Don't Fear The Reaper

Tom's whole world was on fire. The sounds of screams invaded his ears. Black dots danced in his vision, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nose. As he sat up, the chaos around him became painfully clear. Bodies, engulfed in flames, ran desperately toward the ponds outside. Others screamed “Aguamenti!” like a desperate prayer on their charred lips. The rancid stench of burning flesh and smoke filled the air.
Tom attempted to stand but collapsed onto his hands and knees. He looked around, and just a few meters away, he saw her—Nagini. His mighty serpent, sliced in half. A wail ripped from his lungs. He wasn’t sure if the sound was only in his head or if it had truly escaped his throat. Crawling toward her, he cradled her like a child against his chest, desperately trying to piece her back together with every spell he could think of.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered.
Then, like a bullet to the heart, it hit him. Where was she?
“HERMIONE!” he roared, scrambling to his feet and sprinting toward the west wing, where their room was. He took the stairs two at a time.
“HERMIONE! Please, please still be safe. I can’t lose you too,” he begged whatever wretched god might be listening.
He slammed into the door, ripping it open with such force that it fell off its hinges. His frantic gaze landed on her—Hermione. A redhead was wrapping a necklace around them both.
“TOM!” she screamed, reaching for him.
The redhead yanked her back as they were ripped out of time and space. Tom lunged forward, grasping at nothing as she disappeared before his eyes.
Falling to his knees, he stared out the window. His beasts were howling as the grounds burned. The Order had planned this well. His wolves were away due to the full moon, and half his followers were out on scouting missions.
“Fucking Potter,” he spat.
“My Lord,” a voice called from behind him.
Tom turned sharply. “YOU!” he bellowed, slamming Dolohov against the wall.
“You were supposed to be guarding her!”
“My Lord, I tried! You must believe me. I was stationed outside the door when Potter and the ginger cunt appeared out of nowhere. They had nightshade powder—the hall went dark, and I was bound by something. The bonds only disappeared just now.”
Tom released him with a shove. “Gather anyone still alive. We need to regroup. Meet me at Bella’s.”
Dolohov nodded and vanished.
Tom turned back into their room and grabbed the essentials. His queen would need her things when she returned. His knuckles turned white as he clutched her clothes, inhaling her scent, lavender and vanilla.
Then, with a crack, he was gone.

Tom arrived at Lestrange Manor, smoke still billowing off him from the destruction of Malfoy Manor. As he entered the ballroom, he heard the sharp click of Bella’s heels as she approached.
“My Lord,” she purred.
His face twitched in irritation. He stopped pacing and turned to her, red eyes locking onto brown. Not hazel. Not the eyes he adored. Not even the calming obsidian of his own soul.
“Bella, where THE FUCK were you tonight? You were supposed to be covering the grounds.”
She smirked. “Oh, Tom, what has you in such a mood? Is your Mudblood whore not satisfying you anymore?”
With a growl, Tom grabbed her arm as she started to walk away.
“Bella, I will not ask again. Where the fuck were you?”
“Lucius sent me to scout. He had reports that the Order was making a move tonight.”
“Excellent job you did with that,” he sneered. “The Order did attack, and I hope to fuck your precious sister and nephew perished in the blaze that overtook the manor while you were nowhere to be found.”
Bella gasped and tried to yank her arm away.
“Crucio,” Tom hissed.
Bella's screams echoed through the room as she collapsed under the curse. The sound welcomed the rest of the followers, who entered and immediately dropped to their knees, awaiting his command.
“Is this everyone?” he asked Dolohov.
“Yes, my Lord. Everyone but the wolves and the other beasts.”
Lucius, still smoke-stained, stepped forward. “My Lord—”
Tom cut him off. “Oh, I see you made it out, Lucius. How very fortunate.”
Finally lifting the curse from Bella, he ignored her collapsed form as Narcissa moved to help her, only for Draco to stop his mother with a firm grip. At least someone in that family had a working brain.
“How the bloody fuck did they get in?” Tom snarled.
Silence.
“I lost everything I have ever cared about tonight because you shit-for-brains followers didn’t check the wards! Now tell me, Lucius, how the fuck did we lose the manor?”
Lucius swallowed hard. “We had a mole, my Lord. More so, a rat. Pettigrew. He broke a section of the wards to let them in. We found Avery with his throat slit where we discovered the breach. The rat disappeared in the blaze.”
Tom's expression darkened. “How is he lost? He is marked, like the rest of you worthless pigs.” His voice dripped with venom. “Find him and bring him to me.”
When no one moved, his red eyes burned into them.
“NOW. Or I will slice every single one of your wives in two, just as Nagini was.”
The sound of cracking apparitions filled the room.
Tom turned to Lucius. “Let Narcissa tend to your disappointment of a sister in law.”
Lucius bowed. “As you wish, my Lord.”

Tom was in the Lestrange library when the sharp cracks of apparitions announced his followers' return. Dolohov and Lucius dragged a thrashing, blindfolded body behind them. Pettigrew’s screams were music to Tom's ears.
Moving fluidly, Tom met them in the center of the room. Crouching, he cast the brightest Lumos he could, ripping off the blindfold. Red eyes met blue.
“Hello, Pettigrew,” he murmured.
Pettigrew gasped. “Tom! My Lord, this is all a misunderstanding!”
Tom cocked his head like a predator sizing up his prey. “Is that so? Enlighten me on what lies they’ve told me.”
Pettigrew whimpered. “I—I never betrayed you!”
Tom laughed coldly. Lunging forward, he seized Pettigrew by the throat. “Is that so? I suppose you only betray your friends and family.”
He squeezed tighter. “Do you have any idea what I lost today?”
Pettigrew's face paled as Tom whispered, “Where. Is. Hermione?”
He could feel Peter’s pulse hammering beneath his grip, the rapid beat betraying his terror. Tom tightened his hold, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have any idea what I lost today?”
Peter tried to speak, but with his Adam’s apple being crushed, only a pathetic squeak escaped his lips.
“How fitting,” Tom chuckled darkly. “I lost Nagini today, you spineless little shite. And do you know what else?”
Terror filled Peter’s watery blue eyes as he shook his head frantically.
“No?” Tom tilted his head, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “I think you do. In fact, I think you’re the reason she was taken.”
A sob broke from Peter’s trembling mouth. Tom lifted his free hand and gently wiped away a stray tear from the rat’s cheek—a gesture that might have been tender if not for the burning hatred in his crimson eyes.
“Now,” he murmured, his grip tightening like a vice. “Tell me—where THE FUCK is Hermione?”
A snigger escaped the rat’s lips, his fear momentarily overshadowed by spite. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he rasped. “Hopefully, your old self has a good memory… because only time will tell where she is.”
Tom lost it and pounced on the man with all his force ramming the rats head on the cement floor under them over and over until Tom could feel the crack and saw the blood seeping out of Peter's ears. Tom stepped away wiping the blood from his hands. “Someone take him, I want him bound and unable to transform. He will not disappear again!”
Dolohov looked excited. "My Lord, I would like to take him back to my lab. I think we could have quite a bit of fun with him there."
Tom sighed. "Yes, Antoni, you may take him."
As Tom turned to walk out of the library, he heard Antoni giggle with excitement.

-----

Hermione landed with a thud. Ginny landed on top of her.
"Mione!" the redhead screamed, holding Hermione’s face and kissing each cheek. "Thank Godric! I thought I wouldn’t see you again," she cried.
Hermione’s eyes widened. "Gin?" She lunged forward, pinning Ginny down. "What color was my dress for the Yule Ball?" she demanded.
"Periwinkle," Ginny giggled, rolling Hermione off her. "It’s so good to have you back, Hermione." She stood and dusted off her pants. "Now, where—or more so, when—are we?"
Hermione looked around. "Well, I assume we are still in the manor. As for when, I suppose we need to find a Prophet. We should get out of here and maybe head to Diagon Alley."
Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm, and with a crack, they were gone, unaware of the blonde woman who had just opened the door. Narcissa gasped as she saw them disappear.

Hermione and Ginny landed in a side street of Diagon Alley, where witches and wizards meandered past the bustling shops. The noise of the busy shopping square overwhelmed Hermione. It had been years—no, months… maybe weeks—she wasn’t entirely sure how long since she had last been around this many people.
"Gin, can you transfigure some cloaks for us? I don’t have a wand."
"Oh! I nearly forgot! Here, I’ve been keeping it safe for you." Ginny handed Hermione a lifeline—her old vinewood wand. It sang as it touched her palm, filling her with joy and warmth. A part of her felt whole again. Tears filled her eyes. "Thank you!"
With a flick of her wrist, the witches had new cloaks and stepped out of their hiding spot. As they walked down the path, they heard a newsboy shouting the latest headlines: "Ten Muggles dead! Gringotts says your gold is safe with them! Exclusive interview with the head goblin! House-elf kills its master!"
With shaky hands, Hermione grabbed a newspaper.
Ginny gasped beside her. "Fuck."
The date on the paper read: October 31st, 1980.