For the first time in a long time, Tom was speechless. He wanted to be angry with Hermione, he wanted to tell her that she was completely off base with her assumptions about Salazar Slytherin and had no right to speak ill of the founder of their house. But her question at the end had thrown him completely off track. Why had Slytherin himself not done everything possible to subdue the Muggles and make the wizards the rulers of the world? But what was almost more important: Did she really mean her question as a question or was it a suggestion?

"The only reason why Slytherin simply retired at that time can only be that he didn't want to subdue the Muggles," continued Hermione, while Tom was still deeply absorbed in his thoughts.

He grabbed her wrists and forced her to break physical contact. Her proximity was strangely uncomfortable to him at that moment. "How dare you insinuate that Slytherin was a Muggle lover!"

For a moment, he had actually thought that she was thinking as he was, that she was actually suggesting with her question that the Muggles should be subdued. But her subsequent words brought him back down to earth. No matter how intelligent Hermione was, in the end, her horizon was as limited as everyone else's. The idea of changing the world obviously never even occurred to her.

Hermione obviously understood his uneasiness, for she took a step away from him. "You don't understand what I'm trying to say, Tom! Stop being so blinded by hatred! You're not the only one here who has the whole world in his sights."

Slowly, Tom closed his eyes. He did not know if Hermione was deliberately provoking him or if she really did not realise how arrogant and conceited she was just coming along. For a few seconds, he simply concentrated on the rustling of the wind in the trees and the soft sound of the seawater crashing against the reeds. His anger returned and he knew he had every reason to let her feel, here and now, that she was arrogant. But first he had to show her that she had no idea about Slytherin.

"Hermione, dear," he replied in his softest tone, "There are things you do not know. ...things about me. ...things that give me insights that you don't have."

A contemptuous snort was her reply. "Is that your talk of your grand blood again? Honestly, Tom, grow up. Who do you think you are? Slytherin's heir?"

Enough was enough. She had crossed a line and he was going to make her feel it. With one fluid motion he drew his wand and pointed it at Hermione. "Mind your tongue, my heart. You don't want to provoke me, believe me."

To his surprise, however, Hermione remained perfectly calm. As if he had not pointed a wand directly between her eyes, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tilted her head. "I have no intention of provoking you. It is quite simple. I know that Salazar Slytherin hated Muggles and did not trust Muggleborns. But I also know that he never intended to tell the world about the existence of magic. Just explain to me why you think you know more than I do, and all will be well."

She practically begged for it. He had to compose himself not to laugh out loud. She did not know anything. She thought she knew everything. It was fine by him. She wanted it; she could have it. He brought out his friendliest smile. "You really want to know? If I tell you, I can never let you go again, do you understand?"

Slowly he lowered his wand, while Hermione only snorted again. "Tom, we raped a girl together, if you remember? We've been chained together forever anyway, whether I want to or not. You're never getting rid of me."

Smiling, he put his wand away for good. "I'm glad you see it that way, my heart. Let's go to the library together and I'll show you something interesting."

On impulse, he reached out to her and without hesitation, Hermione grabbed his hand. It was a strange feeling to hold the hand of a girl while he walked along the lake by her side. As angry as he had been with Hermione a minute ago, he felt so peaceful now. The fact that she had finally admitted to belong to him forever gave him a peaceful feeling. It was exhausting to always give everyone the feeling that they were his equal and somehow important. It was amazing that Hermione of all people was the first to realise that she was no more than a part of his property. And it felt really, really good.

oOoOoOo

Tom fetched a book from the history department of the library. It had been one of the first books he had ever read at Hogwarts, and to this day he was glad he had discovered it so early. He had found it hard to accept that he had inherited his magical powers from his mother, who had been too weak to protect herself from a miserable death. But this book, this genealogy of the most important magical families, had told him everything he needed to know.

He opened the book on the page he had looked at so often in secret, and slipped it over the table where they were both sitting.

"Here", he tapped into the name of Marvolo Gaunt. "This is my grandfather. My mother is Merope Gaunt, but the book was written before she was born, so only my grandfather and my uncle, Morfin Gaunt, are here."

He sat back, arms folded across his chest, waiting for Hermione to trace the Gaunt line correctly. He watched her finger move up, her eyes suddenly becoming frantic and she began to flip back and forth between the pages. He suppressed a grin when he saw the page with the name of Salazar Slytherin open, but instantly the grin disappeared. Hermione definitely read the name, but she did not even flinch. Tense, he leaned forward again to better follow why she was still turning the pages. She finally paused when she opened the page with the name Cadmus Peverell. Her eyes grew wide, her face deathly pale and her hands trembled.

"What's the matter, my heart?" Tom asked instantly, "You look pale."

It was obvious that Hermione had to struggle with her words before she finally laboriously said, "Your ancestors are ... impressive. Who would have thought it? That someone with your blood … had to grow up in a Muggle orphanage..."

Suspiciously, Tom squinted his eyes. That was it? Her reaction to Peverell's name astonished him. If she had reacted to Slytherin like that, he would have understood, he had even expected it, but she seemed unimpressed by it. So, what was so important about Cadmus Peverell? He tilted his head and waited while Hermione read the article in the book. At the end she breathed out audibly.

"So, you are a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and Cadmus Peverell?"

Tom deliberately laid his arms on the table. It still did not make sense why she was so interested in the Peverells, who after all had no meaning within the magical community, but for the moment he just nodded. "Yes. I am the heir of Slytherin, his only living descendant.

A quick grin flitted across Hermione's lips. "No wonder you reacted so sensitively when I talked about him like a know-it-all."

"And Peverell? Why are you so interested in him?"

She paled again. Why did he feel she was hiding something from him? Why did he feel she was afraid to talk about it? The way she stroked her hands over her upper arms and let her gaze wander everywhere but to him, spoke a clear language. Impatiently, he asked again, "Hermine? Dearest? What about Peverell?"

Hermione had a tremor to quell. She knew her reaction had given her away and Tom would not rest until she told him the truth. But she could not do it, she knew that. Tom Riddle had no idea that Gaunt's ring was a Hallow, he did not know that his ancestors, the three Peverell brothers, were the heroes of an old fairy tale that had actually turned out to be true. She had condemned Harry for so long for his fixation on the Peverells and the Deathly Hallows, only to find out in the end that they were real.

Gaunt's ring, the family inheritance of Tom's mother, was the Stone of Resurrection, the Hallow Cadmus Peverell had received from Death. She had not known to this day that Tom Riddle was a descendant of Cadmus Peverell, but now that she saw it, she wondered how the connection had ever escaped her notice.

But what really threw her off track was that Harry was also a descendant of the Peverells, from Ignotus Peverell, the brother who had received the perfect Cloak of Invisibility.

Tom Riddle and Harry Potter were actually related.

You shuddered. Actually, it was not so surprising, all the old wizard families were related somewhere. And yet, she found it difficult to accept this truth.

"I... Peverell is not interesting at all," she finally said slowly, "Well... not Peverell himself. I was just very surprised that ... I have a friend who also is a descendant of he Peverells. It's a small world."

Tom's gaze remained wary. "That's all?"

Hermione cursed herself. She had managed so well to show herself confident towards Tom, had even made him admit his descent from Slytherin - and now she reached a point where he mistrusted her again because she had not managed to restrain her emotions. She forced herself to stop the trembling of her hands and looked Tom straight in the eyes. "The memory of that friend is not pleasant. The name Peverell brought so many bad feelings with it right away. But more importantly, you are Slytherin's heir! We'd better talk about it."

"You want to change the subject," Tom said sternly as he grabbed her two hands.

She swallowed. She knew that under no circumstances should she be allowed to say anything about the Hallows, if only because it would definitely change the course of time. If Tom already knew that there were three items that could help him escape death, he would do everything he could to get them into his possession.

"There's not always more to everything, Tom," she finally replied with as much impatience in her voice as she could muster. "Every time I react in any way different from what you expected, you insinuate I have secrets from you. But this time there is really nothing more than ... the memory of a vile classmate and his even worse father."

Hermione hoped that her lie would look credible if she at least thought of real people, even if they had nothing to do with the situation. Should Tom ask, she could at least tell endless stories of Draco and Lucius Malfoy without any problems, without having to think of anything that would be fatal for her later. She was simply not made for free lying.

"Are you interested in older men, eh?" Tom retorted mockingly, who was still holding her hands.

At the thought of Lucius Malfoy, Hermione involuntarily shuddered with disgust. "Certainly not. But I've never seen a man put so much pressure on his son to be a conniving idiot in my life."

"Slytherin appreciates people who use their intellect to gain advantages - no matter what kind," Tom replied with raised eyebrow. "Why do you always present that trait as something bad? You are in this house yourself."

"I have nothing against people who use their brains," Hermione shot back fiercely, while at the same time she snatched her hands away from him. "But to be a whimpering ferret who always starts howling just because someone else is better and gets praise is pathetic. I mean, honestly. A good friend of mine ... over in America ... was a good Quidditch player and he joined the team in his first year. The boy couldn't let that go and then his father gave the team new broomsticks and he joined the team. I mean, how low can you sink? Where's the pride in earning your rightful place by your own efforts and skill?"

A grin came over Tom's face. "That seems to have really taken you down. I didn't expect you to be so interested in sports."

Hermione blushed. It was amazing how easily she could get into a rage over Draco Malfoy. On the other hand, that incident had been the first time he had called her Mudblood back in the second year. She would never forget that moment in her life. Strained, she shook her head. "It's the principle that is the problem. Be that as it may, can we please not talk about this person?"

To her astonishment, Tom nodded. "It sounds to me as if the gentleman in question has broken your heart, but since I am a well-bred, decent man myself, I will not trouble you any further. Just one thing, Hermione..."

He did not finish the sentence immediately, but instead bent to her over the table so that he could run his hand through her curly mane with one hand. "Every one of your lies will be revealed at some point. And believe me, if I ever find out that you've kept anything from me again, you'll regret it."

It was almost funny that Tom jokingly accused her of being interested in Draco or Lucius Malfoy - which was more than repulsive - when she actually had a real friendship with Draco's grandfather, Abraxas. And she immediately believed him that he would not forgive her further lies. She smiled weakly. "I know you well enough to know that without you telling me."

He smiled back at her. "Indeed."

For a moment, Hermione feared that Tom's mood would simply change, as it so often did, that his hand would snap at her hair and his warm smile would be fatal, but nothing of the sort happened. He just sat in his chair, his hand in her hair, while his thumb gently stroked her cheek, looking at her with an almost tender look. Unwillingly, Hermione leaned into his touch. Whatever had triggered this behaviour, she knew him well enough by now to judge that his smile was not fake. For a moment he showed her sincere tenderness.