"Coming!" Hermione spit out her toothpaste and rushed out of her little bathroom at the sound of the insistent knocking. She was already in pyjamas, and at this time of night, she had a fairly good idea of who her visitor was. So she was unsurprised when she opened the door that led from her flat to the corridor outside and saw Tom Riddle standing there in his Obliviator's Muggle-style suit. What she wasn't prepared for was the exceedingly serious expression he bore on his face. He said quietly,

"May I come in?"

Hermione turned down her lips and stepped aside. Tom walked in and shut the door behind him, and Porridge walked up, curling against Tom's leg. Tom ignored the cat and cleared his throat.

"Tea?" Hermione asked, feeling anxious. Tom shook his head. Suddenly Hermione wished she had his gift of Legilimency, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she snapped,

"Out with it, then. What's wrong? Are you calling off the wedding?"

"No. Of course not," he said, "Though I fear this news may be just as poorly received."

Hermione furrowed her brows at him. "Tell me."

Tom licked his lips. "Walburga Black has gotten into the minds of her old Pureblood friends and poisoned them against the idea of House-Elf rights. She's convinced almost everybody that S.P.E.W. is… well… they're telling Avery that it's the foolish endeavour of a Muggle-born."

"A Mudblood," Hermione spat. "Walburga's convinced them that pursuing the rights of House-Elves is just a silly game played by a Mudblood. Is that it?"

"Yes." Tom pinched his lips. "I could Confound them all into donating, into treating their Elves the way you'd like, but it wouldn't be genuine. And it wouldn't help either of us. If we mean to enact real change, we'll have to have real allies. Walburga needs to be destroyed."

Hermione's eyes went round. "Tom Riddle," she hissed. "You can't go murdering Walburga Black because she got my S.P.E.W. gala cancelled!"

"I didn't say murdered." Tom rolled his eyes. "I said destroyed. Something could happen to ruin her reputation among the Pureblood crowd and make room for you and I to forge the connections I need."

"The connections you desire," Hermione corrected. Tom narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

"Do you wish to advance the cause of House-Elves' rights, or don't you?"

"Not at the expense of other people, Tom," Hermione shot back. He nodded.

"Let's not argue."

He'd said that before. He always shut down arguments before they could blossom out of control, Hermione thought. She sighed and shrugged.

"So. No gala. Avery's cancelled it."

"It was just going to be you, me, Nott, and Avery," Tom said rather gently. "Even the Lestranges said they couldn't give time or appearance to a cause that seemed so contrary to the ancient Pureblood ways."

"I see." Hermione chewed her lip. "That's too bad. I was looking forward to your speech. To using the funds raised to fight for the elves' rights."

"It will happen," Tom assured her, "just as surely as I'll be Minister of Magic someday. In fact, I will make you this promise, Hermione. When I am the Minister for Magic, I'll sign laws giving freedoms to the House-Elves the likes of which they've never known. I shall use my power to push forth the change these people won't accept for themselves."

Hermione gave him a crooked little smile and shook her head. "You'll be despot for good, is that it?"

"I will be a force for change," Tom said roughly. Hermione stared up at him and nodded. She asked cautiously,

"And the wedding?"

"I…" Tom stared into the kitchen for a long moment and murmured, "I am disinclined to show that degree of emotional vulnerability around people who don't even grant me enough respect to support S.P.E.W. I think it would be best if we did a Ministry ceremony in the Office of Marriage, Birth, and Death Registration."

Hermione nodded. The Purebloods he sought to control had not earned the privilege of witnessing Tom in his most private moments. Tom would need to climb at the Ministry and continue warping and shaping the social structures if he wanted to regain his footing. He'd misstepped, perhaps, in being so enthusiastic about S.P.E.W., at least as far as wooing the Purebloods was concerned. But he'd shown great loyalty to Hermione in doing so, and she thought he'd arranged the thread in which they were living in a very necessary way. He needed to climb more righteously than he'd done before. Perhaps that required some pushback, some adversity. Perhaps it required some humility. It certainly required love.

"I am disappointed," Hermione admitted, "that there will not be a gala for S.P.E.W. It was very kind of you to try to arrange it. It was wonderful of you to actually hear me, to listen to what concerned me and to fight for it. But I have confidence that you and I will both get what we want in the end, Tom."

"I've already got most of what I want," he said, turning his eyes back to her. He reached for her left hand, to where her engagement ring was, and he dragged his fingers over the diamonds. He murmured, "I Conjured us some simple platinum wedding bands. That much metalwork I can handle."

Hermione sniffed a little and glanced down to where Porridge was twining around Tom's legs. She remembered the day Tom had shown up, soaked from the rain, holding the cat he'd bought her. She smiled a little and glanced around her little flat.

"I don't want to live here anymore," she said. "I want to live at your flat instead."

"All right." Tom smiled at her and nodded. "Come live with me in my flat. After we're married."

Hermione smirked. "Well, then, I think we ought to get married very soon."

"How quickly can you get a dress?" Tom asked, and Hermione hesitated as she glanced over her shoulder to her bedroom.

"I've already got a dress," she admitted, thinking of how she'd gone earlier today and gotten an antique wedding gown at the secondhand robe shop. She'd made alterations to it until it was precisely the wedding dress Hermione wanted, and now it was perfect. She gulped and turned back to Tom, and she shrugged. "I'm perfectly capable of Conjuring myself a bouquet of flowers."

Tom blinked at her. "Leave work early tomorrow. Tell Mr Burke you're going to the Ministry of Magic to get married."

Hermione grinned broadly. She nodded, letting out a shaking breath, and she whispered, "All right, then."

Tom huffed. "You know, tea sounds just fine."

"Thank you again, Mr Burke." Hermione waved a little as she walked out the front door of Borgin and Burkes. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation as she turned and began walking toward her building. Mr Burke had let her go at two in the afternoon so she could dress and get to the Ministry with plenty of time to meet Tom and get married. Hermione trembled as she realised she was going to be married today.

"Miss Granger?"

She whirled around at the sound of her name, and she saw Madam Mutatia, the kinky-haired, wild-eyed Medium from down the road standing in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Madam Mutatia held out her hand.

"May we speak?"

"I'm actually… it's not a good time," Hermione said. "So sorry."

"I know where you're off to," Madam Mutatia nodded. "Congratulations. This is very important. Please. It'll only take a moment."

Hermione frowned and walked toward Madam Mutatia. She hesitantly followed the Medium into her shop. It was full of candles and draping materials. Human skulls, some painted with intricate designs, sat alongside crystals and hourglasses. Madam Mutatia gestured to the round table in the centre of the room, with a circle of candles sat around the perimeter. Cushions were on the floor around the table, and Madam Mutatia knelt slowly upon one.

"My mother is gone," she said. Hermione stayed standing and stammered,

"She… I…"

"There was a prophecy that has now been fulfilled," Madam Mutatia said calmly, "and so I know that my mother has gone for good. My mother delivered many prophecies, some recorded by the Ministry of Magic, some not. I was the recipient of many of her visions. She was a very gifted Seer, but the talent began to sap her in so many ways. In her later years, she began to receive indications of a grave and terrible future that needed to be stopped. She began to communicate, through me as a Medium, with a man in a future existence. A man called Albus Dumbledore."

"But Albus Dumbledore was alive here," Hermione said confusedly. "He defeated Gellert Grindelwald here."

"This Albus Dumbledore was an old man who had defeated another awful wizard. Lord Voldemort," said Madam Mutatia. Hermione felt cold as Madam Mutatia said, "A series of communications through the past and present began to make it clear that the only way to heal the egregious wounds inflicted upon countless threads of the future was by healing this thread, this present existence in which Tom Riddle is not yet lost. And that's where you came in, Miss Granger."

Hermione took a step back, bumping into a table full of bones and crystals. She straightened it and said,

"Your mother kept giving me photographs. Pictures showing me the people I left behind. They were alive. Happy. With other people."

"There are many timelines that exist concurrently," Madam Mutatia explained, "and all can be catastrophically or beautifully affected by the deeds undertaken in one existence. By you having come here, by you having fallen in love with Tom Riddle, you have spared many people suffering and death. You will be his wife, and you will be by his side as his lust for power manifests in a triumphant tenure as the Minister for Magic, instead of as a horrifying Dark wizard. You are the alteration. You are the shift."

Hermione let out a breath that quaked like the last leaf on an autumn twig. She felt her eyes sear, and she whispered,

"I just want to be happy here."

"You will be. Would you like to see?" Madam Mutatia reached onto the cushion beside her for a leather folio. She held it up to Hermione, who walked over and took the folio. She opened the folder and saw that there was a newspaper inside, a copy of the Daily Prophet. Hermione instinctively checked the date before she did anything else. 2nd May 1953. Hermione's eyes flicked down to the headline, and she froze.

MINISTER FOR MAGIC TOM RIDDLE WELCOMES FIRST CHILD.

Tom Riddle, who has been lauded as one of the most effective and revolutionary Ministers for Magic despite his astonishing youth, has welcomed his first child with his wife, Hermione Granger. Madam Granger, Head of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, is known for being the mind behind all of the recent legislation aimed at improving the welfare of House-Elves and strengthening relations between wizards and Beings.

The baby, a boy called Shepherd Riddle, was delivered safely of Madam Granger at St Mungo's Hospital on the 30th of April. Both mother and child are said to be doing quite well. Minister Riddle delivered the following statement to the Daily Prophet.

'My wife Hermione and I are exceedingly grateful for the outpouring of support we have received since the birth of our wonderful son, Shepherd Riddle. We are overjoyed to be parents. Rest assured that I shall be resuming my duties as Minister shortly, but as I take a brief paternity leave, wizarding Britain is in capable hands.'

The staff of the Daily Prophet wish Minister Riddle and Madam Granger every health and happiness and congratulate them most heartily on the birth of their son.

Hermione's heart raced as she put the newspaper back into the folio. She passed it back down to Madam Mutatia and demanded,

"Where did you get this?"

Madam Mutatia gave Hermione a knowing little smile, and suddenly her mother's features were manifest. Madam Mutatia set down the folio and said simply,

"I get deliveries sometimes. You should go, Miss Granger. Wouldn't want to be late to your own wedding, now, would you? Congratulations."

"You look…" Tom just gaped from where he stood in a crisp black suit. He blinked at Hermione, and she giggled softly at him.

"Yes?" she prompted. He let out a little breath and whispered,

"You look perfect."

Hermione smiled so broadly then that her cheeks hurt. She'd bought a gown that had had full, floor-length skirts, but she'd shortened them until they hit mid-calf. They were of light, airy white tulle. The bodice with long sleeves and a high neck were a rich white lace, and there was a thick sash of silk across the waist. Hermione had to admit to herself that the dress felt awfully pretty. She'd used some of the leftover tulle from her alterations to make a veil for herself, and once she'd arranged her hair into a neat, tight chignon, she'd pinned in the veil so that it hung down her back. She'd Conjured herself a bouquet of white roses bound up with white silk ribbon, and she had Transfigured her high-heeled shoes to be a clean, shiny white. She'd put on beautification creme, then Charmed her lips and cheeks until they were rouged. She certainly looked and felt bridal.

"I have the rings," Tom said, shifting on his feet where he stood outside the Office of Marriage, Birth, and Death Registrations in the Ministry of Magic. Hermione watched as an old witch went walking by looking very sorrowful indeed, and then as a couple toting two toddlers and a newborn walked into the office. Hermione turned her attention to Tom as he extracted two platinum rings from his trouser pocket and held them out. Hermione took the larger, thicker one meant for him and held onto it, smiling a little.

"You've done well making these," she said.

"Hermione," he said seriously, and she stared up at him as his face went stony. He waited as a sobbing witch came walking out of the Registration office with an older wizard's arm around her shoulders, and he muttered, "Do they really have to handle all of this in one damned office?"

Finally, the hullabaloo died down, and he cleared his throat. Then he said softly,

"I am going to be the Minister for Magic. I am going to be a very powerful wizard. And you are going to be a very influential witch. And we are going to make a very happy life together, you and I. You are here forever. You've been sent here to be with me, to make me better, and I am very glad you've come. And things will be different from how you remember."

"I know." Hermione nodded firmly. "I do. I know it. I know it's all true."

He looked just a little taken aback, as though he'd expected to need to do more convincing. But Hermione whispered,

"The futures that have been created because of the present we're making now… this is all for the best. This is what's meant to be. You and I… here… us. I am precisely where I ought to be."

He seized her hand then and pulled her toward him, dragging her up into a kiss. Hermione moaned softly onto him, trying not to mash her flowers against the front of his suit. She pulled away and laughed a little,

"Let's go get married."

They went into the office and wrote their name on a parchment, and after about five minutes, a stern witch behind a desk called,

"Riddle and Granger!"

Hermione stood, and Tom took her hand as he led her up to the counter. The angry-looking witch at the desk said sharply,

"Marriage today?"

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble," Tom smirked. Hermione tried not to laugh. She squeezed Tom's hand, and the witch pulled out a parchment and dipped her quill into the inkpot beside her.

"Name of groom?"

"Tom Marvolo… M-A-R-V-O-L-O… yes. Riddle." Tom cleared his throat, coughing into his hand, and then appeared to be toying with Hermione's platinum wedding ring. She smiled reassuringly at him, and the witch snapped,

"Name of bride?"

"Hermione Jean Granger," Hermione said. "I'll be keeping my surname."

She glanced toward Tom, because they had not actually discussed that matter. She expected him to frown, or to ask if they could speak privately for a moment. But she realised that in the newspaper Madam Mutatia had shown her, she'd been referred to as Madam Granger. That had been from this thread, she thought. That was the future she was going to live here. She couldn't breathe, all of a sudden. She gulped as Tom flashed her a little look and whispered,

"Madam Hermione Granger."

They gave their dates of birth - Hermione gave a false one - and places of birth. They had to give their parents' names, and then they had to sign the license. Then the witch asked Tom,

"Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, take this witch, Hermione Jean Granger, to be your spouse in mind, body, and soul from this day forward? Do you promise to honour and cherish her as her husband, to meld your magic with hers in an unending bond of marriage?"

"I do," Tom said, and Hermione could not keep from grinning as he slid her platinum ring onto her finger. The witch asked,

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take this wizard, Tom Marvolo Riddle, to be your spouse in mind, body, and soul from this day forward? Do you promise to honour and cherish him as his wife, to meld your magic with his in an unending bond of marriage?"

"I do." Hermione promised, and her hands shook like mad as she slid his ring onto his finger. She reached up to hold his face in her hands, and he bent to kiss her. She only distantly heard the Ministry witch declare,

"Congratulations; you are now husband and wife."

It wasn't until Tom had walked her out of the Office, out into the black-tiled foyer near the bank of lifts, that the weight of what had transpired finally hit Hermione.

"I'm home," she whispered, and when Tom stared down at her, she nodded and glanced at her rings before repeating, "I'm home. I'm precisely where I ought to be."

"I am going to be powerful," he told her, "but it will be different from what you lived."

"I know," she nodded frantically. "It's all right. It's all… it's going to be wonderful. It's going to be marvelous."

Shepherd, she thought desperately, envisioning a newborn boy. Her eyes seared like wildfire, and she blinked through tears up at Tom as she reached for his hand and told him,

"We're together, you and I."

He brought her knuckles to her lips and kissed them, and he smiled.

THE END

Author's Note: Aaaaaaaagh! So, I had to end this story here because, as difficult as it is to wrap stories up, they all have their natural conclusions, and this one was at its end. HOWEVER, I very well may return to this storyverse for a sequel, because there's so much more I want to explore - the enmity with Walburga, winning over the Purebloods, Tom's ascent to Minister, the birth of Shepherd. After my next Tomione project, I'd love to write a sequel for this story. If I do, I hope you'll join me.

VERY SOON (i.e. within the next few days), I'll begin work on my next novel-length Tomione story, which will be entitled Revision and Rescript.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING INIMICA, AMATOR. I HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED IT!