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The Hogwarts Christmas Orb	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 8467 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Seven

Getting Stronger

Ever since that time they’d sex, Tom no longer slept on the couch. Hermione had taken him into her bed, telling herself it didn’t matter. He couldn’t do anything to harm anyone as long as he wasn’t touching her. She could stop him if need be. She was the one in control here, the one with a fully self-sustaining, normal body. Besides, she figured if he thought she’d lowered her guard, he might let something slip that would inform her how to dispose of him. She wasn’t betraying anyone. They were just sleeping … most of the time.

Drowsily, Hermione was lying on her side, listening to Tom’s even breathing as he slept. She liked the feeling of his warm body spooning her and his arms holding her possessively, even though she would playfully whack him over the head if she felt he was taking that possessiveness a tad too far. He, however, was exceptionally well aware of where she drew the line and hardly ever crossed it. She suspected that when he did, it was deliberate, given he always sported that expectant, taunting expression in those moments.

She knew it was slightly insane of her, but she had come to feel safe in his arms. She enjoyed his company. He was exceptionally intelligent, so she was never without a suitable conversational partner. They’d come to discuss magic, theories, politics (which always made her want to wring his neck, especially when he turned her arguments against her), Arithmancy, cooking, pets, the virtues of Muggle versus wizarding clothing—well, basically everything under the sun and beyond was a topic they felt worthy of discussing. He also taught her things, many things she’d never believed to be magically possible. Yes, even that blasted pocket of his, and even though he’d kept bugging her teasingly about those two questions she now owed him, he never asked them.

Hermione sniggered internally. She’d come to realise that the one thing that could set of Tom Marvolo Riddle was telling him something was not possible. It was like he took it as a personal affront that there might be limits to what he could do with magic. If she wanted to be rid of him and have some quiet time, all she had to do was casually mention an issue that could not be solved by anyone and he would just be sitting there, in that familiar, do-not-disturb posture, contemplating the problem until he either had it solved or assumed he had.

Often, his solutions weren’t testable without breaking tons of laws, and she didn’t always agree with his assessments that it was the solution at all, but she was amazed he was able to make these complex computations by heart without the ability to write things down. She really envied that mind of his—well, the part of it that wasn’t batshit crazy.

When she’d a difficult situation at her job, he was spectacularly helpful in laying out all the pros and cons of every angle. Of course, they’d argue about what was the pro and what the con, but she valued those arguments because they made her think and caused her to have her department produce the most solid new laws in years. She knew he’d made her an even better boss. Though she never had complaints before, she missed less with him around. Two really saw more than one.

And he made her laugh. He had an acquired taste of vicious humour that had taken her a while to get used to. Now that she saw it for what it was, it didn’t affront her anymore as it’d done in the beginning. Often, it would remind her of Harry’s dark sarcasm during the war, which had upset her too back then, mainly out of worry though. And she wasn’t worried about Tom Marvolo Riddle, she reminded herself as she drifted off to sleep.

xxx

Winter came, and it became more and more difficult to Tom to hide his improving abilities from Hermione. He didn’t know with certainty why it was happening—though he had a (in his eyes) solid theory—but he’d begun to be able to touch and lift tiny objects for longer durations than mere seconds without having to touch her. His magic was improving, too, though he was seriously irritated at the stupidity of the spells he was able to perform. Only when touching Hermione, he could do complex or forbidden magic. Still, since there was a steady incline of his capabilities, he waited patiently.

After the incident with the blond witch, Luna, he’d also expected to regain visibility to others, but it wasn’t happening. That was actually rather useful for the time being. If the ministry were to be alerted to his existence with actual proof, there was no telling to what length they would go. He didn’t think Hermione’s past actions or her friendship to the boy wonder would be enough to protect her and him. And as long as he didn’t have the freedom to perform his full array of curses at his own discretion, he’d rather not go up against a bunch of idiotic moralistic saviours.

So, he kept a close eye at the way people reacted when he was in their presence since he had no idea why this Luna Lovegood had been able to see him. He’d not told Hermione about that encounter, but he’d discreetly weaselled the information from her that, apparently, Lovegood often saw things that weren’t there. He figured that maybe she had some advanced psychic talent; he’d heard and read of others with somewhat similar capabilities. Some were even institutionalised in the past. The wizarding world could, for all its wonder, be extremely conservative at times in what was and was not possible magically. He knew better.

The trouble he now faced was that his digestive system had started to function again. The first time he’d needed to pee, he’d almost wet himself, so unused to said occurrence he had become. It had been hard to take in fluids and food when he could only do it outside of Hermione’s presence. Fluids weren’t the issue; he could get by with tap water. However, he didn’t dare eat her food, because she’d notice it missing. She was just as organised in her food storage as she was with everything else.

So, he stole food from her neighbours, other ministry workers and wherever he could get his hands on it without her seeing him do it. The trouble was that it wasn’t enough and he was beginning to lose weight—not much, but he feared it would become visible eventually. And just the other day, his stomach had growled in her presence and she’d looked up questioningly. He’d made a pun of it, but he wasn’t sure she’d been completely fooled. The sharp way she’d observed him afterwards had made him extra cautious, and for several days, he’d not done anything with or about his new abilities to throw her of his scent. Eventually, her suspicion had lessened and he’d been able to go about his way again.

Only a few more weeks and it would be Christmas Eve. If his theory about his current existence were correct—as he was sure it was—that would be the time he’d be able to resurrect fully. Lord Voldemort would rise more powerful than he ever had before. He glanced sideways at the bushy-haired witch who was chatting animatedly with her friends and smirked. Soon, all she’d know and need was him, and he planned to put that delicious, little body, her amazing mind and incredible magical skills to good use. Mudblood she might be, but Lord Voldemort never scoffed at power, and if there were one thing Hermione Granger had plenty of, it was power. In due time, that power would serve only him, and the world would fall before him.

His eyes glinted merrily. His face displayed a wild happiness that distorted his handsome features to something exuding cruelty and evilness. He was so caught up in his happy daydream that he never saw the brief glance Hermione threw his way nor did he witness her contemplative expression afterwards while her friends laughed loudly.
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The Hogwarts Christmas Orb