Title: Salutem
Author: Carolare Scarletus
Universe: Au; Time Travel
Genre: Romance; Angst; Adventure
Pairing(s): Tom Riddle x Hermione Granger
Timeline: 1997-? 1943-?
Characters introduced chronologically, hopefully. (Additions will be made with each chapter. I will go back at the end to make sure it includes all appropriate characters after each chapter.): Tom Riddle; Keeper of Erised; Daughter of Erised; Hermione Granger; Harry Potter; Ron Weasley;
Note: This work of fiction was introduced sometime during November of 2015, but due to circumstance I had to push publications back tremendously. The plot has been revised, though there really isn't much to compare it to. I simply cannot wait to share what I have come up with for this fic, and I hope those who have been with me so far be patient just for a little bit longer :)
Requirements ordained by the Author:
-Tom Riddle is will not be in his Voldemort form, but will be referred to as the Dark Lord, obviously. (Due to Tim Travel).
-Tom will be very cruel and unforgiving
-Slytherin's Locket, Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, and the ring will play a key role
-There must be some sort of unknown connection between Hermione and Tom
-Sexual tension is present throughout the narrative, something neither Tom, nor Hermione would have anticipated, and struggle greatly to surpass
-Tom does not know/remember his encounter with the Keeper of Erised
-When he awakens, so does Hermione in some sense
Summary:
Tom Riddle's ultimate goal is to rid the world of the impurities plaguing the Wizarding World, but when his chance visit to the Mirror of Erised provides him with glimpses of the future, what will he do with the information he receives from the Keeper of the Mirror and the images he sees? As the years press on, his obsession to gain immortality grows. When a piece of his soul is stolen under the watchful eye of his followers, anticipation that he would fall exquisitely in love with the woman that haunted his past reincarnations arises.
Torn between wanting to pursue his dream and finding the redemption his reincarnated soul has been seeking, will Tom be able to demolish his desires and seek forgiveness from those he has wronged and save the woman that's always found a way back to his corrupted being?
Can one be redeemed when they've already sinned beyond redemption?
..~..
Salutem
Chapter one
Assurance
..~..
`..~..`
Even in suspended existence,
Circulating like the remnants of a final hour
His wanderings run away to her
The unspoken destiny that reaches far beyond
The grave that he has been thrusted into
Time and time again
Instilled with this evil that he is forced to call his own
He wanders, hoping, yearning, dreading
The life that he procured with want
The life he lives now by reason
And the life that will never be his
Far beyond the reaches of his worth
He wanders.
`..~..`
Forest of Dean
Gloucestershire, England
Monday, December 29, 1997
"Protego Maxima," she whispered as a cold breeze pressed past the defenses of her work. The coldness of the terrain seemed to hold her in the most unbearable grip. Sheltered only by a handful of enchantments, Hermione Granger shivered as the remaining charms were casted around the camp, the warmth of her exploited struggles fading in the distance.
Beneath the canopy of the enclosure, she stood with her thinly clothed back away from the flickering of the fire. The single wand of their blundering travels was clenched in her hand, which shielded her protectively but did absolutely nothing for the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had heard a voice, a man's voice to be specific as he murmured her name. Her brows furrowed, confused. It had been the second time in the last three hours that she has heard him. She didn't know what to make of it as it was only one of the countless occasions where her mind seemed to find enjoyment by making a fool of her.
It was the first time she let her fragile mind tricked her. It was late, dark and cold. She and Harry had only just arrived and there was a dire need to enchant their surroundings before they last all light of the old day. She wished that he wouldn't play her as a fool. Ron Weasley was a dead man if she ever saw him again. That she could trust was the truth.
But she couldn't exactly say that the voice had been Ron's, either. It did not sound like him at all, and the fact that whoever it was chose to use him voice made the feeling of plummeting all the more unnerving. Yet, she just couldn't let it go.
Hermione shook her head. She must not allow the voices to get to her. Shivering again, she raised her wand and continued to whisper the charms like a mantra beneath her breath.
"Fianto Duri," Hermione held up her hand and casted the second charm, her eyes lighting up as a blue light ignited before her.
Her voice was nothing but a whisper in the crisp, winter night.
While she laid down the next enchantment, she heard the disturbed words of soothing echoes. As nights' prior, the voice drifted in and out of the lines of the trees. Hermione immediately dropped her am and looked around. Eerie quietness welcomed her.
How odd.
Ever since she began wearing locket around her neck she been hearing strange voices. These voices were the kindest, either. Most of the time, they would whisper to her with deeds that could not be uttered. While some whispered, others taunted. Most of the time she was able to ignore them. Something had fought them off for her, otherwise she would not have made it this far. As it had done with Ron, she would have left Harry long before now. A sense of guilt came over her. Even though she stayed, she still felt ashamed by such occurrences. It was not her fault that he had left; it was all that prat's fault for not realizing it sooner what the mission entailed. Ron was unbelievable, but Hermione could not exactly fault him for everything.
The locket was partly to blame, thus bringing her back to the predicament at hand- the voices.
They were everywhere. Echoing off ever available surface, they came back to her with incredible force. She could no longer avoid it, no longer protect herself
She watched with mild interest as the blue hued charm rain down upon her, showering her in glittering light. This night's interim of enchantments seemed rather odd, strangely different. Perhaps, it was the location. It was one of the many places that she dared not think about. It was a place that she had visited with her parents during her childhood. She remembered as clear as day when her father announced that they would be visiting Gloucestershire. She had no idea where that was, and immediately set forth to find out everything she could about the location. Looking back now, it brought tears to her eyes. A deep ache in her chest forced her tears to come. Hermione could not suppress the motely of emotions that was building up steadily inside her.
Somewhere out there, her parents were without. Without her, without the knowledge of even having a child. She had taken probably the purest of things from them all in hopes of keeping them safe.
Were they safe?
The thought was immediately vanquished; she would not speculate their safety now. She would have known of their deaths, would have found out one way or another. Be it months ago or years from now. She would have found out.
"Everything all right?" her partner asked, coming up behind her and offering her the scratchy blanket. She smiled at him, accepting his offer with splendidly opened arms. She was shivering, which she hadn't noticed until Harry came up to her and touched her shoulder. It's been like this for weeks now- none of them prone to talkativeness. It was only last week that they were able to speak to each other on an almost normal and cordial basis. It was just last night that they were able to talk about what happened at Godric's Hollow. She still felt guilty for what happened there and the incident with Ron, and even now Harry made an act to show her it wasn't.
They were almost touching now.
Before she pushed him away, as she always did, he stopped her. His asking- begging her to talk to him.
She stared at him ashamed, finding it hard to pull away from his hollowed face.
How much of this damn war was his fault? How much of this could have been stopped if the Ministry had at least listened to him? Hermione hardly thought of these sorts of things, but it was in that moment that she realized just how damaging and haunting their actions were. Let alone dangerous. People ought to think of them as crazy, the ones that knew about their mission. But, they didn't. They had the full support of every single one of them. If that wasn't heart-wrenching enough, it was the nightly radio announcement they received from their friends on the inside of the castle.
It had been that night when they learned Ginny was among the one who had been punished for trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor.
Another sharp ping of guilt stabbed her chest.
Shuttering from what she wanted to think was the cold Hermione gave him a reassuring hug. His arms tightened around her, his nose digging into the side of her neck.
"I'm fine," she told him, finding the nerve to smile weakly into the distance ahead. He had caught her crying, as he often did. It would not be the first time her vulnerability was forced out of reclusion. She was not weak, that she knew. Sometimes, she just expressed weak things, and crying was one of them.
"We better get back inside." said Harry. "Are the incantations done?"
She nodded, wiping her cheek. "Almost. I just have a few more left to cast."
"D'you need any help?"
This made her laugh. "No, I don't. Thank you though."
Harry smiled briefly before it faded away. "You know why have to talk about our next step of action."
Hermione was just about to raise their wand when he said that. She let her arm fall, her gaze held steady in front of her.
"Must we discuss it now?"
He shrugged, obviously not sure if even now was the best time.
She sighed. "You go inside. I'll be there in a minute."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, now go. I'll be fine, I promise."
Forcing her shoulders back, Hermione poised herself the best she could, and somehow she was able to fool not only Harry but herself as well.
Hermione watched until Harry's retreating back was pulled from her sight and he escaped back into the warmth of the tent. Just as he did, she let out a strangled sigh. Shuddering with noiseless tears, she quickly recollected herself and proceeded placing the enchantments that would allow them a peaceful evening until dawn. She only hoped that her voice provoked the strength that the enchantments required. One mustn't show weakness, only their absolute métier. Anything less would lead to disaster.
And what disaster was she risking? The more time she spent wearing the necklace that seemed to read her like an open book, the more she became lost in her own abyss of depression and repressed sadness. She found no means to an end, and she was beginning to think that none could come from being in possession with one of the darkest artifacts that she's ever come across, much less touched.
She looked around her.
The silent wilderness fought back against the prevailing cold. She could only see the faint outlines of the trees, and hear only whatever noise that called in the distance through the thick veil of magic that protect them from the night.
She raised her arm and proceeded to whisper the last few incantations.
That was when she heard them.
Crouching down suddenly, she fought to keep her breathing relatively leveled. Her ears strained to listen to the approaching figures. A hand gripped her torso, forcing her breath to be held and kept in captivity inside her chest. She remained perpetually silent. She could feel the quickening of her heartbeat, the tight muscle pushing up against her ribs and eliciting the sort of painful stings that only accompanied anxiety and irrationalized dread. Looking around the best she could, Hermione was able to keep vigilant watch.
They came from the northern side of camp. Their heavy footsteps crunched beneath the snowy ground. Shouts rebounded harshly against the thick, towering trees and debris, brushing past the security of the incantations and wrapping around Hermione in a grisly embrace. She shuddered. As their voices grew louder, she buried herself deeper into the ground, her arms coming around her knees as she struggled to keep herself from screaming. The locket was not helping.
Voices.
Again with the voices.
This time their words were not pretty, as they never were. Like a haunting cry of a crow, the voices grew to a crescendo, forcing her to raise her hands to her ears in a pitiful attempt to block out their shrilled words.
Come to us. Yes, come to us
We will ever be so accommodating.
You will simply love it here.
Only if you will come to us.
Come to who? She didn't want to go anywhere other than back to the safety of the tent and in the arms of one of the only people she had left.
He is not your sanctuary
He will only come to destroy you.
He does not love you.
"You're wrong," she whispered, rocking back and forth. "You're wrong!"
Oh, we are?
Tell us, who would ever love you?
No one wants you, you foul little bitch!
Yes, you are nothing more than a filthy little Mudblood!
"Shut up!"
How dare you!
You worthless little cunt-!
"Oi, I tink I 'eard it over 'ere!" a rough voice dispersed the grotesque berating of the voices.
Hermione looked up, her hands still pressed against her head. She could feel the trickling of her tears as they slide down her cheeks. A rush of cruel anxiety came over her. That was when she realized that Harry had come out.
She had screamed out.
It hadn't been a figment of her imagination.
He had heard her.
"Shh," he whispered, jutting his head in the direction of the forest.
They remained silent, listening to the intruders through the thin veil that separated them. From where they sat, they could see three men coming up from the clearing and into the bank. Their rough and wind-swept appearance was all the had to go by; the men had travelled all over, and had finally found a place to rest. Why they choice this particular site was beyond them; all Hermione could think about was finding a way to get rid of them.
"Oi, yer jus' 'earing things!"
"Oh, am I, 'huh?"
"Will you two shut it?" a deep voice sounded from behind them. "We've got to keep moving. Now, settle down and walk."
"Didn' you 'ear it?" one of the other men asked.
"Hear what?"
"Voices." Through the incredible distance, Hermione could feel a sly grin stretch across his face. "Sounded like a girl."
"Yer 'earing things!"
A grumble fell from the man's lips. The noises ceased a few seconds later. All that could be heard was their feet crushing into the snow.
The air held an eerie silence. One that made even the strongest warming spell break. Hermione shivered, not wanting to move or speak.
"What should we do." She whispered into his ear, frightened. Even the slightest vocalization could send the men in their direction. "Should I cast something?"
Harry shook his head. "You are in no state to do so." He looked over his shoulder, around the campsite. "I don't think they know where they are. They're heading East, which is a good sign."
"What if they come back?"
"They won't." He sounded so sure of himself. "It's late. They need to rest, as do we."
Hermione wasn't quite convinced that the men would stay away long enough for them to catch a few hours of sleep. She knew that them being here would require one of them to stay up, and she knew that Harry wouldn't allow her to be the victim of another sleepless night.
"Come on," he moved to stand but she reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve. "It'll be alright. I promise. Whatever happens, we'll be fine."
"You promise?"
He nodded. "Of course."
The resounding echo of the men's voices reverberated softly in the distance. If what Harry was saying was true, they would not bump into them any time soon. Their destiny was taking them East, but they did not know where it was taking them. Hermione stood, dusting herself off. The snow crunched bitterly beneath her feet.
They walked back to camp quietly and slowly. With the last remaining charm swirling around before them, they retreated back into the tent and accessed their next move. Neither of them talked, though their thoughts held high prestige.
For the last several months they have been on the run. Death Eaters, Snatchers, and everything else that may walk in the darkness have been hunting them, and it was only just a month ago that they lost Ron to his inhibitions. Sometime during their enduring passage, he had grown increasingly angry. She blamed it on the locket in which they took turns wearing. Whatever it had done to him, it had pressed his anger until it was the only thing he could feel. Expressing it in winded words, harsh declaration and outrageous claims, Ron left them, seeking his own maddening resolution wherever his heart may have led him. Hermione didn't know where the wind had taken him, but prayed that his was safe, no matter how dangerously angry she was at him for abandoning them. If it was some solidarity to them, they had the radio's chants to give them the relief that they need in regards to their old friend.
Hermione's hand immediately went to clench the chain that was secured around her neck. She missed him terribly. A day did not go by that he didn't run through her reckless thoughts. Ron, wherever he was, better be safe. Better have found what he was searching for. Whatever it may have been.
Books, as always, cluttered the small table by the makeshift fireplace. The tent was kept relatively clean, due in part of Hermione's frequent need to do something whilst her mind swirled around in chaotic control. They've been trying to figure out where to go next and neither of them have been able to pinpoint the next location. As Harry strolled over to the kettle, Hermione packed up her things and placed them carefully back into her pouch. She winced. An avalanche of books had fallen it would take a great deal of time to go and fix the disaster that was awaiting her. With a disgruntled sigh, she closed the pouched and smiled as Harry handed her a steaming mug of chicken noodle soup.
"Thank you," she breathed, sniffing the contents and allowing a faintly pleasant sigh to escape her lips. "Who taught you how to make this?" she teased.
Harry smiled. "I had a great cook help me."
A blush joined the already slightly pink tint to her cheeks. "Oh, Harry. I'm hardly a cook."
"Yeah, well, you've kept us alive this far, eh?"
Hermione nodded. Although it was only broth, she felt as if she was having a three course meal. Letting the warm liquid pass down her throat, she waited as the warmth of the soup filled her up. As coldness as it was outside, she at least had the company of her friend and the fire of the hearth to remain at her attendance.
With a chuckle, she shook her head and swatted him on the arm. He stepped back, laughing as he tried to avoid her wrath.
"Come on," he chastised," you wouldn't attack the man that made you supper, would you?"
Shaking with laughter, Hermione relented with her attack. "Alright, but next time you joke about that, I will not be responsible for your injuries."
"You never are, hmm?"
Hermione berated him.
"Alright, I surrender. You win, as always."
With a smile, she chugged down the remainder of her broth and placed the dirty mug back onto the table. Satisfied, and not nearly as cold, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She listened once again to the wind.
"So, where to next?" she tried to drown out the voices by passing her attention to Harry. He came and took up her mug and shrugged.
"Dunno. Thought you would be able to tell me."
"It's late."
"I am aware."
"We shall discuss it in the morning." She dropped her head onto the table and let out a groan.
He chuckled at her brutish attempt to pacify her lack of sleep. She's tried a myriad of different ways to relieve the stress of Horcrux hunting. Their last dance had been some time ago, and it was becoming a bit of an everyday occurrence. Hermione could vouch for the just how relieving it can be.
"Do you remember when I first danced with you?" Harry sat down beside her and placed his hands on his knees. "Not just this past month or so. At the Yule Ball?"
"I remember how awkward it was for the both of us, but yes I remember."
"You were so beautiful, 'mione."
He never ceased to amaze her. Even his gentle words were enough to sway her.
"And you were an awful dancer." Hermione tried to hold the smirk that formed on her lips. "You were so nervous and couldn't keep your feet from stepping on mine."
"Which I apologized profusely." He berated. "Are you ever going to let that go?"
"I don't know." She laughed. "Maybe in a couple of months when the sores on my feet finally heal."
"What?" he bent down to take a look at her feet. She had taken off her boots and were now proudly sporting fairly nice looking feet. She giggled as he picked one up to examine it. "I don't see any."
"It's called a Glamour charm."
"I see." He murmured, putting her foot down. They sat and talked for a while, both drinking in the other's presence."
If only the voices would allow her that peace.
The voices were still speaking to her. As her fingers began to play with the locket, they grew more incessant and loud. What they said was awful, and couldn't be further from the truth. She wasn't a swine, a whore, but even something as small as the Locket could make one feel as if they were. They could literally drive anyone to madness if they were weak enough to allow it. Harry noticed this and his hand came to brush against hers.
"What's bothering you?"
She shook her head and lied through her teeth. "Nothing," she told him before smiling warmly at him. "I promise."
"Last time you promised, you awoke with a frightful scream." He reminded her along the lines of playfulness, the seriousness of the situation painted within his clandestine words. "Come on, you can tell me."
With a sigh, Hermione sat down on the battered old sofa they had collected from their travels, propping her legs on his knees. He sat and played with the frayed end of her jeans, throwing the string he caught onto the dirt floor and not without earning a heated, accusing gaze from Hermione.
When she finally spoke, she had to catch herself twice as not to allow her voice to give her away.
"I'm worried," she said in a near whisper.
"About?" he tried to press her, knowing full well that patience was the key with her. As it has been for months.
She couldn't find the exact words to express it. She was worried about a myriad of things, one being their search for the rest of the Horcruxes, their impending reconcile with destiny, but above all the safety of their friend. Hermione spent most of her free time wondering where he was, who he was with. If it wasn't for Harry's constant assurance, she wouldn't have been able to carry on. Even now, she didn't think she had the strength.
So she turned and looked into his eyes, begging for an explanation, a sign. And she found one.
"Ron," she came right out and said his name.
The expression on Harry's face plummeted; from the eased cheerfulness that could only be provided by surviving another day was replaced with speculated worry. There was a gambling hesitance in the way his eyes darted about the tent. Never truly landing on her, he looked around for some sort of inspiration. He sighed, finding none.
"I understand that you're worried, scared even," Harry's voice cracked a little despite how unbelievably strong it was compared to the defeated posture in which he held himself," but, we can't focus on that, Hermione. He left on his own accord and it's not our fault that he wasn't up for the challenge."
"What sort of challenge are you talking about," she whispered, hissing. "He knew what he was getting into."
"No, he did not," Harry snapped back just as harshly. "He had no bloody clue. He thought this would be easy, would be a few weeks in the forest, Apparating here and there. He thought Dumbledore had left everything that we could have possibly need when he died. I'm sorry to tell you but he was wrong. Dumbledore barely told me a damn thing. I'm just as lost and deserted as you, Hermione. If only Ron wasn't so fucking stupid, then he would've seen that."
"Harry…" Hermione's broken voice tore the haze that he created. In that moment, he realized what shame he had brought upon himself. It was as if he was wearing the necklace and not her. Of course, they experienced the lasting effects of the Horcrux differently. His troubles came in the form of uncontrollable rage, as did Ron's. Whatever demons that were still trying to torment him were soon laid to rest when Hermione reached over and placed a small hand on his knee. She smiled brokenly at him. "I understand."
Two words.
How can two words come to mean so much to him through the time that it took to utter them? Harry truly marveled at the uncanny ability. Hermione's concern was as palpable as the cold hand that gripped them. Placing a hand on hers and squeezing it, he turned and returned the same welcoming smile.
"We'll pull through, yeah?" He grabbed her feet as she wiggled more snuggling against the battered couch. He became to massage her sore feet. She let out a sigh, her eyes still clinging onto his. "Don't we always?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Good." Something played in the pit of his eyes. It took him several tries to speak, but he eventually found his voice in the end. "I think I should wear the Locket tonight."
"But, you just-"
"Hermione, I know." He almost smiled. "But you're in no condition to wear it. I'll wear it until morning. If you feel like you're up to it, I'll let you where it."
What a disheartening bargain. No matter how she wished to rid herself of the blasted thing, she couldn't bring herself to hand it over like some worthless piece of rubbage. It was a part of her, as crazy as that sounded.
Due to the more selfish part of her, she accepted his proposal. It earned her a grateful smile, but caused her such terrible mental harm that sleep was set far from the surface of her mind.
Hermione gingerly wrapped her fingers around the chain, lifted up from around her head and set the heavy Locket in the palm of her hand. She weighed it like a God would way the wary heart of the dead. It was could to the touch, and no number of feathers could redeem its already tainted character. A murmur of a sigh escaped her lips. Frightful imaged flashed before her eyes. As much as the departure hindered her from letting some else suffer at its hands, she couldn't help feel relieved.
She handed Harry the Locket, watching brokenly as the chain fell onto his shoulders and he was burden by its terribly pleas.
It was well past three in the morning, and while Hermione slept peacefully in the little space between the fireplace and the couch, Harry was left to deduct from his sufferings. They spoke for quite some time before the silence between them was the most predominant deity. By the time he had decided that it was too much, Hermione had fallen asleep, leaving him to his thoughts now.
Harry twirled the Locket around and around. He studied the inscriptions, the emerald snake that decorated the front. The thought never occurred to him, but maybe it was possible to open the thing without repercussions.
"Oh, don't be silly, Harry." A smile formed on his lips at the sound of Hermione's brutally honest reception. Of course the girl was asleep, and didn't have to know a damn thing that happened unless he deemed it worth of explanation. What he really wanted to do was to see… to see if it would open to his touch.
From trying to pry it open with his fingers to throwing it against rocks and stabbing it with every sharp object that he came across, he couldn't seem to make any sort of dent in its defenses. It fact, it seemed to spar it on. The Locket indeed had a mind of its own. One that it used to mess with the mind of whoever is wearing it. Unfortunately, he had not been the only victim. He would not be the only one, either. Harry stopped trying to open it. As it laid like a discarded piece of rubbage on the floor, he continued to stare at its mesmerizing artwork. He turned it over, his fingers outlining the peculiar shape of it. The inked words that were inscribed on the back had bene nothing but a puzzle to them. Even now he couldn't understand what it meant, what it meant for them.
It was like the damn Locket could sense his distress. It burned against his skin, shifted from one inch to another until the boiling need that was been kept inside finally burst. The Locket shot up in the air; Harry's eyes widened in horror. He stood quickly, his feet nearly causing him to fall when the Locket vanished from thin air and back into the owner.
Hermione shifted quietly in her sleep, never realizing the object that she once possessed had returned to her.
Harry looked at her. He wondered why the thing was so attracted to her. When he was just on the edge of figuring it out, he grabbed their wand and set out into the night.
Something distinct glowed in the distance and he was determined to find out what it was.
Author's Note: I would like to apologize immensely to the people who have favorited and have been following this work since last year. A lot of things came into the equation, and I had to put several things in the back of my mind. Once I did have some time to focus and get through what I needed to sort out, I was able to come back to the work and I have to be honest- I didn't like where it was going. I rewrote the plot and have settled on something that I hope will truly be worthwhile. I've never played on time travel, so this is a first for me. Let's hope I can pull this off!
With that said, welcome to the new and improved Salutem. (Though, there was nothing to even compare it to, lol.)
Second note: During the first scene, we witness Hermione acting very odd. I have to remind you that she is wearing the Locket. As we know, the Locket can do unspeakable things to the wearer. Hermione is not weak; it is simply the Locket forcing a psychological and physical strain on her that makes her appear weak. I don't want someone reviewing about, and let's be honest, that would be rather annoying to have to explain again. I wanted to keep this chapter light and less morbid. So, keep that in mind. Did y'all really think she would be like that for long? Or when she came face to face with Voldemort/Tom? LOL! Y'all! Of course not! I would never be so cruel to take that fierceness from her! :) Do not fright; I will deliver unto you what you deserve to read!
Toodles (Which is underlined as misspelled on Word).
-Carolare Scarletus