Cor phlebotomans

The whole castle had been transformed. Well not the castle more the Quidditch Pitch and the path leading to it.

Halloween, the whole school was alight with energy and with so much delight that the grand day had finally come. The teachers didn’t even try to go through with something even resembling a normal school day.

Every single Professor left them to their own devices and dismissed them early. Hermione tried, she really did, to concentrate on her own book, to ignore the idle chatter around her. But every lesson, when the Professor just waved their hands indicating that they were allowed to do as they pleased, Tom had sat down next to her, both of them silent in the noisy room.

But his hand had rested on her thigh, not very high. No, it had been perfectly proper but the sheer possessiveness in his eyes and the way he put his hand on her had made her shiver and unable to bloody concentrate on her book. The small glances he threw her way made it abundantly clear that he knew what he was doing to her.

“I see you like Arithmancy”, he said during potions, his hand still resting lightly against her thigh and she had been trying to read a book by Bridget Wenlock. It was, of course, about Arithmancy.

“Well observed.”, Hermione noted with a good measure of sarcasm. She turned a page without having read anything, Tom knew. He smirked and leaned into her.

“But you don’t take Divination. Don’t you want to know what the stars have to say about you?”

Hermione let her book sink.

“Seriously? You believe in that absolute trash?”, she grit out. Tom made a noise of disapproval.

“Such colourful language.”, he whispered, eyes glinting. Leaning back his passive mask slipped on again. “But for your question, I do. It comes in rather handy, don’t you think. To know what the future holds for you? Not everyone has the pleasure to have a time traveller at their side.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. The audacity.

“Divination is just a bunch of idiots staring into the sky and saying a few vague things… If you never see a prophecy you are off better because it can be interpreted in a thousand ways and…”, Hermione stopped in her ranting, seeing that Tom had leaned back, smiling.

“I hate you.”, she finished, a little put out.

“Just checking if you are still my Hermione.”, he said casually, laughing with a bright smile.

~*~

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Lucretia stood next to her. They were getting ready.

“I think I will go with a simple look.”, Lucretia said, her wand between her fingers.

“Near-married life is so boring.”, she said under her breath. With a few murmured spells her face was not very different from what it had been a few seconds before but somehow sharper looking and more refined. She looked as beautiful as usual.

“Then again”, Lucretia continued, “you are practically married yourself.”

Hermione’s elbow slipped from its position on the sink and she nearly banged her head against its edge. Her face morphed into a shocked expression.

“What?”

“Don’t act so surprised.”, Lucretia said off handed, not even blinking at her Hermione’s clumsiness. “Nobody will touch you, because Tom would have their head. You are not getting out of this.”, she said, her tone a bit too conversationally. She was warning her again, Hermione realized.

“I don’t want to.”, she said carefully. Not yet. Lucretia nodded. “But marriage is defiantly not on the table. Don’t be ridiculous. Not that I don’t want to… but it is Tom and he would never… he would never and besides… we are so young… and he… Tom… I mean… ”

Hermione stopped her rambling and lowered her wand. She watched Lucretia through the mirror. Lucretia smiled softly and pointed her wand at Hermione. A month ago Hermione would have flinched.

“All I am saying, Hermione, is that he gave you a ring, his ring, probably a family heirloom, and that is a promise. A promise of a long lasting bond because it is valuable and not given lightly.”

“Tom isn’t someone to marry.”

“Love can change a man fundamentally. I have the feeling that he would follow you to the end of the world, Hermione. There, that should do it!”, the last part Lucretia said in a tone that indicated that the conversation was over and not to be reopened again.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror again. Her hair, much more manageable than it used to be but still too much most of the time, was curled softly and falling over her shoulder and down her back. Her eyes looked wide open, innocent as Tom had described them, the brown of her iris nearly golden in the dim light and only accented by the soft line around her eyes. Her lashes framing them were dark and full, her lips red like rose petals.

“Can’t hurt to look your best, though.”, Lucretia added with a smirk. “Tom is always so smooth and composed. I like to see his exterior crack, it is most entertaining. And he will be looking at you like he wants to devour you the whole evening. I mean he does so usually but he will more so tonight…”, Lucretia laughed like she had said something funny. Hermione didn’t answer. Didn’t know what to answer, really.

“Now dresses…”, with a flick of her wand their dresses flew into the small bathroom, Hermione’s landing on her lap. Lucretia started to change without shame.

“All I am saying, Hermione, is to have fun tonight. Because we are soon finished with Hogwarts. This is our last year and the relationships forged in the last year usually hold.”
Hermione pulled her shirt over her head.

“Yes, you are quite right. What will I do, if I am not sharing a room with you anymore?”, Hermione said, snickering.

“Don’t be silly, you will come by for tea every week of course.”, Lucretia said grinning and Hermione knew that she was being serious.

“What is that?”, Lucretia said suddenly and Hermione followed her gaze with dread. Because she had been so stupid, hadn’t thought about the scare that still was an ugly red on her arm. Her other hand flew to her forearm, shielding it from Lucretia’s view. Mudblood.

“I…”, Hermione started, suddenly very sad. Mudblood, Mudblood, rang in her ear when she saw the crooked letters. The smell of crimson blood filled her nose. The same smell that had hung in the cold air in the Malfoy manor, only pierced by her cries.

“Who did that to you?”, Lucretia said, her voice full of shock. Your niece. That would not go over well, Hermione conceded.

“You don’t want to know.”, Hermione said instead. Lucretia finally looked up, her gaze hard.

“Was it Tom?”, she asked and her voice was quiet and angry and so full of venom that  Hermione recoiled.

“No of course not. I would have killed him if it had been. The person who did that isn’t alive anymore.”, she said instead.

Anymore, not yet, what was the difference, really? Lucretia’s dark gaze held Hermione’s and for the first time Hermione saw the hard cruel eyes that Bellatrix would one day wear proudly.

“If you ever find yourself in a position where you can’t tell anyone what has happened, you can always come to me. The protection of the house of Black stands behind you.”, Lucretia said, still not breaking their eye contact.

Hermione was filled with a sense of warmth because this woman, Black or not, didn’t care that Hermione was a Mudblood, that she wasn’t pure. No, Lucretia offered her help, offered her protection from something that was far more powerful, someone that already had his claws in most of the powerful families.

“Does he know? Because I have heard rumours in the Pureblood circles that he is… an advocate of some ideas….”, Lucretia continued  delicately. It was clear she was talking about Tom.

“He threw a fit when he found the scar.”, Hermione said. “But not because I am a Mudblood. And Lucretia… I know Tom better than anybody else. Better than he does himself, probably. I know about his friends and his ideas and his ambitions. If it really comes to it, I will not stand by Tom’s side but my wand will be turned against him.”

The silence that settled over the room was deafening. It was final. Because Hermione had said it out loud. That she would go against the person that had become most important to her. She would not be stupid enough to fall for his lies. Lucretia’s smile was blinding.

“I knew I had a reason to like you”, she said. “But there are some things you can’t imagine, Hermione. Some things that would cost me my life, if I told you.”

“Lucretia?”

The girl had turned away slightly, her brows furrowed in concern over Hermione.

“Did you ever wonder how I came here?”, Hermione continued, having made up her mind to trust Lucretia. “Someone with no relatives, with no ties to anyone and with no records whatsoever? Why I have nightmares every night?”

Lucretia let the hem of her dress that she had been holding in her hands sink slowly. Her face flashed with confusion.

“Well, yes, to be honest.”, she said a bit nervously.

“What I now tell you, can’t leave these walls.”, Hermione whispered, after throwing up the best wards that she knew. “You can ask ever person on this planet but nobody will have heard of me because I am not from here. I had an accident. I was born 1979. Attended Hogwarts at eleven and during my first year a very dark wizard who had been thought to be dead resurfaced. Fun fact, he lived on the back of the head of my Defence against the dark arts teacher in first year.”, Hermione felt stupid even saying these words.

It really sounded ridiculous. Maybe Lucretia would send her to a mental hospital now.

“What?”, Lucretia said, shock evident in ever crease on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes I am, and said dark wizard resurrected for good in my fourth year. My best friend had been dubbed The Chosen One because of some stupid prophecies and allegedly would be the only one, even at fourteen, to be able to defeat this evil man. Said wizard was therefore trying to kill my best friend on every turn. In sixth year the dark wizard and his followers took over the ministry and we, my best friend and Ron, my second best friend, went on the run. We went hunting. To kill the dark wizard for once and all. He had split his soul a few times so that he would be immortal. We hunted and hunted for these pieces. During this time we were captured by so called snatchers, brought to Malfoy manor, I was tortured for information and a lovely Lady gave me this scar.”, she gestured to her arm.

“We escaped, our fight lead us back to Hogwarts where a big battle broke out. Everybody on my side against the dark wizard and his followers. I strongly believe that we would have one. I was hit by a killing curse before I could find out. It hit my time turner and I was sent back in time instead of dying.”

Lucretia only stared. For minutes there was nothing between them, only the truth and only shock. Lucretia gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles as white as her face.

“Thank you”, Lucretia finally whispered. “For telling me.”

“The thing is.”, Hermione said and it was if her mind finally caught up.

Her hands were shacking, her blood was sloshing in her ears.

“The name of the wizard was Lord Voldemort, previously known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of a Muggle with the same name and a woman who was a descendent of the Gaunts and in consequence Salazar Slytherin himself.”

Lucretia’s dress fell to her floor. She stumbled back, hitting the cold bathroom wall.

“Tom…”, she whispered, her eyes big with shock.

“Yes, Tom. I thought about killing him, about ending the two wars that follow him. But I decided against it because then I wouldn’t be any better than him and those who follow him. Instead I fell in love with him. However, when the time comes and should he not listen to me and become Voldemort again then I will not hesitate to do my best to end the war before it has even started. Should it come to this, I offer you my protection. The protection of the order of Phoenix, an order that will be founded some time in the future to unite against Voldemort.”

“How can you stand to be around him, if you know him like… this?”, Lucretia said, finally processing the words that had been spilled in front of her.

“In my time, Tom isn’t Tom anymore. He has barely a scrap of soul left and he looks… different. His eyes are red, set deeply in their sockets, his head smooth like the scales of snake, his nose only slits and his skin a deathly blueish grey. He isn’t human anymore.”

“Do you think… that he won’t do it this time around? Because of you?”

“You said he would follow me to the end of the world, Lucretia, but I don’t know what will happen, I can only hope for the best.”

~*~

They were late.

After their talk they hadn’t been in a hurry to dress and go to a ball. But Hermione didn’t feel remorse. It had to be said because Lucretia was her friend and she couldn’t let he friends run into a future so dark and gloomy without knowing.

The secret had been pressing down on her, making her isolated from all the others, only adding to her detachment from herself, from her very person. It made her feel validated to have told Lucretia. It didn’t feel like she was the odd one out anymore.

When she came down the stairs, she instantly spotted Tom looking so beautifully elegant that her heart gave a painful squeeze. Impatience was edged into the curve of his mouth, irritation flashing in his dark eyes. They had kept him waiting and Tom did not like to wait.

However, this all melted away when he saw Hermione, the hem of her dress silently dragging over the smooth floor. It was, as Lucretia had decided, a dark Slytherin green and clung to her figure in an obscene way that was bordering on inappropriate.

The material was silky and smooth, not unlike the skin of snake. The way it flow down Hermione’s body reminded her or a silent waterfall. Every sparkle of light was reflected by the adornments that embellished the waist and neckline, which dipped too low for the standards of the forties.

But alas, Tom didn’t seem to mind when his eyes wandered down her form, his gaze glued to her décolleté for too long.

The sleeves were long and opulent, ending in dark feathers that nearly scraped the floor. The same feathers were also occluding the hemline of the skirt, which flared out just after hinting at the delicate curve of her hips.

She looked like a bloody Slytherin princess and she knew it, Tom knew it, everybody knew it. His eyes gleamed in the darkness of the barely lit room, his hand clenched at his sides like he was trying to hold himself back from touching her but his smiled betrayed everything.

Upon finally reaching him, he sneaked an arm around her small waist and dipped low to whisper in her ear.

“You look exquisite, my love”

Hermione started at his use of an endearment but his eyes were so serious and, did she dare say, full of something resembling love that she didn’t want to talk. She wanted to kiss him. His arm tightened around her and his nose brushed over her hair. She heard him inhale, his breath tickling her long locks.

“Mine”, he whispered before finally straightening. Lucretia had already gone, Hermione suddenly realised with contempt. She couldn’t blame the girl. She herself had needed a few minutes before being able to face Tom again, her hands hadn’t wanted to stop shaking. She still could hear the faint screams of agony of her friends, could smell the dark magic in the air.

Her hands smoothed over Tom’s dress robes. He looked so handsome, all in black, as expected, his eyes just as dark, his skin alabaster and gleaming in the moonshine. His lips were blood red and in stark contrast to the rest of his persona. It made Hermione dizzy with want.

He offered her his arm with a true smile. A smile that Hermione never saw directed at other people, only ever in the privacy of his room, when he let his guard down a bit, both exhausted and sweaty but satisfied.

He smiled at her now, in the dimly lit room, his eyes only on her. And her eyes only on him, her heart only beating for him. She truly never thought that one could feel so strongly for one person. She had never in her life experienced anything like it, it was like a tidal wave, like a storm and like being drowned but awakened at the same time.

“Let’s go. I told the others to not wait up for us.”

Truly, all the others that attended the ball, which was everyone, really, were already gone. It was only Tom and she.

“Although”, Tom continued, leaning down again and pressing his hard body against hers, “I wouldn’t mind to go back to our room.”, his eyes were hungry, wandering to her neckline again. Our room.

“I bought this dress for this ball, I want to go.”, Hermione said but her voice was breathless as she peered up at him. He smirked again.

“What my lady wishes, is my command”, he whispered and a shiver ran down Hermione’s spine. She was beginning to change her mind. Before she could say or do something stupid like drag him back to his room, he offered her his arm and she held on to it gladly.

“I once went to a ball.”, Hermione said. Tom watched her out of the corner of his eyes while opening the door for her, letting her pass under his arm.

“Only one?”, her asked nonplussed.

“Yes, we don’t really have balls anymore. But in my fourth year the Triwizard tournament had been reinstated. Which was absolutely ridiculous because it had been abolished due to excessive danger to the students, which took part in it, in the first place. It was a disaster waiting to happen.”, Hermione grumbled, remembering her worry over Harry and her anger at Dumbledore. It had been so stupid.

“Did you participate?”, Tom asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Of course not!”, she exclaimed, “I was too young, besides my life was dangerous enough, I didn’t need to put myself in more danger on purpose.”, she added. “I am sure you would have jumped on the idea.”

Tom only smiled again. “It does hold a certain temptation, I have to admit. I would have won, of course.”, the latter part he said with conviction and an excessive amount of arrogance.

“I did have to participate in a way, though.”, Hermione said after a few beats of silence. Her gaze was wandering over the castle walls. Pumpkins glowing in the dark, their faces smiling and their teeth sharp and jagged lit the way.

“How come?”

“Well, the second challenge was something of a rescue mission. From every champion the most important person had been taken and they had to get them back from the bottom of the lake. It was terrible, I remember being in this weird state of consciousness but not really and not breathing but not needing air. It was truly horrifying .”

“Whom were you taken from?”, Tom asked. Hermione glance at him.

He seemed curious but his eyes were burning a bit too much for it to be light interest. “Your boyfriend?”, he said, again too casually.

“Well”, Hermione started, not wanting to make Tom angry. But then again, he had to get a grip. It was utterly ridiculous. “Not that is any of your business but we were never together.”

“Oh, so he never even deigned to make it official? Just take what he wants and then leave?”, now the anger in his voice was palpable. Somehow, Hermione wasn’t afraid, she was exasperated if anything.

“In my time things are a bit different. Women are allowed to what they please with whom they please, just as men. You don’t have to be married to be intimate with someone, it isn’t even a great scandal if a woman gets pregnant.”, Hermione said.

They had stopped at the exit of the castle that led to an earthy path ending at the Quidditch Pitch where the ball was.

“Viktor, if you have to know, was the Durmstrang champion, he was a famous Quidditch player and very polite.”

“Didn’t take you as someone to go for fame.”, Tom hissed, and Hermione realized that he took this way too seriously.

The forties put truly too much value in relationships. Hermione took a step toward Tom, because this was still her Tom, even if his eyes were ablaze and any other would have recoiled from the venom in his words. But not her. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the heat coming off of him, her other hand went to his cheek cupping it.

Involuntarily, as it seemed, he relished the feeling of her hand on his skin and leaned in, his eyes closing, but Hermione could still see the white of his knuckles as he clenched his hands.

“He was a nice boy”, Hermione whispered. “Took me to the Yule ball, we still are… well, were or will be, friends but nothing happened, not really.”

His arms came around her, tight and possessive and Hermione let them. Because she needed it too, needed his passion and his conviction to feel that she belonged. She was lost and he made her feel found.

“If you say so…”, he grit out, his voice deep and coarse.  

“I say so and you don’t get to act stupid over it.”, Hermione said, not ungently but firmly. His fingers went to her hand, the one wearing his ring. He touched the dark stone in the middle, with wonder as it seemed.

“Do you have any plans for after graduation?”, he suddenly said, straightening and resuming their walk. Hermione stumbled after him.

“Ähm, well… no. I didn’t plan on staying in this time, really, but I don’t think there is a way home. The future had already been altered too much. I don’t think that I can go back.”

“Would you want to?”, Tom asked, his tone carefully casual.

What was with him today? Hermione felt like she was in an interrogation. The path winded down the hill and she could already hear the faint swell of music and she could see the floating decoration that cast light over the nature below. Everything sparkled and was bathed in an ethereal light, students in long gowns and mask were walking the grounds, some looking like from a different realm or reality.

The event had been impeccably planned and executed, even better than the Yule ball, which at the time had seen like a dream.

“That depends.”, Hermione finally answered after a long time of silence.

It was a difficult question, the answer not easily found. Tom’s thumb swept over her bare skin. Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eyes.

Had she not spent so much time with him and had she not seen most of his hidden emotions, she would not have seen the small indicators betraying his nervousness. He was eager but at the same time nervous to hear her answer. Insecure, maybe even, though Hermione couldn’t be sure, it was Tom after all.

“On what?”, he whispered, his eyes so serious and so open like Hermione had never seen them before. It made her feel like this, what they were talking about, was important to him and to them, to their future.

“On you”, Hermione answered simply.

Because it was true. It depended on him, nothing else was keeping her in this time.

She didn’t wait to see his reaction, they finally entered the ball, she took in the sparkle of the ambient, the clear music ringing through the air and the many people strolling around. It was magnificent. Hermione smiled, even better than the Yule ball, much better. Her hand found Tom’s and she started pulling him towards a small table that looked like somebody was giving out drinks.

She needed a drink. She wanted to have fun. Her mind took her back to the Yule ball, when Hermione had drunk Butterbeer with Viktor, thinking herself so grown-up. She had been naïve. But not now, not here. 

Tom’s hand never slipped from hers and he handed her a drink. She smiled up at him, sipping and tasting the unknown liquid. Fire whisky.

She only raised an eyebrow but smiled up at him. He looked at her… fondly. His eyes much less hard as they had been a minute ago.

“Tom, I thought you wouldn’t come anymore!”, Abraxas Malfoy came from behind Hermione, startling her and making her take a step into Tom who welcomed her into his arms. She turned.

Abraxas looked so… well, like a Malfoy. His skin pale, nearly translucent, his hair nearly white. Ferret-boy, Hermione thought snickering. Tom only threw her a strange glance at her cackling.

“And Hermione, as beautiful as usual.”, Abraxas said smoothly, but his voice betraying his insincerity.

Typical Malfoy, Hermione wanted to say but refrained from doing so. The blond boy bowed a little and took her hand to press a fleeting kiss to it. Hermione pulled it back as soon as possible but smiled back just as politely. What ever happened to Draco, she wondered, she had seen him at the final battle.

She looked at Abraxas again. Did the boy before her ever think of what his decision could mean for his future family? Did he ever consider that his grandson would suffer so greatly?

“Abraxas, we wouldn’t miss the ball for the world. I take it the others have already arrived?”, Tom answered in a polite but distant tone.

Abraxas only nodded, finally looking away from Hermione. There had been something strange in his eyes, Hermione decided.

Maybe she was just paranoid. But it was like he knew something that she didn’t and therefore was laughing at her. It was only her paranoia, she told herself. Tom didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t comment.

No, Hermione was wrong. She was still under the influence of her time in the future, seeing plots and evil plans everywhere.

Not to say that Abraxas was a nice man. On the contrary, he was, or rather will be, a very good death eater and loyal follower to Voldemort and he didn’t like Hermione one bit. She saw it in the overfriendliness of his gestures, in his pale eyes that were watery and glass-like.

Not a good look, Hermione decided. She preferred Tom’s dark, hard and intense gaze. His conveyed so much, it could make her shiver in fear or excitement. She didn’t care for the deathly gaze of the Malfoy before her, not one bit.

“Yes of course.”, Abraxas said, “You are the last ones.”

“Well”, Tom said after a beat of silence. “You can go, Abraxas, I will get you if I need you.”

Abraxas pale eyes turned spiteful but he didn’t dare say anything. With a last glance at Hermione, he vanished in the crowed of people.

“His grandson didn’t like me either.”, Hermione said suddenly. Tom glanced at her, a smile on his face again, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Not surprising. You surly were better than him in every aspect.”, he said with an air of superiority. Hermione laughed.

“I punched him in third year. Straight in the face.”, Hermione added, smiling now on her own. Tom grinned proudly.

“Do tell, why was it necessary to exert violence? You are a lady, after all…”, the last part he said with a good measure of sarcasm and Hermione slapped his arm lightly, feigning to be offended.

“Well, it is a great story. You see, it all started with me wanting to take more classes than were physically possible because of too little time. So my Professor gave me a time turner…”

Together they wandered off, drinking and Hermione telling Tom everything about her third year. She did leave out names and details but still managed to tell a good story, both of them laughing when she got to the part about punching Draco. Tom had kissed her while she had laughed remembering the little ferret’s face.

“I like seeing you laugh”, he had said, shrugging.

“Let’s dance”, he told her, already dragging her off to the dance floor and pulling her close to him.

“I think”, he continued, “you had a more exciting school life than me.” Hermione nodded vigorously. He didn’t even know how right he was.

“Yes, I am sure we had a more exciting school life than anyone else on this world. Every year my best friend nearly died, sometimes I did too. Actually, come to think of it, it is a wonder we didn’t… From fourth year on there was always the threat of war looming over us and that is when things turned serious. In fifth year we started to fight. At first only in school, my best friend had his problems that he had to deal with and we had this terrible teacher that basically took over Hogwarts. They had this Inquisitorial-squad…”, Hermione launched into the next story but this time there was less laughter, although Tom did seem impressed when she told him about her deception of Umbridge.

She told him about sixth year. She told him about her, Harry and Ron fleeing but she didn’t tell him the reasons. He believed it was due to her being a Mudblood and she didn’t bother to correct him. They danced. The stars glimmered above them.

Hermione noticed the many stared she got while dancing with the Slytherin Headboy.

Men and women alike were looking at them, judging and whispering about them. But Hermione didn’t care. After having lived with Rita Skeeter and her terrible lies, Hermione had somewhat become immune to gossip.

It didn’t faze her so much anymore. But the stares did bore into her back. The regal looking women of Slytherin were watching even more intently than the others, their faces sharp and their gowns elegant. Hermione flipped her hair and concentrated on Tom’s eyes.

They were as dark as the murky water of the sea in the middle of the night. They looked at her with a feral glint, his lightly curled hair falling elegantly into his face. He had a sharp perfection that should have made Hermione uneasy, should have made her feel unworthy. But through his eyes she saw his tainted soul, turned black like ink spilling over paper. She saw his flaws, his craving for affection that only fuelled his hate and anger, his mistrust in the world that had festered deep in his heart and very being over years of misuse.

The world had made him what he had been in her time and paired with the power that the young man in front of her possessed, it made for a deadly mix. Not for the first time Hermione asked herself if it wasn’t too late.

How cruel of fate to send her back in time just to arrive too late. It would destroy her but she would, as she vowed, take him with her and if it was with her last breath.

Together they talked with people, friends of Tom, his death eaters, which made Hermione nervous and her wand-hand twitch.

During those conversations Hermione usually stayed silent, although she did notice them looking at her a bit oddly. It was probably due to her being with Tom. What else could it have been?

They eyes always slipped to their linked arms, their lips pressed together in a thin line. Dolohov even narrowed his eyes. Hermione didn’t like that man. He was the one she fought, or rather will fight, in the Ministry of magic. Nott of course was there too. He was one of the many death eaters.

“Ronald Nott, was it?”, Hermione said smiling at the boy brightly. It was too much fun to see his eyes narrow.

“Raymond.”, he replied coldly. But then his gaze changed and he looked at their linked arms, at the ring on her finger. His face became blank. Hermione watched him astonished. That had definitely been weird. Tom said something to the boy but Hermione didn’t listen. She continued watching, remembering the incident that had happened some time ago. Something was wrong with Nott.

“I don’t like him.”, Hermione said to Tom, sipping on her drink, when the tall boy finally left them alone again.

Tom only nodded, his hand sliding down to hers and engulfing it. They were holding hands, Hermione realized and started to grin. How utterly absurd.

“You know, I actually wanted to talk to you.”, Tom continued. She glanced at him, their hands still linked. His tightened his grip. He was nervous, Hermione realized, and wasn’t that just odd. Tom was never nervous.

“About your plans after school…”, he continued.

Hermione froze. What was the meaning of this? Horrified she thought that maybe he wanted to recruit her. He wanted her to become a death eater. He wanted her to kill for him, to serve him. She would never, never in a thousand years. She would never kneel, never call him my lord.

“I know you don’t really have a place to stay. You can live with me, I inherited a big house. There would be more than enough room for the both of us. And while we are deciding on what we want pursue as a career, we can work together. It is a…muggle house… but I am sure we can make it magical with a potions lab and so on…”

He was rambling. Hermione blinked up at him, not really understanding. He wanted to live with her? He asked her to move in with him?

“You want me to move in with you?”, she asked again, her words coming out slowly and deliberately. Had she missed something? Was there some kind of recruitment she would be agreeing to? He seemed to stiffen, his fingers pressing into her skin.

“Yes. As I said you don’t have any other possibility. I am being nice here, Hermione.”, he said hauntingly. But his insinuation didn’t sting because Hermione knew he was only reflecting. She laughed quietly, realizing too late that it was the wrong thing to do. His face pulled into a cold mask.

“I am not laughing at you Tom,” she quickly said. “I am just surprised. I didn’t know that was even possible in this time. For a woman and a man to live together, I mean.”

“If that is something that concerns you, we can always get married.”

What?

“What?”

Silence descended on them. Hermione’s mind stumbled to catch up with what was happening. What?

“I mean we get along well enough. It wouldn’t be the worst. And you are a woman Hermione, sooner or later you will have to marry.”, he said and now Hermione was starting to get angry.

Because this was utterly ridiculous. Tom had asked her to move in with him in the house that probably belonged to his Muggle family that he killed and now he was asking her to marry him. And he was treating it like a necessity.

“Let’s get a few things straight Tom.”, she said, anger pulling at her insides. “I am a woman, you got that right. However, if I don’t want to marry, I don’t. If I don’t want to have children, I won’t. You aren’t better than me because you are a man.”, she said her words slowly and with heat behind her eyes. “I don’t care if it is the 1940s or the nineties.”

“Maybe you are right, but you still have to live somewhere.”, he answered looking so utterly miserable suddenly that Hermione nearly felt bad for him. But alas only barely.

“It was very nice offer, Tom.”, she continued,  “However, there a few things unsaid between us that have to be said before anything like that can happen. First I will marry for love, Tom, I will marry because the man I have chosen loves me and so do I him. I will marry because he is the most important human being for me and vice versa. I will marry when he would give up everything for me, when I would sacrifice everything for him. Only then and not because it is convenient.”, she said mockingly, “And I will marry when that man can pull himself together and risk his precious pride and lay everything down for me and not a second sooner. And if this man won’t do that for me then we are not made for each other. I have not fought in a war and will probably fight in it again to settle for anything less. So ask a bit more nicely next time.”, she said with anger bleeding into her tone.

Tom turned to her, his eyes a dark sea of emotion.

“I don’t understand why you are acting like this, Hermione. You are wearing my ring, nobody will touch you.”

“How nice.”, Hermione answered hotly, the alcohol in her bloodstream sloshing angrily. “How utterly romantic, Tom. You don’t have any other choice”, she said mockingly “You always have choice, Tom. I don’t think that you understand what I expect you to give up for me, Tom. I am not sure you would do that.”

“How do you know, what I would do for you, Hermione. You have no idea. I always look after what belongs to me and don’t make the mistake to think that you don’t, because you do. I will always find you. You can’t hide.”, Tom said with stormy eyes, his hand grabbing her arm. His fingers were digging into his arm nearly painfully.

Hermione wanted to scream out in frustration.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have hid from you once and I will do it again.”, horrified, Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth. They stared at each other in silence.

“What”, Tom asked and for the first time he sounded unsure.

Before Hermione could answer anything, she was saved by none other than Slughorn.

The Professor had sought them out more than one time, his eyes becoming more glazed over each time. He always carried a tumbler of what seemed to be Fire Whiskey but it could have been any strong alcoholic liquid. This time he nearly stumbled into Hermione who was only caught by Tom’s unrelenting grip.

The Headboy’s eyes were the only thing that betrayed his impatience. Their conversation hadn’t ended, Hermione knew, but they would come back to that later.

Hermione only giggled when Slughorn nearly tripped again and half draped himself over Tom, who now looked extremely uncomfortable. Maybe the alcohol was getting to her too? Gingerly she put her glass away. To be completely sloshed in front of the darkest wizard ever was still a little stretch for Hermione’s new found trust.

“Ah, young love…”, Slughorn slurred and petted Tom on his shoulders after he had righted himself again.

Tom looked to be in pain. Hermione started laughing again and he threw her an angry glance, but much more playful than a minute ago. Hermione stared back and gave him a small smile. The slight relief on his face at them still being okay, made her smile even wider.

“Why don’t you take the next dance with Hermione, Professor?”, Tom suddenly said, now grinning himself.

Hermione blanched, her smile frozen. Oh, that bastard. Slughorn was already nodding vigorously, the liquid in his glass nearly spilling over. Hermione was shaking her head.

“Oh no, I couldn’t… I mean, I am not a good dancer.”, Hermione stuttered.

“Don’t be absurd, Hermione, besides, Professor Slughorn is such a competent dance partner, it will be easy.”, Tom continued, his charm in full use. He smiled easily. Hermione glared and glared but he didn’t waver. His hand was splayed on her lower back and he gave her little push.

“You have to excuse her, Professor, she is a bit shy.”

“I am not shy!”, Hermione exclaimed exasperated.

“Well, then I don’t see a problem.”, Tom said smugly.

“I walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”, she muttered.

“I would be so delighted, Miss Granger. Here”, Slughorn extended his arm.

Hermione searched her mind for an excuse but she came up blank. Hesitantly she accepted and let herself be dragged off by Slughorn. She threw a withering look over her shoulder but Tom was only grinning. What would she give to just hex the smile off his face.

Slughorn was in fact as it turned out not a good dance partner, not like Tom had been. With the tall future dark lord it had been truly easy, he had held Hermione in a strong grip, his feet gliding over the dance floor.

Slughorn on the other hand stumbled through every step, going right when it was left and stepping on her toes like it was a sport. She would definitely not be able to walk anymore after this torture of a dance. After the first spin Hermione lost sight of Tom, his handsome face lost in the mass of dancing couples.

“So, Miss Granger, any plans for after graduation?”, Slughorn asked after stepping on her toe again. Hermione suppressed a grimace.

“Well, there are a lot of possible careers to choose from. I am interested in the rights of magical creatures…”

“Nonsense”, Slughorn said, “I didn’t mean these kind of plans…”, he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “I meant a certain Slytherin headboy. I do hope I will get an invitation rather sooner than later.”

This time it was Hermione who stumbled.

“Excuse me, Professor, but you can’t be serious?”, she managed to grit out. What was it with everyone and their interest in her love life?

“Tom is a true catch, Miss Granger, you can count yourself lucky. I am sure he will rise to do great things.”, Slughorn continued like he hadn’t heard her.

“I am sure that I am a great catch.”, Hermione said with indignation.

“Sure, sure”, Slughorn said. “But that boy is the most promising that has attended my classes in all my life.”

“I am sure, Professor. Tom can do great things.”, Hermione said, suddenly sad.

He was truly talented but talent came with responsibility to not abuse the power that had been given to the person. Well, that train left the station like a hippogriff flying after a ferret. Hermione grinned at her own analogy.

Besides everything that had happened, Hermione hoped that Ferret boy was still alive. Draco did not deserve to die, no matter what he did.

“Yes, he is one of the most sought after men in Hogwarts, you must know. Of course, Mr Malfoy is the still number one with that kind of fortune but Tom has a certain aura, if I may say so, that can even over shadow all the money in the world.”

Slughorn was fan-girling, Hermione thought to herself while staring over the left shoulder of her Professor.

“I have never seen him take an interest in any girl.”, Slughorn continued, not noticing that Hermione has closed off.

 
“Yes, well, I don’t think many girls could have handled him.”, Hermione muttered. She was scanning the crowd for Tom. Where was he, when she needed him? Slughorns hand was a bit too low for her comfort.

“Nonsense, Miss Granger, I mean no offence but I am sure there would be more than enough women able and happy to take over that task.”

Hermione glanced at her Professor again. What an idiot.

“With great power comes the ability to abuse it, Professor.”, Hermione said, anger lacing her tone. “The world isn’t as simple as one would sometimes think. Everybody plays a role, a mask they wear in public. Some more so than others.”

“Erm”, Slughorn said, clearly not understanding what Hermione was saying. “Very insightful, Miss Granger. Back to Tom, don’t you think that he will be Minister of Magic with a decade.”

“Do you really believe that Tom would pursue a career in the Ministry, Professor?”, Hermione asked.

“Well, of course”, Slughorn answered. He seemed a bit more sober now.

“Can you really imagine Tom to sit at a desk, under the command of hundreds of superiors and wait patiently to rise in rank?”

Slughorn looked at Hermione as if he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes were a bit clearer.

“I guess it would be very Tom if he would look for a short cut.”, the man said slowly as if realizing something about his favourite student that he had never considered.

“And if there isn’t one?”, Hermione said. The finial notes of the waltz they had been dancing to rang through the air. Slughorn let his arms sink and watched the student in front of him curiously.

“I have to say, Miss Granger, you manage to surprise me every time again. I have to admit, you are very well placed in Slytherin but I can assure you that there is no need to worry over Tom. He will find his way.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she snorted. Yes, Slughorn was right, Tom would find a way, which was a very good reason to worry.

“To find a short cut in the Ministry Tom would have to have at least the Order of Merlin first class.”, Hermione said more to herself than anything.

She was still looking over the many people to find Tom. She saw men in dark dress robes and women in glittering dresses. She saw laughter, she saw couples, she saw people dancing and she saw alcohol being drunk in abundance. The preasure of so many people pressed down on her. 

So many people, it made Hermione suddenly uncomfortable, made her want to scream at them to run away because so many people would attract the death eaters, didn’t they know? The last time she had seen so many were at the battle and at Fleur’s wedding.

She desperately wanted to apparate away to safety. Her fingers twitched. She had to find Tom, he always managed to calm her down, no matter how ironic that was. Where was he?

“Are you quiet alright, Miss Granger?”

Startled, Hermione turned to her Professor who was watching her with slight worry in his eyes.

“Yes, just looking for Tom, Sir.”

“Oh well, I am sure you will find him, one of his friends is headed in you direction.”

Hermione glanced in the direction Slughorn was pointing. Abraxas Malfoy was easily spotted in the crowed due to his white blond hair and pointy features.

His pale eyes were fixed on Hermione, not betraying any emotion but she was sure that he despised her, just like his grandson and son. Abraxas, the great heir to the Malfoy name. Hermione couldn’t say that she held any kind of love for the man, his eyes had already taken on the glint of the death eaters, the small measure of complete coldness evident in the paleness and dimness of his eyes.

Hermione felt a pang of sadness for him and all the others that had been corrupted by Tom.

Their souls, may they already have been tainted and crippled, had sought out the power and darkness of their leader. Their upbringing as Purebloods had made them susceptible to exactly this kind of thing. The dark fire that was Tom’s soul had burned them and stained them, never to be cleaned again.

“Professor Slughorn, Miss Granger.”, Abraxas bowed politely when he finally reached the pair, his smile easy but practiced and forces.

Hermione was not impressed.
“Abraxas”, she said condescendingly. His eyes flashed with anger at her use of his first name, evidently thinking that he deserved more respect.

If he knew, Hermione thought, what his future heirs looked like under the thumb of his precious Dark Lord, how they had to pay for his sins and decisions.

She remembered Draco’s drawn out looks in sixth year. So much pain, even for those who were close to the Dark Lord, had been endured by generations and it all led back to these men, only students and them making decisions that they were too young to ever make.

“Tom send me to steal Miss Granger away from you, Professor.”, Abraxas said with a smile to his Professor.

Slughorn nodded vigorously, fooled by one of his favoured students.

“Yes, yes, if I had such a lovely date, then I wouldn’t want to let her wander off, too.”, Slughorn laughed, not noticing the clench of Abraxas jaw.

Hermione only smiled at the Malfoy in front of her, revelling in his discomfort.

“Oh, well, I won’t stand in the way of young love.”, the Professor said giggling and pushed Hermione in Abraxas direction who instinctively grabbed her arm. A bit too forcefully if Hermione had to be honest, but she only smiled again.

“Yes…”, the Malfoy heir said “Young love, I am sure.”, Hermione didn’t miss the venom in his voice but Slughorn had already wandered off. For a beat they just stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching each other, his pale eyes boring into her brown ones.

“Tom sent me”, Abraxas said, disdain in his voice.

Hermione only hummed, not wanting to say anything in response. The preasure was still on her chest and she was desperately trying to reign in her horror and fear. What a stupid time to have a panic attack. She couldn’t break down while in the deathly grip of Abraxas Malfoy. Who knew what he would do.

Without waiting for her to actually say anything, least of all to voice her actual acquiescence to go to Tom, Abraxas pulled her along, the many people parting for him to pass.

“Why are you so quiet, normally you always have something to say.”, Abraxas said with a sneer while the crowd was slowly thinning out.

The voices became less like an oppressing weight and more discernible. Hermione was still struggling to follow the boy in front of her, his words only piercing through the fog that had settled over her mind with difficulties.

“Maybe, I just don’t see you worth of my words.”, Hermione said, her voice steadier than she felt. Breath in, breath out…

The music and the voices were slowly fading.

They had left the ball, the path under her high heeled shoes was earthy and slightly damp. The dark trees of the forbidden forest rose from the ground next to her like dark needles reaching for the sky. The smell of the night and the nature next to her helped to calm her nerves.

“I expected better from you, Hermione.”

“Didn’t take you for one to like being verbally executed. But I won’s shame you for your preferences, no matter how odd.”, Hermine said grinning.

Her anxiety was fading, her senses were returning to their normal clarity. Slowly everything seemed sharper, dots were connected and her mind wasn’t sluggish anymore. Where were they? Where were they going? It smelled like danger and Adrenalin kicked in. Abraxas grip tightened.

“I bet Tom is still at the ball, isn’t he?”, Hermione said with a tired voice. Something like this had to happen sooner or later.

Abraxas seemed taken aback that Hermione had figured it out. He let her go and took a step back, apprehension in his eyes. Hermione deduced that his task had been to lead her here without her noticing anything and his friends would probably take her by surprise. She wasn’t supposed to have time to react and fight back.

“He certainly is.”, a voice from behind her sneered at her. Hermione heard shuffling and footsteps. Edger Avery. Of course…

That made two. Hermione slowly turned. With horror she counted.

Six students stood before her, masked and clad in black, their robes billowing in the suddenly cold wind.

Their faces were obscured, leaving them to look like creatures of pure darkness, monsters that thrived off of pain. The masks, Hermione realised with cold trepidation, were familiar. She had seen them numerous times. Death eater masks, dark and horrifying.

Six against one, Hermione felt anxiety spike in her blood. That weren’t good odds. She took a few steps back, so that her back wasn’t to any of the boys. Her face was a perfect mask of coldness and didn’t betray any emotion she was feeling as she faced the faceless.

“Six boys against one girl. From what I have seen in classes, I still think you under prepared, Avery.”, she said casually.

The boy who had spoken took a step towards her, his wand firmly in his hand. She hadn’t pulled hers and it made the young Deatheaters nervous. Why hadn’t she pulled her only defence? It meant that she wasn’t half as scared as they had hoped.

“I must say, I like the mask, I believe it truly is an upgrade from you face. I bet you future wife will beg you to wear it more often”, Hermione taunted, her hands clenching to fists with the tension that had taken hold of her body.

The spell shot out of Avery’s wand with a blood red light, hurtling towards Hermione where a green shield absorbed the energy. Silence rang through the air. Hermione raised her eyebrow. Nonverbal and wandless magic was out of their league and they knew it.

Hermione had a lot of practise. Ironically with the boys that stood in front of her or rather their future selves.

“Didn’t get enough last time, Avery? How utterly cowardly to take your friends with you because you can’t cope with me on your own.”

“You have no idea who you are talking to.”, one of the boys said, his voice cold and cruel. It was the voice of a death eater.

“Oh, I think, I have a better idea than you think.”, she retorted.

The boy that had spoken raised his wand.

“I will make you regret every word, bitch. Crucio”.

In a flash Hermione’s wand was in her hands, a forceful shield in front of her. The spell bounced off and landed somewhere in the ground.
The death eaters eyed her wand with disdain. She held it firmly in her hand, the magic crackling around her.

“Oh, you think I should be scared by your use of an Unforgivable? Don’t worry, I have seen them all up close.”, she swished her wand through the air and the mask that had obscured the faces of the students vanished into thin air.

Avery, Malfoy, Lestrange, Yaxley, Dolohov and Rosier.

“Interesting”, Hermione commented. They didn’t seem very confident now that their masks were gone.

“We are still more than you Mudblood, before the end of this night you will be begging for death.”

“Does Tom know where you are?”, Hermione said, ignoring the stupid words of the teenagers in front of her. The air suddenly shifted to slightly afraid at the mention of Tom’s name.

“I don’t think he does.”, Hermione mused. Avery hissed at her. 

“He will thank us that we have rid him of the filth that you are.”

“I am sure. How does it feel that this filth can probably kill you wandlessly? Does it make you insecure, Avery? Does it make you sad?”, Hermione smiled cruelly.

The boy finally seemed to snap. Red and, to Hermione’s shock, green flashed through the night while she dove away, trying to evade the spells directed at her. Her wand felt alive in her hand, waiting to unleash her magic.

“Melofors”, Hermione cried, her wand directed at the nearest boy.

His head turned into a big, orange pumpkin with a cut out face. Very Halloween-y Hermione decided before ducking again and raising another strong shield.

The death eater that she had hit with her spell was tumbling and crashing into his friends with strange inhuman sounds came from the dark mouth with jagged teeth. It sounded like screams of confusion and fear.

It made everybody and everything descend into chaos. Hermione saw some of the students stop to glance at their pumpkin colleague.

Apparently they weren’t familiar with that particular hex. Hermione took advantage of their confusion and hexed another one with a very powerful slicing hex that ripped through the boys shield and made a deep cut in his robes. Blood seeped through them and he bit out a strangled noise but Hermione was sure that the wound wasn’t fatal. Despite their cruelness, future atrocities and their cowardness at six of them going against one, she really didn’t want to kill anyone.

She had seen enough death in her life and she would be damned if she sunk to the level of these vile men.

Her heels dug into the ground as she ran, ducking and trying to evade various hexes thrown her way. She heard Edger screaming something.

The words bitch and Mudblood rang through the air around her, echoing inside of her head. The looming dark forest next to her looked like a silent sanctuary. The deep darkness promising to swallow her and to never let her out again. Her mind flashed with memories.

Voldemort would be in the woods, waiting for Harry to die. Harry, her best friends that had been raised to die. Tears pricked her eyes.

Death eaters were on her heels, her magic fed off of her fear, of the pure Adrenalin that cursed through her blood. Spells hit the ground next to her, mud splattering her beautiful dress.

The disgraced princess, the Mudblood, the survivor.

 It was as if her wand had a mind of its own, guiding Hermione’s movements.

Incarcerous, Incedio Tria, Locomotor Wibbly and Locomotor Mortis… more and more spells flashed through her brain, some of the vegetation around her lighting up in flames, their red glow lightning her way.

She heard people fall, heard some on scream but she didn’t care she ran and ran, fear her constant companion and egging her on.

There were too many, Hermione’s shields were getting weaker, the onslaught of spells, hexes and curses, most of them dark and powerful, made them waver and crack.

There were so many firing at her. Trees whipped past her, she dug in her heel and slithered over the muddy ground, turning in one motion, her hand grazing the mud under her soles. She cried out an Oppugno pointing at the many branches that hung low, nearly touching the ground.

The death eater, Rosier, that had been the closest to her, was slapped in the face by thick branches throwing him to the ground and rendering him immobile for a few seconds. However, Abraxas was next and he swished his long wand through the air and Everte Statum hitting her square in the chest, her shield had not been able to hold any longer.

The pale face of the Malfoy enlightened by the reddish glow of the spell, was the last thing Hermione saw before her whole body was propelled backwards, her back hitting a tree or the ground forcefully.

The air was nocked straight out of her and she struggled desperately for a few moments to breathe again. Surly she must have broken something, her whole body ached. Ignoring everything, even the warm tickle of blood that was running down the side of her face, Hermione pushed herself away and just in time too.

Another spell hit the place she just had been. She rolled award, dirt covering her and mixing with the blood that was still running. Mudblood, how fitting.

“Confundus”, Hermione cried out, pointing her hand at Rosier that had finally straightened again just to be hit by her wandless spell again and falling to the ground once more. Her wand? Where was her wand? The spell without a wand had been rather weak.

“Crucio”, came the voice of Edger Avery and this time it hit her. Piercing pain flashed through her whole body, even if it was oddly familiar.

She had endured this and she would again. It felt like her skin was being torn open, she didn’t know the meaning of time or space anymore, there was only pain and it was never ending. It was a thousand needles digging into her flesh, ripping it open. It numbed her mind until only pain remained and everything else vanished.

After what seemed like an eternity it was suddenly over, only a dull throb pushing through her body and making her shiver. She tasted blood in her mouth, the coppery taste making her nauseated. Her fingers had dug into the ground, her cheek lay on the cold and damp grass, it made her mind clearer, it grounded her.

“That was unnecessary long, Edger.”

“The bitch deserved it, Abraxas, and you know it.”

“I didn’t say, she didn’t. Filthy Mudblood. But I have to hand it to her, you weren’t able to stand even ten seconds under Tom’s Cruciatus, and she is still alive after a full minute.”

Hermione dragged air into her lungs. Everything burned, she didn’t understand what the others were saying. Her wand? She had to get her wand. She closed her eyes, trying not to heave. She had to collect her magic, to summon her wand.

The instincts born out of years of constant danger and war were thrumming through her body and acting even without her mind being fully aware.

He magic was still there, thank god, it was a warm flash of energy inside of her, making her instantly feel better.

Accio.

Her wand flew through the air landing in her hand that she had stretched into the air with one very painful motion, while she rolled and heaved herself up. They boys were startled out of their conversation, shock clear on their face. Blood was running out of her mouth and down her face. Hermione grinned, with her wand she was feeling much better.

“Will you look at that, the Mudblood has some fight in her”, Edger sneered, raising his own wand.

Hermione was just about to retort something before the whole area was suddenly silent. It was as if a blanket of fear and pure darkness had settled over them. The students before her cried out in pain and fell to their knees, the weight pressing them down.

Their screams echoed through the dark forest and somehow seeing their pain was worse than being the one in pain. Hermione’s whole body trembled.

The war was flashing before her eyes. Would the pain never stop following her?

The screams ripped through her. The dark power that was suffocating the whole forest caressed her skin as if it was concerned for her, the ring on her finger tingled with warm magic.

Tom.

Hermione knew instinctively even before he stepped out of the darkness of the trees. His eyes were darker than the night around them, his pale face shining in the gleam of the moon. He looked like a fallen angel with dark wings, come to avenge her.

Only the cold fury in his eyes betrayed his anger. The screams were still ringing through the darkness of the forest, ringing through her and making her tremble even more. Yes, she hated the men before her, even more so now than she did before traveling back in time but no one, no matter how vile, deserved that kind of pain.

“Stop”, Hermione cried, noticing for the first time that her hands were pressing against her ears, trying to block the screams out.

The picture of Voldemort and his followers flashing before her, she smelled the burning stones of Hogwarts again, could see one of her friend being eaten by a giant spider again and it made her sick to her very core. She had seen enough suffering.

Tom snapped his head to her, seeing her trying not to fall over. The weight that had pressed down on all of them, lifted and the piercing screams gave way for silence that was only breached by small groans coming from the young Deatheaters that were lying on the ground clutching at themselves.

Hermione could hear her own breaths again, calming her down, the horror memories slowly fading again. Tom’s hand were cold but reassuring when he finally reached her and she didn’t care that she was a mess, that her hair was wild and dirty or that her dress was torn and covered in mud. She was a Mudblood, the disgraced Gryffindor Princess and she carried her title with pride.

Her head swam, maybe she had a concussion?

For the first time Hermione noticed that someone else had come with Tom. Raymond Nott, he had not been one of her attackers. He eyed her with a gleam in his eyes that made Hermione more uncomfortable than even Edger and his friends. However, Hermione was too preoccupied to care and maybe to analyse Raymond’s strange behaviour more.

“I will kill them all and I will make them suffer for what they did to you, Hermione”, Tom whispered, his voice dark and rasping. He sounded like he had been the one crying and screaming.

The ring on her finger was still thrumming with magic.

Tom’s fingers dug into her arms, his eyes roving over her face and body, taking in her wounds. Slowly, hands trembling, he raised his hand to her face, his fingers brushing her muddy cheek. His eyes though were what captured Hermione.

Never had she seen someone look at her with such tenderness and love in their eyes. She saw his deep concern and anguish over her wounds and she saw his fury at the men who had inflicted them on her.

His fingers brushed over her wounds making Hermione flinch when the searing pain finally reached her but she also felt the warm tickle of healing magic that rushed through her. It was enough to take away the worst of the pain.

“Kneel”, Tom spoke with total coldness, turning away from Hermione but keeping her pressed to his chest, his arms securing her to him.

Tom didn’t wait for the boys to heave themselves upwards, it was as if they were puppets on strings and their master was commanding them. All of them were kneeling, their heads bowed within seconds, their groans silenced.

“Edger Avery, I was inclined to overlook you transgression the first time. I realize now that I shouldn’t have. You dared to touch something that belongs to me. Tonight you touched Hermione, made her scream and for that you shall pay.”, he said his tone colder than the frostiest and darkest winter night.  “You shall die the most painful way.”, Tom said, his tone final.

“No”, Hermione said, pushing away from Tom, his arms tightening around her, not letting her go. “Nobody dies tonight.”, she continued and ripped herself away.
The silence that settled over them was deafening.

“Hermione”, Tom hissed. “He hurt you, I can’t let someone like that live to see the sunrise.”

“I was hurt often enough in my life, you would have to kill most of wizarding Britain to avenge me.”

“Then so be it”, Tom hissed, his magic crackling around them. In the back of her mind, Hermione wondered at the sheer power that was coming off of him.

There was so much potential in this young man who would live to destroy himself. Between losing his mind over splitting his soul seven times and being killed and resurrected, Voldemort had made some crucial mistakes in his life.

“No”, Hermione said again, feeling herself sway. “There is always a way, a choice.”

“They touched what is mine”, Tom said, reaching for her. “Don’t you see Hermione? I am willing to kill for you. To kill anyone who would come between us, to do anything for you. We are meant to be together, together we can achieve greatness.”

“Killing for you is not something special. I can name at least a hundred names that will find their end at your hand. Even now your hands are already stained red. Don’t think that I don’t know about Myrtle or about your father. I know why you are suddenly in the possession of a muggle house.”

Tom flinched back, his eyes incredulous. Hermione only laughed and took another step back. She wouldn’t let Tom kill for her tonight. She knew it in her bones, this was their turning point. Their lives balanced on a knife and no one could say which way it would tip.

“How”, Tom whispered.

“Why do you think I was on the run for a year, what do you think I was looking for during that time?”, Hermione asked, “I was looking for Horcrxues, Tom. Your diary? Destroyed in my second year. Your ring? Also destroyed. And many others. I destroyed them and I would have, I still would, kill you, Tom. I can’t let you go down the same path again. I won’t choose you side, no matter how much I love you. I will be there on every turn, fighting against you.”, she took another step back, now nearly having reached Abraxas and Edger.

“So I am not asking you to kill for me, I am asking you to show mercy for me.”, she said, her tone final. With that she tuned and fled the scene.