"You took up residence in Malfoy Manor as far as I knew," Hermione said as she let the pad of her index finger to brush softly against the spine of one of the books Tom had allowed her to peruse. "Something about Abraxas, I think was his name, being an old acquaintance,"

"Abraxas and I knew of each other at Hogwarts," Tom supplied absently as he turned the page of an ancient tome that was so obviously Dark in nature given the innumerable wards he had had to dismantle before even attempting to open it to the contents page. "He was my most trusted then,"

"Was?" the witch questioned.

Tom nodded once, "His family had taken me in. A surrogate family so to speak once my heritage as heir to Slytherin had been revealed,"

A ghost of a reminiscent smile passed over Hermione's lips as she thought of the Weasleys who had so kindly unofficially adopted her into their large clan despite being of blood that had caused them to be defined as Blood Traitors. "I had a family like that," she said quietly, "They helped me understand bits and pieces that couldn't be interpreted through literary means,"

Hermione felt something softly caress the weak walls guarding her privacy. Occlumency was something she could not grasp a hold of as easily as she could with other spells and Mind Arts. Her mind, continuously thinking and refusing to stop would not allow the thoughts she wished to be hidden to withdraw from the centre stage, leaving her vulnerable to any skilled Legilimens. Although her mind was shielded enough to withstand an attack from a lesser wizard, giving her time to attack and remove the intruder; Lord Voldemort, comparable to Albus Dumbledore, was the predator that she could not fend off. If he so much as pushed his finger as though he were pressing the buttons of an elevator, they would all collapse, leaving him free to look as he pleased.

And that was what he did, though rather than forcing it all to crumble to the ground like meaningless dirt, he carved a door with a magical lock only controllable by him. How he had managed to do so was unclear to the witch yet in the depths of her subconscious she knew it was a form of art that she would be looked down upon by her friends and family should she attempt to use it for her own needs.

Friends and family that wouldn't exist for another twenty something years. And even then, they would never be able to reconcile for their age differences, their experiences, their dynamics would differ too much for them to regain their lost bond.

"Harry Potter," his voice brought her back to attention, "Your... boyfriend?" he sneered in distaste at the word.

A mirthless laugh escaped her as a lone tear pooled in her right eye, "Far from it," she frowned, "We loved each other like a brother would a sister, but nobody understood that,"

Tom remained quiet as he observed her as she continued to talk.

"In fourth year," she began to admit, her predicament forcing her to understand that she would never be able to travel back to her future, no matter how horrific and grotesque it was, "The Tri-Wizard tournament was held. There was a reporter from the Daily Prophet and she wrote a disgusting article about myself, Harry and another Champion integrated in a love triangle," another humourless giggle, "Both of them were so sweet about it as well. You should've seen the looks on everyone's faces when they saw me attend the Yule Ball with the Durmstrang Champion. It was as though they had expected for me to come alone!"

Tom usually did not care for meaningless chatter such as what Hermione was doing; however, the fond twinkle in her cognac eyes as she remembered the joys those of her past had brought her prompted him to bite back any demeaning comment. One shouldn't misunderstand as this small act proving Tom's budding affection for the time travelling witch, for he was merely making note of who he could kill but shouldn't, if only as a reward for the salvation the girl was to bring to him.

However, one should know that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a possessive man, much like his ancient (albeit insane) ancestors. He did not like that the witch he had taken some form of an interest to had had menial crushes on others before him; however, there was little he could do as for now, they were merely recreations of her imagination as their parents most likely had just been birthed.

Clearing his throat, Tom did what he did best, change topics, "Tell me more of the prophecy that is to be,"

At this, Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye before reluctantly nodding, "I'll tell you, but I want a vow that you will do your best to not intentionally act on it. Let nature run its course,"

Tom licked his lips, a frown marring the beautiful visage of his aristocratically structured face, "Is it something that aids in my downfall?"

"Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill," Hermione quoted as she curled up on her armchair by the fireplace.

"You're referring me to Macbeth?" he sounded unimpressed.

"To an extent," she said with her eyes closed, "Tell me Vold—Tom, what makes you so different from Macbeth?"

"Well for starters I am not easily swayed by those around me,"

"But you are tantalised by the idea of power. Power that the three witches represent in our edition of the play. Next,"

"I am not a tyrant." Tom stated boldly, "Nor am I insane enough to hallucinate bloody daggers following me around for killing people,"

"No, you're not." Hermione agreed, "Not at the moment. Give it twenty years and you'll be known as the Darkest Wizard to grace the planet. People will fear to say your name not due to the danger surrounding it, but due to the taboos you placed or will place," then she frowned, "I doubt the two braincells you were resurrected with was enough for you to form hallucinations,"

Tom clicked his tongue at the jab, "I haven't committed regicide,"

Hermione glared at him, "Had there been a monarchy, you would've. You committed patricide instead which is arguably worse."

"I sleep perfectly well at night. If I recall correctly, Macbeth said he murdered sleep,"

The witch rolled her eyes, "You sleep knowing you have your horcruxes as failsafes. Had the idea of horcruxes and immortality not existed, how would you sleep with your paranoia of death?" Hermione sighed, she'd had enough, "That's more than substantial amount of evidence. Take a page from the book and avoid where he went wrong. Where you went wrong."

Deciding that his presence was suffocating with the way that his penetrative gaze bore into her eyes, Hermione stood up from her comfortable position and headed to the kitchen to bake a batch of her mother's brownies.

If the bastard still wanted to take over the world, he could do so afterwards.

The brownies were set on the cooling rack (that Hermione had made by transfiguring a spoon) by the time Tom had exited his study.

Hermione was in a lighter mood than she had left that room in and was merrily humming away as she cleansed the utensils she had used to make the batter for her treats. Once the final bowl had been set on the drying rack, the witch turned around to see her husband looking at the chocolatey delights.

"They should be cold enough to eat," she informed kindly as he levitated a small plate towards him.

"You eat one first,"

Hermione narrowed her eyes but did as ordered, "You know, the first step towards a prosperous marriage is trust."

"I know,"

"And it's not like you didn't ensure that I couldn't kill you even if I desperately wanted to," she ignored his response, "Paranoid megalomanic bastard that you are,"

Tom rolled his eyes at her insult as he carved a perfect rectangle and removed it with such precision that Hermione idly approved of him joining one of those satisfying cooking shows.

"I want to go out,"

Tom looked up with a raised eyebrow, "A bit late for that, we're already married."

Hermione facepalmed in annoyance , "I meant outside. I want to wear my own clothes. I want to breathe in fresh air. I want to go to a bookstore or a library or anything! Just away from this tiny little hovel,"

"That can be arranged, so long as you promise not to even try and escape,"

"What good will me escaping do?" Hermione snapped, "I haven't got any money or possessions of my own apart from whatever's in my purse that you still have hidden somewhere. I can't fend for myself without my wand either!"

"Don't you ever wish to have the ability to perform magic without a wand?" Tom said as he reached forward with his clean hand to wrap one of her curls around his finger. "Don't you ever wish to not have to rely on a stick that can easily leave you vulnerable?"

Hermione swallowed. Of course she had wished that she had spent more time practicing her wandlessly abilities rather than leaving it at a simple Confundus and other trivial spells. The vast majority of her magical knowledge relied heavily on the flicks and twists of her wrists and the pronunciation of words from dead or lost languages. "Maybe," she admitted as though it was a crime.

"Then what if," his voice had dropped to just above a whisper, "As repayment for your invaluable advice, I teach you whatever you'd like,"

Closing her eyes, Hermione envisioned herself being able to bend her magic to her will as easily as Tom had shown to do so many times. She imagined the relief she could have mid duel, knowing that despite the lack of a medium to channel her power through, she could still unleash her fury and ensure her safety through other magical means.

A warm palm rested on her face, a dexterous thumb brushing the curve of her cheek softly, "You know that you wouldn't require much of a filter with me as you would with a mentor such as Dumbledore,"

He leaned in, his hot breath encasing her lips with a scalding warmth as he hovered his sinful mouth over hers, "You could be the one to Look like the innocent flower and be the serpent under't,"

Hermione forced a weak laugh, "I thought you disliked Macbeth,"

"Only when you positioned me as him," Tom hummed as he threaded his fingers into her riotous hair. He pulled away, leaving the witch cold and yearning for more— not that she'd admit it to him. "Make the vows now and we can do what you want tomorrow."

Hermione found herself agreeing.