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His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18950 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: *Chapter contains sexual content

Chapter Four

Once they were back at the Burrow and everyone had gone to bed, Hermione told Baltazar to go to Harry and tell him to meet her in the kitchen.

She sat in the kitchen, made two turkey sandwiches, and took a couple bottles of butterbeer from the fridge. Harry came into the kitchen with Baltazar trailing behind him by the time she was done.

"Jeez, 'Mione, couldn't you have just slipped a note under the door? I was almost asleep when Baltazar started whispering in my ear," he grumbled.

Hermione giggled and fed her pet a dead mouse. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure no one else awoke." She flicked her wand and charmed the room for privacy. "Now, tell me why you lied to the Aurors about the man."

"He was the man from my dream. The other Death Eater that was with Voldemort."

"Damn, I was afraid that was the reason why."

"Hermione, I know I promised I would tell someone if this got too big for us, but…"

"But tonight they would have asked you about the dream. Probably brought you before the minister of magic who would just brush it off and make you look mental in the process."

"Exactly, I knew you would understand," he sighed in relief before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"I do, but what should we do now?"

"I don't know. I suppose I should be on the lookout for anymore dreams."

"What was going on with your scar tonight?"

"I don't exactly know. The first time my scar started hurting was in the Great Hall during dinner at our first year."

"While Voldemort was using Quirrell's body. Were there any other times?"

"Not that I can recall," he said, recognizing the concentrated look in Hermione's eyes.

"Okay, so in first year, because the Dark Lord was so close, your scar burned. Then again, tonight when the man set off the Dark Mark, your scar burned again. More or less?"

"It was less concentrated as the first time, but still painful."

"Well, the good news is that your scar acts as a radar device. Whenever he's near you, your scar will burn letting you know. The bad news is I can't think of a single reason why that might be." She took a bite of her sandwich, wondering if Meira had any ideas.

You mean aside from the fact that the Dark Lord accidentally transferred some of his power to your friend when he tried to kill him? I'm not exactly sure unless…

"Unless what?"

You're going to need to make a trip to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library as soon as possible.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

"Of course, why?"

"I don't know. I thought for a moment…never mind. It's been a long day. I probably just need some sleep."

"Yeah, it's getting late. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, goodnight," he hugged her and went upstairs, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

"What will I be looking for in the Restricted Section?"

All will be answered in time, 'Mi. Now get to bed and enjoy your last night of having solitary thoughts, she teased.

"Ugh, don't remind me."

Meira waited until her roommates were asleep before slipping on her cloak, disillusioning herself, and leaving Ravenclaw Tower without anyone being the wiser. She went to the second-floor girls' lavatory and cast another disillusionment charm on the door in case anyone walked in. She stood before the sink. Meira cut her finger and let her blood drip on the snake-engraved tap. She watched the sink shake and cancelled out the disillusionment charm she placed on herself and cast a protective bubble around her so that she would not get dirty when she slid down the opening.

This was all routine for Meira. She had done this many times since Tom first brought her down there. Once the sink was completely opened, she slid down the pipe. She lowered her hood and continued her trek down the familiar pathway. She turned left where Salazar Slytherin's Secret Study was located, knowing he would be there. She heard the slithering before she reached the door. She closed her eyes and felt the large serpent's tongue flick her cheek.

"Hello, Damian," she said, reaching out to stroke the basilisk's head. "May I enter?"

"Welcome, Missstresss Meira. You may enter."

The large basilisk slithered away, allowing her entrance into the secret study. Tom was seated by the fireplace, deeply entranced by one of Salazar Slytherin's many tomes, Secrets of the Darkest Art. Meira took the time to watch her love while his attention was elsewhere. She loved everything about him. His dark black hair that curled and hung over his eyes slightly. His patrician nose, sculpted brow, and chiseled jaw that was so perfectly eerie, she doubted at times whether or not he was completely human. She loved his dark coffee colored eyes that she could never say no to, and his pink pillowy lips that she literally had to restrain herself to keep from kissing. He was perfection and all hers.

"Enjoying the show?" he said, never taking his eyes from the page.

"As a matter of fact, I was. Watching you is my favorite pastime."

He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously enough like, "silly child." Because Tom was older and a year ahead of her, he considered himself the adult and she was still the child, although from the things they did together you would never draw that particular conclusion.

She turned away from him and went over to Salazar Slytherin's portrait, which was hanging on the opposite wall. "Good evening, milord."

"Good evening, Meira. How are you?"

"I am well, and you?"

She ignored Tom turning the pages of his tome irritably and continued talking to the wise house founder. "I am very well."

"But she won't be if she keeps up with that incessant chatter," Tom threatened from his chair.

"My son, threats are unnecessary," he chuckled.

"I believe we should talk another time, milord. Someone is getting irritable. Oh, Milady Ravenclaw sends her love."

Salazar Slytherin's smile widened. "Yes, I think I may visit her portrait tonight. I trust you two to behave."

"No promises, milord," she winked.

"Forewarning, my child, he is not well handled." He chuckled and shook his head, leaving Tom and Meira alone.

She expected she would continue her research on Squibs and Muggle-borns, but Tom had something different in mind for her.

"Read over that book," Tom said, levitating a large tome before her. 'Til Death & Beyond: Mating and Blood Bonds Through the Ages. She took the book and sat on the large carpet in front of the small table. She glanced up when he cleared his throat. "Forgetting something, aren't we?" he said, looking pointedly at her cloak.

"But Tom, it gets so cold down here, especially at night."

"Which is why I placed a heating charm on you when you entered. You should know by now, my dear, that it is never wise to argue with me." Tom seemed more irritated than usual that night.

"I apologize, milord." She stood and removed her cloak. She wore black laced babydoll lingerie, a matching thong and stilettos.

"Take your hair down."

She obeyed letting her corn silk hair spill down her back. Tom's eyes raked over her body languidly. He nodded his approval and resumed reading his tome. "Carry on."

She sighed softly and took her place on the rug and began reading through the large tome.

'When one considers performing the Bonding Ritual with their mate, they must realize that the bonding is in no way the same as or similar to a ministry officiated marriage. Through the Bonding Ritual, both parties must shed and consume their mates blood under the supervision of at least one blood relative. Once the consumption of blood has taken place, the mates must take hands and say,

"I, [FULL NAME] bind my body, my heart, my soul, my magick to thee, [MATE'S NAME].

I will serve you, I will honor you, I will defend you with my last breath."

'When both mates have spoken the vows, the ritual can only be completed by the joining of flesh. The blood relative does not have to be present during the final step, but must swear fealty of their bloodline before the ritual is finished.

'The Bonding Ritual is the most powerful and darkest of all rituals. But forewarning, as is with any bonding, there are drawbacks in addition to the positives.

Positives:

1. Once bonded, the mates may share thoughts, magic, and feelings and/or emotions.

2. Bonded mates can sense when the other is near.

3. Being hit with the Killing Curse will not kill one unless both are hit. *

Negatives:

1. Infidelity is IMPOSSIBLE. Attempting so will result in a long, horrible death. *

2. Your magick is shared. There is nothing of greater importance to a wizard or witch than their magick. Due in part to the ritual, a small, but significant portion of your magick is transferred and exchanged to your mate.

3. Your thoughts may no longer be your own. Your mate will have the power to read your thoughts, and you theirs.

'If you are a wizard reading this tome, then I would surmise that you are having considerable doubts about performing the Bonding Ritual with your mate. The negatives are staggering, however, by bonding with your witch, you will enhance your magick as well as overcome the Killing Curse, an otherwise impossible feat.

Meira read the footnotes Salazar Slytherin wrote at the bottom of the page.

*Interpretation over overcoming the Killing Curse tends to place in both the Positive and Negative Lists. For instance, upon completion of the Bonding Ritual, the mates will each carry a small portion of the other's soul. It is vital to remember that if the wizard or witch later decides to split their soul by means of a Horcrux, your mate WILL endure the pain as well. Keep in mind however, that the portion of soul your mate carries will remain unaffected.

'Should you have made your Horcrux prior to completing the Bonding Ritual, the Horcrux will remain unaffected.

*If you or your witch feel so inclined to invite another to your marital bed and do not wish to die, you and your mate must take that witch or wizard at the same time. Otherwise, given the strength and magick behind the bond, you discover having relations with someone besides your mate unnecessary.

"You seem nervous, dear."

Meira managed to tear her eyes away from the text. Tom was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed and fingers interlaced in his lap.

"Why would I be nervous?"

"I have come to realize that you only chew on something besides food when you are particularly anxious. Right now that something seems to be the ends of your hair." He waited while she removed the piece of hair from her mouth. "And I would imagine that you are anxious because of the sacrifices I will have to make for you and for this ritual."

"But didn't Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw follow this same ritual?" she knew she was pleading, but she could see that Tom was having many doubts.

"A lot of good it did them, too. In the end, she carried another man's child and went insane from trying to separate herself from him."

"Tom, I know you think you would feel restricted if we performed this ritual, but there are so many benefits. All of the property my grandmother and I share, my magic and abilities, escaping the Killing Curse! What wizard can say that he possesses such an ability?"

"Is this why you want me, witch?" he hissed, his eyes no longer that dark coffee colored brown, that seemed to stare into the depths of her soul. Instead, they were a glowing deep crimson. "So that I can never touch another? So, that I cannot make a move without your knowledge? It makes me wonder, Meira, if you are sincere in your affections for me and your dedication to continue the Slytherin-Ravenclaw bloodlines, or if all of this is just a ploy orchestrated by your uncle to track me and all of my nefarious deeds?" he hissed.

He was angry. He didn't want to admit that maybe, just maybe completing the Bonding Ritual with Meira would work more to his advantage rather than just keeping her as his concubine. But if he did bond with her, she would have power over him, power that no other witch or wizard could claim.

Meira inhaled deeply as Tom's magic flared around him like the flames of hell, burning, consuming, destroying everything it touches—especially her.

It infuriated her that he would even think she would be a puppet for her uncle's bidding. After he was so willing to sacrifice her for the greater good, she would gladly let him drown in his own treachery.

She placed the book on the table beside her and bowed her head subserviently. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched and his wand hand was twitching sporadically. Meira knew she was skirting the perilous line of obsession and hate. She strongly doubted she would leave Salazar's chambers without writhing under Tom's wand.

"I expected you would have doubts. I knew you would be suspicious, considering that the man who enjoys claiming me as his niece is quickly becoming your mortal enemy." She met his hard crimson red eyes. "But I'm not a spy sent by anyone. I don't care what you and your followers do when you are away from me. What matters to me Tom is that you always have a place in your cold, dark heart for me, as I do for you."

Tom scoffed and began pacing. "More of that love rubbish? You are beginning to sound like Salazar. 'You are brooding like a Gryffindor, Tom. Stop being an overly dramatic child, Tom. You are young. Love can be the most powerful weapon a wizard can wield. You must realize it before it's too late. A ruler is only as strong as his queen.' Rubbish, utter rubbish."

Meira was smiling inside. Tom had already considered having her by his side. He wanted her by his side and he hated her for it. Risking the pain of his wand, Meira rose to her feet and slowly approached her still pacing lover.

"What are you doing?" he stopped pacing as she stood before him.

"Showing you what it's like whenever I am near you." Before he could respond, she pressed her fingers against his temples and closed her eyes. She let all of her love, adoration, fear, desire, frustration, determination, and devotion wash over her and enter Tom's body.

His eyes blazed as the different emotions flared inside of him. He grabbed her wrists, stepping back from her. "What do you think you are doing?" he snarled, even as his eyes returned to their normal coffee brown.

"Do you understand now, milord? These feelings, these desires I have for you. I have no control over. I was yours the moment I was born and I will be yours even after I take my final breath. I know how you feel about love. It sickens you and you would probably go through hell and back before you ever say the words, but I love you Tom Riddle, no matter what you do, who you kill or how many changes you may go through. You can't say you love. You don't have to. I have enough love in me for the both of us."

Meira hugged his waist as he sighed raking a frustrated hand through his hair. "You really are an emotional little witch, aren't you, girl?" she hugged him tighter, nestling closer. A moment later, she felt his arms envelop her as he pressed his lips to her hair. "My witch."

"Tom, let me please you."

Tom's lips curled in a sinister smirk. "I have said that you do beg beautifully, dear." He released her and returned to his chair. "Come, little wife. Show me that you are worth the sacrifice."

That was the first time Tom ever called her his wife. She crawled on her hands and knees towards him. She opened his legs and unfastened his trousers. She looked into his smoldering brown eyes practically dying to know what he was thinking. But she had learned her lesson well. The first and last time she read his mind without his permission he Crucio'ed her for twenty minutes and then fucked her where she lay.

Meira licked her lips at the sight of Tom's hardened cock. She loved when he went commando. His skin was so smooth and soft there. The head of his cock was red and weeping. She leaned forward, flicking her tongue over his tip. Most girls described semen as either salty, sweet, or bitter. Tom didn't exactly have a taste. His was...clean. She slowly sucked the head of cock into her mouth, steadily working her way down his shaft. Tom groaned softly. His hands slipped into her hair. She let him control her pace. He pushed past her gag reflex and she could feel him in her throat. He felt huge.

He pulled back from her suddenly. "Strip."

She climbed on top of the table and swayed slowly as if to a song only she could hear. She untied the bow at the top of her babydoll covering her breasts before they could bounce free. She turned her back to him sliding the lingerie down her hips until she was left in nothing but her thong and heels. Meira slid the underwear down her legs. She crouched, spreading her legs so that her dripping pink pussy was displayed before him. She stepped off the table and lowered herself onto his lap, grinding her swollen clit against his throbbing cock.

She braced her hands on his shoulders as he grabbed her hips, slamming her down on him. She felt the pain of being bottomed out as he sheathed himself inside her fully. Tom grabbed her hair suckling and biting her nipples as she rode him.

"Tom," she moaned, wishing she never had to spend another second without having him inside her.

He panted against her throat as the sound of their slapping skins filled the chamber. She purred against him, loving the way his nails raked over her back threatening to draw blood.

"Hold on to me," he growled.

He stood and carried her over to the bookshelf as she held him tightly against her. Tom slammed Meira into the shelf thrusting in and out of her with enough force to leave bruises and chafing on her back.

She felt it coming. That unmistakable tingle through her body right before she climaxed.

"Milord!" she screamed, shuddering against him.

At the sound of her screaming his name, Tom groaned loudly and emptied his load inside her. He held her there as he softened inside of her. Meira knew he was watching her.

"Tom—."

"Do you truly have any idea what you would be committing yourself to if I agreed to the Bonding Ritual, Meira? You must obey my every command. You can never leave me. You can never betray me."

"I know all of this, Tom. I am already faithful to you. And as for leaving you, there is nowhere and no one else for me."

He held her chin, making sure she was looking in his eyes. "I will hurt you, Meira. I will hurt you, not because I hate you, but because I love your pain, I love your tears when I am the cause of them. Do you still wish to be my wife?"

"Yes, Tom."

"Very well, my masochistic little fox."

The train ride to Hogwarts that morning was a peaceful, yet subdued affair. Harry was writing to Sirius about his scar (which he was obviously trying his best to hide was still bothering him) and the events at the Quidditch World Cup. Ron was attempting to covertly stare at Hermione's chest when he thought her attention was elsewhere.

As for Hermione herself, she was having difficulty coming to terms with last night's dream. She cared for Meira and even began to think of her as a sister. Yet she could not help but to wonder what type of woman would willfully bind herself to the darkest wizard of all time?

Not that Hermione judged Meira. She knew people did stupid things when they were in love. But she began to question what type of witch Meira Belikov was. Was she light or dark? More to the point, why was she hearing her voice, seeing her memories through dreams, and channeling her powers?

Have you learned nothing from my memories, Hermione? she knew Meira was upset whenever she used her full name. Light, dark, it's all the same. In the end, you will see a wizard who should be an emblem of the Light act as Dark as the Dark Lord.

Hermione did not have the strength to argue with Meira. Since stepping foot on the train, she had been assailed with thoughts ranging from at least a mile away.

"…wait 'til the feast. I'm so hungry…"

"…broke up with her. She's such a whore…"

"…Snape. He is so sexy…" Hermione almost gagged from that one.

"…is that a galleon…?"

"…normal to orgasm while riding a broom? I should have asked my mom, but I was too embarrassed…"

"…going to beat those stupid Gryffindors for sure this year…!"

"…too young to be losing my hair, but I know that's a bald spot…"

"…Nargles don't take my socks again this year…"

"…I'm a bloke, I should not think of him that way, but he has such a nice arse…"

"…who will be the new DADA professor? Hope it's a witch…"

And on and on it went. She knew Meira could screen the thoughts coming to her, but she assumed she didn't as a way to punish Hermione for her resentment towards the Dark Lord.

"'Mione."

She glanced at Ron after she heard her name in his mind. He was playing with his wand looking lost in thought.

"Her breasts looked so gorgeous that morning. I wish I could touch them. She sure seems different now, though. What could she possibly see in that Cedric bloke? He's a Hufflepuff, he can't be that bright. Yeah, he's alright looking, but still! If anyone had dibs on Hermione, it was him! Harry and I were her friends from the beginning and Harry obviously thinks of her as his sister. Therefore, she should be mine. After all, who else will have her for longer than a random shag? Yeah, she's finally managing to tame that bird's nest she calls hair. Her clothes are fitting her better than they ever did. But other than that, what does she have that can hold a bloke's attention? She's bloody boring!"

Hermione's hand went to her wand before she realized what she was about to do.

The Weasley idiot does not know that you can hear his thoughts, 'Mi. Yes, you have every right to hex his balls off, but it would draw much unwanted suspicion to you. Let me place a shield around the moron's mind and in the meantime, you calm down.

Hermione leaned back in her seat enjoying the blissful silence of Ronald Weasley's mind. How dare he call her boring? So what if she didn't care for flying around on a broomstick chasing balls? So what if she would rather sit by the fire with a nice book instead of playing Exploding Snaps? And so what if she was not as beautiful as one of those Veela's he almost killed himself over? Hermione knew she was beautiful in her own way. And if he didn't believe it, he could ask Ginny and the Twins, or even the Cedric Every-Girls'-Wet-Dream Diggory.

Harry whispered to Hedwig after he put the letter in her beak and watched her fly out through the window. "Hey, there's the trolley. You want anything, 'Mione?"

"Chocolate, maybe?" her parents, the faithful dentists, would keel over if they knew she was about to eat candy, chocolate especially.

Ron, who nearly barreled for the door at the sound of the trolley, looked back a bit envious over Harry buying Hermione chocolate. He got jealous over the silliest things. He was worse than a girl!

Hermione gazed out of the window, absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks' fur as he purred, loving the attention.

"…Harry! He is so cute…he looks good with long hair… and those beautiful lips! I wonder what it would feel like to kiss them…I should say something… sweet Merlin, he's looking at me! Harry Potter is looking at me…!"

Hermione accidentally picked up on the thoughts of Cho Chang. Cedric's girlfriend. Well, well. It would seem that Cedric was not the only one inclined to creep around the boundaries of fidelity.

Harry came back in with a big, goofy smile on his face. "Here you go."

Hermione took the chocolate and decided to have some fun with her friend. "So, Harry, I hear that Cho Chang has a crush on you."

As expected, he flushed pink. "Really?"

"Yep," she nodded, biting back a moan as the chocolate melted against her tongue. "But you should know ahead of time, she does have a boyfriend."

His face fell slightly. "Do you know who it is?"

"Why? Planning to challenge him to a game of Quidditch? Whoever catches the Snitch gets the bi—?"

"Okay, okay, you can stop now," he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Don't pout, Harry," she laughed. "Her boyfriend is our new friend Cedric Diggory."

His eyes widened as she innocently ate her chocolate. "'Mione, you love me, don't you?"

"You know I do, Harry." She knew what he would ask. Even Ron seemed to be suspicious of Harry's intentions.

"Feel free to smack me if this is not cool, but do you think that maybe you could—?"

"Seduce Cedric away long enough for you to poke around in Cho's Funhouse?" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as Ron watched them with barely veiled disgust.

"Well, you wouldn't have to…you know, I mean if she likes me while she's with Cedric, there is a chance that we could get to know each other better."

"Harry, that's just…sick! Are you seriously trying to whore out our friend so you can have a go with Cho?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look. Ronald was still a child. But Harry and Hermione had both matured a lot over the years.

"I can't make any guarantees, but I will do my best. After all, it's not as if they're married or anything."

"You are the best, Hermione."

"I know. Why don't you throw in an iPod and we're even. We are getting close to Hogwarts. We should probably change," she said, unbuttoning her blouse.

"'Mione," Ron gasped, the makings of a bit of wood showing in the front of his pants. "Don't you think you should, I don't know, go to an empty carriage?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ronald, it's not as if I'm getting naked or something! Harry, will it bother you if I change in here?"

"Of course not. If you don't mind showing us your lady bits then I won't try to kick you out," he said, wiggling his eyebrows before sobering up. "And anyway, I don't think it's such a good idea for you to be off on your own. Malfoy's going to be looking to pay you back for what happened at the World Cup."

"He's right, Ron. If you need to alleviate yourself you should probably take a trip to the bathrooms."

With that, she turned her back on a gaping Ron and stripped down to her underwear to change into her uniform and robes. Her clothes actually fit rather than being a couple sizes too large.

Since they would not begin lessons until the following morning, Hermione decided to leave her hair down, causing mixed reactions from her classmates.

"Is that Hermione Granger?"

"It can't be, look at her hair!"

"But she's with Potter and Weasley, it must be her!"

"Who is she trying to impress?"

"She's gorgeous."

"I owe you a thank you, 'Mione," Harry said, slinging his arm around her neck in a brotherly way.

"For what?"

"For taking the attention off me today."

"You're welcome," she laughed.

"Where's Baltazar?"

"Resting in my pocket." Hermione felt a little bad about having both familiars with her. But she really wanted Baltazar with her and she loved her crazy fur ball too much to leave him behind.

"What in Godric's name?" she whispered. Standing in front of the carriages that would lead them to the gates of Hogwarts were large, skeletal creatures that looked like horses.

Do not panic, 'Mi. You are not hallucinating. They are called Thestrals. Not all of your classmates can see them. Only a person who has witnessed death can see them. I have, many times over, and therefore, so can you.

Hermione was too busy gaping at the creatures to pull together a coherent response. These creatures were nothing like the unicorns and the winged horses she dreamed of seeing as a child. Its entire body was black and skeletal. Its face resembled a reptile. Its wings were similar to that of a bat's, and its eyes were two balls of haunting white.

One of the Thestrals whipped its head around as if sensing her gaze and held her eye. It made a spurring sound and she relaxed a little.

"Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Harry joked.

"Yeah. Ghost."

By the time they made it up to the castle, Hagrid was leading a carriage flown by winged white horses.

"What is going on here?" she said to Harry and Ron as the other students gathered to watch like spectators at a sporting event.

"Not sure. Hope whatever it is doesn't interfere with Quidditch this year," Harry frowned.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, made their way to the Great Hall without any incidence and sat at the Gryffindor Table. The first years were sorted as usual and everyone was anxiously waiting for Dumbledore to finish making announcements so the feast could begin.

"This year, Hogwarts will not only be your home," as he talked, Filch barged into the Great Hall running like he had a Firebolt shoved up his ass. He whispered something to the headmaster and ran back out. "But it will be home to some special guests, as well."

Hermione was seated across from Harry and Ron and between Ginny who was on her left and Neville who sat at her right. She smiled at Neville as he returned her smile shyly.

"Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: the Triwizard Tournament." A mass of excited whispers broke across the hall. Inwardly, Hermione sighed. She had read about The Triwizard Tournament. Basically, by entering, you were signing your own death warrant. "For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. For each school, a single student is selected to compete. Now let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone." That silenced many murmuring students. "And trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted. But more on that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their headmistress, Madame Maxime."

The doors opened and a dozen French girls dressed in blue fluttered into the hall. The boys were practically frothing at the mouth as Hermione arched an unimpressed eyebrow.

"All flash and no sustenance," Ginny whispered in her ear.

"Bloody hell," Ron sighed, looking like a man starved for days as he watched the girls' asses bounce in their dresses.

"Blimey, that's one big woman," Seamus said, staring at Madame Maxime who was even taller than Hagrid.

She exchanged pleasantries with the headmaster and then he introduced the boys of the Durmstrang Institute and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff. Meira seemed to liven then.

Death Eater, she whispered.

"What?"

At least he used to be. He renounced his allegiance when the Dark Lord fell and even submitted evidence against his former brothers.

Hermione caught Harry's eyes and mouthed: Death Eater.

Where? He mouthed back.

Karkaroff.

Harry nodded grimly.

"Merlin, it—it's Krum. It's Viktor Krum!" Ron exclaimed, looking near faint.

"God, Ron's nursing wood over his boyfriend!" Ginny said, making their fellow Gryffindor to laugh and jeer at the red-faced Weasley.

Hermione relaxed during dinner as Ginny caressed the inside of her thigh under the table. She noticed Harry watching the seemingly tense interactions between Professor Snape and Igor Karkaroff.

Do you feel that? Meira said. Feels like…like how heavy the air feels when there is a storm building up.

Meira was right.

Something was coming.

"Eternal glory," Dumbledore continued. "That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

"Wicked," the Twins said.

Oh, boy. It would be shocking if they didn't enter.

"For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. And here to explain all this, we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation…"

Look over there, Meira said. There, to the left side of the hall, towards the back.

A man wearing a heavy coat stealthily limped into the room. The man had straggly brownish-blond hair. He had a normal eye and a magical eye that Hermione was willing to bet he used to see through more than walls. He had a wooden leg and carried a large staff to lean on. Hermione watched him look over at their table, both eyes settling on Harry. Hermione kicked Harry's leg underneath the table, signaling for him to look. He followed her eyes and jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of the strange man who was watching him closely.

Just when they thought they had seen enough surprises for one night, the enchanted ceiling began thundering and striking lightning above their heads. The man shot a jet of light from his wand at the ceiling, capturing everyone's attention.

"Bloody hell," Ron gasped. "It's Mad-Eye Moody."

"Alastor Moody?" Hermione said. "The Auror?"

"Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him."

He's right. He helped capture or kill many Death Eaters.

"He's supposed to be mad they say, these days, though. Mad as a hatter. Wonder what he's doing here."

Hermione and Harry shared a look. "You don't think…?"

"Allow me to introduce Hogwarts new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said proudly, confirming Harry and Hermione's suspicions.

"At least they didn't give it to Snape," Neville said as a few others nodded their agreement.

Finally, Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch got around to explaining that no one under the age of seventeen could enter the Tournament, upsetting nearly everyone, especially the Twins.

"So much for a quiet year, eh, Harry?" she said.

"You're telling me," he said with a shake of his head.

With the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, Mad-Eye Moody as their new DADA professor, a highly dangerous tournament that people she knew could die in, and the Dark Lord plotting with two of his Death Eaters to do something hurtful to her best friend, not to mention her "other half" whispering to her, Hermione was sure that this would be a year that would irrevocably change their lives.

A/N: Ok, so let me know if this story is making any sense at all! lol
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His White Queen: A Prequel