told him to wait in the great hall."
Snape rose from his chair, reaching for his wand, his face stormy. "She is not the only one who will want to speak to him," he growled.
Merope put a hand on his forearm and gave him a pointed look. "I will let you question him if he does not explain himself to me."
Tom and Hermione peeked around the corner of the nearest bookcases. "We should be there," he said.
Merope nodded. Stepping forward, she led the way as the rest of her family followed behind her. When they reached the great hall, Peter Pettigrew—who was guarded by another house-elf and looked visibly nervous—paled slightly at the sight of the entire family’s approach.
"Pettigrew," Merope said, holding her wand authoritatively but not—yet—threateningly. "You know already that you need to account for your absence today."
"Yes, my lady," he said, looking at the hem of her robes.
"Well, then?" she said. "I insist upon knowing where you have been today, whom—if anyone—you spoke with, and why." She stared evenly at him. "And look us in the face. If we are not satisfied with your answers, I will authorize Lord Severus to give you truth serum."
Pettigrew’s eyes widened at that as he looked her in the eye. "Of course, my lady... just wanted to show respect by keeping my gaze low...."
"That is duly noted, but you are a sworn vassal of mine and I am questioning you. It is important that you look us in the eye while you answer our questions." She quickly gave Tom a meaningful look. An expression of surprise came over his handsome face, but he understood at once what she wanted him to do. So did Hermione.
"Where have you been all day, Pettigrew?" Merope asked again.
He almost averted his gaze again, but he managed to stop himself. Tom’s dark-eyed glare was fixed upon the twitchy, almost ratlike face. "I was not in the castle, but I did not leave the grounds of Hangleton," he said. "I took my rat form."
Tom gave his mother a quick, almost imperceptible nod.
"And why did you do this?" Merope pressed.
He wrung his hands. "I had a personal letter—from Amycus Carrow."
That startled everyone. Somewhat emboldened by the reaction, Pettigrew continued with more courage in his words. "I still have it, if you want to see it. He threatened us. He thinks he can still come into this fief and even enter the castle."
"He cannot enter the castle," Merope said. "I have made certain of that. There is some magical protection along the borders of this fief, but naturally it has to be weaker to allow communication, travel, and trade. But if our enemies are now starting to threaten the town, I will have to put up more wards."
"So, my lady, I was in the village as a rat to try to find out if Carrow had any accomplices among the Muggles."
Tom studied him for a moment before nodding at his mother.
"You should have presented your idea to me," Merope said. "I would have authorized it. Why didn’t you?"
"I didn’t want to worry your ladyship."
Tom raised his eyebrows skeptically at that. Merope noticed, and in a much sharper voice, she replied, "I do not believe that, Pettigrew. You know your duty is to "worry me’ with important intelligence if you receive any. Why did you not tell me what you were going to do?"
Pettigrew mumbled something in which the only discernible word was "Carrow."
He looked up, his ratlike face pained and anxious. "Carrow threatened me personally," he whined. "I did spy on the Muggles, but Carrow wanted me to find out if any of them were disgruntled with your ladyship... in order to recruit them."
Tom was visibly surprised, but he could tell that the assertion was true.
"And why," Severus said roughly, his long black sleeves riding up his arms as he pointed his wand, "did Carrow think that you might do such a thing?"
"I don’t know," he whined.
"I think you do. I think you have passed information to Carrow’s fine "friends’ before." He glared at Pettigrew. "You did tell Malfoy that I poisoned Morfin Gaunt, didn’t you?"
Tom’s eyebrows narrowed. "Yes, you did," he cut in.
Pettigrew shrank back, eyes wide open. "You—you’re a—"
"A Legilimens, yes," Tom supplied, his words hard. "And that means that you had better tell the truth."
"Why did you do it, Pettigrew?" Merope asked. Her voice was cold. "I am... prepared... to forgive you for lying to us, but you must explain why you have done any work for Malfoy and his allies, and never do it again, and in the future, inform me of your intentions in advance. We can protect you, but you have to provide a good reason for us to do it."
Pettigrew’s face was desperate. "Carrow found me," he said. "He had already sworn himself to Lord Lestrange, and he threatened me with his high lord unless I told him something "useful.’ That was the most "useful’ thing I knew."
"Does Carrow know that you are an Animagus?"
"I don’t think so."
Severus glared harshly at him. "Why are you so afraid of Carrow? What does he know about you, Pettigrew?"
"I think he knows that... I was at Godric’s Hollow," he said, unwilling to meet Snape’s eyes as he referred to that town. The name had such potency, such significance, for everyone present now. "He has never said it openly, but I think he knows it."
That was a stumper for everyone. Blackmail could indeed explain why the wizard would have been bullied into telling Malfoy something compromising, especially since the blackmail had occurred at a time when Pettigrew was unprotected. And yet... Tom still felt some disquiet, as if something big and important was still unexplained. He did not find anything in the man’s surface thoughts that revealed it as a lie, though. I wish I could do deeper Legilimency, he thought with a pang. This is very important.
Finally Merope spoke. "As I said, Pettigrew, we have the ability to protect you. Severus was at Godric’s Hollow too, as you well know, and he is safe—because he has proven himself loyal and worthy of my trust. If you receive any further communications from Carrow—or anyone allied with him—you must tell me or Severus as soon as possible."
He nodded contritely.
"One final question. Did you find any villagers who either were or might be willing to become accomplices with Lestrange?"
"No, your ladyship."
Tom gave his mother a final nod, no longer bothering to be discreet.
"I have changed my mind about one thing," Merope said after Pettigrew had been escorted out of the castle to his own family manor house. "It has to do with your idea about your Muggle half-sibling, Tom."
Tom glanced up curiously at her.
"I am not going to invite them to live in Hangleton if there is any discontent or reluctance on Lady Cecilia’s part," she said. "If they are in need of support, I will send gold to them. After this discussion, I will not run the risk of having a disgruntled Muggle villager within the fief, especially an important one, the widow of a knight with a child who is related to my heir. I will permit them to live here only if she is completely satisfied and holds no resentment over her husband’s death."
Tom gazed at his mother in utter shock, astonished at the hardness of her words.
She looked back at him sadly. "In times like these, compassion to outsiders must be tempered with sense and caution, Tom," she said.
He nodded. "I understand."
"We should trust each other, though," she said pointedly, looking at Hermione and then Tom.
He took the point and wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist, pulling her close.
Late that night in bed, Severus and Merope continued to discuss what had happened.
"He has given no reason for us to trust him," Severus said. "Personally, I think a stay in the dungeons is what he deserves at this point."
Merope sighed. "That may be, but it would be entirely counterproductive to building that trust. I think his problem is that he is fundamentally not a brave man."
"Cowardice is a problem indeed."
"He has had his trust betrayed repeatedly," she mused. "My father and brother did it in the vilest of ways... Carrow, his fellow vassal at one point, became a traitor and then blackmailed him... presumably, his friends Potter and Black no longer associate with him.... Severus, I think that we have two choices before us. We can either lock him up—with the assumption that it must be for the rest of his life, or at a minimum, until the end of the coming war—or we can attempt to show him that he can trust someone at last. I prefer the latter."
Severus gazed ahead into the darkness. "You did not seem that eager to give the Muggle Riddles a chance. Do you think that you’re giving him the benefit of a doubt because he can do magic?"
Merope was startled at that, but she seriously considered it. "You may be right," she admitted. "I will ask Lady Cecilia if she wants to live here, but I will not pressure her if she does not. Someone of her stature would be a leader to the Muggles and could probably convince them readily to turn against Tom as a kinslayer if she resents being widowed. As for Pettigrew... he will have one more chance. If he disobeys me, goes missing of his own accord, or does something else behind my back, he will have a stay in the dungeons."
The following day, Tom and Hermione had to return to Hogwarts. As Tom gazed at Hermione, he felt a rush of affection. This was the first time in two years that he was making this journey with her truly by his side. They could Apparate separately now, but when he turned to her with a hand extended, she understood at once. Smiling at him, she took his hand.
They appeared in the Hogwarts courtyard out of breath and dizzy, as was typical, and instinctively clutched each other around the waist for mutual support. Although Hermione was once again very familiar with his touch, and in far more intimate circumstances than this, it still made her heart beat faster. She took a step forward and pressed herself against him, feeling his arms around her at once.
It was very cold, so they did not remain in the outdoor courtyard for too long. They separated and walked into the castle, hand-in-hand, completely unconcerned about what anyone might think of it. They continued to hold hands as they walked down to the dungeon level and into the Slytherin common room.
Tom’s male friends were already there. When the young couple entered the common room, their heads all turned, but no one dared comment. Hermione felt a spark of defiance as she passed by the boys, holding Tom’s hand possessively. Let them look! They had no right to interfere. They never had.
Keeping her hand firmly linked with his, Tom walked over to the window and gazed out into the dark water of the lake. His black eyebrows narrowed and his mouth curled asymmetrically as he gazed out. His pensive expression was, in that moment, so appealing to Hermione that she could not stop herself. She turned to him and leaned upward, cupping his cheek with one hand. His eyes widened, but he did not try to stop her as she lunged for his lips. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and deepened the kiss that she had begun.
Her eyes fluttered closed as they stood by the window, wrapped tightly together. The fingers of one of his hands tangled in her hair, caressing her in the sensitive spot behind her ear. She pressed herself against him below the waist as well, making his eyes fly open in surprise at her boldness. In that moment, she bit his lip. He had liked that very much the time that they had had that angry, heated kiss. He liked it even more now, she thought smugly as he returned the bite. It hurt slightly, but somehow the pain was not actually painful. Instead, they were marking each other as theirs.
At last, they broke the kiss and relaxed their grip on each other, though they stayed in the embrace. She smirked at him, meeting his gaze with her own.
The boys were staring in various states of surprise, greed—Tom noted this on Avery’s face and resolved to have a word with him about it—or disapproval. Fawley visibly frowned.
Tom noticed as well and glared back defiantly at him. "Is there a problem, Edgar?"
Fawley shook his head quickly—too quickly.
Tom looked around the common room. No one else was present. Nevertheless keeping his voice low but menacing, he drew closer to the circle of five boys, his hand firmly around Hermione’s waist. "I need to make one point very clear to everyone," he said. He gazed at Hermione, then back at them. "If any of you have been hoping that Lady Hermione and I would not actually wed, or that if we did, it would be a loveless marriage, disabuse yourself of that idea now. We will, and furthermore, it is because we both want to." He glared at them. "Some of you have implied in the past that you think I should break my vows to her. Theodore, I recall that you in particular said this two years ago."
Nott glanced down uncomfortably.
"I have already said that I think it’s despicable. Better to abjure a vow entirely than do that. You would not have dared to suggest it were I betrothed to any other witch. Our enemies may treat their wives as dirt under their feet, but I won’t have it among my own allies. Regard for witches, like our ancestors, is one thing that must set us apart. You will treat her with the respect she is due. Your parents have made formal, magically binding alliances with my mother, knowing perfectly well that Hermione will be part of the family. You had better follow their lead. We will marry, and we will continue to be faithful to each other, and anyone who objects to this is no better than the ones we seek to defeat. Do I make myself clear?"
The five boys nodded.
Tom glanced harshly at Avery. "Cormac," he said to the boy, "another thing I won’t tolerate is that slimy look that you were giving us."
The young man flushed deeply and gazed at the floor.
"She is mine," Tom growled, tightening his grip on her waist. "Whatever thoughts you may have, you will keep them to yourself—or better yet, banish them entirely. Hermione is not some Muggle whore flaunting her wares for you to ogle. I mean it—I will not put up with any form of disrespect for her."
"Of course," Marcus Flint assured him. "I may be speaking only for myself, but I think I got used to the idea of... someone like her... among our ranks a long time ago."
Rob Wilkes nodded quickly and firmly. He was still eager to maintain his position with Tom after the debacle of his father’s betrayal. "I did too. You speak for me as well." He shot a disdainful glance at Fawley and another at Nott. "It’s uncommon for a noble betrothal to be broken, after all. I assumed yours would not be, and I got used to the idea." He gave Hermione a courteous nod.
"I advise the rest of you to follow their lead," Tom said coolly to the other three. He released Hermione’s waist and took her by the hand again. "Hermione may wish to be part of our meetings. If she does, you will hear her ideas and consider them as you would any other."
Hermione gave him a look of surprise as he escorted her to the other side of the common room for some privacy. "The meetings?" she repeated.
"If you want to come."
"I will think about it," she said. "I admit I have been curious for a long time."
Rodolphus Lestrange took the scroll off the owl’s leg and popped the seal, unrolling the parchment. As he read the letter, his already unattractive face twisted in outrage that made him look as ghastly as his overlord.
He set the letter down on the nearest table and attempted to control his thoughts. This was—perhaps not surprising, if he thought about it properly, but certainly inconvenient and embarrassing.
Armand Malfoy looked up from his own letters and finally noticed the rage that suffused Lestrange’s face. "What is the matter?" he asked, a curl of amusement in his lips. He really was feeling better, more himself, more intelligent and alert since that traitorous elf had killed itself. Perhaps the little bastard had been poisoning him, undermining the effects of his special "tonic" when it was not immediately in his system. It was possible. At least none of the others were plotting against him.
Lestrange took a deep breath. "I have a problem... my lord." He glared at the offending note. "It seems that I have my answer as to who murdered my loyal vassal Scabior a year ago, and why."
"Who sent that to you?"
"Wormtail," he said pointedly. "He says that Carrow can back him up. I will have some questions for Carrow as to why he kept this from me, if so. Evidently he heard Snape and Lady Riddle mentioning the subject. He informed me that they believe my wife did the deed."