AN:

YES I'M ALIVE. Here's chapter six! I'm hoping to update every two- three weeks, now that my finals are over. If you guys have any ideas on the characters' behavior, let me know! I've had a couple people mention they think Tom is a little OOC, and others tell me I write him really well... I'M LOST! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Without it, I'll just assume I have no room for improvements... which we all no is not true, there's always ways to better your writing! If you guys have any idea of which direction this story should take, let me know! I'm extremely opened to suggestions.

Special thanks to my reviewers: ThePandaHat, PinkSlytherin, ilovepotato, Guest, pesuasion, Riddler, Lisaaxx, sLytherinPrefect, MichelleMarvolo, Toriiiii, Guest, theonecandycane.

PinkSlytherin: Tom is definitely underestimating Harry's intelligence, don't we all?. Then again, I may be slightly bias toward the sneaky Slytherins. :D

You guys make writing a privilege (:

xxx Lena

Lord I've lived on the dark side of the moon and I've been

to the heart of the sun. I've gone to bed with many

ladies, killed many men, before my sixteenth

year was done. So you be forewarned

'Cause I'm comin' after you, when

I catch you, Lord I'm never

gonna let you go

-Pentagram, Be Forewarned

-XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX-

November 1534

Bavaria, Germany

The weapons from each side had been put down, securing armistice between the English, and the northern Europeans. The large army might have been intimidating to most, but for Harry Potter, who had nothing to loose, their fierce battles tactics and savagery were a welcome change. He carefully strode across the signature November-snow, minding the confused expressions his Knights expressed toward their king's boldness.

The two co-commanders of the vast pagan force remained in their place, as they should, Harry inwardly snickered. The mark of strong leaders are those who protect defensively.

"Earl Grindelwald, Earl Dumbledore, I have a proposition for you," Harry chided. The two blonde commanders said nothing, both staring at the King with dumfounded expressions.

Remembering the Norse dialect, Harry chastised himself for assuming the savages spoke his native tongue.

"Earl Grindelwald, Earl Dumbledore, minulla on sinulle ehdotus. Mikäli valitset kaksi accept, teen sinusta hyvin rikas, mutta."(Earl Grindelwald, Earl Dumbledore, I have a proposition for you. If you choose to accept, I'll make you very rich men.)

The commanders stared at the king then at each other, before abruptly turning their backs. Several moments drew out as they conversed in whispers.

Finally, the one presumed as Grindelwald replied. "Ja mitä tämä lause on kuningas?" (And what would this proposition be king?)

The king thought for a moment. He hadn't expected to make it across the boarder, let alone gain audience with the savages, now he had no idea what he should offer them as an incentive.

"Talvipäivänseisaus lähestyy. Olen ilman perillistä joten en enää kuningas. Toivotan teille kaksi auttaa minua ottamaan minun SEURAAJIA ja ottaa hallitus. Vastineeksi minä annan sinulle kaksi minun neljä valtakuntaa, sekä vapaat kädet minun tuomioistuimessa." (The winter solstice draws near. I am without an heir so I will no longer be king. I wish for you to help me take out my successors and take over the government. In return, I will give you two of my four kingdoms, as well as free reign at my court.)

Grindelwald stepped toward the king with a nod of his head, his hand eagerly outstretched, as if preying on their nearly sealed alliance. His counterpart, Dumbledore, seemed nervous, almost scared to make a deal.

"Gellert Jeg bønnfaller deg til å tenke mer på dette, ikke vær så hissig når du gjør avtaler med dem du kan ikke stole på!(Gellert I beseech you, think more on this. Do not be so hasty when making deals with those you cannot trust!)" Dumbledore's voice quaked with worry. The king almost snorted at his mistrust, clearly Grindelwald was not the older man's equal - no - he was the decision-maker, for all-intense-purposes, their king.

Grindelwald gave his counterpart a simple smile, slowly lowering his hand to his side. "Vi har en avtale konge, I'n to ukers tid vil vi gjøre det du har bedt om arisen på halve kongeriket. Men jeg må lure på, vil ikke de på domstol varsel en stor hær rusler gjennom ditt rike? (We have a deal King, In two weeks time we will do what you've asked for the price of half your kingdom. But I must wonder, won't those at court notice a large army strolling through your kingdom?)" His response leaked sarcasm.

The king locked eyes with Dumbledore, glorifying his triumph before holding his hand out, attempting to finalize their newfound deal. "Vet dette konge, hvis du skulle gå tilbake på løftet, forråde vår tillit på noen måte, vil vi ha ditt rike og hodet. (Know this King, if you should go back on your promise, betray our trust in any way, we will have your kingdom and your head.)" Dumbledore smiled at his partner's added threat. He knew - should the king go back on his word - Gellert wouldn't let him use the german militia's resources only to abandoned them with nothing; save for the potent stench of betrayal. A stench most foul, a heinous Oder experienced by many in a lifetime for it s the greatest flaw in human nature - to betray your own kind is equal to that of slaughtering the innocent- an act of which Dumbledore knew the king was capable Of committing if he had not done so already.

The king gave a simple nod of his head in agreement, foreboding smirk plastered on his three men shook on it, securing a secret armistice

December 1534

Kingdom of Gryffindor, Narcissa Malfoy's chambers

The Malfoy matriarch rushed around her chambers, closing various curtains and securing the three doors. Tom stared at the scene with slight amusement. Narcissa shouldn't be surprised that Draco spilled all sorts of nasty secrets after hearing of her fornication with the King. Tom was surprised Malfoy didn't strangle the annoying pest, he certainly would have murdered his mother if she was his majesty's whore. Tom released a light snicker, well my mother's dead isn't she?

The rushed noises ceased and Narcissa came to rest in front of Tom, staring at him with hateful eyes. "What are you on about? Have you any idea the severity of your accusations," she questioned.

Tom circled her as he replied, "Lady Malfoy, do not question my intelligence. In addition to my title, it appears you've forgotten your place."

Narcissa flinched, she knew many men like the duke of Norfolk. All were seeking enormous power - absolute control. The former king, Charlus was one of them. To everyone outside of court he was a great ruler, to those forced to live in the castle's unforgiving walls, he was a vicious sovereign. There hadn't been an honest ruler since the last of the Pavrells, their noble line destroyed with the death of Ignotus' only son, Aloysius. Narcissa despised all things connected with the house of Potter.

"I haven't forgotten your grace, however, these little games bore me. Please elaborate on what you know, and I will see how I can aid you in anyway that does not harm my son's life or my own. So I'll ask again, your grace, what do you know?" Narcissa's formerly timid tone warped into one of disgust.

"Quite the Slytherin, aren't you," he sarcastically questioned. Narcissa's face turned slightly pink. Tom smirked, "Relax, I only jest. However, I've no interest in harming one of my own. I was only curious about your husband's life, and possibly some of your, let me put this lightly, interesting worship practices," he chided.

Narcissa frowned, pondering his words. "Your grace," she stated submissively, "I'm afraid I don't know about my husband's religious preference, as for mine and Draco's, well, I'm sure you already know. He's told you everything, hasn't he," she sighed knowingly.

"Tell me Lady Malfoy, have you noticed anything odd about the king's personal guard: behavior, language, anything at all?" Tom's lighthearted tone made Narcissa's skin crawl, she felt extreme pity for the unlucky girl who became his fiancé. Such an awful personality wrapped in a beautiful package.

"They worship my gods, yes. I do not know if the king is aware. I thought it was the work of my cousin Sirius, so I said nothing." She hung her head as she replied. Surely he would condemn her for treason. She jumped as a light hand encased her own.

Tom quickly kissed the top of her hand, as was custom, and backed away. "Lady Malfoy, thank you for your cooperation, tell no one of this conversation and I will do the same, good evening," he said, already turning for the door. As the door sealed, Narcissa poured herself a large glass of wine, contemplating the various sides in the insidious game of thrones. Narcissa preyed she chose the right side, choosing to call upon the wisdom of the god of mischief, Loki first.

Loki would aid the duke, of that Narcissa was certain. He was everything Loki cherished: cunning, manipulative, deceitful, and - most importantly - willing to rid himself of anyone who gets in his way. Loki would take pity on the loosing sides as well. He was the only one of all the gods who saw the world for what it is - grey. He boasted the ideals that things were not merely black or white, there is always an in-between. However light things may seem - nothing is immune from humanities' sickness, the willingness to hurt one another to gain what is desired.

Hermione contemplated leaving her chambers several times. How dare that vile man lock her in their rooms! Her current predicament left her to ponder whether or not she should tell the duke of her new-found information. She decided on the later, if he really wanted to know he would ask. Besides, wouldn't it benefit her well-being if the duke was killed and she suddenly didn't have to marry him?

She couldn't help her thoughts traveling to the kiss they had shared in the carriage, how soft his lips were- it was perfect.

Get it together Hermione, he's only using you. That's all he does with anyone, uses them until there's nothing left. Her eyes involuntarily narrowed. Had she really been thinking back on their kiss with longing! How utterly despicable. She needed to set her priorities straight, she refused to be a submissive wife waiting for her husband as if she mimicked a dog anticipating when her master would again come through the door so it could excitedly hump his leg!

The duke will not treat her this way anymore, sending her to their room as if she were a child, punished and placed in a corner. If Hermione learned anything from her father, it was from his old tales of the hundred years' war: 'they may have won the battle, but we will win the war.' Yes, she would have to be strong like her father, he had survived two winter's of the sweat- a nasty pestilence that plagued them a decade ago. Victims of the sweat often encountered severe delusions and distorted perception for a course of twenty-four hours, only to meet death by the twenty-fifth hour. She suspected her marriage to the duke would be much like catching the sweat- the distorted perception being his falsified personality- and when death would come he would reveal himself as it's vassal.

"Lady Granger," Tom hummed. "Come out, come out where ever you are," He chided, scouring the room for his wife to be. Anger pulsed through him at the thought of her disobeying his orders and seeking sanctuary elsewhere. Spotting the partially opened door of the sitting room he entered. Taking in her curled-up form barricaded by a large chair, he couldn't sway the smirk as it slid upon his face.

Hermione refused to move where she had perched in a particularly comfortable chair in the immaculate sitting room. She was currently blockaded by a large pillow, completely engrossed in a book on paganism she had secretly stowed away in her trunk. She hadn't heard the door close or the perfectly timed footsteps pacing their way toward her fort. She inwardly cringed as she read a translated from of Paganism: Heathens Among us. She had just reached the chapter on their pilgrimage to Uppsala. Seven sacrifices from each species were to be made in honor of their gods, done once every seven years. Gasping at the picture of human beings hung upside down from ropes as they bled out, she abruptly shut the offending book.

How could those savages slaughter fellow men, in the name of what is holy no less? If their gods accept bloodshed as payment for their praise - their wisdom - then they clearly support the dark side of humanity, the side Hermione's father warned her against; Cadmus' bloodline. His bloodline.

Large hands sealed themselves over her mouth, muffling her screams as she cursed herself for her lack of awareness. "Darling if you're going to start a forbidden book, why not finish it," the duke questioned, his voice heavy with amusement. Hermione's eyes narrowed at her comfort of knowing who had entered their room. She inwardly loathed her relief that it was him, not an unknown intruder.

He released his hold on her mouth and took a seat opposite her, skimming through the book she was previously reading. "My, my, someone's been gathering information on pagan rituals haven't they," he teased. "Tell me fiancé, have you been dipping into books you shouldn't?" Hermione wanted to strangle him. Failing to find their situation as remotely amusing as he did, she replied, "I don't engage in things of which I shouldn't anymore than you do, your grace."

His amusement morphed to anger in a matter of seconds. regardless of the consequences, Hermione felt immense pride in her retort. If he thought she was one to go along with his sick little games, he was sorely mistaken. Her nerves began to scatter as he systematically tapped the book, eyes never straying from her face. Chuckling softly at her science he continued, "My dear Hermione, that is far too often for a woman of your status, have you know respect for societies' values? Women aren't meant to read, why the notion that you were even holding this book, let alone reading it is ridiculous."

She let out a surprised gasp when he abruptly stood up and made his way toward her. "Perhaps you enjoy getting a rise out of me," he mused. "I've been far to lenient with you lady Granger, I assure you all that's about to change. After all, forgiveness must be earned," he asserted.

Surely he's not serious, Hermione inwardly mocked him. Disbelief coursed through her as she brought her eyes to his, drinking in his expression. Immediately she understood why he was able to get Draco Malfoy to aid him, why he could sway anyone to aid him. Intensity. He truly believed he was right, in everyway. Whether it be on the subject of women reading, or an issue of who's the next monarch. Those who believe they hold all the universal wisdom are truly dangerous, so much more so than those who truly know nothing. Her mother's parting words rang in her ear, 'a blind Shepard can get a thousand sheep to follow him just by leading them in a certain direction' and Hermione found herself at a crossroad. The duke of Norfolk truly believed he was the Shepard of this kingdom, it's true sovereign. He truly bought into the spiel about the current monarch's dirty and unworthy blood. At the thought of her future husband poisoning the kingdom with his insanity, her blood ran cold. The unfamiliar chill seeped into her bones- fear.

"Your grace I did not open the book with out reason," she muttered. Amusement flickered across Tom's features before he retained his neutral expression.

She's afraid of me, he frowned. It had not been his intention to reveal his true personality before wedding her, but she turned out to be fiery, hot tempered. Her once asinine voice, had begun to mumble.

Anger coursed through him. Why, if he had behaved atrociously before, was she becoming so submissive? Finding no tell-tale signs of an ulterior motive, Tom gripped her jaw, forcing her gaze on him.

"Tell me then, why was that book in your possession? Did you steal it?" His overly calm voice consumed her, the malicious intent barricading her person as if she were a small lamb and he; a wolf.

"Well, out with it," Tom asserted. Still, she said nothing. Had the girl forgotten how to speak? She must get a thrill from testing him, he inwardly decided. Why else would she be provoking him?

The way she shied away from him made his blood boil. Anger pulsated through his veins at the notion that he still cared about her fear toward him. Determined to prove himself wrong he gripped her hair causing her to release a pained squeal.

"Lady Granger if you have any sense at all you will answer me," he urged. She released an audible sigh before meeting his eyes. She needed some leverage incase her fiancée's plan didn't work out, she could always create a truce with King Harry in order to secure safety from the heathens. The Duke had to believe there was no connection between this book and her newfound information in regards to the Knights of Walpurgis. How could she fool the master - trick the devil? What do devils fear? They fear what they try to destroy, corrupt. They fear innocence. Hermione's coherence returned as is a switch was flipped. Immediately she replied to the Duke, her demeanor mimicking that of ignorance.

"Your grace I apologize for my unsavory behavior. I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea of what that book contains. You see, I was only trying to pass the time while you were gone for I was so terribly board." She refrained from batting her eyelashes - he, no doubt, would see through her charade if she had.

A vile smirk stretched his porcelain features. "My dear, manipulation is an art form. A form in which I'm afraid you have yet to master," he tutted.

He clapped his hands together twice as he said, "I suppose that is anentirely different conversation we shall save for the morning, " He paused, his eyes wandering across her shaken form before continuing, "my dear, why are you not ready for bed?" Her yes widened as he moved closer toward her, lightly tracing her shoulder, fingers skimming through her tangled curls.

He deviously raised one eyebrow before calling for a servant.

" Your grace," the light haired servant girl shakily addressed. "How can I be of service?"

"Dress her," he replied dismissively. "Be quick about it," he added before exiting to the bed chamber.

As her night clothes slid into place, terror consumed Hermione. Surely he wouldn't take her before they were married? She certainly wasn't ready. Would he be gentle? She almost laughed out loud. A man like him? Gentle? Not likely. Taking deep breaths she approached the bed chamber. She had planned for an argument or even a fight, anything but what happened as she stepped though the door.

He gently took her hand and set her on their large bed, kissing it softly. He slid in next her and blew the bedside light out. Hermione's breathing became labored as she though about what was to come. He gently pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

As he attacked her neck with light pecks, he throatily uttered, "Relax, I will not take you until we are wed."

Even after he had fallen asleep, Hermione remained up for several hours as she contemplated his strange behavior. Who was the real Thomas Riddle? The devil from earlier who attempts to steal her innocence, or the angel who lightly caresses her to sleep?

-(())(())(())(())-