PROMPT: Tom and Hermione already in established relationship. Tom ends up in muggle jail for whatever reason you decide. Hermione has to bail him out bc muggle jails have mandatory disapparation wards up, established by the ministry. From @marauderswagger
a/n: I had a lot of fun writing this and Tom is kind of based off of Lucifer from the show Lucifer in this one. I also really love fluffy Tomione so, here we are. Thank you for the prompt, friend!! <33
“With the new budget for the upcoming year, my department plans on expanding — “
Hermione was cut short by her phone ringing. She felt her body flush with heat as her colleagues stared at her and she rushed to decline the call without looking at it.
“Mrs. Granger, what in Merlin’s name is that awful contraption?”
Hermione shook her head as she gave a tight smile. “It is nothing worth noting. As I was saying, the new budget has allowed for — “
She was interrupted once again by her phone and she was certain that she must be red at this point.
“My apologies, it must be really important. We’ll take a fifteen-minute break now.”
As everyone got up, Hermione answered the phone, “Granger, speaking.”
“Hey, love, I need a favor.”
Hermione looked at the screen and cocked her head at the unknown number before putting the device back to her ear. “Tom?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Well, you see . . .”
Four hours later, Hermione showed up to the police station with the appropriate amount of cash on hand to bail Tom out of jail.
“Next,” the officer called out. Hermione stepped up to the desk and smiled politely.
“Hello, I’m here for a Tom Riddle?”
The policeman’s expression turned dark. “Oh. Him.”
He lifted his chin to the holding area where Tom seemed to be holding court, all of the other prisoners listening raptly to whatever nonsense her husband must have been spewing.
“I do apologize for him. £400,000, correct?”
The officer took her money before another office released Tom. Stepping up to her with a grin on his face, he gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Thank you, love.”
Hermione scowled at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”
She grabbed at his hand and pulled him along.
“Remember that your court date is a month from today!” The police officer reminded them as they left.
When they got to their home, Hermione placed her hands on her hips as Tom poured them both a glass of wine.
“Now, will you explain to me why you were in jail.”
“You know how we got into that argument last week? The one where you wished I would, and I quote, ’stop being an elitist prick because Muggles are innovative and just as, if not more so, intelligent than wizards and witches because they’re adaptive’ end quote?”
Hermione nodded as she took the proffered wine from him. Tom took a long sip out of his own glass before he continued his story.
“Well, after that argument, I decided to take your advice and experience the lives of Muggles. Since it’s summer and I have nothing else to do with my life besides being Mr. Granger, I enlisted Abraxas to help me blend in and, babe, you cannot believe the utter bullshit that Muggles have to deal with out there. I subscribed to BBC and get notifications each morning and let me tell you.”
Hermione pursed her lips as she placed her wineglass on the kitchen counter, mentally preparing for whatever bullshit Tom was about to deliver to her.
“Apparently, there’s this thing called Brexit going on and from what I’ve gathered — I may not be correctly informed, I’ve been told that I’m receiving ‘fake news’ — the UK is leaving this thing called the European Union this year but not everyone is okay with it. Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and England are pretty much divided over the issue.”
She listened patiently as he droned on and on about his findings, taking large swigs out her wineglass while he refilled it without prompting.
“. . .and so, I was at the pub and there was this Scottish person who wanted Brexit to occur arguing with this Londoner who didn’t and I inputted some things and next thing I know, there’s an entire pub brawl occurring.”
Hermione scoffed in disbelief as she drained her wine, stopping Tom from refiling it a fifth time.
“What, because you’re no longer taking over the world, you decided to incite riots instead at pubs?”
Tom reached out and pulled Hermione towards him before kissing her squarely on the lips. “You told me that you wouldn’t marry a tyrannical dictator. So now, I am nothing but a humble schoolteacher. It’s my job to educate the masses. I can’t help it if they become angry about it and start rioting because of the information I provide them with.”
Tom had a silly grin on his face that was so uncharacteristic with his usual stoicism that she couldn’t help but smile as well before she frowned harshly.
“Stop!” She pushed at his chest and bit her lip to prevent the smile that was trying to form again. “Stop it right there! I am upset with you, Riddle!” Her finger swished indignantly in front of his face. “Stop trying to distract me with that.” She gestured toward his face.
Tom grabbed at her one finger before uncurling the rest of them and kissing each tip chastely. “Of course, love. I apologize.”
Hermione smiled softly as she looked at him with obvious affection. “What am I going to do with you? You’re already in trouble with the Ministry for trying to teach your students ways they could get away with using magic at home. How are we going to get you out of this mess?”
“Don’t you worry! I already have Abraxas on it. His family has business dealings in the Muggle world and they have a Muggle lawyer already on retainer. He’ll be representing me.”
“You’re not going into the Muggle world without me in the future and I will talk to the Minister when I get back to work tomorrow.”
Will you share some head canons you have of Tom and Hermione? (As individuals and as a couple, or Volmione, your choice)
Okay. I don’t know where to begin with this. I’ll do my best to help you make sense of my own thought process.
I will also preface by saying that this is my own personal characterizations and headcanons for them. This is not an invitation for you to agree or disagree with me (though feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t jive with you).
Tom Riddle: I think this his has been discussed before, but I will start by stating that I don’t think he was born without the capacity to love based on the circumstances of his birth (love potion). I think that’s bullshit and creates a two-dimensional villain that does not make a reader struggle. It’s easy to hate him, and that’s not necessarily what I am now trying to achieve when I write him (at least, it’s become my new direction with his character).
I think this is a nature vs nurture phenomenon. The circumstances surrounding his development lent to his fixation with death and with mastering it. I think, genuinely, that death is a metaphor for his loss of control over his person. Death is what led to his being left in an orphanage, after all. The ability to not own things for himself as well as to have a private space for himself, too, may have exacerbated his desire for control and stability.
It is speculated that given the conditions of an orphanage in Britain around the 1930s to1940s, it may have also provided a ripe environment to divide himself from the people surrounding him. Whether this be physical abuse or negligence, it is still debated. Either way, however, I think either form of abuse adds to his desire for more. When you have nothing, you covet everything. To get a taste of grandeur is to whet the appetite for more.
And Tom covets. He covets everything.
The muggles? I think in a way that his hatred was born of his envy for them. Even with how special he thought himself to be, the muggles still had something that he didn’t: a place to belong. The children of the orphanage? They stuck together. Tom didn’t, whether by his own choice or through alienation from others. So to some degree, at some point, he did crave others--to be understood and belong.
But with the continued perversion of that through his own upbringing and his illusions of grandeur and victimhood, he began to hate it. He simultaneously wanted and loathed these bonds. And I think, that adds a layer to his continued disdain for muggles, aside from his decision to other them and treat them like the scum beneath his shoes.
(Also, I don’t think Tom is unfeeling at all. I think he has such a vast capacity for emotion that it is almost suffocating. He is good at hiding and repressing it, but it is there. It festers inside him, boiling over until it erupts into fits of rage and other displays of violence.)
Hermione Granger: She is the third member of the trio, but we don’t know much about her character outside of Harry Potter. We know she’s brave, logical, brash, temperamental, and ruthless. We know she is thirsty for knowledge and that she wishes to use that knowledge to reach a practical end (as opposed to theoretical).
But I think that her intelligence doesn’t extend only to the logical realm, but to the emotional. I think she has a solid grasp of emotions and how they affect one’s ability to rationalize. The fact that she does not think with her emotions does not mean that she is not capable of understanding it.
She cries several times throughout the series, in fact, so to strip her of this particular source of humanity detracts from her character. She is strong because she is well rounded. She doesn’t disdain emotions as Tom does nor rejects these kinds of bonds, but she does set them aside where necessary.
Also, just because this is my own personal take, and anyone is free to disagree with me, I think that a point her and Tom have in common is in the desire to belong. She thirsts for knowledge, but she spends her time trying to show off just how much she knows because she wasn’t born into the wizarding world. She is an outsider even if she has magic and she feels it. When she is being made fun of for answering questions in class or when she tries to help others, but otherwise just makes others feel inferior, she in her 11-year-old mind, is trying to bridge the chasm between her background and theirs in the only way she knows how.
She probably didn’t do well with muggle children with her likely accidental bouts of magic, either. So it would only make sense that she latch on to the first chance she has at forming heartfelt relationships with magical children.
Hellloooo! 18, 28, 54 please! (Of that questions about yourself thingy) <3
(18) Do You Collect Anything?
I like to collect bullets from guns. For every gun I’ve used at a shooting range, I sort of just keep a bullet. I think they’re pretty cool and sleek. It’s a weird thing I collect, and for once, not fandom related.
(28) What Makes You Happy?
Cooking and eating food. Spending time with people I genuinely care to be around. Indulging in my fandom things. When my favorite stories are updated lmao.
I have simple needs.
(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?
7) I do not have any tattoos yet but I have plans of having some soon!!
9) I only have my ears pierced. :)
19) I am highly emotional and extremely sensitive. I blame it on my Cancer Sun and my Cancer Moon.
28) She’s my boyfriend’s mother so… I will be very polite and simply say that she should release a lot of the spite and anger she holds if she wants to prevent major wrinkles from forming in her future.
For the personal questions: about your day, a confession, and an embarrassing story, please!
Hi!! Thank you for asking and for interacting with me.
1) My day has been okay. I have been running errands for my mom and my grandma thought she wanted a new iPhone so we went to the Apple Store and after three hours, she decided she wanted to keep the one she already had. 🙃🙃🙃 You can imagine how I was feeling. My family is very small and we’re Buddhists, so we don’t celebrate Christmas, meaning these next few days are just chill off days where we watch movies, drink wine, and go shopping. It’s quite nice to just spend time together. 🥰
2) A confession! When I was six, I was placed in ESL (English as a Second Language) classes which made me FURIOUS because of three reasons. 1 – I already spoke English, 2 – my sister was bullied for speaking English poorly so she made sure I knew English before I started school, and 3 – my grandmother taught me how to read and had me reading before I even started school. So, in my six-year-old anger, I told myself that I was better than all of my peers and I would prove them wrong for placing me in ESL. Fast forward, throughout my entire K-12 education, I read ALL THE TIME and consistently had the highest Accelerated Reading points (I have three trophies in my room from it) and graduated as one of the top five in my class. In conclusion, my academic success was fueled by sheer pettiness and anger over being wronged at the age of six. (This is also me bragging because I’m still upset over being put in ESL for having a slight Asian accent. I now have a completely Southern American accent.)
3) An embarrassing story: I competed in a cultural/scholarship pageant when I was sixteen and when they asked me my onstage question, I completely blanked in front of everyone and fumbled with my answer before I just smiled, said thank you, and walked back to my place. In my defense, I received the hardest question and to protect all future contestants from the same blunder, I joined the executive board and I am now in charge of writing the interview and onstage questions. 😊
10. Which character do you relate to most, and why?
This is going to be so obvious, but Hermione Granger. She reminds me very much of myself, especially with how I may come off to others: obnoxious when I know something and high-strung.
She works hard, is loyal almost to a fault, and she isn’t afraid to cut corners for those she cares about. Always, I think, to the detriment of her own well-being.
I think I am similar in those respects.
16. Who would be your enemy or enemies at Hogwarts?
I don’t really know. I’m pretty sure I’d end up having a bone to pick with anyone espousing racist and supremacist garbage to students that can’t otherwise defend themselves. I can’t think of a particular person, but if someone is being an asshole, I’m probably the first to rip into them for it.
17. Who would be your best friend at Hogwarts?
You mean wives.
It would probably be Hermione. I could also appreciate Luna Lovegood and Ginny.
19. Favourite Weasley?
I love Ginny. I wish to this day that more could have been done for her character. Especially with the growth she underwent (and the trauma she experienced in Book 2) throughout the series.
45. "Baby, you're my angel." for Tomione! (I know you will turn this into monster porn so I wanna make it difficult 😈) <3
Ships: Tomione/Volmione
Rating: E
Tags: Alternate Universe- Religious, Blasphemy, Demons, Fallen Angels, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Deal with a Devil, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snake-faced Voldemort.
AN: As you know, I don’t understand the concept of drabble or prompt. Have at it. Also, I am NOT taking prompts lol.
You can read the entire thing on here on AO3. This is only the first scene.
“No!”
Hermione rattled the bars of her prison, incensed.
They couldn’t do this to her. They couldn’t.
She had to save him, to protect him. They’d eat him alive out there, alone, in the human world.
Harry.
She had to find him, to do something. He was her charge. What was a guardian angel without her ward? What was a guardian angel that failed to keep its ward’s soul from being damned?
“Well, well—”
Hermione froze, her hands dropping away from the magicked bars to take a step back. She knew that voice.
How could she not? No one could ever forget the voice of one of their own. Even it’d been centuries since he’d fallen.
“—what a pleasant surprise.”
Hermione grit her teeth, eyeing the shadows clinging to the walls of her cell. They sank into the cracks of the stone, bled and clung to the corridors far beyond her reach. Endless.
It was like gazing straight into an abyss.
“What are you doing here, Voldemort?” Hermione spat, stepping further into the cell until her back pressed against the wall. Ice seeped through her robes, bit and gnawed at the bumps of her spine. Hermione paid it no mind.
Laughter filtered through the cell. It echoed, like a chasm. On and on, it rang, and Hermione sucked in a slow breath between her teeth to stifle the unease it wrought.
“Why, I am only paying my favorite a visit,” Voldemort said, his voice sliding through her senses like the rot of decaying flesh. Hermione tried not to gag, swallowing back her bile before glaring into the dark.
She refused to give him the satisfaction of appearing phased.
“Oh, your favorite, am I? If I recall, you almost had my wings severed during the War,” Hermione replied at the same time the shadows began to move. They swirled like a mist. Writhing like the bodies of tiny insects crushed beneath one’s shoe.
“Semantics.”
Hermione’s breath caught when the shadows receded, melting into nothing until a lone shadow stood at the center of the room, just on the other side of the bars. Her fingers curled into fists, her own hair curling with magic.
She knew he couldn’t pass through the bars. He couldn’t get in any more than she could get out, but still, she couldn’t help the reaction. Voldemort had always made her skin crawl, even back when they’d been comrades—both given the task of guiding humanity to the light.
“It has been centuries since the war, Hermione. The earth is no longer as it once was, and humans—” The figure stepped closer to the bars, stopping mere centimeters from it. He made no move pull back the cloak over his head, masking the monstrous features he now possessed. “—are much more prone to sin, to the corruption of their souls.”
Hermione grit her teeth, refusing to take the bait. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to provoke her, to get her angry enough to bridge the space between them in this cell.
She wasn’t stupid.
“That’s because monsters like you exist. Without you in this world, without you corrupting and leading the humans astray, there would be no need for me to guard them,” Hermione hissed, her heart racing when the shadow laughed once more.
A flash of red bloomed in the darkness, and Hermione’s eyes trained on it. Knowing what they were.
They were Voldemort’s eyes...
They blinked at her from the dark, through the shadows of his own cloak. Serpentine. The pupils, even from the distance, discernible: slit and inhuman. The perfect face for the monster that possessed them.
It was almost funny how Voldemort had once been the most beautiful, the most favored of the angels. To think that there was none of that beauty left, that he was nothing more than a boogeyman that haunted the beds of the weak and vulnerable, was only fitting.
“It astounds me that you could remain this ignorant and naive after all this time.”
Hermione bit back her retort, opting to glare instead.
Calm down, Hermione. Don’t let him push you. You’re not the little fledgling that looked up to and admired your elders. This is not Tom. Not anymore.
“Humans are a cursed breed. Precocious, selfish, and cruel. A blight. They are not deserving of the kindness we have given them. Tell me—”
Hermione made to open her mouth but paused, attention snapping to the pale and clawed hands that revealed themselves when he tugged at the hood of his cloak. Then, they were pulling the hood back, revealing centimeter by centimeter of his face until he was exposed to her gaze.
Oh.
“—how are your charges doing? I’ve heard such interesting things about them, about you. ”
Hermione pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle her startled gasp, her eyes unable to rip away.
When she’d last seen him, perhaps two or three decades ago, he’d had some semblance of his angelic status left. Barely there, but it had been in the curve of his jaw and the jut of his nose. Even the way his eyes had crinkled when he’d seen her had been reminiscent of his days at her side, staff in hand to battle the creatures sucking at the souls of the living.
Now, however, there was nothing left of that man. Nothing even vultures could pick at with their beaks.
Tom Riddle was gone. All that remained was Voldemort.
“I never thought I would see the day that it would be you in this cell. It is curious, indeed. You are nothing but loyal to the cause, standing behind the failures and indiscretions of your charges even when you know your pets are lost —”
“Shut up.”
She bared her teeth at him, fuming. Voldemort only smiled, his pale and gaunt face twisting. It made her want to retch, the way his flesh resembled that of a human skull—desiccated and white.
“What did you do , Hermione, to have earned his disfavor?” Voldemort asked, red eyes trained on hers. Hermione swallowed beneath his scrutiny, her skin breaking out into gooseflesh.
He didn’t blink. Not once. She wondered if he even had eyelids anymore with that monstrous face of his.
“It’s not your concern. It hasn’t been your concern since you fell, Voldemort,” Hermione hissed, her teeth catching on her lip to stop herself from launching herself at the bars when he grinned, all teeth.
It was the single most mocking expression she’d ever seen. How she loathed it, hated him. How was it that he, a demon , had freedom whilst she, one of His elite, was imprisoned? How dare he mock her for her kindness. For caring, as if it was a flaw, the reason for her imprisonment. She’d done nothing wrong.
She’d only—
Don’t think about it.
She hadn’t turned her back on Him as Voldemort had done. She’d toiled and watched body after body wither away, human soul after human soul fade into nothing, without a word. Heavens knew how many humans she’d had fall into Voldemort’s clutches, soul poisoned by the sweet lies and painful truths he murmured against their ears.
Just as Harry would too, if you don’t get out of here.
“Oh, but it is my concern. One of your humans has been sniffing around things that it shouldn’t. You must be aware of this fact, no?”
Hermione’s world twisted. Her hand fell away from her mouth to clutch at the stones pressed against her back for balance.
No.
Terror sliced through her insides, her heart racing in her chest.
No. No. No. Harry couldn’t have —
It wasn’t possible.
“Harry, I believe is what it calls itself? Quite curious, indeed.”
Hermione didn’t respond, couldn’t. There was a lump forming in her esophagus. Hard and serrated.
“Such a stubborn little thing, too.”
“What do you want?” Hermione snapped, straightening her back when Voldemort only shook his head. He was still smiling, but his eyes—
They’d gone cold.
“Many things.”
Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh, forcing herself to edge away from the wall of her cell.
Revulsion twisted in her gut the closer she came to him, his features sharpening. There was no turning away, no averting one’s gaze.
There were scales on his jaw and brow bones. They glimmered a bright blue and lilac, even without a single light source in sight. The slits in his nose became more prominent the nearer she drew, the cruel twist of his mouth a jagged slash on his face.
His eyes were the worst, had always been.
Especially when she could still recall what their color had been before he’d fallen. Saw that precise color, every evening, when gazing into the Earth’s unoccupied forests.
A deep, unfathomable brown that one could easily mistake for black.
“Don’t be obtuse. You know what it is that I’m asking,” Hermione said through clenched teeth once she stopped a short distance from the bars.
He was taller than her, as most angels were, but Hermione did not allow it to cow her. Even if Voldemort had shed that identity to don this new form.
“Ask me intelligent questions, and I might see fit to give you an intelligent answer,” he replied, a smile stretching into a grin. Hermione ignored it, knowing better than to rise to his antagonism.
That was one thing that hadn’t changed.
“What does Harry have to do with you? Last I recall, you wanted nothing to do with humans. Not unless you were personally overseeing their own torture,” Hermione asked, head tilting to one side to get a better read on his expression.
In the past, she’d been more than capable of reading him. She knew his intentions, could divine his emotions with a simple raise of her brow. Now, however—
His face was frozen into a parody of creature and angel. She didn’t know what he was thinking and that unnerved her more than his monstrous face ever could.
“The human summoned me.”
Hermione’s blood ran cold.
What?
“Days ago, in fact.”
Hermione sucked in a slow and deep breath to stifle the terror writhing in her stomach.
She’d only been in this cell for a few days. How was it that Harry, in the time she’d been gone, summoned a bloody demon? Was he insane? Had he lost his mind?
“Oh, no need to fret. The human has made no request. It has only asked questions.”
Hermione was not comforted by this fact. Demons were wily little creatures. They always managed to get more out of a trade, even when humans were prepared.
Information, too, at times, was more dangerous than the granting of a wish.
“Thus far, of course.”
Hermione pressed up against the bars before she could stop herself, her fingers clutching onto the metal for dear life.
“ No —”
Voldemort’s chilling laughter cut her outburst, his hands settling over her own on the bars. It was like touching death. She didn’t flinch away even when her instincts screamed for her to back away, to push herself into the wall furthest from his person.
“No? I don’t believe you have much of a say in the matter.”
Hermione bit her lip until it stung, the taste of iron thick on her tongue when Voldemort’s eyes flashed, something cruel and curious in their depths. Hermione didn’t like it.
“Especially not when you’re here, suffering through His punishment until you are to be freed.”
He was right. Whether she liked it or not, there was nothing she could do to stop Harry from exchanging his soul to Voldemort. She was powerless to stop him.
That notion stung worse than the nails digging into the backs of her hands, than Voldemort’s cold breaths fanning across her cheeks.
“I’ve come to make a bargain. A trade of sorts—”
“No,” was Hermione’s vehement response, not at all regretting the acid in her tone when Voldemort’s clawed fingers slid past her hands to close around her wrists and yank her flush against the bars in retaliation.
She wouldn’t wilt. Outright refused to be beaten into submission even by the devil himself.
“You will not —”
“I said no. I do not bargain with demons, let alone you,” she seethed, glaring straight into his eyes despite the fury swimming in their depths. It couldn’t be helped.
Voldemort hated to be refused, but she’d have to be insane to consider bargaining with a demon. This would not be an arm’s length exchange. Nothing like the trade between humans for goods and services as Harry often explained.
No. Demons were vile and tricky beasts. And Voldemort was the worst one of them all.
There was a pregnant pause. Neither of them spoke, the room settling into an all-encompassing silence.
“Very well,” Voldemort said after some time, his simmering rage melting into the same cold, perilous expression he’d worn earlier. There was no sign of his earlier amusement. “I will let you think on this.”
Hermione shot him a scandalized look, hardly believing her ears. Did he really think she would change her mind? That she’d have a change of heart and risk her own heavenly status by bartering with a monster?
He really had lost his mind when he fell from heaven.
“I will never agree to your terms, whatever they might be. There is nothing that you possess that I could ever want. Not if it comes at the price of my own purity .”
Voldemort released her and stepped away, his eyes never wavering from hers as she spoke.
Then, he smiled. It was thin, close-lipped. His eyes slanted and shrewd.
“Let us both hope for your sake then, Hermione, that that is not the case.”
His words were the last thing she heard before he vanished into nothing, plunging her into darkness.
