Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Temple of Love

Hermione sat in the office of her lawyer, Starling Sylvanox. Across from her, over a coffee table spread with tea and biscuits, sat Monty and Euphemia Potter beside the heir of Portsmouth Potions, Tobias Haywood.

"Mr. Haywood," Hermione began. "Thank you for granting me this meeting today." She glanced at the Potters. The fashionable couple was beaming. "I appreciate your help in connecting me with the Haywoods. I have an interest in purchasing your property, which was formerly known as Portsmouth Potions. Have you any interest in selling it?"

Tobias was a tall, strapping young man who looked to be around thirty years old. He had leaf green eyes and pale blonde hair which grew just past his chin. He ran his hand over the soft stubble on his jaw thoughtfully. "Well..." His brows knit, and he seemed to be torn by her query. "I suppose it would help out our family."

Hermione's brows lifted. She flicked her eyes at Euphemia, and the witch's expression shifted into one of sympathy. "Tobias and Winnie's family have been in the potions business for years," said Euphemia with gentle consternation. "But their father has fallen ill, as I mentioned before."

Tobias looked at Hermione with wide, uncertain eyes. "My parents weren't able to keep the factory running with his illness, and unfortunately I didn't inherit any skill or love for potionmaking. That's my sister, Winifred. But... she was too young to be much help at the time. She only just graduated from Hogwarts last year." He sighed. "I should have sold it sooner, but it was a labor of love, you see. My grandparents and great-grandparents owned the factory, and it's a bit of a family legacy. I guess I'd been holding onto it for my parents' sake... they always hoped one day Winnie would pick it up and do something with it.

"I see," Hermione replied. "I'm very sorry to hear about your father, Mr. Haywood. I wonder if perhaps I could meet your sister. Maybe you needn't let go of the factory entirely... Perhaps, if she's as gifted at potions as you say, I could be a sort of investor."

Tobias was frozen for a moment, blinking as he stared at Hermione. "W-what?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I was hoping to purchase the factory in order to open a newspaper... but I suppose we could work something else out."

Tobias sat up in his chair. "There's ever so much space in the factory, Miss Dumbledore. Have you been inside?"

Hermione shook her head.

Sylvanox had an enchanted quill which scratched away in the corner of the room, taking notes of the meeting. He sat in silence, his dark gray hair frosted with ice-colored streaks, garbed in flowing indigo robes, the hems of which were embroidered with the silver threads of Egyptian heiroglyphics. Hermione both liked and disliked him; he was eccentric and reminded her of Dumbledore, and he was unerringly loyal to one thing: galleons. That infusion of personality and crude simplicity made Hermione quite comfortable in his presence. She'd long since given up the need for heroic business partners. She could deal with morally bereft individuals; perhaps she'd learned a thing or two about how the world worked from Tom.

Not everything was sunshine and daisies in the wizarding world. The political intricacies of the war had taught her that. Hermione no longer trusted easily, and her heart was locked away, her kindness strong and alive but hidden away beneath her occlumency walls.

Tobias' bright green eyes lit up. "There are parts of the factory that we never even used. I could take you on a tour of the facilities... I think you could have a paper as well, and still get the factory up and running."

The Potters smiled widely and turned their hopeful gazes to Hermione.

Hermione took a sip of her tea and then asked the young man a serious question. "Is your sister absolutely dedicated to potionmaking?"