September 1945

Venice was breathtakingly beautiful. Hermione had never been to the famous city before and hadn't even known they had a magical district until now. She let her eyes wander over the picturesque street their favourite café was located at. The colourful flowers on the balconies of the elegant houses were in full bloom and the aged cobblestone roads were crowded with chattering witches and wizards going about their daily lives.

"You gonna eat the rest of your cake?" Evan inquired, his eyes pointedly wandering over her forgotten dessert.

"In fact, I will." She replied with a cheeky grin and put a piece of the sweet delicacy in her mouth.

Evan watched her with a betrayed expression, mischief sparkling dangerously behind his faux crestfallen look. "You're too cruel, love. Won't you take pity on this starving man?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione swallowed another piece before finally relenting to his disarming charm and scooped the rest of the cake onto his plate. "You're such a menace."

"And you love me for it."

Hermione scoffed, "I most certainly do not."

They fell into a comfortable silence, peacefully enjoying each other's company. They'd been in Venice for a little over two months now. Their parents had more or less ordered them to extend their holiday over the summer in a ridiculously ill-veiled attempt to advance their relationship to a more permanent level. It had felt like a midsummer night's dream to Hermione.

They'd spent their days exploring the city and surrounding nature. Evan had even let her drag him through the muggle parts of the city despite the troubled times. World War II had just ended and Italy was in the midst of a political revolution. They'd visited countless museums and dined at the finest restaurants the city had to offer. She didn't even want to know how much money she'd spent on wine alone this month.

There were only a few days left before their return to England. Evan had to get back to his work at the ministry and Hermione would finally accompany Rodolphus to his weekly meetings with his business partners. Before her time with the Lestranges, she'd never understood how the old families continued to accumulate so much wealth. Here she'd learned, that their gold, in fact, didn't just appear out of thin air or through other dubious channels. Well mostly.

The Lestranges, for example, owned a notable amount of land and dabbled in all kinds of financial dealings in the wizarding world. She'd, of course, read in the prophet about the state of the economy but had severely underestimated the sheer size of it. The Blacks and Malfoys owned so much property on the isles that Diagon Alley was practically divided between the two families.

It had been an eye-opening experience when she'd first learned about their involvement in almost every branch of government. Of course, it was easier to hold onto your power when you decided on which housing laws were passed or when it was your son-in-law who signed your building permits. It hadn't taken long for her to realise that their system was rotten to the core. Corrupt to a point she'd never fathomed could be possible before she witnessed it first-hand after Voldemort's return. And the Ministry's lacking response to the threat.

"Anything special you want to do tomorrow?" Evan interrupted her thoughts and she furrowed her brows. "For your birthday." He clarified.

"Oh." She'd honestly not expected them to do anything. Maybe a nice dinner but that was it.

"Great, then my plan will do." Rubbing his hands together the young man across from her stood and held out his hand.

Sceptical of his sudden enthusiasm Hermione let him pull her after him towards their temporary abode. At first, she thought he was joking when he presented her with the central palazzo Evan had the audacity to call their home but then-, she shouldn't have been surprised that his family had vacation homes all over the continent. The Rosiers were, as she'd finally learned in the past months, very influential figures in the international trade of magical creatures. A highly lucrative business as Evan had assured her.

"Pray tell what you've plotted in your pretty head then Mr Rosier." Hermione teased as they settled down in one of the sitting rooms of the impressive house.

Evan rewarded her with a small smile, "You'll see. All you need to do is put on your most bedazzling dress and get that thing you call hair on your head under control."

"You-" Evan skilfully evaded the soft pillow she sent flying towards him.

"Beautiful thing! Your best feature truly." He yelled as she grabbed another.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Brat."

Evan laughed, "Don't be cross with me, darling. So the lady doth not protest the dress I so kindly ask her to wear?" He knew that Hermione wasn't a fan of dressing up.

"…Why do I need such a most bedazzling dress tomorrow, Evan?" She asked with narrowed eyes. She really didn't like surprise parties, the last one had ended with Avery in her bed after all.

"Oh, you know I can't tell you that now." Her friend leaned forward, "would ruin the surprise don't you think?"

Huffing Hermione jerked her head, "Alright, but don't expect much. I didn't pack for an occasion that would require… Dazzle."

Her friend looked decidedly too smug at her reply. "No worries. I took care of it. I had the house elves measure you weeks ago and ordered everything necessary."

Hermione spluttered at his casual remark but couldn't bring herself to be angry at Evan. His eyes shone in excitement and it was endearing, really. Catching the corners of her mouth lifting at his enthusiasm she continued to listen to his ramblings…

"Happy Birthday Hermione."

Her breath hitched as she let her friend lead her towards the opulent entrance of the building, they'd apparated to. "The muggle opera? How did you-"

"You've been eying the posters for weeks, love. One would have to be blind not to notice."

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't seen one since her sixth year in the future. Her parents had always loved the opera and she, in turn, had grown up with it. Standing in front the beautifully lit up building among the countless billowing dresses of the other attendees brought up a myriad of memories she'd thought long forgotten. Her father completely enraptured in the story of Les Troyens. Her parents arguing over an especially controversial piece whose name she couldn't remember for the life of her.

"You don't know how much this means to me, Evan." She captured his eyes with hers. "Thank you so much." And because her emotions were running haywire, she threw caution in the wind and stood up to her tiptoes to place a fleeting kiss onto her stunned friend's lips.

"I- you're very welcome, Hermione." He stuttered, clearly taken aback by her affectionate gesture. In public, nonetheless. "Let's get inside before you ravish me on the spot." He teased, quickly regaining his wits as he gently steered her through the crowd.

Hermione couldn't stop smiling as they went to find their seats, her cheeks already aching from the constant strain. When the lights dimmed, the lump in her throat grew and she felt a few tears rolling down her powdered cheeks. Evan hadn't noticed her emotional struggle, captivated by the sudden darkness that engulfed them without the aid of magic.

"Look Hermione, the pictures on the stage are moving by themselves!" She watched as he pointed with boyish excitement at the moving background. Merlin, that man will be the death of me. Hermione had always found the Rosier heir attractive but at that moment, she couldn't even bear to look at him in fear her heart would burst. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for her. He knew close to nothing about the muggle world and still went through the effort to procure tickets, prepare their evening attire and sit next to the people that he feared would burn him at the stake if they knew of their magic. It was so unbelievably sweet. She was at loss for words.

"Hush, it's starting." She whispered over his excited chattering as the first haunting note left the bowstring of the orchestra to their feet. Quickly losing herself in the tragic story that was unfolding on stage…

A few days later Hermione watched her house elves vanish with her last remaining bags in tow. Evan and she stood at the front of their temporary home, overseeing the hustling and bustling of the elves as they put white sheets once again on every piece of furniture and put the flowers adorning most surfaces of the manor under a stasis spell.

"Ready to get back to rainy England?" Evan asked wistfully, his eyes following one of the elves as it cleared the pathway leading towards them of any remaining dirt with a snap of its spindly fingers.

Hermione sighed, "I didn't think there'd ever come a day where I'd long for a proper scone with jam. Not the poor imitation they tried to serve us here."

The two of them chuckled at the memory of the many poor waitresses they'd bothered in search for Hermione's favourite treat. "You shall not wait much longer. Our portkey should activate any minute now." Evan looked down at her, "Sure you got everything?"

She nodded. "Alright then, your hand if you please?" His warm fingers curled around her hand and a few seconds later they were pulled through the coin in his other…

"Hermione! My, don't you look like you just spend your Holidays in the Mediterranean." Turning around the young witch saw Loreen hurrying down the stairs towards her. She looked much better than the last time she'd seen the woman, her airy robes fluttering prettily behind her.

"Hello aunt Loreen, I hope you've been well." She spoke as the older woman came to a halt before her, taking in Hermione's relaxed appearance.

"Look at that tan, what were you thinking?"

Hermione shrugged.

Loreen watched her with pursed lips but stayed quiet otherwise. "Is my father not home?" Hermione asked absentmindedly, her searching eyes roaming over the abandoned entrance hall of Lestrange Manor.

"He'll return tonight. Rab and he had some business to attend to in London." Loreen informed her.

Business? Hermione wondered silently, feeling like he should've informed her about that in his last letter. She was supposed to take over a lot in the next few months after all.

"I see. Thanks for telling me, I'll go rest up a little in my room then."

Loreen's hand on her arm stopped her. "You cannot just excuse yourself after spending months away with a Bachelor as dashing as Rosier and tell me nothing transpired between the two of you."

Hermione knew, what she'd done wasn't appropriate in her aunt's eyes but she had let the topic go after it'd become apparent that this was supposed to end up in her niece's engagement. The fact that it didn't was probably the reason she looked so worried right now.

The memory of an innocent kiss flashed through her mind. "Nothing happened."

Loreen looked crestfallen. "Ah. A pity."

No matter how charming Evan was, Hermione didn't want to tie herself to a man this early. If ever. And despite all of what made him good, there was also a lot of bad in the young man that hadn't simply vanished the minute he began fancying her. Evan was taking after his father in his approach towards politics and business. He didn't care much for the treatment of the magical creatures he traded nor for the people in their society that were struggling. He hadn't spoken to Minny once back in school, despite their regular encounters in class or the corridors. He might not outright hate muggleborns and half-bloods, but the older he got, the more prejudiced he seemed to grow towards them.

Hermione often caught herself dismissing his derogatory comments during their stay in Venice and had to actively remind herself, that this privileged life hasn't always been her reality. That Evan Rosier wouldn't even have looked at her if she were still Hermione Granger. It served as a chilling reminder of what was at stake if Tom simply took over the ministry with no one to rule him in. Tom.

After she had finally shaken her inquisitive aunt off, Hermione made her way upstairs to her rooms. She hadn't spoken to Riddle in months. Or Lord Slytherin as he liked to be called now. Rodolphus had nearly wept when he'd read the news of Tom officially claiming his titles and what was left of the Gaunt estate, in the prophet. She knew he'd worked for years to clear his Lord's path of any obstacles but never gathered up the courage to ask what exactly he had been doing all this time.

She made herself comfortable at her desk and pulled out some parchment. Chewing on her bottom lip she tried to think of a good introduction. Hermione knew Tom was working hard to make himself a name at the ministry, so she started with an inquiry of his most recent projects.

By the time she was finished, her candle had shrunken to half its height. Satisfied with the result Hermione sealed the letter with her seal and called for an owl. As far she knew, Tom was still staying at his late father's house, so she directed the owl to go there first.

"Dinner is served, Miss Lestrange." One of the house-elves appeared in her room, eying her dishevelled appearance with a disdainful tilt of its grey lips. "Burkeg will prepare a change of clothes." Hermione took the not so subtle hint and freshened up in her bathroom before returning to a neatly laid out set of robes…

"So, I guess Rosier Sr. will not be welcoming a new daughter-in-law in the near future?" Her father teased as they made themselves comfortable around the dinner table.

From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Loreen shake her head. "I was too busy corrupting poor Evan's mind with the wonders of muggle culture I'm afraid."

Her aunt tutted.

Rodolphus let out an amused huff. "I've expected nothing less." He waited for the elves to serve him, before he continued, "Ready to relieve me of some of my duties then after I so graciously let you off the hook for the entire summer?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. It's not as if there is much else to do now."

Loreen cleared her throat quite audibly, clearly taking offence to Hermione's statement. She suddenly understood why witches had children so early here. You could only do so much else to pass the time cooped up at home and having tea with the other wives.

"We'll talk about your responsibilities tomorrow," Rodolphus announced and with that everyone returned to their dinner.

December 1945

The days had turned shorter in the weeks Hermione had spent between mountains of correspondence in Rodolphus' study. She'd gotten her own desk and the two of them had spent many hours of their days in there. Hermione had taken to the administrative parts of her work like a fish to water much to her father's delight. The paperwork had been the bane of his existence since their arrival in this era.

"When you're done with these, we're going for a quick trip to the ministry. I want this signed by today." Waving a stack of papers over his head, the older Lestrange continued writing down Merlin knows what quite furiously.

"I haven't been there in ages. You reckon Evan will be in?" She hadn't seen him or any of her friends for that matter in months. Learning everything about handling their family's finances had occupied most of her waking hours since her return from Venice. She thought she'd quite a good grasp on everything when Rodolphus had shown her the basics during her final year. She'd been wrong. So very wrong.

"Forget the Rosier boy. You're spending way too little time with our Lord. Go visit him when we're there." It was an order.

Scrunching up her nose Hermione nodded. "Alright, alright I'll go. Happy?"

"Very." Rodolphus stood. "Alright, that's done let's go." Before Hermione could protest, he was already pulling her towards the impressive fireplace at the back of the study and threw in a hand-full of floo powder. "Ministry of Magic." He spoke clearly before shoving Hermione into the green flames.

"Must you-" She managed to complain before she reappeared in the busy entrance hall of the ministry. Hastily exiting the fireplace, she waited for Rodolphus to join her.

After a few seconds, the fire lit up again and out stepped the man in question. He patted down his expensive robes and pulled his hands through his tousled locks before gesturing Hermione to follow him. "This won't take long, why don't you visit your friends while I finish this."

It's not as if he left her with much of a choice Hermione thought as they split ways at the elevators. Tom was currently assigned to the department of internal affairs, his proximity to the lawmakers of this country still making her feel uneasy. Might as well get used to it now.

"If it isn't Hermione Lestrange." Whirling around at the familiar voice Hermione found herself face to face with Avery. "Here to see Tom I presume?" The former Slytherin had the cheek to wink at her.

"Avery, I'd say it's a pleasure, but my parents taught me not to speak lies." She was rewarded with a deep chuckle that didn't fit the image of the pompous brat from her third year in her head at all.

"Charming. As always. Here let me escort you." About to decline his offer, Hermione was startled by Avery's hand that had suddenly grabbed hers and rested it in the crook of his arm. "It's quite a maze down here. Wouldn't want you to get lost after all."

Scoffing at the annoying man she allowed him to guide her through the winding corridors. He was right of course, but that didn't mean she'd give him the satisfaction of her telling him so.

"How's the ministry work treating you? Or are you just here for decorative purposes until you're old enough to join the gentlemen's club?" Hermione asked haughtily.

"I'll take this as a compliment since you just called me attractive and-" Avery began,

"I most certainly didn't," Hermione interjected.

"And the work is surprisingly enjoyable, Tom and I work a lot together and let me tell you his lordship is even more intimidating than back at school."

"Is he now?" Hermione watched gleefully as Avery choked on his breath. Tom Riddle stood right behind them; a folder filled to the brim with forms tucked under his arm, his dark curls were styled to perfection and his jaw somehow got even more chiselled. Hermione had to physically restrain herself from further ogling the heir of Slytherin.

"Tom! Didn't hear you there. Where you behind us the entire time?" Avery asked aghast.

Tom scoffed. "Of course not. Lestrange. Good to see you." He rewarded her with a disarming smile that would've made even the most frigid witch fall for him.

"I actually came to see you." Hermione managed to choke out.

Tom regarded her with a calculating gaze. "You did? Well, I can take a short break. Let me show you to my office."

His office? Hermione mused but then remembered that this was probably normal for the scions of the sacred twenty-eight. Merlin forbid they had to share their space with the common folks. They only mingled with the lower-ranked officials because it looked good once they took over their fathers' positions. Hermione scoffed internally. She was really starting to despise the rampant nepotism within their government.

Avery hastily excused himself and fled back to his own work leaving Tom and Hermione on their own. "After you." Tom's smooth voice surrounded her like a mid-summer breeze. He was practically oozing charisma. It was ridiculous.

Hermione had thought she was pretty immune to Tom's pull, but those few months apart from him seemed to have stripped her off most of her defences. It was quite worrisome. His office was located at the far back of the corridor and once they finally arrived, he made himself comfortable at his desk, leaving Hermione to awkwardly sit in the chair across from it.

Putting his chin on his folded hands, he waited for her to speak. Hermione suddenly felt like she was about to be chastised for running in the halls. "What an honour that you spare me a couple of minutes of your precious time Miss Lestrange." He spoke in a pleasant tone that betrayed his icy glare.

Hermione shuddered. "I'm sorry for not coming sooner. My father kept me busy." He was definitely angry with her.

"No offence taken. So, why are you here?"

Oh, he'd clearly taken offence. Hermione's throat felt as dry as a desert as she scrambled for an answer. "I just thought it'd be nice to see you again. It's been way too long." She thought that she didn't sound very convincing.

"How nice. I appreciate it." He spoke stoically and an awkward silence followed.

"How are you, Tom?" Hermione finally asked, unnerved by his quietness.

He seemed to take pity on her, and Hermione watched relieved as his shoulders sagged, the deep creases around his mouth shrinking considerably. "I'm well. The work is challenging and thanks to your father I encountered little objection to my presence here."

Hermione felt the knot in her chest loosen. She didn't want their first meeting in months to end with Tom hexing her after all. "I'm glad. You-" She nearly choked on the lie, "You deserve it."

Tom rewarded her with a satisfied grin. "I do."

It took all of Hermione's self-control to not flinch at his confident tone. The dangerous future that was lurking just above the horizon had seemed so far away back home. Now that she looked at Tom again, she felt goosebumps running down her arms. Tom Riddle had made it into the ministry at nineteen. How many years had she left until he and his followers seized power? With the support of most of the old families, it wouldn't even take him another decade. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she'd first met the quiet boy at Wool's Orphanage. He had little in common with the finely dressed wizard lounging in his office chair across from her.

"The Lestranges will always support you, Tom." The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

Something in his eyes shifted, "I know."

The room seemed to grow colder with every second that passed. The silence that had followed his statement seemed to stretch forever until Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

Clearing her throat, she glanced around his office, admiring the impressive number of books behind him. "How's Walburga doing these days?" As far as Hermione knew, the two were still courting.

"I'll propose to her over the Yule holidays," Tom remarked casually.

"Oh- Congratulations then?" Hermione stuttered, taken aback by his nonchalance. After not seeing him for such a long time, it felt strange to talk about such intimate topics. Silver eyes seemed to watch her in the back of her mind, his sinister intent echoing through her memories. She hadn't forgotten his demand from so many months ago.

"I expect all of you to behave yourselves since she'll be around quite frequently," Tom explained. "It's quite convenient that you came. Saves me the trouble of sending an owl."

He leaned back in his leather chair, the warm candlelight of the chandelier above them casting foreboding shadows over his gaunt face. "We'll resume our weekly gatherings at my house starting next week." Hermione had expected something like this to happen, she was surprised it hadn't already.

Tom seemed to understand her silent musings, "I wanted to wait until everyone settled into their new positions. Rumours are, that Grindelwald's days are counted and that Dumbledore will confront him any day now." Hermione listened with rising dread as he continued, "Once he's been taken care of, there will be plenty of opportunities to gain his previous supporters' favour. You'll take care of the French families."

Her breath hitched. "The French side of my family has been all but eradicated, we have no sway there anymore."

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to gather support for our cause all across the continent. Don't disappoint me, Hermione." Tom hissed; his lips pressed into a thin line.

"What are you even trying to achieve? I know you want to be Minister but what-?

"It's called politics for a reason. I'll be Minister soon enough but why stop there?" Tom interrupted her.

Hermione's hands trembled under the sudden onslaught of memories from her last years in the future. The bloodshed. The constant dread they were facing every damned waking hour of the day. "People are tired Tom, they'll not support another war after the devastation Grindelwald caused."

Tom rolled his eyes, "I'm not talking about another war for Merlin's sake, there are other much more efficient ways to gain power."

And wasn't that just the most horrifying thing Hermione had heard in a long time. "But this all far in the future, for now, we're going to start making some changes here," Tom spoke.

The air in the room felt suffocating as Tom continued to lay out his grand schemes before her. His ambitions they'd discussed in their gatherings over the past years. Tom had found his calling in the intrigues and charades that made up their government and Hermione was beginning to question herself if this calculating, affluent version of a dark lord really was the answer. To her, it seemed that with their arrival they'd set the wizarding world on a much more perilous path.

He and his knights would change the face of magical Britain forever. Slowly but thoroughly. And when people would finally begin to question their politics, it'd be too late. Just like the frog that didn't notice he was slowly being boiled alive in his pot, they'd eat up his promises of big change and prosperity only to wake up in a world where blood purists imposed their ideals on every single one of them, welcome or not.

Every year it got harder for Hermione to summon up the courage to stand up to Riddle. She was in a position where she'd only ever benefit from his rise to power, the Lestranges had been loyal to a fault to him from the start. And he was aware of this.

No. I have a responsibility to everyone who stood up to that monster in the future. A future that didn't exist anymore. The people in it might never be born, Harry Potter would never become the boy who lived if Tom never took to violence in his quest for the throne. Her head hurt from just thinking about this.

"I think it's time that I returned to my father." She eventually managed to choke out, wanting nothing more than to get away from Riddle for a while.

"Of course. I'll send you the details for our gatherings by the end of this week."

"I look forward to it." Scrambling out of her chair, Hermione regarded him with a strained smile, that didn't reach her eyes. "See you soon!"

"See you soon Miss Lestrange." His velvet voice stirred something deep within her chest, that Hermione didn't dare to explore. No matter how genuine his smile seemed, there was nothing real about Tom Riddle. He was driven by his ambition and there was nothing he wouldn't do to achieve his goals. The panting girl told herself over and over again as she fled towards the elevators, the walls of the corridor around her closing in on her shivering form...