Death's Return

I.

Present Time - January 1946

She didn't know what had happened to Tom. She didn't care, putting the book in its place on the shelf. She didn't care, walking back to sit behind the front desk. She didn't care and flipped through the catalogue as she tapped her pen against the counter top. Everything had gotten so terribly messed up.

Soon it was time to go and she flipped the sign on the front door from 'open' to 'closed'. Walking down to the bus stop, she tugged at her jacket to keep warm. It was a nice little town edging on boring but it was also free of magic and that was what Hermione had settled on after-

Well. After her soul had been burnt black by the things she'd done. The things she'd done for him. And so she had decided to do without. Her wand was kept in the little night stand by her bed. Snug. The bus moved forward and she stared at the window. It was going to be a long ride.

Two Years Earlier

Amy paraded up the street, clutching tightly to the arm of which a blonde haired boy was attached. How lucky she thought herself to be. She surveyed the passersby coolly, hiding the excitement underneath, trying to suppress her frantically beating heart. Missus Amy Bishop. To be fair, it had a nice ring to it.

Of course, he hadn't proposed... yet. He had expressed to her his misery of not yet having enough earnings to buy a proper wedding band for her. It was what she deserved, he said, Their love, meanwhile, would have to be enough. And she ate up every ounce of affection because she knew she would be happy.

She felt an overwhelming harmony sweep through her and beamed up at him, noticing how the wind tossed his hair messily atop his head. And he was hers. He had been lucky - had an apprenticeship at the medicinary and with his earnings was saving up for a small flat on the edge of town which he had an eye on. What enticed her further was his promise to take her with him.. eventually.

Good things come to those who wait, she said to herself. It was one of those things they told you at school, or in church. One of those sayings that seemed true enough at the start and then - and then left you waiting.

"Denny," she said, reaching up with her free hand to preen her boyfriend's disheveled hair, "We should be getting back. Hermione's coming home tomorrow and I have to tidy away my things. Gosh, I've missed her… and I still have to tell her all about you and I and all that." Her eyebrows sprung together, her nose crinkled confusedly. "Don't you think it's strange that Hogwarts wasn't listed in the directory? I mean, I would have written her."

"I know, dear," Dennis responded, eyes focused on the little brick path in front of them. He contemplated telling her he was tired and wanted to go back to his room above the shop for a rest, but pushed the idea and his resentment out of his mind. They walked back, making their way up to the run down orphanage. When they reached the gate Dennis slowed to a stop. "I'll seeing you later," he said, giving her a quick kiss and walking back up the way they came.

II.

"Aren't they chummy," Amy kidded, watching with Billy through the window as they cleaned the dishes.

"Too chummy if you ask me. There's no way he's not up to something. She should've learned from last time..."

They saw them sit together on the front yard, arguing fervidly with one another about dragon legislature. "Okay, but I mean... Hermione's not stupid. If she trusts him we just have to trust her. Oh, look, they're coming in."

Indeed, Hermione had stood up from their spot under the old oak which, though crooked and leaning, proved to be an excellent source of shade. She took Riddle's arm, pulling with a quiet insistence until he gave in and let her help him to his feet. Together, they walked doggedly up the road and into the scrappy orphanage.

"Hey Hermione. Tom," Amy greeted as they stopped at the side of the kitchen table. Hermione said hello back and Tom did the same. "So what have the two of you been talking about? Anything interesting?"

"Nothing much," Hermione said, smiling, but Amy noticed the secretive look that passed between her and Riddle. "Do you need help with the dishes?"

"Nah, you needn't bother; we're nearly done."

"Alright then," Hermione said and shrugged. She and Riddle left upstairs as Amy finished the dishes.

Putting away the last plate, Amy spoke again. "I'm glad for them. Everybody deserves someone. Everybody deserves a chance."

Billy regarded her wistful admission dismissively. "And you aren't just saying that because of Dennis?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "No. I'm being serious, Billy. In fact, I await the day you find yourself some pretty little thing to call your own."

Billy sighed. "You're always so ridiculous, Amy. Life has more to offer than a pretty little thing to 'call my own'."

"Well yes," Amy compromised, "But a pretty little thing wouldn't hurt, would it." She winked, then walked away.

Billy sat at the table, tired. He knew Amy was more than likely right but so much had changed in the past few years. He was no longer so obnoxious as he was before. In fact, he had rather mellowed out since then whereas Amy seemed to grow more strident in character. She would chatter on and on about whatever thought flickered into being and he would just listen contentedly.

Sometimes he thought about expressing himself to her, but there was never a right time. Hearing her go on and on while he sat there, mouth sewn shut, made him feel incredibly cut off. Most of all, he felt lonely. But she was still his friend, so he listened attunedly to whenever she complained about Dennis's long hours and how she never got to see him as much as she would like.

Accordingly, it was over a week from when Hermione got back that the much talked about Dennis Bishop dropped in to see Amy. Amy grinned excitedly when she saw him approaching the gates to the orphanage.

"Hermione, it's him! Quick, the door!" Amy said, panicking slightly as she ran to the mirror to do her makeup.

Hermione left the room and went down the steps to let him in as asked. She had just turned the door handle and opened the front door when Amy flew down the stairs behind her, nearly bowling Hermione out of her way.

"Dennis! You came!"

He greeted her with a hug, surveying Hermione from over Amy's shoulder and looking perturbed. He finally recollected himself and drew away. "Well, I told you I would." He ambled awkwardly across the threshold towards Hermione.

"Hermione, this is Denny."

"Dennis," he corrected, quickly, and stuck his hand out hastily for Hermione to shake. "So this is the famous Hermione," he said jovially, "Amy's told me so much about you. It's nice to meet you."

Hermione smiled, shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you too."

III.

Dennis watched her, eyes narrowed. He had almost sure it had been real - that that day had been real. He would drop by the orphanage nearly twice a week now, just to see if he could catch her unawares. No, he thought, watching her turn the page of her book, perhaps he had been imagining things. That girl - the girl he'd seen doing impossible things - - magic! He had forgotten all about it growing up and then seeing her again - it was like something was being pumped through his veins. He couldn't deny that he'd been the smallest bit disturbed by the reappearance of the curly haired enchantress.

He had already been caught staring once by the Riddle boy as he walked in and saw Dennis lurking in the doorway. He didn't like Riddle. Didn't like his calculating glare and immediately wrote him off as too smart for his own good. You had to be careful around people like that.

It was the fifth time he'd snuck by and he hadn't seen anything off or unusual about Hermione. Perhaps it was a trick of the light watching her make the bluebells obediently blossom then close up timidly again at the opening and closing of her palms.

He mumbled something, steeled himself, then walked into the kitchen where the girl had been reading and enjoying her tea. He had seen wrong that day, surely. And if not- well, that would be another matter entirely.

"Hello," Dennis said, slightly apprehensive, "What're you reading?"

"Just some David Copperfield," Hermione replied, flipping the book over to the cover to reveal the gold inscription on the red hardback. "I've always loved the characters dearly. Dickens is marvelous at making me feel outraged on David's behalf every time I pick through the pages."

Perhaps it had been normalcy of her leisure and carefree reply, but Dennis felt his unease melt away. Could this girl be a witch? Surely not. He didn't detect any devilish air around her.

"What?" Hermione asked, somewhat defensively as Dennis continued to stare at her. She was slightly uneasy with the intensity of the inspection she was receiving.

"No, it's nothing. I-" Dennis broke off with a small chuckle, "I've been misled. I got it into my head that you were a- a witch or something."

Hermione tensed, the action going unnoticed by Dennis whose eyes were closed as he shook his head in slight embarrassment. "Why would you think that?" Hermione asked, an awful feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Some stupid reason. It was a long time ago - I was delivering medicines and I heard giggling through the fence and I thought what I saw was magic. You, doing magic."

Hermione hid her troubled expression, something she had probably picked up from Riddle and laughed. "Me? M-magic?!"

"I know," Dennis smiled at her, feeling better at his admission, "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Quite," Hermione answered, bringing her tea to her lips to sip, thinking. Neither noticed the figure standing in the hall who had stopped there, running their hand through their hair worriedly before hurrying away out the door.

Present Time - January 1946

But she wasn't doing magic anymore. She walked down the aisle and picked up the books that had been left lying about by some wandering children. When she stood she saw him and her face dropped to adopt a cold, sullen look. "What are you doing in my shop?"

"Your shop? I wasn't aware you owned a shop, Granger," Rosier smirked.

Hermione bared her teeth. "I do now. What do you want, anyway? If you're here to ask me if I know where Riddle is, I'm telling you, I don't-"

"That's not why I came by," he said, crossing his arms. "I wanted to let you know that he's coming back." Hermione looked affronted and Rosier explained, "I just wanted to know if you had felt it. The pull." Hermione flinched, playing with the sleeve of her left arm where the mark used to be. It had been a pain to remove.

"No. No I haven't. And if I had, it still doesn't give you the right to come in here."

Rosier looked pissed off. "I was just trying to-"

"Help?" Hermione snarled. "We're not friends, Rosier. And I don't need you running back every time there's some small whiff of information on Riddle. I could care less about where he's run off to or what he's been doing."

"Doesn't sound like you don't care."

The depressions under her eyes became apparent as she let her tiredness catch up to her. Even Rosier could admit, she looked dreadful, as if the year had been too long, too hard. It was a pain that she carried in her shoulders and the defiance that wore thin on her face. And then she snapped back against it all and resumed holding herself up under the grit and press of it all.

"I don't."

And with that, she pushed past Rosier and disappeared into the back of the shop.

IV.

Billy walked down the streets, his hands bundled up into fists in his pockets. He had just seen Hermione in the kitchen with Dennis and he felt sick. Why was he around so often nowadays?

V.

"Hermione!" Abby called from the counter where she worked the register. "I need your help. It's urgent!"

"What is it?" came Hermione's reply as she poked her head out from the back where she had been unpackaging the new shipment.

"Here," Abby said, handing her a book, "A customer just came in, told me to give you this."

Hermione sighed. Abby was a new hire that tended to exaggerate often and chat constantly to the costumers. She took the book and with a casual glance at the cover froze. Pentamerone. She narrowed her eyes with half a mind to throw it in the trash. She wouldn't play these games anymore. She had quit this; quit the Knights. After two years of believing Riddle, of trusting him, of performing dark curses and sinister enchantments and then being left by him for the second time she couldn't believe he had the nerve to come back. She had given everything to him, even her morals. She had hurt others - people who didn't deserve it. All because Riddle had promised that the suffering of a few would be for the triumph of the many. She had been so stupid. So, so stupid.

She jerked open the drawer to her desk and threw the book inside before slamming it closed. She wouldn't let him get back at her. He wasn't allowed to do that anymore.

Two Years Earlier

"You're not allowed to do that!" Hermione laughed as Riddle feathered her neck with kisses to distract her from her book. Gulls flew overhead, their guttural cries sweetened and muffled by the overhang of mist. Still, it was a hot day and Mrs. Cole had decided to take the children on a day trip to the beach, the refreshing spray of sea catching them every now and again.

"But I have something to show you."

Hermione kept on reading, ignoring the boy who was trying to persuade her into giving up her book. Riddle continued, undeterred. "It's something I've never shown anyone else before. I've kept it secret all these years, even from you."

Hermione kept her eye on the page but Tom could tell she was hardly paying attention to it. Finally she looked up to stare back at Riddle. "You're deplorable," Hermione said after a few seconds, closing her book with a thud. They got up, book in hand, and walked up the hill to the secluded side of the beach where the waves struck relentlessly against the jagged cliffs.

"Denny! Come on in! The water's just right!" Amy yelled from the shallow water. Lips pressed together, he battled the urge to spit out his reply. He hated it when she called him that.

"No thanks, honey. I think I'm going to go up a ways into the village for a drink. I'll be back later." And he left before he could hear her pout and whine for him to stay, pursuing the figures who had already reached the top of the hill. Something told him he had to keep an eye on that Riddle.

"Where are you taking me?" Hermione asked, "You're not going to push me to my death, are you?"

"Just take my hand and follow along or I'll be so inclined. This way."

Hermione blinked. "Are you crazy? We shouldn't even be up this far."

"Don't worry. It's only a magic trick," Riddle murmured to her, "It only looks impossible to deter the muggles from going down. It's still dangerous, though, so hold on to me." And she did, head pressed into his back as she gripped his shirt from behind, not trusting herself to look down.

Finally, they had reached the bottom, standing before the cave that stretched into darkness. "Are you sure about this?"

"Scared?"

"Ha!" she scoffed, but Riddle could detect the faint quiver in her voice. The chill of the caves amplified by the sprinkle of cool water brought a slight chattering of her teeth, the sound of which clacked through the rocky enclave that surrounded them as they entered.

"Don't be afraid. Just let your eyes adjust to it," he told her. She stared into the blank blackness for some time before she let out a startled gasp. Riddle spoke for her. "Isn't it beautiful? It reminds me of the ceiling in the Great Hall. The crystals on the walls of the cavern catch the subtle light from the water."

The waves pushed in, causing ripples in the water and disturbing the light's reflection to create the illusion of twinkling stars on the cave walls. And suddenly, Riddle stepped away, slipping his hand from hers. "Riddle!" she called, annoyed. While the little light that shined from the cave walls had eased her mind, her eyes couldn't find Riddle in the dark. Frustrated, she stepped forward. "Where-"

"Here," he said softly, meeting her lips with his. He encircled her and she welcomed the warmth of his skin, running her hand up around his neck and into his hair. He sunk back against the glistening rock, pulling her up unto him as he bruised her with feverish kisses. "Was this your plan all along? Bring me down here to seduce me? Wi-icked witch," he stuttered as Hermione rolled her hips just so and his breath hitched. "Fuck. I-" He almost told her that he loved her but he just kissed her instead and hoped that she'd understand some day.

VI.

She slowly pulled open the drawer and stared at the book. Whatever he touched turned to shit. Her left arm twitched and she felt the tears in her blood-shot eyes brim over in self loathing. She couldn't stop herself from picking up the book she had left locked out of sight. And now she had flipped open the book, rifling through it and looking for his messy scrawl. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of where his pen had bled ink. 'Is that all he has to say to me after all this time?' she thought, chastising his pathetic attempt at a lie.

Hermione. I'm sorry. I love you still

Without a second thought she flung the tome across the room, choking back emotion and all the despised thoughts that threatened to screw over her ever-waking resolution to put him from her mind.

Two Years Earlier

Dennis walked back down to the beach, offering a reproachful look over his shoulder at the cliffs where Tom and Hermione had disappeared. He hadn't seen their bodies on the rocks below and assumed they had managed to give him the slip. He no longer had any suspicions of Hermione, but the couple's incessant whispers had piqued his interests. Riddle was hiding something. And somehow, Hermione was caught up in it.

"You were following them," a voice spoke from behind. Billy whipped around.

"Oh. It's you," Dennis spat.

"What is it that you want from Hermione?" Billy asked, defensively.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Billy-boy," Dennis said, snidely, "As I recall we had a certain deal in place. One in which you keep your mouth shut and I keep your little secret."

Billy blushed red, but didn't say anything else. He would kill that bastard. Dennis could see the thought flash before Billy's eyes but he just chuckled and walked off towards Amy. She was playing with some of the younger children, pulling them about in the water. She was very pretty in this moment, laughing and smiling as the children shrieked excitedly. She would make a good wife and once she had had a child or two she would be more manageable, Dennis supposed. And still…

He still felt pissed whenever he saw Hermione with Riddle. Something wasn't right about him and he couldn't understand what she'd be doing with the boy. He had once mentioned Riddle to Amy and she had told of how he used to be a strange boy and had frightened the rest of the children but how he had done his bit of growing up and wasn't half bad now. How Riddle had fooled them all… but most of all her. Hermione. He searched for an answer, watching the tide roll in against the sand. And then it all clicked.

VII.

The morning had been a perfect one, Dennis thought as he sipped his tea. Upstairs, Riddle lay in his bed, eyes fluttering as he struggled to break his fever. Dennis tapped his fingers against the table as he heard people coming down from the stairway.

"How's he doing?" Dennis asked, standing up, worry cast over his face.

"Not too great. I'm not sure when he got so bad. He was coughing all week but I didn't think it was anything serious. And then this morning when he didn't come to breakfast-" Hermione explained with a tremble.

"Hey, it's okay," Dennis said, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her into a hug. "I'll stay for a while. I know quite a bit about medicines. Perhaps I can help bring the fever down."

Later that day, Dennis sat by Riddle's bed, using a damp wash cloth to wipe away the sweat that had dripped down Riddle's forehead. At the touch Riddle protested, half-conscious and flinching away.

"Shhh," Dennis whispered, "There's nothing you can do. I know what you are. I know what you're been doing to Hermione. Fighting it will only make it worse, so just sleep."

Meanwhile, Billy watched a restless Hermione pulling weeds in the garden. He knew Dennis was somehow behind it all and the guilt of not saying anything pressed down on his shoulders so that they sagged. Furthermore, what would he tell Amy? He couldn't just- couldn't just accuse Dennis without any real proof. He had done enough of that with Riddle and he had thought he had been bad (which was not to say he was completely convinced that he wasn't). Still, he couldn't help but feel like Riddle had been poisoned.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Amy.

"She's really taking this hard, isn't she?" Amy sighed. She caught sight of Billy's face and her eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I-" Billy started before pausing, the hesitation deepening his resolve. I have no other choice. He let his tears fall onto the counter as he began to confess all of his suspicions.

VIII.

Present Time - January 1946

Hermione twisted her fork, winding the spaghetti around it. She tried to pay attention to what Gilderoy was saying, but found herself losing interest with every gloating word. He had gone to school with her and had been in the same year, though they had never spoke. Now, she suffered in silence as he continued to prattle on about the time he fought off a gaggle of ghouls on a vacation in Prague once. Hermione wondered how he had ever been sorted into Ravenclaw and took a bite of her food, cursing Lavender for setting her up with him.

After what seemed like an hour, the waiter came by with the bill and Hermione was able to excuse herself, trying to smile as Lockhart suggested they do this again next week.

It was useless, she thought as she finally got home, slinging her bag on the couch and walking past the living room to go change out of her dress. This whole idea was pointless. She peeled the dress off her body and pulled a white cotton shirt over her head, digging in her drawer for some shorts.

The worst thing of all was knowing that he was back and not knowing when he was going to suddenly appear before her. She dreaded it, but still couldn't help cast her eyes about wherever she went, expecting her eyes to suddenly catch his staring back at her. And, thinking of him, she fell asleep.

"Hermione," he breathed, running his hand up her skirt. "We should be getting to class." He didn't stop, however, lightly running his thumb in circles against her thigh. "What would the professor think?"

"Tom," she said between the kisses he planted on her lips, "I thought- wait.. where are we?" She cast her eyes about, trying to recognize the room they were in and only meeting darkness.

He caressed her face with his hand, turning it back to face him and kissing her once more. "Hermione," he said, moving deftly between her legs, bodies flush against one another. "I'm sorry... I love you still."

She froze, the words sounding so familiar, and then flinched away. She could see more clearly now and panicked, she stumbled along the stone tiles in recognition. The Chamber.

"Hermione," his voice echoed teasingly against the pilasters that stood resolutely, holding the ceiling up above them. "I'm sorry." And then even harsher than before, "I love you still."

She ran into a side-tunnel; one of the great pipes that hid the chamber's secret. She kept going, rounding the edge of the intersection of pipes, her footsteps splashing against the wet floors. And then she saw those eyes, those red, horrible eyes and that was it. She woke up.

She poured herself a coffee, standing in her kitchen and letting the minutes roll by. She had no plans of going back to sleep tonight. Fuck. Things had gotten so terribly messed up. He had nearly died that summer and upon waking he'd decided never to come so close to it again. She hadn't known then how it would end - how everything would just slowly fall apart. He had promised her the world, an eternity of living. With an infinite amount of time on their hands they could make the world right. They could make the world better. Really, it was just the twisted dream of a scared boy.. To feel so powerless that he couldn't breathe unless he possessed more, controlled more.. And she should have seen it.

She put on her clothes, leaving her flat and walking down to the little bus stop that would bring her closer to the center of town. Amy had stopped speaking to them. Discredited under the pretenses that Hermione was being possessed by Riddle or some nonsense along those lines and the admission of Billy being gay, Hermione didn't blame her for making the worst decision in her life. It would have been the easier choice for anyone in that situation. She remembered Dennis's scandalized face as he reprimanded Hermione for not being grateful of his help. Amy married him the next year and needless to say neither Hermione nor Billy had been invited to the wedding.

When she got there, the bus hadn't arrived yet, so, pulling the book out of her bag, she flipped back to the pages where, neatly scrawled, were the words that taunted her in her dreams. And, when she looked back up, she saw those eyes staring at her, no longer red. Instead, they looked back at her, black, glistening, and sad.

(A/N) Alright well that was kind of an incredibly long wait. I kept on changing things and it just never got done. I said this was a three parter and this IS sort of the end but I'm kind of thinking I might do an epilogue and not have it end on a total cliff hanger - like a reprise of sorts. NO PROMISES THOUGH. I'm bad at following through 99% of the time I'm surprised I made it this far.