Cor phlebotomans

In the week before Halloween the whole castle was transformed and somehow it was even more extravagant and glamourous than in Hermione’s own time.

She wandered through the castle in silent wonder, pumpkins floating around in the corridors, spiders hanging from every corner, their webs a shining silver, skeletons with gleaming white bones were patrolling the castle grounds and the ghost of Hogwarts were even more excited than normally, which says something about the atmosphere in the air.

It hung like a cloud over the whole student body, it was like someone had spiked all their pumpkin juice or had slipped them an excitement-potion. How ever it may be, even Hermione felt the buzz of anticipation whisper against her skin and she felt the same juvenile nervousness over the masquerade ball as all the others.

The girls of Hogwarts, no matter what house or age, were running around Hogsmeade looking to buy the perfect dress and it was the talk of the castle. More accurately it was the only talk of the whole student body and Hermione had a feeling that it was also the topic of most the chats between the female teachers.

No matter where Hermione went, people were talking about the ball or anything that had something to do with it. She heard Ravenclaws discuss the different kinds of materials they were going to wear, she heard Slytherins gossip about how much their costumes cost and how tasteless the Gryffindors were probably going to dress.

Gryffindors were running around asking girls to the ball with the most extravagant gestures Hermione had ever seen. It made her think about Ron and Harry, how they couldn’t muster the courage to ask any girl for that matter.

However, Hermione did not have a dress, which was something she mulled over quite a few times. At first she thought about not going. It was, after all, just a stupid party and Hermione wouldn’t be in Hogwarts for much longer but it soon became clear that this was definitely not an option.

She had to attend and if she had to crawl there. Even Miranda, a sixth year Ravenclaw who had been in the way of an exploding potion and was tinted in a different colour every day of the week and strictly seen was to stay in the hospital wing to make sure she wouldn’t die, would go to the ball.

The girl even had a date, as Hermione overheard. She also heard that Miranda apparently had bought a dress in every colour because she couldn’t know which colour she would be on the big day.

So, Hermione had no chance at faking a headache and not attending. Therefore she, too, would have to go to Hogsmeade to buy a “nice” dress as Slughorn had put it. Hermione did not want to find a nice dress, she felt as if she had had her nice dress-moment at the yule ball. She didn’t want to show up in a frilly purple dress, she didn’t want to wear a ruffled gown with pink bows on it.

Lucretia got asked by a fellow Slytherin, her soon to be, as she explained to Hermione. He seemed like a handsome enough fellow, although Hermione could see that there wasn’t any love lost between the two of them. She didn’t comment on it and Lucretia didn’t elaborate.

Two days before the big day, as most called it, Hermione sat in her dorm, reading as usually.

In the last week she had come to spent most her time with Tom. They went on walks through the gardens of Hogwarts, they sneaked out after curfew to wander into the Forbidden Forest and practised spells and charms that were not in the Hogwarts curriculum but none the less very interesting.

More often than not, they ended up on the cold fall ground, Toms hands burning against her naked flesh and making her forget the crispness of the air around them.

Today tough, Tom was off to do something and she was sitting in silence with Lucretia, who was looking at dresses she kept pulling out of her trunk. The rustling of fabric made a nice background of white noise.

“I believe I will not find anything suitable”, Lucretia suddenly said, breaking their silence. “You know, since you have snatched Tom, someone who had been dubbed unattainable, the stakes have somewhat risen.”, she mused, letting her fingers run over a deep red dress, her eyes looking wistful.

“No, I did not know.”, Hermione smiled into her book.

Snatched Tom. As if she wanted this thing with him but she seemed to be unable to stay away. Her heart ached for the boy, the way it had never had for anybody else in her life. She felt the strong urge to give Tom what he had missed in his life, to show him what love meant.

He made her think of Harry, who grew up with only hate and the only man who could have been his family, had to die way too soon.

 
“But I wouldn’t say I snatched Tom.”, Hermione continued.

“Oh, but on the contrary, everybody is asking how you did it. Some girls think you slipped him a love potion.”, Lucretia said with a smile of her eyes.

“That is absolutely ridiculous.”, Hermione said thinking of Tom’s mother. How ironic would that be?

Lucretia only hummed, before continuing, her voice more wary than before.

“Well, I am happy for you, Hermione. It is just…”, the black haired woman set the red dress beside and turned to look at Hermione, her gaze serious. “What I said still stands. Don’t get caught up too much in it all. There are some things… that Tom hasn’t told you, I think. I don’t know for sure, I have only heard rumours but it isn’t something that you would want to associate yourself with…”, Lucretia turned away and sighed. “Too bad that I can’t wear red. It is such a lovely colour.”

Hermione chuckled but stored Lucretia’s words away. Lucretia was a Black. She probably knew something about Tom’s plans, about his “Deatheater gang”.

In the last few weeks Hermione had come to meet them all. She knew most of the names from stories that had been told about The First Wizarding War but even if she wouldn’t, they weren’t hard to spot.

They were those who looked at Tom with fear in their eyes, knowing what he was able to do, it were those who flinched when he pulled his wand a bit too fast. It were the students whose eyes followed Tom around and it were the men who looked at her with plain mistrust, hate and utter disdain.

Hermione saw it in their eyes, in the dark glint. Some of the more gruesome ones, who were attracted to Tom because of his disregard for human life and as a consequence his tolerance for cruelty, always gazed at her in a way that made her skin crawl. Especially Edger. It made her think off the snatchers, of Greyback, of Bellatrix and all the others. It were those moments that she would question everything she was doing and who she was doing it with but alas, she could never stay away.

“I loth to admit it but I think I will have to go to Hogsmeade to buy a new dress. How utterly terrible. All the good ones will be gone already… And the good ones were bad to begin with”, Lucretia continued, her tone much lighter but there was an undercurrent of true annoyance.

“I still have to get a dress, too, you know.”, Hermione said over her shoulder, putting the book that she had been reading away. Lucretia looked up from her trunk.

“Truly? Well, we will go together, though I think it will be to no avail.”

“You know…”, Hermione finally turned around so she faced the other woman fully. “We could always go to Diagon Allay. I am sure they have better dresses there.”

“But we aren’t allowed to go. Besides how would we get there.”, Lucretia said, dismissively.

“I can apparate us and we just have to not get caught.”, Hermione smirked.

“Really? You would do that?”

“Sure, apparently a lot of eyes will be on me so I have to look my best, too.”

Lucretia nodded.

“When?”

Hermione looked at the time. Afternoon, no classes anymore but not curfew for another few hours.

“Now”, she said with another smirk.

Lucretia was thrilled when Hermione led them outside the castle and even more so when she apparated them into the busy street of Diagon Ally although they had to sit down for a minute so that Lucretia could get over her nausea. 

But she smiled at Hermione and asked her where she learned to apparate so well. Hermione only looked away, her face passive and her mind flashing to the woods, the camp, to Ron and Harry. She only shrugged.

As it turned out, Lucretia knew the perfect little shop in one of the backstreets. It was small but upon entering Hermione knew it was exclusive. Not somewhere Hermione would go to, not something that was in her budget. As if Lucretia had read Hermione’s mind, she looked at the girl and said in a tone that didn’t leave room for discussion that she would pay for Hermione.

“We are… friends… after all.”, Lucretia said with smile just as a thin woman appeared and eyed them before smiling graciously.

“Lady Black”, she said with a small bow. “How unexpected”

“Yes, Mrs Robé, we are in desperate need for gowns for a ball and we hope you will be able to help us.”

The thin woman nodded, before leading them further into the shop. Hermione let her eyes wander through the many racks that were filled with gowns and dresses and robes, one more beautiful than the other. She watched the thin woman, Mrs Robé, wander through the small spaces like she had been born here. It was truly fascinating.

They sat down on a leather sofa. The whole interior of the shop looked like the Slytherin common room, so it was not hard to guess what kind of clientele frequented the boutique. Hermione let her gaze wander over the many clothes that were neatly hung and folded, the materials seemed incredible luxurious, the knitting and stitching intricate and the patters were woven into the fabric with much care.

Hermione was able to spot all kinds of symbols that were famous for the wizarding world. She saw half-moons and suns, stars and runes and more which she couldn’t identify. Some dresses shimmered in the dim light of the shop, others seemed as if they were made out of pure diamonds in the way the reflected the light so brightly. 

It was astonishing and truly amazing. Her fingers grazed the cold leather and she felt her eyes closing, relishing in the softness under her finger tips. Her mind went to Tom, whose skin felt just as soft, how his dark gaze always seemed to pin her down and to capture her fully.

The old and thin lady returned and Hermione, for the first time, was able to take in her form. She was definitely lithe, bones were sticking out in places they had no deal being. She wore a small pencil skirt and a wide blouse, although Hermione guessed that everything was too big on the woman. The lady had wide grey eyes that sat deep in her face and her thin lips were, just like her skin, crinkled like over used parchment. She eyed Hermione with disdain. Hermione only raised an eyebrow. It was clear that no love was lost between the two.

“And what colours did the ladies have in mind?”, she said, her voice surprisingly strong for a woman so small and thin.

Lucretia let her gaze wonder over the many dresses that lay around them and made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat.

“I think, I will go for something classic, like black. My friend on the other hand -“, her smile turned to Hermione and she had a mischievous glint in her eyes “- is in need of something green, Slytherin green.”

~*~

Hermione had to agree, Lucretia had been absolutely right. Slytherin green was the only way to go. It had only taken about two hours for the girls to find their dresses respectively. Hermione hadn’t even dared to ask how much they cost. The thin lady had only bowed and smiled, a greedy glint in her normally dull eyes, so Hermione concluded that they hadn’t been cheap.

They left the boutique with nothing in their hands, the pieces of clothes were to be sent directly to Hogwarts. Mrs Robé had promised them that they would be waiting for them on their beds upon return. With polite goodbyes they had left the shop, the air had been even crispier, the coldness seeping into Hermione’s skin and bones. She suddenly wished for Toms warm hands.

True to her words, the dresses really were on Lucretia’s and Hermione’s bed upon their return to Hogwarts, wrapped in brown leathery paper that crinkled loudly when touched.

Hermione stored it away, putting many antitheft jinxes on it just to be sure. She gazed outside her window that let in the gloomy light that was telling for the fast approaching winter. Hermione yearend to see her friends again, she wanted to hug Harry and Ron, she wanted to rebuild the world after they had won the war.

They had won it because… Hermione wasn’t sure what she would do if she found out that in fact they didn’t, that in fact everything had been in vain and nothing they had done, had been for anything. No, she didn’t dare dwell on such thoughts. It was a good possibility that she would never know because if she was to stay in the past, she would do anything to ensure that the first wizarding war would be the only one.

She knew after all, she knew that Voldemort… Tom… had Hocruxes and she knew where he had hid them. She knew how to destroy them, even if getting Basilisk blood would pose a little problem but those were only technicalities.

She could set out on her quest without anybody knowing. She could and she would. Her heart clenched because it was Tom after all, it was her Tom, the boy with the dark eyes, with so much passion and intelligence in him. Intelligence and passion that had never been used for something good because nobody had deemed it fit to show him kindness or anything remotely resembling friendship or love. It has always been pain and mistrust.

So the boy had only given what he had received, a life time of bitterness and coldness. Hermione didn’t want to fight against Tom, she really didn’t but when it came to it, she knew, was absolutly certain, where her true loyalty was.

She remembered the Yule ball. It was like the last time that she had been truly happy. It was the last time they enjoyed life without Voldemort looming and ever present in the back of their minds. Before they knew that they could all very well die, before it was apparent that Harry would have to face him.

Suddenly she couldn’t wait for the ball, the same feeling that had engulfed all those years ago, while the Yule ball had been imminent, coursed through her body again and made her giddy with excitement. Because in a sense it was over and it felt like this ball was the first step to a new life. It was the first step into her life that she could finally live like she wanted.

She wanted to see Tom. The urge was sudden but strong. She wanted to share her excitement. He had not been in the common room and so hadn’t his cronies. Death eaters, Hermione’s mind whispered, her hand clenching over her wand, the good feeling in her blood fading rapidly. She still had a few minutes to curfew. Resolved to find Tom, she left her dormitory and the Slytherin dungeon.

The corridors were deserted, silence weighing heavy in the air, the coldness of the winter already deep in Hogwarts bones. Where could Tom be? Hermione had the great suspicion that he usually met his followers in the room of Requirement. She knew after all that his older self knew about the room so he must have discovered it in his school years.

Of course Tom would uncover every damn secret that the castle held. Hermione let the weight of her wand, resting against her fingers, reassure her. The eyes of the portraits were following her curiously.

She rounded the corner and came face to face something that she would rather not have encountered.

Edgar Avery, a true sight to be seen and definitely not in a good way. More like in an “I-am-Mudblood-is-this-a-Basilisk” way. It made her think of the ugly yellow eyes of the long wet snake. Edger had similar eyes.

His sandy coloured hair fell into his distorted face and again Hermione dully noted that he truly was ugly. Nothing seemed to fit in his face. His nose was big and red and looked more like swollen pile of flesh than anything else. His mouth was stretched into a crooked smirk that did nothing for the asymmetries of his face.

Hermione smiled back thinly. He sneered. How predictable. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his fingers fumble for his wand. Much too obvious.

Mistake one.

Hermione watched with satisfaction as he thought himself so clever. He had reached for his wand. He was sure that he would have the element of surprise.
“Granger, was it?”, he said, his voice somehow reflecting the ugliness of his face. Astonishing, Hermione thought.

 “I can’t seem to remember those Muggle names, you see....”, self-satisfied he smiled cruelly, thinking that his stabs must be hitting Hermione directly in her heart.

Mistake two.

“Oh, I wager you have problems with remembering anything, really.”, she answered lightly, brushing a few stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyes studied him, making him squirm under her scrutiny. Good, Hermione though, be uncomfortable. She lightly leaned against the corridor wall, her eyes never leaving Edger.
He sneered again.

Where was Tom? She really didn’t have the patience for this. Every good feeling she had had a few minutes ago had just flown out the window, in a suicide kind of way.

 
“I would watch your tongue Mudblood.”, he said, his voice dark and dripping with venom.

Hermione guessed that he would be intimidating for ordinary people. Had she been the Hermione Granger from before, she surly would have shivered and her eyes wide with fright. Because his voice spoke of pleasure taken from the pain of others, of the darkness that lay beyond these walls and the things he could and would do with his wand.

But alas Hermione wasn’t the little girl in the purple Yule dress anymore. No, Avery didn’t scare her, he was only a child compared to the things she had once endured.

Mistake three, she thought gloomy. They were really piling on, weren’t they?

“I would watch your back, Avery, not that something would happen. Wouldn’t that be unfortunate?”, she said, her tone still awfully light.

“Is that a threat, you filthy Mudblood?”, he asked, voice cold.

It sounded exactly as she remembered the voices of all the death eaters. Cold, cruel and devoid of any humanity. It made her hand clench. But her mind was oddly free, free of thought and fear. Because this she knew, the spark in her blood, making magic dance across her skin and igniting her spirit.

For those minutes she could set everything aside, every fear and every feeling. Slowly and deliberately she righted herself, straightening her spine. Magic rushed through her blood and her heart hammered against her chest.

“It is a promise.”, Hermione whispered and reacted before Avery even finished the hex. A white shield erupted out of thin air before her, the hex bouncing off, not even rippling her magic. Hermione smiled faintly. She still had it in her.

“Baubillious”, Hermione cried, magic coursing through her very being.

A mighty white bolt of energy, glowing and blinding, left the tip of her wand. Its energy wrapped itself around the corridor, making everything hum, making the air vibrate with its power. Hermione hadn’t been able to practise magic to her liking in too long a time.

Avery didn’t stand a chance. Not even his pitiful shield did anything. Her magic ripped through it and threw the boy across the space that was still humming with power. He hit the wall with a grunt. Before Hermione could raise her wand a second time, her hand only shaking a little from the Adrenalin, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

She instinctively knew that it was Tom, because she felt his magic hum in sync with hers, felt how it matched her in every way.

She turned her head and it was Tom, his dark eyes alight like a forest fire in the middle of the night, like a blinding star in the sky. Anger was in his eyes. Anger not directed at her.

“That is quiet enough, Hermione.”, he said his voice uncharacteristically soft.

She only nodded and lowered her wand, captured by his dark gaze. His fingers, warm and soft, drew patterns into the skin at her shoulder, like they were doing it unconsciously, like he didn’t mean to touch her but couldn’t help himself.

“Where were you”, she asked, accusingly. “I was looking for you.”

“I just had a few thing to do…”, he said vaguely. His eyes glided to Avery who was slowly righting himself again. His lips twitched. “You know.”, he said, his tone much lighter now, “I heard voices, so I came to help you because it sounded like Edger was about to do something he would regret dearly”, the last part he said with anger and darkness colouring his voice, his magic raising again.

Hermione could feel like a taste on her tongue. It made her drunk because this raw power, this pure form of magic, was so like hers but so fundamentally different. It felt like he was made to complete her, to make her whole.

“Don’t.”, Hermione said, shaking her head. “Don’t do something I wouldn’t do. Least of all in the excuse that it’s for me. I don’t want something on my consciousness.”

Tom looked at her, ripping his gaze from the boy that had finally been able to stand up and was still clutching his wand tightly. The hand on her shoulder applied preasure, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Do you know”, Tom said, hissing, “Hermione, what he would do, if he could. If you weren’t stronger than him?” He said her name like he was addressing a child, like she knew nothing.

“I think I know perfectly fine, Tom”, Hermione said hotly, brushing off his hand. “I think I know better than anyone else. Have you forgotten my scar? Do you think that was the only thing that happened?”

Tom didn’t answer, his eyes glowering and his jaw set.

“Leave Edger.”, he said suddenly. Hermione turned again, Edger was still holding his wand and it was trained at her. She had been distracted. Tom had distracted her.

“Tom…?”, Edgar said, his tone now slightly questioning.

“I will not repeat myself.”, Tom said again and now even Hermione shivered because this, his voice laced with coldness and power, this made her afraid.

Not Avery with his wand, because that just looked like a child trying to act like a grown-up. No, it was Tom, always Tom, because Tom’s voice was embedded in darkness and darkness left things to the imagination. Only imagination could do worse than reality.

If Hermione was slightly afraid, Avery was absolutely terrified, but there was also defiance in his eyes. Hermione saw it and acknowledged it. He didn’t like it, he was scared of Tom but he didn’t like Tom, not one bit.

“Yes, Tom.”, Edger finally said, mouth set into a thin line.

He walked away stiffly, brushing past the two of them, his eyes narrowing in on Hermione and there was so much hate in them that it was already ridiculous because…. what had she done, really? Tom’s hand was on her shoulder again and he pulled her into himself, her back flush with his chest.

His other hand landed on her waist and pinned her to him. He was definitely looming over her. She could only imagine how scarily black his eyes must have been.

“Run along Avery, you don’t have all night.”, he said, his voice seemingly light.

Avery did run along, his brain apparently finally catching up with himself. He ran like a little girl, scared and fast. The echoes of his footsteps faded slowly, finally leaving Hermione and Tom alone. Tom’s thumb on her waist pressed into her skin, his other hand that had been resting on her shoulder slowly crept to her exposed neck, fingers dancing over her skin. She closed her eyes and sank deeper into him, his arm tightening around her.

His nose brushed against her hair, he inhaled deeply, his fingers lightly combed through her locks.

“What did he do?”, Tom whispered, his voice low and horse. Like he was afraid of the answer. “Did he hurt you?”

Hermione snorted and finally turned around, Tom’s hand not falling from her waist. His fingers splayed the small of her back, pressing her even more firmly against him. Her heart beat wildly. 

“Hurt me?”, she whispered back. “I think I can handle him”, she said her hand cupping Tom’s cheek.

She smiled softly. Tom’s still were dangerously dark but they seemed to darken even further when Hermione pressed herself even tighter against his hard body.

“You were looking for me?”, he suddenly changed the topic.

“Yes”, Hermione said, startled out of her cloud of… well, Tom really. “Yes, I was, wasn’t I?”, she seemed to mull this over for a few second. What had she wanted, again? Tom’s fingers danced across her neck again, edging away the hemline of her robe.

He dipped down and pressed a small kiss, a peck really, to her now exposed shoulder, his fingers glided further down her arm. They came to a rest just above her scar and his grip tightened.

“Ah, yes…”, Hermione continued, her mind all foggy. “Yes… Ah, I guessed you must be with your cronies, so I sat out to look for you….”

Tom snorted.

“My cronies?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, that is the only accurate description.”

“Well then, Hermione, tell me, are you one of my cronies?”, he said, his voice just above a whisper. Hermione shivered and he noticed, his lips pulling into a smirk.
She snorted.

“I really am not.”, she said.

“Didn’t think so.”, he murmured. “but still, don’t underestimate them, Edger may be stupid but he is Slytherin. He may have a plan or something.”, Tom said, his gaze far off suddenly. Hermione nodded.

“I don’t like your… friends…”, she said.

“There are not my friends”, he answered, tone final. Hermione nodded. She knew that.

“No, maybe servants is more accurate”, she whispered back at him. Death eaters

His gaze snapped back to her, eyes narrowing. She was too close to the truth, she knew. Neither of them said something for a while but Hermione wasn’t finished.

“Look into history. Reign of terror never worked before. It is an invitation for betrayal and for mutiny, for revolution.”

“Then why are the Purebloods still in positon of power, and have been for centuries.”

“They aren’t, not really. They don’t have a reign of power. Actually that is a very interesting topic.”, Hermione said, smiling at Tom but her mind was suddenly somewhere else.

“It is just like the muggle world.”, she continued, even if Tom’s eyes narrowed again. “You see, for example in France one day the so called “commoners” just went and chopped off the heads of ”royalty” because they had enough of being oppressed and exploited. The same in most of the other European countries like Austria or Germany. The same goes for the parallel wizarding world. As much as the wizard-community doesn’t want to admit it, they have always been a kind of distorted mirror of the muggle world.”

“So what are you saying? That my… friends… will behead me one day? Is there something I should know, Hermione?”, Tom said and of course Tom would notice the warning in her voice.

Of course, because he was one of the most talented and intelligent people she knew. Her tone and her insinuation would have just gone over Harrys head, Ron wouldn’t even have listened to her long enough to hear what she was saying. But for Tom you didn’t have to spell out anything.

“Oh Tom, there is so much you should know. So much everybody should know. So much I can’t say.”, she said, her voice laced with sadness. “All I am saying tonight Tom, is that this kind of power, this kind of reign doesn’t work, not in the long run anyway. Maybe for a hundred years, maybe longer but never, and mark my words, never for the time you have planned.”

She brushed past him because she couldn’t. She couldn’t look him in the eyes because she told him, in so many words, that she knew what his plan was and that it wouldn’t work. Maybe she should just have kept silent.

A hand on her wrist yanked her back, so she tumbled into Tom’s chest.

“What do you know Hermione? How much is it really? I am not so sure if you really understand me, you silly little girl.”, Tom said, his jaw set. He was angry but so was Hermione. Silly little girl. She ripped her arm away.

“I will not talk to you about this Tom.”, she said, anger coursing through her blood, magic crackling along her spine.

“Oh, but I think you will, because I don’t think you know as much as you think, Hermione. Because if you did, you would never kiss me, you would never look at me with your wide and innocent eyes.”, Tom’s voice had become frosty cold and so cruel. He wanted to hurt her, Hermione realized, he still thought her to be naïve.

“You don’t know, Hermione. They say the Cruciatus Curse comes naturally to me. You should hear my “cronies” cry and beg me to stop, Hermione. If you heard you would not be holding my hand and you would not come to my room every night.”, it was as if a dam had broken.

Fear rushed through her body, fear because in the eyes of her Tom there was the glint that one day would take over and would fully become Voldemort.

“Yes, does tell a lot about me, doesn’t it? To have fallen for a psychopath.”, Hermione answered, her wand weighing heavy between her fingers.

She saw his fingers clench, saw his eyes darken even more. “It says a lot about my faith in humanity, in you really, Tom. Call me naïve, call me stupid, I don’t care. Just know, I do, Tom. I truly know how naturally the Cruciatus-curse comes to you. Your older self doesn’t hesitate to deliver it.”

With those words Hermione turned again, intent on just leaving but she found herself suddenly unable to move. It was instant, she gripped her wand tighter, her magic crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Nothing was safe from it, the strange hold Tom had cast over her was shredded to pieces by the sheer force of her will power.

She faced him again, knuckles white. Tom had his wand out. And this was it, this was what Hermione had feared. What she had been waiting for because apparently nothing was enough to get to Tom. Not her, least of all her and it made her inexplicably sad because he had been enough to reach her very core, to touch her heart in every conceivable way. But suddenly it seemed like the force, the anger seemed to run out of Tom, understanding dawning in his eyes.

“It is me, isn’t it?”, he whispered. “The one you are fighting in the future.” Hermione didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.

“You know”, Tom continued, his wand clattering to the cold floor but he didn’t seem to notice. He took a step towards her, longing in his eyes. “I hear you whisper at night. I hear you plea and cry. I thought I heard you whisper my name, my other name, Voldemort, one time. I thought it couldn’t be.”

He was before her, his breath fanning over her face, carrying with it his scent that still installed a feeling of security in Hermione, which was ridiculous.

“Yes”, Hermione finally croaked out. Tears stinging her eyes. “Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am Lord Voldemort. How utterly stupid.”, she said with a small measure of defiance. Tom smiled sadly.

“I guess so. No matter”, he said, his voice pressing into her. “I will never hurt you. Not now, not in the future. Everybody knows you are off limits and anybody who dares to touch you will be punished.”, he said with an air of finality. It felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Before Hermione could say anything really because this whole thing was giving her emotional whiplash, he pressed her against the wall, her wand falling to the ground, joying his. His mouth met hers in an aggressive dance, he pressed her against the cold stone. But she wasn’t cold, she was on fire as she usually was when with him. His breath came in ragged breathes.

“Never. Hermione, I won’t hurt you… safe, you will be safe…”, he hissed against the column of her neck, his hands dragging over her robes, pushing them aside so he could reach her skin, so he could feel her.

“I wouldn’t… I couldn’t…”, he pressed his mouth against hers, capturing it again, swallowing all of the noises that escaped Hermione’s throat.

Hermione didn’t hear what he said after this, too engrossed in everything that was Tom, because this, everything she shared with this man, everything she felt, it was so much and it felt like it was a fundamental part of her. It would be so hard to turn her wand against him but she would. Truly, she would kill him if she had to, even if it killed her.