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Goyle stood before about thirty fully decked out Death Eaters and surveyed them shrewdly. Because they were all wearing masks, only someone who knew each of them would know who had assembled, and that was just as it should be. They were, all of them, of the purest blood, and it put the man completely at his ease.
"Since we do not wish to serve the upstart who has the gall to call himself Lord Voldemort, we need a new leader—one who has not renounced the old ways as this puppy clearly has," Goyle shouted adamantly to the crowd. "But the question is, who here should we choose?"
"I have a suggestion," said a male voice as its owner stepped forward. "I would suggest we pick someone who has aided us within the Ministry for many years now. Delores Umbridge."
"A woman?" Goyle shouted in protest. "You would put all of our lives into the hands of a cursed female? What if the blasted creature has a mood swing during her moon and decides to kill every last one of us?"
"I assure you, Geoffrey, I most certainly would not," said the woman in question with her characteristic giggle as she stepped up beside him, front and center. "I must say, I'm very pleased to be considered. There are many changes I would like to see in the way things are done, both in the Ministry and outside it. I can only lament that I am no longer a member so that I could access the place as easily as before."
"Insufferable twit," Goyle growled. "Must you always laugh when you speak? It's completely annoying."
"I'll try to remember that in future," Delores sneered.
"Are there no other candidates, then?" Goyle demanded of the others, but no other voice was heard over their murmurs. "Blast it all, then let us vote on the matter. Those in favor?"
Almost every hand went up.
"Opposed?" he asked hopefully as he raised his own hand. Only three others joined him. "Well, that's that then. Let us adjourn the meeting and give our Lady a few days to put together some sort of plan."
"Thank you, Goyle," she said with a snide smile pasted on her lips.
"A word, Ms. Umbridge?" he said more quietly as the others departed.
"What is it?" she asked. "As you have said, I have a lot to do."
"I would like—I would wish that—blast it all, I want to join forces in this matter," he said. "Would you consider a merger?"
"What a vulgar Muggle word," she said as she began to realize what he meant. "If you are proposing marriage, at least have the decency to say so."
"Wasn't quite sure how you'd take it," he admitted. "But face it, I've got a lot of blunt, and you'll be needing it if you want to get this little venture off the ground."
"Ah, yes, a matter of convenience," she said as she folded her hands neatly and began to amble through the underbrush. "But if that is all you offer, I will expect you to keep your hands to yourself."
"Well, that's not much fun," Goyle hedged as he cast her a hopeful look. "I might be able to give you a little taste of what you've been missing all these years."
"How dare you insinuate that I—"
"Have you, then?" he interrupted her. "I always assumed you're so bitchy because you hadn't."
"Well, no, I haven't," she admitted. "That's something that's meant for marriage—I mean, for real marriages, not convenient ones."
Goyle chuckled. "But my dear, you have never been married."
"That's very true," she admitted with a hot blush.
"If you did not—participate—outside of marriage, you must have hoped to do so inside it," he pointed out. "And I would be perfectly willing to indulge you, should the need arise—"
"Enough!" she said, her voice a higher pitch than usual. "I do not wish to have this discussion. But as you have said, I do need your funds. If you will not give them any other way, I suppose I will have to accept your proposal—the proper one, not the other. I will expect you to behave yourself in a gentlemanly manner. After all, I will be their Lady, and it is my bidding they will listen to. Best you remember that."
"How can I forget?" Goyle growled as he took her hand in his and kissed the back before he Apparated away, leaving Delores standing alone with a pleased smirk on her lips.
"It is as you feared, my Lord," Lucius reported to Tom in the early hours of the morning using the bedroom floo. "Goyle gathered a large number of purebloods in the forest last night, and they all elected a new leader. She is not someone you will yourself remember, but I know her quite well enough to say she could be big trouble."
"They chose a woman?" he asked curiously. "I didn't think they'd do that. Who is she?"
"Hermione knows her," Lucius said, his fiery face nodding to her as she sat up to look over Tom's shoulder. "Delores Umbridge."
"They chose Umbridge for a leader?" Hermione gasped, feeling suddenly ill. "Oh, Tom, she is the worst Muggle-hater that ever lived, even worse than—well, worse than he was."
"Did they say what they mean to do?" Tom asked worriedly. "I do not want them to upset my own plans. They will need to be watched at all times, and I will need to know their every intention."
"Yes, my Lord, of course," Lucius agreed. "Everything shall be done as you command, as always."
"And what plans do they have now?"
"None as yet, Master," he said, and a coal popped right beside his nose, making him flinch. "It seems they gave their new lady a few days in which to plan."
"Yes, that would be wise," Tom conceded. "But I still think they will wish to strike while the iron is hot. I may be able to use any attack they launch to my advantage. Only think how much trust I would gain if I were to put them down when the strike. Kingsley would believe in my intentions much better if I saved his arse."
"Excellent, my Lord," Lucius said with a laugh. "I shall keep you informed."
Both Tom and Hermione stood before Minerva McGonagall placidly as she paced around them, looking the pair over with a critical eye.
"Well, Hermione, I must say I never expected to see you standing beside Tom Riddle, of all people," she finally commented. "And you Tom, you look just as I remember you from our school days. I never would have believed it. Miss Granger—I mean Mrs. Riddle—would you allow me a few moments alone with your husband? I wish to ascertain his intentions, and I fear I may not be able to trust anything he says in front of you, crafty devil that he is."
"We have no secrets, Professor, I can assure you," Hermione told her vehemently.
"Still, I wish you would indulge me," she insisted. "I shan't be long."
Tom whispered in her ear, "Go on, love, it's okay," and then kissed her before he let her go. Hermione stalked off, clearly annoyed, as the two watched.
"What are you up to, Tom? Breaking young girls' hearts again?" Minerva inquired the moment she was gone.
"What do you mean?" he asked, one brow arched as he looked the woman over. "You look surprisingly well after so many years, my old friend."
"Don't give me those puppydog eyes of yours, Tom Riddle," she admonished him. "Before I consent to this plan of yours, I want to be certain of your motives. I don't want you to hurt Hermione the way you once hurt me."
"Minerva, we both knew that summer was a fling, and nothing more," Tom reminded her. "How could it be more, when I was nothing but a stepping stone on your way to glory? You wanted to be the Minister of Magic one day, as I recall--and I also recall that you are the one who broke the whole thing off."
"Only because you and I were constantly bickering," she said. "But, be that as it may, I must still be concerned for my fellow Gryffindor in her hour of need—"
"The only thing that particular Gryffindor needs is me," he interjected.
"And I must insist you tell me why you have come here, and how Hermione plays into your plans."
"There's no ulterior motive, I can assure you," he said with a laugh. "The very first time I saw her, I knew that I must have Hermione for my own. Imagine my dismay when I learned that she was far into the future. Ever the resourceful one, I found a way to come here and marry the girl straightaway."
"So you really did come to the future just to be with her?" she clarified. "Wow, if I'd known you had such depths of feeling back then, I don't think I would have gotten rid of you quite so abruptly."
"Thanks a lot," Tom scoffed. "You, my dear Minerva, will never get to know the depths of my heart because they never belonged to you to begin with. It's sad, but true. I wasn't ready to love then, but I am more than ready here and now, with the woman of my dreams."
"I see," she said quietly.
"But what about you, Minerva?" he inquired. "Did you never find a man you could truly love?"
"I did find love eventually," she admitted, her eyes looking far away. "But as you may have guessed since I am still McGonagall, it was never meant to be. I suppose I shall die alone one day—but when I do, I'll do so as one of the most powerful witches who ever lived."
"Always the optimist, I see," he chuckled. "And now, I would like to bring back my wife and get on with all of this."
"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, stepping to the door. "Hermione, would you come in, please? We've got to see about getting you two settled in. I've got a rigorous two weeks scheduled for you, and then three days testing after that."
"Yes, Professor," said Hermione as she stepped in again, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at them both. Whatever they had been discussing, she could not see it in either of their thoughts, and she gave up with an inward sigh. She clung to Tom's arm as much as possible for the rest of the conversation.
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