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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
- 8
- 9
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Chapter Eight

Hermione surveyed the inside of the headmaster’s office. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his fingers steeple before his long beard, a pensive expression on his aged face. But he was not alone. Severus Snape stood to the headmaster’s right, failing in his attempts at masking the sheer glee he felt for witnessing what he was sure would be Hermione’s last day at Hogwarts. Across from the headmaster’s desk sat Lucius Malfoy in all of his proud glory. The blond pureblood was alternating between expressions of both smugness and fury. Hermione barely spared the git a passing glance. Beside Lucius Malfoy stood Cornelius Fudge, the minister of magic himself. He was a short man who looked dignified and yet apprehensive. She moved on from him. At his side, looking more like a hopeful lover than employee was Delores Umbridge. She was the Senior Undersecretary to the minister. She was dressed in all pink [Hermione’s absolute least favorite color] and had the physical makeup of a toad. From the way Umbridge looked her over, Hermione could see that the woman was an avid pureblood supremacist. Beside her was a woman that Hermione had a great deal of respect for. Amelia Bones, aunt to Hufflepuff Susan Bones, was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and an inspiration to witches everywhere. Beside her were two very seasoned Aurors with wands in hand. Kingsley Shacklebolt and his partner, John Dawlish. Beside them, Hermione assumed was their trainee Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of the outcast Andromeda Tonks (née Black), cousin of Sirius Black, and incidentally, Draco Malfoy. Lovely.

“Quite a gathering we have here, headmaster. The Minister of Magic, the Senior Undersecretary, the Head of the DMLE, and two and a half Aurors, wands at the ready.” She turned back to Dumbledore not missing their surprised expressions as she listed their titles. “I’m not sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.”

Hermione lowered her shields and maintained a placid expression as she read the thoughts of those in the room, taking care to avoid the headmaster’s mind.

“…smarts won’t save the mudblood this time!” – Lucius Malfoy.

“…knows us. Susan said she was very intelligent. But from the looks of things, her intelligence may be her downfall.” – Madame Bones.

“…knew something would stick. It was bad enough the three idiots freed that mutt last year! She won’t escape being punished for torturing my godson. Potter will fall to pieces without her.” – Professor Snape.

Hermione nearly lost her composure when she overheard the professor’s gleeful determination to see Harry suffer.

“…pretty and innocent looking little thing. There’s no way she could have tortured my little cousin, pompous git that he is.” – Nymphadora Tonks.

“…Albus said the girl was sharp. She’s a Muggle-born, yet she obviously knows Aurors and recognizes the legal implications when she sees it.” – Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“…so young! Then again, Sirius Black was young once and look what he did!” – John Dawlish.

After a while, Hermione pulled up her shield and waited for the headmaster to speak.

“Hermione,” he said, sounding more like a grandfather than a headmaster. “Do you know why we are all here?”

“If I had to guess, I would say it is because of the incident between Malfoy and myself in DADA.” She was not in a room full of idiots. There was no need to beat around the bush or pretend that she and Malfoy were best friends separated at birth.

“There was no incident, you foolish girl,” the elder Malfoy snarled, completely oblivious to the twitch of Hermione’s wandhand. “You tortured my son and there is only one place for someone like you.”

Hermione chuckled softly, her brown eyes brightening mirthfully. “Someone like me,” she repeated thoughtfully. “You mean a Mudblood.” Counting herself, there were exactly ten people present in the room. Five of them gasped.

“Miss Granger!” McGonagall gasped, scandalized, behind her.

“Well, I am sorry professor, but when you hear that every day from the very first time you arrive inside of Hogwarts, the name has less of a sting to it. Which, incidentally enough, started with your son, Lord Malfoy.” As expected, hearing his proper title made the blond simmer slightly and sit a little straighter in his chair. “I suppose things are a bit different at the MoM then?” she said to Madame Bones who could only gape at her.

Fudge cleared his throat, looking very uncomfortable. “Uh, perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand.”

“Yes, there will be no more of your back chat, girl,” Snape said, enjoying himself a little too much.

“I’m sorry, professor, but for the life of me, I am having trouble grasping why it is that you are actually here.”

“Not that it is any of your concern, Miss Granger, but I am here because both the headmaster and Mr. Malfoy requested it. Ten points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn.”

Hermione sensed McGonagall bristling at the unjust point deduction, but she found his repetitive point docking amusing.

“Oh, yes,” she smirked. “I am surrounded by armed ministry officials, but losing points to you takes precedence over it all.” She barely restrained the oncoming eye roll at the end.

Hem-hem.

The overgrown pink toad standing beside the minister cleared her throat in the most annoyingly dainty way. “Excuse me dear, but you should know better than to address your superiors in such a fashion.”

Hermione arched a single brow. “Indeed.” She turned away from the woman and addressed the minister. “Minister, is this an inquiry, a trial, or an arrest?”

Taken aback by her sudden cool and professional demeanor, the minister nervously looked towards the headmaster. Really? He held the power, yet he was about to take advice from the headmaster? Thank Merlin Snape was not the headmaster then.

“Hermione, did you use the Cruciatus Curse on Draco Malfoy during your DADA lesson today?” the headmaster asked.

His expression was unreadable, yet as she held his gaze, she could feel him trying to read her mind. Confident that it would never happen, she met his gaze head-on.

“In a way…yes.”

“There, she confessed! Take her to Azkaban!” Lucius Malfoy demanded.

Hermione felt McGonagall touch her arm as she went for her wand. She could tell the witch was worried for her. But it was them that she should be worried for. She saw what Azkaban did to Sirius. She would be dammed if she ever let herself end up that way.

“Sit down, Malfoy. Nobody’s goin’ nowhere!”

Half of the room’s occupants flinched at Moody’s gruff voice marking his unexpected arrival.

“Professor,” she nodded at him as he limped past her.

“Sorry, Granger. It seems my invite to this little shindig got lost in the mail. Fortunately for you, I am a notorious party crasher.”

“Alastor,” the headmaster said, almost sounding relieved. “We were just in the process of sorting out the matter of the Unforgivable used in your DADA class today.”

“A bit hard to figure out what’s going on during a ministry inquiry without the presence of the professor whose class the spell was cast in, don’t you think?” he said gruffly, his eye whirling about.

“Well, since you are here, professor, perhaps you can enlighten us as to what you were doing while my son was being tortured by this…girl,” Lucius Malfoy sneered, but it was obvious to everyone what he really wanted to call her.

Hermione twisted her wrist, silently summoning her wand, startling everyone in the room. All at once, she found five wands drawn on her. She ignored them and turned to the headmaster as he had suddenly stood.

“Headmaster, before anymore unsightly accusations and insults are thrown, it might be best if one of you examined my wand for the last spell cast,” she said calmly.

The headmaster carefully plucked the wand from Hermione’s fingers and muttered an incantation. Hermione made a mental note to herself that on the next trip to Diagon Alley, she would take a detour to Knockturn Alley and pick up an untraceable wand.

“The last spell cast from this wand was a Babbling Curse.”

“A Babbling Curse!” Lucius Malfoy stood, glaring evilly at the headmaster. “My son is not lying in the Hogwarts infirmary suffering the after effects of a blasted Babbling Curse. Obviously, you have displayed favoritism for this girl and your precious Potter the moment they set foot inside this castle and I will not stand for it a moment longer! Someone will answer for what has happened to my son!”

At that moment, Professor Snape came over to Lucius Malfoy and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“How dare you address the headmaster in such a way?” McGonagall said, stepping around Hermione who wished she had some popcorn to watch the explosive show around her. “You have been trying your best to have Albus removed from his position for years!”

“And based on what has happened in the course of two days of Hogwarts being opened it would seem that I was right. No matter how biased you are, professor, in all things concerning the headmaster.”

“Lucius, really,” Fudge sighed.

Hem-hem. Hermione imitated Umbridge’s pretentious throat clearing perfectly, much to the woman’s displeasure. “I feel like I should have sold out seats to the mudslinging going on in here. Normally, I would not have interrupted, but I was pulled from a particularly interesting lesson today, and if you all don’t mind, I would like for this to move along as I am sure that I am not the only one here who has other matters to attend to today.”

Before Snape could withdraw more points from Hermione, Moody slammed his staff against the floor. “The lass is right. If anyone here actually cares, Miss Granger did not curse Draco Malfoy. The annoying git cursed himself.”

“You dare insult my son, Moody?” Lucius breathed channeling his inner-Death Eater.

Moody was not impressed. “Anytime you feel like makin’ a move, Malfoy…”

“Alastor, please!” the headmaster said. The meeting had quickly spiraled out of control. Everyone expected Hermione Granger to be docile and frightened. Regretful even. But she had surprised them all and singlehandedly managed to shift the attention from her to themselves, playing them one against the other. It was very easily a Slytherin tactic. “I believe it would be best, Alastor, seeing as how it was your class, if you were to allow us to view your memory of the lesson in its entirety.”

“Of course, Albus.” The professor pressed his wand to his temple and pulled a silvery strand of memory from his skull. He dropped it into Dumbledore’s Pensieve.

“We will all go and examine the memory. Hermione you will remain here with Professor Moody.”

Hermione watched as the ministry officials, the headmaster, and her two professors disappeared inside of the Pensieve. When she turned around, she was met with the sight of Professor Moody watching her. She took a seat across from him, returning his stare.

You should take a peek inside his head and see what he thinks of you, Meira suggested.

Normally, Hermione would have agreed, but she held the professor in a high esteem. She didn’t feel it was right to invade his privacy in such a manner. During her musings, she did not fail to notice the professor covertly casting a Muffliatio and a Confundus on the former heads portraits. She waited patiently knowing he had something to say.

“When they get back, they’re goin’ to want to question you about that wandless shield you drew,” he stated, getting straight to the point as always.

“I expected as much,” she said, thoughtfully. “Professor, I overheard some of what you were saying last night about the Goblet of Fire. Do you have any idea who could have done it?”

He watched her speculatively. “No, but if I had to guess, I would say it goes far and beyond any petty rivalries within Hogwarts. This is done directly by those faithful to the Dark Lord.”

“He will return soon, won’t he?” she whispered. She knew it to be true. She could feel it.

“All signs seem to agree. I’m going to ask you again, Miss Granger, why the sudden interest in the Dark Lord?”

“I’m worried for Harry,” was her immediate answer, but they both knew there was more to it than that. “When the Dark Lord returns, everything will change.”

“And things have not changed already?”

“I suppose they have.” Hermione’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “I don’t want him to die, professor.”

Moody limped closer until he was standing directly above her. “And what about the Dark Lord?”

“I don’t even know him,” she mumbled, being not entirely truthful. Thanks to Meira’s memories, she felt she knew more about the Dark Lord than those who called themselves his followers.

“Do you hate him?”

“I hate that he hurt Harry.”

“Answering the question by avoiding it completely, a Slytherin tactic if I ever saw one.” She beamed proudly, somewhat surprising the ex-auror. “Do you wish the Dark Lord dead, Miss Granger?”

Her heart gave a painful clench at such a question. “Dead? Never.” A triumphant gleam flared in the professor’s eye. “But I don’t ever want Harry dead either.”

Before anymore could pass between them, the professor removed the charms and watched the others return from the Pensieve. The far ranging expressions on their faces was comical. Both Snape and Lucius looked as though they had sucked a particularly sour lemon, but Lucius seemed more embarrassed than anything. Umbridge was obviously disappointed. Madame Bones, Aurors Shacklebolt and Dawlish seemed awed and suspicious, and their trainee was mesmerized. McGonagall was relieved more than anything and the headmaster seemed tired.

“I take it the professor’s memory was to your satisfaction,” Hermione said, not bothering to hide the smugness of her tone.

“How…what was that?” Madame Bones asked, seemingly at a loss for words.

“It was a combination of a mirror shield with a bit of absorption to it. My own creation.”

“How were you able to erect it wandlessly?” Nymphadora Tonks asked, her hair turning a peculiar shade of violet.

“It wasn’t easy. I had to focus a large portion of my magic to achieve it. I practiced that particular shield a few times, but today was the first time I have ever been able to sustain it.”

“We could use someone like you in the DMLE, Miss Granger,” Madame Bones praised.

“Why were there even duels to start with?” Lucius fumed at Moody.

“I authorized it, Lucius,” Dumbledore answered. “It seemed like a good idea considering the Tournament among other things.”

“Miss Granger, seeing as though it was Draco Malfoy who cast the Cruciatus Curse in hopes of torturing you, would you like to press charges?” Fudge asked, surprising them all.

“Minister, I must insist—.”

“You will insist nothing, Lucius,” he said, angrily. “You haul us all down here, ready to drag Miss Granger off to Azkaban, when she herself was the victim of your son’s vicious nature.”

“Vicious? Did you hear what that little chit was saying to him?” he could barely suppress the furious tremble in his voice.

“I heard everything, and need I remind you that it was your son who began insulting her first?”

“Furthermore, Mr. Malfoy, it would do to explain to your son the legal implications of both verbal and sexual harassment, as he is so obviously ignorant in those particular areas,” Madame Bones added.

Hermione crossed her legs, twirling her newly returned wand between her fingers. Her poise sparked a distant, long forgotten memory for a few of the occupants in the room.

“I have no compassion for Draco Malfoy, and I am sure that with the exception of Madame Bones, Professors McGonagall and Moody, and the headmaster, none of you would be as gung ho to seek justice had his curse actually hit his mark. But, I do believe that the humiliation he faced today and the pain he is in now will suffice as punishment enough. However, I would hope that this incident has opened your eyes, Lord Malfoy. From the beginning, there has been nothing but animosity between your son and myself. I have been willing to overlook it, but now your son has opened the lines for an all-out war. You may document this if you would like, but the next time your son raises his wand to me, regardless of the consequences, I will respond accordingly. Good day to you all.” With a simple nod, Hermione left behind an office full of speechless adults.

~…*…~

The midday progression found Harry sitting by the Black Lake as Neville stood ankle deep in the water observing plants, exclaiming to himself in his excitement. For a while, Harry let himself forget his problems and the turmoil of the school and his own House and listened to his friend as he explained the differences of land plants versus water plants. Neville broke off from his explanations and frowned.

Harry turned and felt his good mood slipping away. Hermione and Ginny marched towards him, both wearing grim expressions. He could see that his best friend, the girl who refused to abandon him, was very upset. He dropped his books and met her halfway.

“‘Mione? What is it?”

“Your best friend is the most insensitive, uncaring, egotistical, ignorant prat that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing!”

Her face was flushed and her brown eyes darkened considerably. Harry placed his hands on her cheeks and she calmed instantly. “What happened?”

“My brother Charlie, the one that works in Romania? He’s in town,” Ginny answered. “My parents didn’t tell us, because he’s doing something for Hogwarts on special business.”

“Special business?”

“It’s dragons, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, tears falling from her eyes. “Ron told Ginny to tell you that Seamus told him that Hagrid wants to meet you tonight at his hut. The only reason that Charlie would be here now of all times working in secret…”

“The First Task,” he whispered, feeling the cold dread settle in his stomach. He barely felt Hermione wrapping her arms around his neck or her hot tears soaking his shirt. “Why didn’t Ron tell me this himself?” he said in a hollow voice.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Ginny said, her eyes on Hermione.

Harry snapped out of his daze and attempted to console her. “It’s going to be alright, Hermione.”

“How can you say that, Harry?” she mumbled.

“I’ve been through worse things than dragons. Just trust me, okay? I challenge you to name one bastard inside of Hogwarts who’s luckier than me.”

She laughed at his poor attempts at a joke. “We have to tell the others of course. Do you want me to get the message to Cedric?”

“No, it may draw suspicion if you are suddenly seen chatting up Cedric. Especially when a fair amount of the school’s attention is on you, at the moment, since Lucius Malfoy let it slip to the media what happened in the duel.”

She knew he was right. The very next morning, Hermione was all over The Daily Prophet with an article titled, Rise of Hogwart’s Next Dark Witch? And of course, the picture following the article just so happened to be of her with her hair straightened, smirking like a mad woman! A vile woman named Rita Skeeter proclaimed that Hermione was well on her way to becoming a dark witch and with Dumbledore showing her his famous favoritism, no one inside Hogwarts was safe.

“Don’t forget your cloak tonight,” she sighed.

“Don’t you forget that we have a meeting with Sirius tonight.” He held her closer and she could feel him breathing in the scent of her hair. “One day we won’t have all these problems, ‘Mione. One day it will all be simple and we can just…live.”

“From your lips…”

Ginny cleared her throat. She was worried for Harry, definitely. Who in the world – aside from Charlie and Hagrid – would actually want an encounter with a dragon? But she was even more worried about Hermione. She would make herself sick if she kept this up. And an even larger part of her wanted to be the one Hermione clung to in her time of need. Not Harry!

That malicious thought shocked her. Harry was her friend. She was thinking so much like Ron she began to wonder if petty jealousy was hereditary.

“Let me take you back to the Tower,” Ginny offered. “You need rest.”

“Gin’s right, ‘Mione. I’ll be fine.”

Hermione pulled back and met Harry’s determined gaze. She knew there was no winning an argument against the two of them. “Very well. I will go back to the Tower with Ginny. Later tonight, we can try to come up with some strategies. Neville, I expect you to look after Harry in my absence.”

“You can count on me, Hermione,” Neville said proudly.

Hermione kissed her friend goodbye and allowed Ginny to lead her back to the castle.

“You know that if you keep up all this crying you’re going to have bags as large as croaker sacks beneath your eyes.”

Hermione snorted, letting the younger witch link their arms. “Now that is something Lavender Brown would say.”

“I am taking offense to that,” she sniffed.

Hermione successfully ignored all of the hateful, fearful, and appraising looks and whispers that were directed towards her. She was both amused and irritated. She was supposed to be a quiet and faithful supporter of Harry. No unwanted attention should be placed upon her.

Well, that ship has gone down, ‘Mi. The only thing left for you to do is to avoid further suspicion and ridicule. For both your sakes.

She silently agreed as Ginny quickly said the password to prevent the Fat Lady from asking why Hermione looked so downtrodden. They were alone in the dorm. Crookshanks curled on Hermione’s pillow, purring softly in his sleep while Baltazar hissed a soft greeting to his mistress.

“You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?” Ginny said, watching Hermione undress.

“Yes. This ridiculous Tournament is going to change everything. For all of us.”

“Harry’s right. You are worrying too much. It’s Harry, Hermione! No one can survive the way he can. Besides, I doubt anyone in this castle would dare harm Harry with you on his side.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“Tell that to Malfoy.”

“How can I?” she smiled. “He refuses to make eye contact with me now.”

Feeling somewhat better over Harry’s situation, she watched the way Ginny’s eyes lingered over her body.

“Lie with me.”

She pulled the covers back and threw up a silencing charm and an additional protective ward around her bed. She closed the curtains and laid back greatly enjoying Ginny’s little striptease. Her lips were swollen and leaking.

“Let me help you forget it all, Hermione.” She climbed onto the bed and parted Hermione’s thighs.

Six months passed since Meira arrived at Hogwarts. She was sorted into Ravenclaw, House of the Mighty Eagle. When Meira wrote to her grandmother via enchanted parchment, she was so proud. Meira only wished her mother were alive to see it.

She thought back to her first introduction to the castle.

Six Months Earlier

The two aurors sat with the young girl sandwiched between them. They clutched their wands tightly and looked about them nervously, as if expecting Gellert Grindelwald to jump out of the walls and scream, “boo!”

But Meira was unafraid. She knew her father would come for her soon, but not on this day. Not when she was so close to the one man he always hesitated to raise a wand to. Meira waited silently, and a little impatiently, for the aurors to open the Floo so that she may meet her new headmaster.

When Meira was just a little girl, her grandmother Natasia told her the story of Rowena Ravenclaw. She spoke of her beauty, her intellect, and her strength. Rowena Ravenclaw, along with her three best friends, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and Salazar Slytherin, went on to create the greatest school in the world. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Miss Belikov?”Auror Franklin called, pulling her from her reveries.

“Yes?”

“You may step through now. You will come into Headmaster Dippet’s office,” he explained again for the third time.

“Yes, sir.”

The other auror, Simms, carefully squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. “Do not worry, Miss Belikov. Gellert Grindelwald will be stopped very soon.”

Not bloody likely, she thought grimly, but outwardly, she smiled shyly and graciously thanked the men for their protection. If living with the man for the last eleven years taught her anything, it was how to respond to a person’s impression of you. They expected her to be an innocent, fragile girl who barely escaped the clutches of the dark and all-powerful wizard.

That was who she would be.

~…*…~

Meira sat in the headmaster’s office beside her “uncle” Albus Dumbledore who taught Transfiguration. She nibbled on her lip a little nervously while Headmaster Dippet read over her entrance exams. Because of her extenuating circumstances, both the Headmaster and Dumbledore thought it best not to request her files from Durmstrang. Grindelwald would learn soon enough of her whereabouts. There was no need to bring on the ire prematurely.

“Well,” he said after five minutes passed. “You successfully passed all of your tests and are cleared to take the advanced level courses should you choose.”

She sighed in relief. “I was worried. What is the difference between the advanced level courses and the standard level?”

“Aside from a larger work load, the advanced classes provide a more in-depth explanation, and require a more hands-on approach. In addition, the advanced level courses are home to most of the sixth years and a portion of the seventh. Are you interested?”

Meira glanced over at her uncle, curious of his opinion. “You are certainly capable of handling the more rigorous course load, my dear. I just wonder if you will need more time to adjust to everything,” he said meaningfully. Even hundreds of miles away, Grindelwald’s presence hung over their heads like the perilous Sword of Damocles.

“I have always found my schoolwork to be a pleasant distraction to other unsavory things.”

“Very well,” the headmaster said amiably, clasping his hands together. “In addition to your core curriculum, you may take up to three additional courses. You may choose from Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Muggle Studies.”

She thought for a moment. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy were her obvious first choices. Muggle Studies was unnecessary. She knew all she needed to know about them, thanks to her mother’s former clients and contacts. Divination? No, she had learned over the years that you made your own destiny.

“Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures. Sir, will these be advanced as well?”

“Based on your scores I would say that it is a wise decision. Now that that matter is settled, I would like to caution you, Miss Belikov.” The friendly smile dropped from the headmaster’s face at once. “We are living in dark times. Between Grindelwald’s activities and the war happening in the muggle world, fear is all around us. Some of us can rise above that fear and do what is right. Others simply give in, in the hopes that they will be spared. It will do you well to maintain your denial of any connection to Gellert Grindelwald.”

“I understand, sir. And I would like to thank you for accepting me into your school,” she said graciously.

“Think nothing of it, dear.” At once, his joviality returned. “Luckily, your arrival is only three weeks into the new school term so it should not take you as long to catch up in your classes. The downside however is that, par tradition any new student must be sorted into their house before the feast at the Great Hall.”

Anyone else would have been nervous, possibly terrified, but Meira was excited. She had dreamed of Hogwarts from the time her grandmother told her the story of the founders. She envisioned the halls and the professors and the students every time she opened her well-worn copy of Hogwarts, A History.

But above all of this, Meira was excited because since she Floo’ed into the headmaster’s office, she felt Him. He was in the school somewhere. Her destiny. Her partner. Her love. The only problem was that she had no idea who he was.

Meira paced back and forth in front of the closed double doors of the Great Hall. Inside she could hear the headmaster’s amplified voice as he introduced her to the school, embellishing a little on her family’s murder at the hands of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald.

“…welcome, Miss Meira Belikov.”

At the sound of her introduction, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. Just as the doors started to open, she set a small smile on her face.

The doors opened and she walked through, head held high amidst the less than subtle whispers of the students. Dumbledore stood on the dais smiling encouragingly as he held the Sorting Hat in his hand. Meira was just a few steps away when she sensed it. The dull almost ignorable connection of her mate.

She perched herself carefully on top of the stool and crossed her legs. The temptation to lower her mind-shield and scan the hall to see which student could have felt the impossible pull that she had felt moments ago was staggering.

No, she had to be patient. Even if she did find him, what would she say?

“Hello, I realize that you don’t know me, nor I you, but I am destined to be your wife and bear your children.”

Yeah, she could see that going over really well.

Oblivious to her consuming thoughts, Albus Dumbledore lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, covering her eyes.

“Well, hello, Miss Belikov.”

“Hello.”

“My, my, what a delectable mind we have. Oh, confidence, so much confidence. Bravery, too. Gryffindor, perhaps? No, no, a bit too ruthless for their taste. Hmm, intelligent, brave, cunning, and loyal to your final breath. Still, not best for Hufflepuff. Slytherin and Ravenclaw are both suited for your needs, dear, perhaps one more than the other.”

Meira interpreted this carefully. Could the hat know which house he was in?

“I hear your questions, my dear. The one which you seek resides in the House of Slytherin…perhaps this is where you belong…together you will do amazing and devastating things…”

“I am sure of it, and I really would like to be closer to him, but before I can approach the idea of growing into his wife, I must first grow into myself.”

“A very wise and profound realization, Miss Belikov. You will do both your ancestors proud. Good luck on your endeavors.”

“Thank you,” she said just before the hat made its decision.

“RAVENCLAW!!!”

That same night she met two very suave and completely different Slytherins. The flirtatious and attractive Abraxas Malfoy and the enigma Tom Riddle.

Yes, Tom was the added bonus to having the privilege of attending her dream school. He was handsome and by far the most intelligent boy she had ever met. She knew he was The One. The Snake to her Eagle. The heart that beat in harmony with hers. The wizard she would love and obey above all others.

“Hello?? Are you in there, Meira?” Aiden Lovegood said, trying to call her attention.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Probably about a certain Slytherin Prefect with dreamy eyes,” Orphelia sighed.

“Anyone I know?”

Meira looked over her shoulder, perhaps smiling a little too widely as Orphelia and Aiden snickered.

“Hello, Tom.”

“Meira. Would you mind terribly if I joined you?”

“No, not at all.”

The Ravenclaws made room for Tom and they began talking about their Transfiguration project. Normally, Tom would avoid drawing attention to them. Tonight, he seemed oblivious of the stares of their classmates, the envy of both males and females alike, and the approving and disapproving stares from Slughorn and Dumbledore respectively.

An owl swooped in and flew over the Ravenclaw table. This would not be such a strange occurrence had the owl not arrived during dinnertime in the Great Hall.

“What’s wrong?” Tom said, when she unconsciously squeezed his forearm atop the table.

Meira summoned her wand and stood as Tom followed suit. Her father’s spectacled owl, lowered itself on the table before her. The strings of the bright red box in its beak.

“Meira, what’s going on?” he said withdrawing his wand.

“Grindelwald.” She felt Tom tense behind her, but she stood stolid, ignoring the whispers and murmurs around her. “Elfie,” she said, raising her wand. She didn’t think that the owl was a portkey, but she would not take any chances.

The owl bowed and then flew off into the rafters. She watched the owl until it was gone.

“Meira? What’s going on?” Orphelia questioned fearfully.

“Stand back.” Meira erected a shield around the box in case it was dangerous. She swished her wand in an intricate pattern and sucked in a breath when a purple light surrounded the box. There was something dead inside.

She swished her wand again. She could hear her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. The strings untied and the four sides of the red box fell open. Meira barely heard the screams around her as she stared at the severed head of her first lover.

“Guin,” she sobbed. Her lifeless eyes spoke volumes. Her fangs were fully extended. There was something lodged inside her mouth. All eyes were on her as she reached inside Guinevere’s mouth and retrieved the bloody object. She had given Guinevere the charm bracelet on her last birthday. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said as Tom squeezed her shoulders comfortably.

“But it did,” the familiar voice whispered behind them, prompting a fresh wave of screams and hysteria. “And you made it so.”

“Grindelwald!”

“It’s Grindelwald!”

“He’s here!”

“No,” Meira’s voice rang out amongst the hysterical screams commanding attention. With one brush of her hand over Guinevere’s eyes, she turned to face her demon. She was only slightly conscious to everyone watching their interactions. The image of her father was no more than a flicker, but clear enough to incite panic. “You are not really here. You are a controlled animation. A projected thought.”

Grindelwald laughed joyously, applauding her. “You were always the clever one, my dear. It’s no surprise you made it to Ravenclaw.”

“You are not welcomed here. Leave my castle at once!” Dippet commanded with all of the might and force of Zeus himself.

“I would almost take offense to that headmaster, had you and yours not stolen from me to start with.” His eyes returned to Meira and casually glanced over at Tom, as he was holding her against him. “Mr. Riddle, I presume? The young wizard my Meira fancies herself belonging to?”

Tom stiffened behind her, clutching her tighter. She could feel the heaviness of his anger through his magic as it seemed to envelop her protectively.

Grindelwald laughed at the shock and suspicion in their eyes. “I have eyes and ears everywhere. Anytime you make a move, I will know.”

Meira stepped out of Tom’s embrace, completely focusing on Grindelwald. They circled one another as if in a duel. “It’s never enough with you, is it?” she yelled, tears falling from her eyes. “First my mother, Ian, and now Guin?”

Grindelwald wore a thoughtful expression as he tapped a finger against his chin. “A whore, a disgusting parasite, and a half parasite. Her death was such a beautiful sight, Meira,” he said, dreamily. “It’s a shame you had to miss it. ‘Meira, Meira. Please don’t hurt Meira,” he mocked. “You should be thankful that your beloved Natasia is all but untraceable to me.”

Meira’s hands shook as the glass windows trembled and cracked in her fury. “You dare threaten my grandmother?” she whispered.

“Eleven years later and you are still surprised by the things that I do?” His expression quickly darkened, matching Meira’s already black mood. “You deserted me, Meira. I provided for you –.”

“You used me.”

“I took care of you when you had no one.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I taught you all that I know,” he continued as if he had not heard her. “And how do you demonstrate your gratitude? You steal away in the dead of night, and for what means? Did you really think that I would not find you, oh daughter of mine?”

Meira closed her eyes as the gasps and whispers filled the hall. She looked back at Tom. His expression was unreadable, but fury and betrayal reigned dominant in his eyes.

“Oh, dear,” he feigned innocence as she narrowed her eyes. “They were not supposed to know that, were they?” he looked over Meira’s housemates, a cunning smirk on his lips. “I wonder how welcoming they would be to you if they knew how quickly you mastered the Unforgivables? How the Dark Arts embrace you like a long lost lover? Or how well you…negotiatewith my prisoners?”

“That is enough!”

FINALLY. It was as if he was enjoying gazing at her father from across the Great Hall.

“Albus!” he brought his hands together, lighting up like a child who had just recovered a long lost toy. “Still sitting on the sidelines I see.”

“You should not have done this, Gellert.”

“You know, I seem to recall a time not too long ago when you adored my flair for the dramatics,” he sighed meaningfully.

Meira looked from her father to Dumbledore to her father again. She didn’t need to lower her telepathy shields to see what was right in front of her. She was struggling between betrayal, anger, and regret.

“She will never be returned to you,” Dumbledore said, careful to avoid Grindelwald’s comment.

All smiles and joviality dropped from Grindelwald and in its place was the cold, cruel mask they were both intimately familiar with. “Do not delude yourself into thinking that you have any say in the matter.”

“I have the final say! She is ours now, Gellert,” he proclaimed, a maddening twinkle in his eyes.

“Is she?” he said, dangerously. “And what do you say about this, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom came to Meira’s side and fixed the dark wizard with a hard stare. “I would advise you to get your fill, Mr. Grindelwald. You won’t have her again.”

“So many little supporters you have gained in such a short time, my child. You are becoming more and more like your mother.”

“My mother was more than you could ever have hoped to become!”

“Yes, because squibs are so wonderful,” he mocked. He reached inside his pocket and checked the time on his watch. “I seem to have fallen behind schedule. I will make this very simple. You have exactly two days to return my property. And if said property is not returned within those two days, you will leave me no choice but to invade Britain and burn your precious Hogwarts to the ground.”

“If you threaten Hogwarts, Gellert, you shall force my hand.”

Grindelwald’s eyes slid over Dumbledore in such a way that no one was successful in withholding a disgusted shudder. “I look forward to it. One more thing before we say goodbye.” Meira followed his gaze to where Tom stood tensely behind her. “She shall never be yours.” He returned his gaze to Meira. “Two days.”

“I will see you dead for this, father,” she vowed.

“Promises, promises,” he chuckled, fading away into nothing.

No one moved. No one spoke. Each occupant of the Great Hall struggled to come to terms with what they had seen and heard.

“I…am so sorry, Meira,” Dumbledore said, willing her to look at him. But she only had eyes for her fallen lover.

There were so many things she wished to say to Dumbledore. So many curses and cruel words she wished to throw at him, but in the end, she could only say, “No more running. No more hiding,” her whispered voice became a loud echo in the silent hall. “If you don’t kill him I will.”

She flicked her wand, banishing all traces of Guinevere and retreated towards Ravenclaw Tower, unable to face Tom in all her lies.

“My dear Meira, what is wrong?” the beloved founder said, dropping her book.

“Grindelwald,” she replied through her tears. “He wants me in two days, milady.”

“Tom will protect you,” she tried to comfort her.

Meira shook her head. “I won’t let anyone else die for me. Not him. Never him.”

She could see her ancestor had plenty to say on the matter, but withheld in light of her distress. “‘I make people fall, but I don’t leave a bruise. Some people won’t come near me, afraid they will get hurt. I am often mistaken for something else. I am very popular, that even books and movies have been made about me. What am I?’”

“‘I am Love.’”

Meira turned to see Tom slowly twirling his wand between his fingers. “Tom –.”

“Let’s talk.”

Rowena’s portrait swung open and Tom, taking a hold of Meira’s arm, stepped through. Normally the stairs to the girls’ dorm would not allow entrance to boys, but because Tom was Slytherin’s heir, he was immune to the conventional rules of Hogwarts.

He opened the door to her dorm and not so gently pushed her in. She fell to her knees in the center of the room, feeling drained and broken. The other girls would probably sleep in the common room rather than share a room with the spawn of the crazed Grindelwald.

Sensing Meira’s distress, her albino python Kadru wound around her waist and rested her head against her shoulder. She flicked her tongue against her cheek consolingly.

Meanwhile, Tom warded the door and paced around her. He said nothing, but then again he didn’t have to. As soon as she met Tom, Meira made it a habit of studying his moods. His movements, his actions, his speech. She knew by the way he held his wand in his right hand and caressed it with his left that he was angry. Even Kadru took the hint and slithered away from her loving mistress.

“You lied to me.” His voice held no anger, but a cold detachment that hurt her more than any of his curses ever could.

“I had to, Tom.”

“Why?”

“I was ashamed! I was so ashamed of the horrible things I did in his name and the person I had become. I just wanted to start over. To become someone new.”

“Of all the things to withhold from me it’s that you are the daughter of Gellert Grindelwald!” he exclaimed. “Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out,” he warned.

Meira closed her eyes and began her story. “My mother was Grindelwald’s mistress. He was married to a woman named Linnet. A couple of Grindelwald’s enemies tried to kidnap Linnet while she was pregnant. His Soldiers arrived and a duel broke out. Linnet was hit by a stray spell and she lost their baby. She blamed Grindelwald for what happened to her. My mother met Grindelwald when Linnet was sent to Berlin with her Healer. My mother was completely taken with Grindelwald. I think he was always a little disgusted that she was a squib.”

Tom continued pacing silently, but she knew he was listening to her every word.

“My mother was Russian born. She was a model and she did work as an assistant to potions masters. No one knew potions the way she did. Anyway, things started to break down between them when I was five-years-old. Grindelwald felt that all Muggles should be controlled and he didn’t exactly hold Muggle-borns in high esteem either. And then it didn’t help that my grandmother hated Grindelwald and Grindelwald hated my grandmother’s boyfriend Ian because he was a vampire. They fought all of the time. She just wanted a normal, quiet life, but that was impossible. She was already marked by his sickness. It’s funny, you know? He hates Muggles so much, yet he had no misgivings over beating her like one. Finally, she decided it was enough. She packed all of our things and was ready to take us back to our home in Russia. He got to us before we could. Apparated right in the bedroom. He killed her in front of me.”

Meira chanced a look at Tom. He was even tenser if it was possible.

“With my mother dead at Grindelwald’s hands, my grandmother sought to gain custody of me. To make sure it would never happen, Grindelwald knew he had to go after her last remaining support system. He managed to get laws passed making it illegal to marry vampires and have children with them. That bit of stupidity cost him any support from the vampire community. That is, those that survived his raids and public executions. My grandmother was charged with harboring and having relations with a vampire. He even called for her death, but Ian would never let it happen. He let himself be executed to save her, and I had a front row seat to it all,” she scoffed. “As I got older, Grindelwald began to show me more of the business. I…I killed people, Tom.”

He stopped pacing and looked down at her. “You?” he said incredulously.

“I wish I could deny it, but everything he said tonight was the truth. I used all three Unforgivables against his enemies and his betrayers. I tortured to get information, even though we both knew I could simply lift it from their minds, and I…I liked it,” she said, tears steady falling.

“You liked it?” he didn’t sound disgusted, but intrigued.

“I felt powerful for the first time in my life. It was enthralling. Consuming. It was the only time I saw something in my father’s eyes that was akin to fear.”

“There was a moment in the Hall tonight, during Grindelwald’s little show,” Tom began with his back to her. “He looked at you almost the exact same way he looked at Dumbledore, only less restrained.” She knew what he was getting at. “He’s taken you, hasn’t he?”

Meira lowered her head, letting her hair become a veil of protection around her face. “Yes.”

No sooner than the word left her lips did multiple explosions go off around the room. Glass crashed in tiny little pieces against the floor. Books flew against the walls. Papers scattered about. Feathers rained down like a misting rain. And Tom’s magic swirled around her like a protective blanket.

She waited until he reined his magic in and continued. “Tom, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it would be best if I left.”

He kept his back to her, still idly toying with his yew wand. “Is that so?”

“You saw Dumbledore in there. He will never be able to overcome his feelings for Grindelwald and do what needs to be done. I just can’t believe it took me this long to realize it.”

“Even so, once he has you in his clutches again, he will never let you go.”

“He won’t have to. I won’t leave without seeing him die. And it’s not as if I have any other alternative, even if Dumbledore did manage to break Grindelwald’s lore. There is not one person who wants me inside this castle after what has happened.”

Meira didn’t see it coming when Tom uttered the dreaded word.

“Crucio.”

Blinding pan engulfed her as she fell against the carpeted floor. She bit back her screams, only uttering suffering whimpers as Tom dropped the curse.

“It would seem that you are under the impression that you leaving Hogwarts in no way affects me, my self-proclaimed other half. Perhaps I am mistaken.” Even after torturing her, he spoke casually as if discussing potions ingredients. “Am I mistaken?”

“You don’t understand, Tom! There is a reason why other wizards have fallen before him! He has…” Meira cried out in frustration unable to speak Grindelwald’s most dark and heavily guarded secret.

Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He was bothered by her assumption that Grindelwald could defeat him. He was even more bothered by her conviction. “He has, what?” he said in a dangerously calm tone.

“I can’t. He cursed me from telling anyone. But it’s something…powerful.”

“Horcruxes?”

She shook her head. “More powerful.”

Tom was intrigued. Nothing was more powerful than immortality. He would think more on it later. For now, he had a lesson to teach. “Do you love me as you say, Meira?” he questioned a bit mockingly.

“More and more with each passing day.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“And are you loyal to me?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will trust me to protect you.”

“But – .” she screamed this time as the curse impacted her. When he dropped it, she lay there drenched in sweat and tears.

“You will trust me to protect you.”

“I…I trust you to protect me,” she whispered.

With another flick of his wand, Tom banished their clothing. She ignored her cramping muscles as her eyes feasted on the weeping tip of his hardened cock. She wanted to suck it. Her stomach stirred and she began to throb uncomfortably between her thighs. Tears still falling, she worked through the pain and brought herself to stand shakily on her knees. She tasted the tip of him, slowly sucking him inside her mouth until her nose touched the dark hairs at the base of his cock.

Tom let her please him a little while longer before he pulled back from her. “You haven’t earned that privilege back, Meira. So many lies you have told.”

She looked up and saw that for the first time ever, Tom’s dark coffee colored eyes were the color of wet blood. Most girls would have run away scared by now. First, the Cruciatus and now blood red eyes. But Meira was not most girls. The sight of Tom’s changed eyes was an affirmative sign that the heavy magic and the essence flowing around the ring on his hand was in fact a soul fragment. She felt comfort in knowing that Tom had begun to take steps in preserving himself.

He saw the realization in her eyes and smirked darkly. “So now you know my secret. What shall I do with you now?”

“Please, milord.”

It was the right thing to say, she realized when he lifted her up in spite of her protesting and spasming muscles and wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her over to her bed that like the others was covered in feathers. He fell into her as she unconsciously dropped her shields.

“…so beautiful…Mine…wet, so wet and tight…Mine…knew Dumbledore couldn’t be trusted…die for betraying her…”

“Tom, Tom,” she panted. She needed to forget. Grindelwald. Dumbledore. Guinevere. Ian. Her mother. Despair. Death. Betrayal.

The headboard banged loudly against the wall. The mattress squeaked rapidly in sync with their movements.

“…can keep her…she will never trust Dumbledore again…we could rule together…”

Tom suddenly bit into her shoulder. The added pain coupled with the animalistic need to be marked by her lover pushed her over the edge. He took advantage of her weakened state and kept pounding into her hard until she had another orgasm just as he came.

“…Mine…” his mind whispered.

Their bodies were covered in sweat, come and feathers when it was over. They lay beside one another. Neither speaking. Meira managed to erect her telepathy shields. Tom’s circling thoughts had begun to give her a migraine.

“You will not return to him,” he finally said. “Dumbledore may feel enamoredby Grindelwald, but he will never allow harm to befall Hogwarts.”

Meira felt comfortable enough to agree with Tom on Dumbledore’s love for the school. “How am I going to face everyone? My professors, my dorm mates? They will fear me now.”

“They will respect you,” he corrected. “The Slytherins will stand by you, as well as your fellow Ravenclaws. They may fear your abilities, but they are intelligent enough to know that you had no choice in the tasks Grindelwald entreated you. If the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs see this differently, so be it.”

“I can’t blame them if they did. Grindelwald kidnapped, tortured and executed many witches and wizards. For all I know, I could have played a role in the death of my classmates’ relatives.”

“You did what you had to, little fox. ”

Meira blushed. She had only used her Animagus form once and it just happened to be the night Tom was to patrol the castle. He caught her sneaking out and followed her into the Forbidden Forest. He watched her change and started calling her that ever since.

“No more on this tonight. You must rest. ” He cleansed them, cleared away all the feathers, and repaired the damage to the room.

“What are you doing?” she questioned hopefully as he pulled her against him.

“Ensuring that you do not steal away while everyone sleeps. ”

“But what about the other girls?”

“Orphelia warned them that you would need me tonight. I would wager they are making provisions in the Common Room. A slumber party of sorts. No one will say a word. Especially not to Dumbledore.”

Tom extinguished the lights and Meira felt Kadru take her place on the pillow beside her. He wound his arms around her waist, drawing her against his chest. “Sleep.”

“Hermione, wake up!”

She sat up quickly, blinking the sleep away. She found Ginny beside her, clutching the sheets against her breasts. She looked terrified.

“What’s wrong, Gin?”

“You…you were sleep talking,” she trembled.

Oh no. “What did I say?”

Ginny licked her dry lips and took a breath. “You said, ‘Tom’. You moaned ‘Tom’ Hermione. What’s going on?”

“Ginny, please calm down.”

“Calm down? You’re dreaming of fucking Tom Riddle – and don’t you dare try to deny it – and you want me to calm down?” she shrieked. “Is he controlling you? Has he possessed you somehow?”

Get her under control, ‘Mi, Meira warned.

“Ginny, please listen –.”

“We have to tell someone. Dumbledore! He’ll know exactly what to do.”

Shut her up, ‘Mi, or I will do it for you.

“I won’t let what happened to me happen to you,” she said, searching for her clothes.

“Ginny, wait a second.”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Hermione,” she said. Her eyes reverted to those of the haunted eleven-year-old she once was. “He can make you feel so good, and then before you realize it, he has you ready to Avada everyone in sight in his name!”

“It’s not like that at all, Gin. Please let me explain.”

“He won’t take you. I won’t let him. I will never let him.”

Feeling Meira taking control of her magic, ready to utter the Killing Curse, she pulled the panicking witch into her arms and kissed her until she felt all of the doubts and fears withdraw from her. Hermione pressed her fingers against Ginny’s temples and looked into her eyes.

“Obliviate.”

A/N: I KNOW THAT HARRY LEARNS OF THE DRAGONS FOR THE FIRST TASK AFTER HIS MEETING IN THE COMMON ROOM WITH SIRIUS, BUT I LIKE IT BETTER THIS WAY!
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His White Queen: A Prequel