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Tom's mind refused to shut down as he lay in bed beside Hermione a little while later. He could hear her shallow breaths as she slept contentedly beside him. He had
one arm wrapped around her and the other one behind his head on a pillow as he stared up at the ceiling above.
It was hard to believe he was really there, that Hermione had actually pulled him right through the mirror and into the future. His heart was pounding with excitement
at all the possibilities that were now available to him because of that one act. He could really have Hermione now, not just play at a relationship with her through a
few mirrors, but finally, actually touch her! And best of all, he could have her here, in the future, if he wanted to.
Knowing that he could be in the future gave Tom a heady sense of renewed power. He had been somewhat upset to hear that he would eventually be defeated by a mere boy
no older than he was now, but considering the extent of his own power at this age, it should not surprise him. And the Potter boy was a half-blood, just the same as
he was. Could there be something special about the mixing of magical and Muggle blood after all? Was it, perhaps, a thing to be prized rather than abhorred? Gazing
at his own Muggle certainly did make him hope so.
Tom was amazed at the direction his thoughts seemed to be going concerning this girl. If he kept on, he would end up with a wife and kids and a little house in the
country with a white picket fence and a dog named Rover. No, he thought with a touch of amusement, he would never end up like that, not even if he and Hermione had
ten kids in a row. It just wasn't in someone like him to settle down so completely.
Still, if he did intend to be in the future rather than the past, he was going to have to do something to make certain this future did not change because he left his
past behind. He thought back on all the spells he had been reading about in that book he'd found, and sorely wished he could retrieve it. But to do that, he would
have to get out of Hermione's bed, and he had no desire to do so. The two desires warred within him, but in the end he elected to stay by her side, just as he had
known he would all along.
He could distinctly remember spotting a spell for duplicating a person using a mirror. That person would, of course, be a mirror image of the original, but most people
didn't really pay a great deal of attention to that sort of thing, did they? Anyway, the copy could remain in the past, which would leave Tom free to pursue his future
here as he saw fit. It was an absolutely brilliant idea, in his opinion.
Only, what sort of future did he want to have here? If he didn't want the white picket fence, and he didn't want to get himself killed by some upstart kid, what exactly
was it that he did want? He had always hoped to overthrow the Ministry, an arrogant institution with so many rules and regulations that they worked against themselves
on a constant basis. However, it was clear that a frontal assault had not been the way to go about it.
Hermione sighed in her sleep and snuggled into him. Tom smiled and brushed a few stray hairs away from her eyes. What would Hermione think if he tried to infiltrate
the Ministry in some other way? What if he gathered his Death Eaters, as they were now called, and gave them a new set of plans? Stop worrying about blood status, we
need a new strategy. We need to get people inside the Ministry and make it fall from within.
He imagined she'd be somewhat upset to think he would still be trying to overthrow the tyranny that was the Ministry. No one truly understood that his purpose was not
wholly evil, or even wholly selfish. What he wanted was order. But not the pigeon-holed type of order enforced by the current regime. He wanted a different sort of
order, an order that made sense. He'd always preferred the simplicity of the feudal system, but preferably without all the senseless battles to take each other's
castles. He thought it would work better if each man was assigned his position and place, and then they all worked together to keep that place working efficiently.
But, if one wished to rule the world, they would have to consider everyone and everything in that world, not just the Wizarding World, but the Muggle World as well. He
did not believe the two should be completely separate from each other, as they were now. Would it not work better if the wizards ruled over the Muggles, and they helped
the wizards keep things efficient? After all, having grown up in the Muggle world as he had done until he was eleven Tom knew they were a very resilient breed. And some
of them, like the girl at his side, were very powerful in their own right.
But, regardless of what would be done, Tom knew that he needed to get started doing it. One never knew how long these mirrors would keep cooperating. He wanted to get
back to his own time, make the copy, and then leave all of that time behind to him. Kissing Hermione's lips softly, he rubbed her back and whispered, "I should
probably go back, sweetheart. Go to the masquerade tomorrow. I have a few things to take care of before I get there. But I guarantee you that I will."
"Mmm," Hermione sighed sleepily. "No leaving without giving me another kiss."
Tom leaned down and kissed Hermione several times, then set her away from him resolutely. "See you tomorrow, my sweet."
"I can't wait," she whispered with a smile.
"Nor can I," he agreed, and then he turned and stepped back through the mirror, grabbed up the Mirror Spells book, and settled down at his desk to read.
Malfoy opened his eyes in the wee hours of the morning and glared at his mirror in disgust. It was glowing again, like it had done the last time when Granger had
shown up in it looking so completely hot, and then had summarily cast him aside and left again. That little wench better not be back to do it again, or so help him
this time she would not be leaving!
"Hello, Draco," said a decidedly masculine voice. It sounded just like the one from Hermione's compact. Draco nervously sat up in his bed to stare as a tall,
intimidating young man stepped through the full-length glass and into his bedroom. "I trust I'm not disturbing you?"
"Who—who the hell are you?" Draco asked him as he went to reach for his wand, which he had placed on top of his dresser.
"Draco, don't be ridiculous," Tom scoffed. "You won't need your wand for this conversation. You would never win in a match with me if we did fight, for one thing. Have
you not figured out yet who I am, young Malfoy? I was told you were a follower of mine at one time, so I assumed you must have at least half a brain to work with."
"Fol—follower?" Draco repeated, stunned. "You-you're the Dark Lord? But how can that be?"
"I have many ways of returning, Draco," he explained dismissively. "But never mind all that. I've come to you with a very specific mission in mind—one which I expect
you to complete with no mistakes. Do I make myself clear on that point? I'm certain you know that I do not tolerate inadequacies well."
"Yes, my Lord, I know," he said, scrambling out of the bed to bow to him.
"Get up, Draco, don't be so tiresome," Tom said, patting his shoulder. "Now, this is what you must do for me. I wish to meet with my current followers in the Forbidden
Forest on the Eve of the New Year. I will appear to them at midnight, so that we might devise a new plan to take over the Ministry. You must tell them this
straightaway, so they can all have time to prepare for my arrival. Is that understood?"
"It is, my Lord," Draco agreed, bowing slightly again.
"I can see that you've worked out in your head that I am the one who was in Hermione's compact by the fear in your eyes," Tom commented at this point. "That is
very good. I cannot tolerate stupidity and ineptitude. But then, you would not be the Head Boy if you were stupid, would you, Draco?"
"No, my Lord," he agreed, pleased by the compliment but still guarded about what Lord Voldemort might do to him because of the Mudblood. He didn't bother to wonder
why his Lord had a preference for that tasty little bitch, since he'd developed one himself over the years, but one never knew if Voldemort's emotions had gotten
involved in the matter. It took him a moment more to realize the Dark Lord was staring into his eyes, and yet another to look down in shame. He knew he'd heard his
thoughts just then.
"You must put the Granger girl out of your mind, Draco," Tom said smoothly—too smoothly. "That little wench belongs to me, body and soul, and she always will. But,
if you don't believe me, we could put it to the test."
"No, no," Draco said, holding up his hands to ward off the idea. "It's not at all necessary."
"Perhaps not," he chuckled. "But still, it would be entertaining to see what she does. Indulge me, Draco, won't you?"
"But my Lord," Draco pointed out. "How can I gather the followers if you get me killed?"
Tom hadn't laughed so hard in a long time, and Draco just stared at him in amazement. The older Voldemort must never have laughed before, by the look of him. It
made him laugh even more.
"You will do this for me, Draco," he said more insistently. "Sometime before the masquerade will do. And if you actually succeed in your seduction, I'll kill you
myself."
"Yes, my Lord," he said, bowing low again as the Dark Lord disappeared back into his mirror from whence he had come.
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