Split (1)

train · 3.51M rows

text stringlengths 0 57.5k
She had managed to remove his evergreen outer robe, revealing a slate grey inner one, when he gripped her waist and flipped her over. Hovering over her, he swiftly removed the dark green robe she wore, then the leaf green one, leaving her garbed in only her underclothes.
"I cannot quite believe that this day has come," he growled as he pulled her remaining clothes off and sent them flying. He gazed at her bare body, golden in the candlelight, her only adornments being the opal necklace and marriage rings she wore.
She reached for his grey robe, but he took her wrists and gently moved them away, regarding her with a patient, wry, teasing smirk. "Not yet, my love," he said, his words almost a hiss. He gazed at the bedside table on her side, where a gold goblet and a sealed, opaque stone bottle rested potently. "I think you should take a look at that while I remove my remaining clothes."
Hermione drew in her breath as she sat upright and eased over to that side of the bed. The bottle was sealed by magic—Severus Snape’s magic, she recognized as she broke the seal with the correct charm. She picked it up and poured it into the goblet, sure she knew what was inside—and she was not mistaken. A lush, healthy green potion sparkled cheerfully, a leaf green liquid very close to the color of her robes, with silver and gold sparks occasionally flashing in it.
"The Draught of Fertility," she said.
Tom gazed at her with lustful impatience. "Yes. He was working on it last night." He crawled across the bed to rest next to her and trailed his hand across the heated skin of her thighs as she drank from the goblet. It was almost distracting—but not quite as distracting as looking at him and seeing just how ready for her that he was—
The potion tasted very good, sweet but not too sweet, like a pleasing mix of summer fruit. Hermione tipped the goblet upright to get the last drops, and then set it back down on the table. She resealed the stone bottle; if anyone tampered with it, she would recognize that the last spell used was not her own magic the next time she opened the bottle. The potion seemed to make her entire body feel warmer—and more than that. When she gazed at Tom again, she could not look at him for more than a half-second. Immediately she lunged for him.
He was ready. He caught her in his arms and pulled her close, planting a deep, possessive kiss on her lips, parting them forcefully with his tongue, plundering her mouth with all the desire of years of anticipation.
They fell onto the pillows locked in that embrace, that heated, breathy clutch. Tom grabbed her around the waist again, holding her gently but firmly, and pushed her into the mattress as he mounted her.
His right hand trailed down her sides as he gazed at her in awe and unmitigated desire. His lips parted ever so slightly, and his nostrils flared as he stroked her side. "Hermione," he murmured, "I am going to attempt to make up for those two years tonight."
"You already have."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I think not." With a wicked grin, he descended on her with his tongue and lips, kissing his way down her body, making her moan and thrash underneath him, until he reached her heated juncture. She was more than ready for him—and at that moment, Tom wanted to take her at once, to sate his own desires as well as hers, but he had made up his mind. He plunged his tongue into her core, making her cry out and reach for his black hair with her hands.
She caught one fistful and pulled. He yelped, startled. She had not pulled any out, but.... Tom reached for his wand. With a single flick, Hermione’s fingers were out of his hair, her wrists were above her head, and with another flick, the rope belt that she had worn that day wrapped itself around her wrists.
"Tom!" she exclaimed, shocked.
He made no verbal response, but, with a single darkly desirous smirk, licked her most sensitive spot with his tongue. She hissed and strained to free herself, but even as she was bringing her bound wrists over her head, Tom slid up and propped himself over her on his elbows. He stared at her, his dark gaze seemingly serious, all vestiges of a smile now gone from his face—but she knew it was a front.
"I cannot believe you did that," she said, trying to free her wrists.
He merely gazed into her eyes as she struggled in vain. The intensity of his gaze sent shudders of longing down her.
"Tom, for God’s sake, free my wrists or take me—or both!"
He picked up his wand again and regarded it with seeming contemplation for a moment. Underneath him, Hermione whimpered and twitched at the sight. That was it. He pointed it at her wrists, cast a spell to untie the rope, and thrust hard into her in the next second. She grabbed his back at once with her freed hands, clutching, gasping as one as they moved together.
It did not take long for either of them to climax. Hermione had hers first, reaching for his back again as the waves of pleasure and relief overtook her. Seeing her like this—his wife—sent Tom over the edge. He buried his head in the space between her neck and shoulder as he emptied himself into her. They clung together, sweaty and hot and utterly, completely happy.
That was merely the first time of the night for them.
Several hours later, when the guests had either retired to their guest chambers or had—in a few cases—been hauled off to their chambers in drunken sleep, Merope passed by the newlyweds’ shared chamber. She was the only person who had had nothing to drink. Severus was awaiting her in their own room, but for now, she wanted to check on the young pair. She listened at the keyhole of the door. There was no noise except the sounds of heavy breathing. Satisfied and happy, Merope turned and walked toward her bedchamber.
"Well," Severus said, taking her in his arms as she entered, "that is over."
"Yes," she said quietly. She began to disrobe, noting the fact that he was already dressed in nothing except a loose black robe of thin silk.
"And now, we get to work."
Hermione awoke the next day curled into Tom’s embrace, the morning sun bearing down upon them through the window. It was almost too warm, she thought, stretching and disentangling herself from him, awakening him in the process. He blinked awake. As the situation dawned on him, he gazed at her almost-bare form—she wore only a loose sleep robe, open in front—and smiled in a lopsided, possessive, smug way.
"What a lovely morning," Hermione said, deliberately looking away from him. She could tell by the amount of sunlight that it was well into mid-morning, and they ought to be out of bed. If he convinced her to stay between the sheets, their ultimate appearance could be very embarrassing.
Tom looked disappointed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, but he realized that they would have plenty of occasions to be intimate, beginning with that very night. "Yes," he said, getting out of bed. "It is."
They got dressed and went to the door, but when Tom opened it, they found themselves looking at an excited female house-elf that had been waiting outside.
"Master and Mistress will have breakfast in their bedchamber!" the elf squealed. "Her ladyship ordered it!"
Tom was suddenly very glad that Hermione had gotten out of bed before they had become... distracted. "Excellent," he approved. "Is that the case for all the guests?"
The elf nodded. "Many of the guests had too much to drink," she said in a low voice.
Tom and Hermione did not doubt that for a second.
After the very filling, well-cooked private meal, they finally emerged from their chamber arm-in-arm to go downstairs. It was apparent from the noise that those people who were up and about were congregated in the great hall. The young couple entered the large open space, their arms still linked together closely, and offered pleasant smiles at the greetings from their guests.
Merope and Severus were also standing together as a couple as they mingled with the guests. She was conversing with Lord Orion Black, Tom noted—and Regulus Black was in that same small knot of people. Their discussion momentarily subsided as Tom and Hermione approached. Orion’s face became faintly pinched at Hermione’s presence, but he said nothing.
"My lord," Tom said to him.
Lord Black nodded. "My congratulations and felicitations on your marriage. I have been speaking with Lady Riddle about some very unsettling information that you discovered from one of the Weasley brats."
So Regulus had told his parents about the Weasleys’ alliance with the Muggle pretender. Tom wondered how many of their allies knew it now.
"Two of my distant cousins married into the Weasley and Longbottom families," Lord Black continued. "The extent of the Longbottoms’ complicity with this scheme is not clear to me, but since the family never exiled that branch, I shall attempt to find it out from them. Given the fact that, for all his airs, Lord Armand Malfoy himself had an alliance with William of Normandy, it is not the worst idea to cultivate a Muggle monarch... but the Weasleys certainly cannot be the representatives of witches and wizards in such a venture. Their views are disgraceful."
Tom eyed him speculatively. Hermione was quite sure she knew what he was thinking, and at this point, she was thinking it herself. If Lord Black didn’t want to be the next lord of witches and wizards, he certainly was giving the impression that he did. Perhaps the marriage alliance that he and Regulus wanted between Sirius’s future child and Tom’s heir was, contrary to their prior hopes, not intended as a concession to the Riddles’ own ambitions. Perhaps it was meant to be a conciliation for Black’s assumption of the high seat.
Tom was thinking similar thoughts. He realized that they needed the alliance with the respected Black family, but this issue could be a point of friction. He gazed furtively out at the... court, he supposed. The rest of their allies mingled. These families had been allies long before any of the Blacks had—well, except Regulus, he thought. But they were openly allied with us before he acknowledged it. They entered alliances partly because they wanted us on the high seat, not Orion Black. They could have pledged support to the Blacks at any time if they had wanted that, but they supported Mother instead. Lord Black had better take that into consideration.
He thought once again about the Gaunt family’s royal ancestry. Although it did not seem that he could use it to claim the Muggle throne, perhaps he could use it to claim the Riddles’ right to the wizarding high seat over this ambitious lord.
"We know one of the Longbottoms, my lord," Hermione spoke up. Lord Black looked surprised that she was the one addressing him, but he kept his countenance. "He is the son of the mayor of Hogsmeade."
"Ah, in the direct line, then," said Lord Black. "The family forswore its oath after the Normans came, and in my view that means that they should not be restored to a title, but it is a useful friendship to have, I suppose." He gazed at the Riddles and Snape. "Lady Bellatrix Lestrange harmed those Longbottoms several years ago."
Hermione suddenly remembered Neville telling her about that. He had said that she had believed his parents knew some Black family secrets. Suddenly she wondered what they were.
"In view of this, it may be difficult to secure their support. Then, too, Frank Longbottom is the first cousin removed of Arthur Weasley, through the Black line. Weasley’s father and Longbottom’s grandfather married Black sisters."
Hermione was startled. How can I have known them for over three years and not realized that? she thought in dismay. She had known that the Longbottoms and Weasleys both had antecedents who had married into a cadet branch of the sprawling Black family, but she had somehow never put the pieces together. Suddenly it made perfect sense to her why Harry’s father would have preferred that he court Ginny Weasley. There was already a close relationship between the Weasleys and the Longbottoms, whereas the Potters were not so connected.
"So I do not have any expectations of securing their support," Black concluded. "I do, however, hope to learn whether they are complicit."
Most of the guests, including Lord and Lady Black, departed that afternoon for their own homes. The only one who remained was Regulus Black. Even his wife and daughter had gone.
When Hermione’s parents prepared to leave, she stayed near them, feeling inexplicably upset at their going. She had not seen much of them for four years, with only brief visits during the summer and some holidays, but they were still her parents, and their departure felt somehow much more permanent now. It’s because I am married, she thought. That is the reason.
Her father gazed affectionately at her. "I am very happy for you," he said. "These are good people. Your noble mother-in-law was generous from the very start of our acquaintance, of course, and Lord Severus too, but I am glad that Lord Thomas has grown into a worthy nobleman and that the allies of the family are unlike those vile wizards we met that day."
Hermione managed a smile. Her father was a bit too kind about the Riddles’ allies—most of them tolerated her presence, yes, but still held to blood purity for their own families. Still, that was something, and it was more than could be said of the Malfoys and Lestranges. At least they respected her as a witch.
Lady Granger spoke up. "And do not worry about your cousin. We will try to persuade him to view magic differently, and the positive experience of your wedding should help in that regard. It may be that we can even have a family visit later this summer!"
Hermione smiled. "I would like that."
They left soon after this brief conversation, making their farewells to the Riddles—the other Riddles, Hermione thought with a smile—and Snape. Lady Merope had offered her house-elves to assist them back, but they had come in their own carriage, and that was how they would return. Snape had gone to the carriage house to place a charm of protection upon it before they left. When they passed through the great doors of the castle, arm-in-arm, Hermione felt a pang again. It’s quite all right, she thought, heading back through the great hall somewhat dejectedly. We’ll write to each other much more now that I am not at Hogwarts.
Severus, Merope, and Regulus awaited the young newlyweds in the little parlor. Once they were all seated, Tom spoke first. "I am curious about your father, Lord Regulus," he began, "and I might as well speak bluntly. Does he wish to replace Lord Malfoy?"
Merope and Severus raised their eyebrows at him, but the question was asked, and there was nothing they could do now.
Regulus considered the question seriously. "I honestly don’t know," he said. "I think it’s possible. But at the same time, he has never openly coveted the high seat in my hearing. The Head of House Black has always been overlord of wizards in the north of England, and that is what he anticipated his whole life."
"I am curious about something else," Hermione ventured hesitantly, "and I understand if it is not something that you can tell. The "Black family secrets’ that Bellatrix Lestrange believed the Longbottoms knew—do you know what they are?"
"That is a very good question," Tom added. "If there is anything compromising, it’s best if we all know about it instead of being surprised someday."
Regulus smiled darkly. "Oh, that I have no objection to telling you. Indeed, Lord Thomas, your lady mother and lord stepfather already know a little of it."
"We do?" Merope said, surprised.
He nodded. "I told you the day that your first husband died." The entire family looked visibly uncomfortable at that, so Regulus continued. "I have not told the young people, of course, and I don’t suppose either of you have? No? Then very well." He addressed himself to Tom and Hermione. "This may be shocking to you—especially you, Lady Hermione."
She wondered what she was to hear. It couldn’t be any more shocking than the history of the Gaunts.
"Before I was married, I had a male lover. A Muggle-born one, in fact," he added as Hermione’s brown eyes widened.
"You did not tell us that part," Merope murmured.
"I didn’t? I am sorry, then. His name was Dirk Cresswell, and he was Muggle-born... at least, apparently so. Given the fact that his mother lived in the village of the late Lord Lestrange—the father of the current one—and that he was known to have the same vile habits involving Muggle women as his firstborn son, and that she died suddenly in an "accident’ shortly after Dirk’s birth, I do wonder."
All four of the family members were appalled. "Are there any Lestranges who aren’t utter degenerates?" Tom exclaimed. "Other than him, if he was one," he added quickly.
"Adelaide is an unpleasant person, but I don’t think she’s a "degenerate,’" Hermione murmured to him.
"Dirk’s mother brought him to Hogsmeade before she was killed. That is how I met him at all—weekend outings at Hogwarts. No, the Longbottoms never fostered him, but they knew him. He was raised as a worker at the bookbinder’s, but he displayed a gift for languages, so he also helped with translations. He married very young—thirteen, I think—and fathered two sons, but his wife died in childbirth. He and I had a two-year relationship after I was out of Hogwarts, and Armand Malfoy found out about it and ordered his death." He sighed.
"I’m very sorry," Hermione said. "What happened to his sons?"
"I’m coming to that. Thank you, by the way," he said, then took a deep breath and continued his narrative. "At some point, Lady Bellatrix heard the rumor that her husband might have had a bastard half-brother, and she regarded it as a threat even if he had died—maybe especially since he died. There is a younger Lestrange brother, but he is not fit to rule anything. He is mad or half-witted, and I have heard that Rodolphus cursed him when they were younger to remove a rival. He is no threat—but Lady Bellatrix definitely regarded the possible existence of a bastard line as a threat to her daughter.
"My grandfather Lord Arcturus also knew of my relationship with Dirk. He protected the little boys, who were not even able to read when I got their father killed."
"Oh, Lord Regulus, you didn’t—" Hermione began to say.
Regulus shook his head sadly. "My grandfather brought them into the service of the family and gave them a new surname. They were tutored in magic privately. No one knows that except my parents, my wife and me, and now the four of you."
"We will tell no one," Merope swore.
"He also made a bargain with Lord Malfoy, who wanted to expose me. Bargain... or blackmail," he said heavily. "I wish I knew what secret of Malfoy’s he took to his grave."
"Could it be unicorn blood or a Horcrux?" Tom asked. "Lord Severus sent those questions by your house-elf, before you came to fear that the Malfoy elf had been killed."
"If Lord Malfoy uses either—or both—of those types of magic, it is possible that my grandfather knew it," Regulus agreed. "In any case, Bellatrix heard that "the Blacks’ were covering up the existence of an illegitimate line of Lestranges because they meant to use this line to depose Rodolphus and betray her, their own kin. That second part is utterly false; my grandfather just wanted to protect two innocent children from murder. Because Dirk had lived in Hogsmeade, she assumed the Longbottoms were part of this. In truth, they knew nothing of his possible parentage. I am sure they do now, of course, but only because of her own actions. In any case, there is no way to prove that Dirk’s sons are Lestranges by blood, and now, they don’t even know what their real surname is." Regulus’s voice was exceedingly bitter.
"How deeply fitting, then, that Bellatrix and her daughter are now in hiding, and stand no chance of inheriting any of the Lestrange holdings," Tom said.
"Don’t gloat about that. Lord Rodolphus is a terrible person," Merope chided him.
"Her daughter is the one I pity," Regulus said. "I suspect they are with the Malfoys of Godric’s Hollow, but I wish that she trusted her other aunt enough to live with us. I fear that she and young Draco will die needlessly in what is likely coming."
"The wedding guests know to be silent," Severus said, "but the date that we gave out publicly for the wedding is merely a fortnight away, and there is the possibility that someone will slip up. They also saw the proof that my lady wife is with child. We need to be prepared. Lord Regulus, your father intends to ask the Longbottoms about the Weasley plot to ally with the Muggle pretender. Do make sure that he specifically finds out if Albus Dumbledore is party to this—if he can."
"And depending on how they react, you might raise the possibility of allying with us," Merope said. "Your lord father does not think the Longbottoms could be persuaded to ally with your own family, but their son is a friend of my daughter-in-law, and the Riddle family never did anything to them. I do not know who the Weasleys think they are, but it is entirely unacceptable of them to trade away treasure that is not theirs and make concessions to a Muggle monarch that would affect all witches and wizards. If any such treating is to occur, there must be others who have a seat at the table."
"I agree," Regulus said. His brow creased. "It’s really very odd that the Weasleys would do something like this. I do not doubt the truth of it; your son learned it by Legilimency and it does fit with the clue that my grandfather tried to track down before he died. Still, I always understood them to take pride in their poverty, since they used to have a title and lost it when their grandfather or great-grandfather would not swear to Armand Malfoy."
Tom spoke up. "I was surprised at first as well. The older Weasleys—well, the middle ones, the older ones of the group I knew from Hogwarts—made it plain that they considered it dishonorable to try to improve their station. The twins had no objection to the idea of earning gold, but they all seemed to think it disgraceful to rise in rank. In the year before I met you, Hermione, I went to Hogwarts with the Weasley brother who has become a knight. Percival Weasley. It was his final year there, but I did know him. I’ve realized that their actions are not truly inconsistent; we just misunderstood. Taking an oath directly to a Muggle king, one who has no communication with Armand Malfoy? That’s not a problem to the Weasleys. They have no objection to bettering themselves if they can do it that way. It’s Malfoy and his allies that they would never swear to, and they count anyone who did swear to him, even pragmatically, as an enemy."
Lord Orion Black made his report to the Riddles by owl surprisingly quickly, and nothing that he had to say was good. The message itself was incongruous with the summery setting in which the family received it, sitting in the middle of an open courtyard in the center of the castle structure.
To Lady Riddle Baroness of Hangleton,
I regret that I cannot bring you the sort of news that I hoped, but it is possible, I think, to make certain deductions from the news that I can provide. Hogwarts is inaccessible, and the village itself is heavily warded. The wards on the castle are as strong as those that protect your ladyship’s castle and mine; I cannot enter, and none at the castle will receive me. It is quite convenient for them that they do not offer tutelage during the summer, for they can feign that the castle is empty. It is true that many of the Masters are not there, but I will be astounded if High Master Dumbledore was not.
I went to Mayor and Mistress Longbottom’s shabby little cottage. They received me coldly. Whether this is because of the attack that my kinswoman Bellatrix Lestrange made upon them years ago, or a political reason, I could not determine. They claimed to know nothing of the Weasleys’ plans and asserted very vehemently that High Master Dumbledore has eminent respect for witches. That may be, but if he is willing to ally with those who do not, his good intentions mean nothing, of course. I am no Legilimens, so I could not determine if they were lying about their own lack of knowledge, but I did not wish to leave them with a memory of my visit in case they were. I modified their memories.
Knowing that James Potter of Godric’s Hollow, unfortunately a friend of my prodigal son, is likely part of the scheme, I traveled to that town in secret, so as to avoid the attentions of Lucius Malfoy. His cottage is empty except for his wife, whom the reprobate abandoned. His son lives with Sirius and his family now. I presume that Potter the elder is hiding in Hogsmeade or Hogwarts with the rest of the scoundrels—or with the Weasleys themselves.
My son was not pleased to see me in the least. He too knows of the scheme; his godson told him. He believes that the Longbottoms do support the Weasleys in this, though young Potter insists that their son does not know of it at all. However, despite his own disapproval of Potter’s scheming—and, evidently, the manner in which he left his wife, though he would not provide any details about that—he does not want to take sides against his old friend, preferring neutrality. Nor does anyone know for certain where the High Master of Hogwarts stands, though I think that the fact that the school is sealed against visitors makes it clear. I left with great frustration, needless to say.
This is how it stands, my lady. I regret that I do not have better news for you.
Merope closed her eyes as she passed the letter around. This was bad. It seemed very much to her as though the Friends of the Founders did not want to share power, for whatever reason. Either they distrusted anyone whose family had taken an oath to Armand Malfoy, even those whose lives and families were now in danger from him—or they wanted to exclude the Riddles and their allies because they had differences in values and opinions about how the wizarding population should be ruled. The first explanation meant that they might still be persuadable; the second eliminated that possibility.
"I don’t quite agree with Lord Black," Hermione spoke up as she finished the letter. "About one thing, at least." The others looked at her curiously, and she explained. "Hogwarts and Hogsmeade could be warded so securely because of our wedding. The date we gave out publicly was yesterday. And they know that we are at odds with Malfoy. They could have put up the wards because they anticipate war over that."
Merope considered that. "You could be right," she said, "and that makes more sense than the theory that they are all hiding because of their own plot. Tom, did you not say that you only learned about it from Legilimency on one of the Weasleys? And that you told no one except Hermione and young Potter?"
Tom nodded. "The lout did not even know what I discovered, either. There isn’t any reason that they should have known their secret is out... as long as Potter hasn’t spread the word far and wide," he added with a growl. "Though it sounds as if he might have. He told Sirius Black. I hope he truly didn’t tell Longbottom, as he claims."
"I hope it’s that," said Severus. "Well, they cannot lock the school away forever. If Malfoy doesn’t act this summer, they’ll have to lower those strict wards." He glowered. "Black knows what Potter is doing. He knows how Potter treated his wife. He knows that Potter disapproved of his marriage because of the side that his wife’s first husband had died for! And yet, despite all of this, he doesn’t want to work against "his friend.’ I would wager gold that he knows exactly where James Potter is and can communicate with him if he wants, and I think that I should go to Godric’s Hollow to persuade him to help us."
Merope smiled affectionately at her husband. "That is a good idea as long as you aren’t too hard on the man! Be persuasive. Perhaps Tom should go with you—and Peter Pettigrew, since he was Sirius’s friend."
Severus considered that. "I will not refuse your son if he wishes to go," he said, "but I don’t want Pettigrew. I do not trust him, and this information is far too sensitive to allow an indiscriminate, self-centered spy of a rat to know."

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.