Thank you all for your wonderful reviews ! It really warms my heart especially since English is not my mothertongue so it has been a bit hard to write in English. So thank you very much. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, although, no Tomione encounter... But yay Tom's POV !

Ron and Harry glanced anxiously at each other. It was 11:59, they were in Albion, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. The main street was empty save for a grumpy man carrying two buckets of brown water.

"Where the fuck is she ?" whispered the red-head furiously.

Harry shrugged, staring unrelentingly at the horizon, hoping to see his bushy-haired friend's silhouette. The sky was blue, a baby shade of blue, inhabited by a few fluffy clouds.

"She made it," he mumbled, "she can't not have made it."

The clock of the town hall got to noon. Ron swore. They were not losing her, not after all they had already survived. He quickly climbed on Titus.

"C'mon we have to go look for her," he stated, voice hard, barely quivering.

Harry nodded and got on Claudius, still not blinking. Ron sighed. It was not very productive to stay there while the assailants were probably not very far.

"Where should we start looking fi-"

"Wait !" breathed Harry feverishly.

Ron glanced at the horizon. He could not help the beam that formed on his face. They both threw their horses in a gallop. Finally they were facing her. Harry gasped. She was not in great shape, and that would be an understatement.

She was covered in dust, her dark skin barely visible under the dirt. Her hair, usually already quite voluminous, had tripled in volume, the curls almost crackling with energy, rising on her head. Her sweat and her blood were running on her neck. She had a lot of blood on her forehead but apparently no injury. And she was beaming at them, her eyes furiously alive.

"Hello boys, missed me ?"

Ron, and Harry mind you, were staring at her mouth open, eyes wide. He shook his head frowing.

"I'd love to know how you ended up in such a frightening state 'Mione, I really do but-"

"I know," she cut him, still smiling of that oh-so-alive smile, "we have to go. I'll tell you when we're safer."

They nodded still staring at her dumbly.

"So," she chuckled, "should we get going or what ?"

Tom Riddle was not much of a patient man. You could say he had a bit of a temper. There were seven things he hated more than anything : death (his only of course), love (pure crap invented to get humans to reproduce), humiliation, pity, failure, unfaithfulness (from his death eaters) and disrespect.

When this... stupid girl ran away, no, managed to run away from him... Well, he was upset. She had humiliated him, she was nothing, and she had humiliated the great Lord Voldemort.

He snarled before spitting the blood that had pooled in his mouth. The bitch had had the nerves to hit him ! She had humoured him before this little bit. She had a smart mouth, when she was talking back to him, he could imagine all the delightful things he would do to her later. Namely, for starters, rip out her quick tongue.

Tom was what his 'colleagues' called a predator. He liked playing with his preys. That was why he had always liked the fact that his name was more legend than reality nowadays. He enjoyed seeing his victims unravel before him, fear making them crumble, kneel to his feet in supplication.

He loved the way their eyes would comically widen, quickly filling with tears.

But her... Yes, her eyes had widened, but there was no fear in them, there was shock at most. She had immediately thought of the fate she would share with her two companions. Clearly they were close, although there seemed not be any romantically involvement. At least that was what the Malfoy had said.

He spat again before wiping his nose and mouth on his sleeve. God it had been a long time since he had been hit that hard. Since he had been hit at all.

He crouched and took back his flask. Well the bitch must have drunk half of his whiskey too. He took a quick swig. Her smell was clinging to the leather. No, not her smell, the smell of her hair. It was, peculiar. He could not describe it. It was weirdly warm, the smell of warm earth after a sunny day.

He snorted. Yeah right. Well he would rip her hair off when he would get her hands on her again. Or drench it in something foul.

Tom grinned. The dawn was rising. The blood on his teeth was glinting with the golden sun. He would make her regret all of her actions. She would be special, his treat. Oh, he would take his time, and by the time he will be finished with her, no one will be able to recognize her. Maybe he should make her friends watch.

He raised his hand to his nose and winced. It was broken. He had to give it to her, she had guts. Well, it was not the first time he was hit in the nose. He could still breathe right. He wiped off the rest of the blood and got back on his horse Nagini.

"Come on let's go," he whistled.

"So," said Ronald between two mouthfuls of beans, "you're saying that the guy we knocked down in the forest says he's Lord Voldemort ?"

His laughter rang in the forest. Hermione shook her head chuckling.

"I know it sounds crazy, I mean he's just a legend right ?"

"Yeah," laughed Ronald, "mum used to tell us about him all the time, mainly to scare Fred and George from causing too much trouble, not that it worked out !"

Hermione joined him in his boisterous laughter. Yes, keeping George and Fred Weasley away from trouble was kind of a lost cause.

"I think he isn't a legend."

Harry had spoken very quietly but they both stopped laughing as soon as he did. He was looking at them with a serious face.

"The rumour is he killed my parents."

Hermione gave him a sad little smile and put her arm on his shoulders.

"We know Harry, it's just, you know it's never been proven. It's a rumour."

Her raven-haired friend sighed letting his head falling in his hands. Hermione rubbed his back going in circles. This was a tense subject. Death almost always was.

"I know, I know..."

Ronald was looking at them frowning.

"That's weird..."

She glanced at him. "What is ?"

"Well, the rumour about, Lord Voldemort only started like, ten, twelve years ago..."

"So ?"

He put his tin bowl still half full at his feet.

"Harry's parents were murdered seventeen years ago. How can it be the same person ? And how can the rumour be so...late ?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but ended up silent. Ronald was right. It was not logic. She hated what was illogical. She frowned.

"I... I don't know," she stated.

"Maybe he had not crafted his pseudonym yet," answered Harry bitterly.

"Or maybe the murder was wrongly attributed."

"Who got charged at the time ?" asked Ronald.

Hermione and Harry tensed slightly. Sometimes Ronald forgot that people who murdered persons from their side of the law were not charged. They were sometimes even congratulated.

"Who do you think ?" snapped Harry.

"Hey," murmured Hermione, "we're not fighting about this now."

"Yeah," he sighed, "sorry Ron it's just, it's... painful."

The red-head nodded clapping a hand on his friend's knee. "I'm sorry I didn't think before speaking. 'Mione is right, I should try it sometime."

They chuckled. Ronald picked up his beans and started eating again.

"Anyway," breathed Hermione, "that bounty hunter was way too young to be as experienced as Lord Voldemort is supposed to be."

Harry glanced at her. "So you don't think it's him ?"

She laughed. It was a relief to be rational again, not under the pressure of the threat of death. Of course it could not be him, Ronald was right. It was downright absurd. She had believed it because she had been panicking. She shook her head and shot a beaming smile at her two best friends.

"No way it's him, probably some random bounty hunter who wanted to scare me more than I already was."

Harry smiled tightly and returned her embrace. They were safe, for now.

"So Avery, what news do you bring ?"

The tension was palpable as the amicable chatter died as soon as Tom opened his mouth. The so-called Avery was sweating profusely under the hard stare of their leader. He was afraid, but at least thought Tom, he was trying to hide it.

"They were seen in Albion at noon, my Lord," the man spoke, his voice agitated with small tremors.

Tom raised his eyebrow. Did he really do such a bad job at teaching his followers how to deliver, useful, information ?

"Well, although that's fascinating, I'd rather know in which direction they set out."

He had let her, no, them, a day and a night as a head start. She, they, was promising prey. It was set out to be a good game. Anyway his followers needed the chase to keep in shape.

"They set out in the south direction, m'Lord."

"You can sit down."

Avery quickly scrambled to get a seat in the circle around the fire. The man next to him, Nott, gave him a flask full of whiskey and a piece of dried beef.

"Well," grinned Tom coldly, "looks like we're heading south gentlemen."

His death eathers cheered raising their flasks.

"Where d'you think they're heading m'Lord ?" asked a stout man named Mulciber.

"San Francisco."

The men glanced at each other, clearly doubting his ability to pinpoint their exact destination.

"Where else would they go ? Elsewhere, they have no freedom, they need a new town," his smile was widening, showing his glinting white teeth, "and we'll be there for them."

He would be there for her. The bitch had it coming her way.

The sun woke Hermione up. She had not slept that well for many nights. Smiling she stood up and started gathering their scarce belongings.

"Time to wake up boys," she sing-sung, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

Ronald stirred slowly opening his eyes. "Do we have coffee left ?"

"Yes but we're keeping it for this evening, you remember that we're not sleeping tonight don't you ?"

He grunted and turned to face his saddle.

"Harry," she whispered gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hum ?"

"We have to go, the sun has risen."

"Yeah..."

She sighed with a grin. Molly Weasley was right to complain, those two were a pain to wake up in the morning. Though she could not really blame them, they had not slept much in the past week.

She secured the cooking utensils in a ballot that would go on Harry's saddle. She looked at her own, already fastened on Hadrian. She frowned, remembering her resolution the night of the attack.

Eliciting a grunt from Ronald, she pushed him to have a look at the weapons fastened to his saddle. She took a pistol in her hands. It was heavier than she thought.

"What are you doing ?"

She quickly put the pistol in her belt and started looking at the few knives adorning the leather. "When we were attacked and separated I realized I had nothing to defend myself with, I'm not making the same mistake twice."

That blade looked good, or at least not rusty. She shoved it in her boot making sure it did not damage her coarse canvas pants.

"Yeah okay," mumbled the red-head, oblivious to what she had just said.

She rolled her eyes in amusement.

"C'me on boys, we're going !" she shouted not caring anymore about their dear sleep.

They grumbled things like "jeez mom", Ronald actually earned himself a good kick in the leg saying that, but finally got up and started packing and getting their horses ready. They yawned during the whole process, but at least, they were not sleeping anymore.

"Why are you so..." began to say Ronald gesturing at her frowning.

"Active that early ?" she completed giving him a stern look. "Because we're finally going south, so it means we'll get to San Francisco soon."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"She's right," smiled Harry while climbing on Claudius, "freedom will soon be ours."

"Ours" they repeated in unison.

Yes thought Hermione as they set out for a long journey. Nothing can stop us, we have managed to come this far after all.