Disclaimer: Not mine. But you knew that already.

We are not haunted by the dead.

We are haunted by the living

And the graveyard of memories

They leave in our heads.

- Nikita Gill

The next week passed slowly. Tom was avoiding her, which suited Hermione perfectly. She didn't particularly want to associate with him, knowing everything she did about what he would become, and Tom apparently didn't want to associate with her after her admission of pitying him either.

He'd moved her to a room in Abraxas' wing of the Manor under the pretense of propriety but neither she nor Abraxas was deceived by the excuse. He only wanted to distance himself from her. But… truthfully, the distance was making her nervous. Abraxas had made a good point. Tom wanted something from her. He wanted her knowledge of the future but that didn't explain why he hadn't just pillaged her mind for her secrets and then killed her. There were so many other ways of extracting the information: Veritaserum, Legimancy, torture… She knew she'd told him nothing would work to make her breathe a word to him but it didn't explain why he hadn't at least tried

So rather than think about what else Tom might want from her, she'd thrown herself into research, hoping that she could find something to explain why she was here and bracing herself against whatever unpleasantness would surely unfold when Tom finally approached her again. Abraxas spent whatever time she didn't spend holed up in her rooms with her, and she found she didn't mind having a keeper so much, especially since Abraxas was fairly good company. He had a sharp, dry wit and a quick tongue, much like his future grandson, but without the viciousness and arrogance that Draco had always exhibited.

So far, the only thing she and Abraxas had been able to uncover in their comprehensive sweep of the Malfoy library was a description of the Morrigan's powers and symbols in a book proclaiming itself to be a guide to the gods, which had confirmed some of the details of her dream – the members of the Triad, the forms they took, their obligation to maintain balance. Of course, there was controversy on a number of those points… but, really, what did she expect when dealing with myths and legends and beings that had no business existing outside of bedtime stories and ghost stories around the campfire?

She sighed as she leaned her forehead against a shelf, staring at the list of titles Abraxas had handed her this morning before he'd muttered something about Tom needing him that morning and that he'd be back to escort her to lunch. Her stomach clenched at the thought.

She could handle most of Tom's Death Eaters, the exception being Dolohov, who as far as she could tell was intelligent, handsome… and cruel. She had no doubt that, even without Tom's influence, Dolohov would be charismatically immoral. She's seen him torture a stray tortoiseshell cat crossing his path the other morning and she'd had to dash to the washroom to throw up after watching the casual display of brutality to something as innocent as that poor cat. The worst part though, had been the smile he'd fixed on her afterward… the ingratiating anticipation within it… as though she should be grateful for what he'd done… as though she owed him a favour for it. Or perhaps that given half a chance, she'd be next.

She'd have to see Tom as well, and her breath stuttered slightly at the thought of seeing Tom again after the… episode… last week. He hadn't said more than a few words to her since then, for all that she sat on his left with Abraxas on her other side. For all his aloofness, his eyes never left her if she was in the same room as him though. He watched every single interaction of hers with his followers with sharp eyes, never missing a single nuanced expression. And every time she met his eyes, she remembered what he'd looked like just after Abraxas had broken through his rage. The anger veiling vulnerability and hurt.

She squeezed her eyes shut trying to forget the vulnerability she'd witnessed in his eyes… that hurt. Voldemort didn't show weakness. He didn't have emotions. He certainly didn't have feelings that could be hurt. She hadn't hurt his feelings, had she? She tried to convince herself she hadn't but something deep in her gut twisted into uncertainty that she brushed off angrily remembering Harry's warning again. Remember, his voice whispered through her mind, He is an expert at manipulation. He'll slither his way into your soul and brainwash you until he controls your every thought. Doublespeak, Hermione.

Her breath rasped out in a huff. It was difficult being here and seeing who he'd been before his resurrection. The handsome, charming man with a sincere smile and intelligent comments. The man she hadn't seen lift a finger to hurt anything or anyone since the night she'd arrived. He hadn't even really hurt her that first night either and since then he'd done nothing. She wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to know if she could save him.

She sighed and focussed on her list again, shaking off any thoughts about Tom. Today she might just find something.

HG*TR

Abraxas frowned as he walked into the library and didn't immediately see Hermione curled up in one of the chairs reading or taking notes at a desk. She could still be in the stacks looking for the titles on the list he'd handed her that morning but that had been hours ago and she was almost as familiar with the library's organization system now as him.

"Hermione?" he called uncertainly. He knew she wasn't here willingly, that she wanted nothing to do with Tom or himself or any of the other men who visited the house regularly, but he thought he'd at least convinced her that not all of them were the violent bloody-thirsty monsters she thought they were. At any rate, she seemed to enjoy his company now rather than shy away from him as she had initially.

Crap, he thought when there was no immediate answer, If she's somehow escaped Tom will skin me. He strode into the rows of shelfs scanning for any sign of his missing charge and calling out again. He paused as he heard a low murmur of voices from one corner of the large space. He thought he recognized Hermione's voice raised in near panic and his blood ran cold.

Fuck. He'd thought it would be alright to leave her alone for a few hours to finalize the papers that would legally make her his cousin since no one else in the Manor with the exception of Tom had any interest in the library. He had obviously been wrong. He followed the sound of Hermione's voice and growled as he recognized Antonin Dolohov's voice answering her.

"Sweetheart," his low voice rumbled, "I'd do more for you than Riddle ever could." Abraxas growled at the double entendre in his words. If Tom could hear Antonin's advances on the girl he'd claimed…

"Tom has been… very kind," Hermione's voice wavered uncertainly, as though she was trying to figure out how to extricate herself from the conversation. Abraxas paused as he came almost within sight of the two, wanting to see how the situation played out. "But… I'll keep your… er… offer… in mind if I have any problems down the line."

There was a low chuckle and a gasp that had Abraxas growling low in his throat sure that Antonin had made some ill-advised advance.

"Mr. Dolohov, could you please move?" Hermione said, "I need…" Her voice trailed off oddly and then snapped back into life. "Would you keep your hands to yourself?" she hissed and Abraxas burst around the corner of the last set of shelves to see Antonin with Hermione pressed up against the bookshelves. One hand wrapped behind her pressing her lower back closer to him while the other reached for her breast. Hermione had a look of horror fixed on her face and her hands were braced against Antonin's chest, trying to pry him off her.

"Hermione? Antonin?" Abraxas said, and she startled, looking at him wildly.

"Abraxas!" she exclaimed, an expression of pure relief and gratitude crossing her face briefly. Then she seemed to realize the compromising position she was in and managed to shove Antonin off her while she flushed a deep horrified red. "This… this isn't what it looks like. Mr. Dolohov…"

"I keep telling you to call me Antonin," Dolohov purred, stalking toward Hermione again. She squeaked and flinched away from him. Abraxas growled and pulled her behind him as he glared at Antonin.

"Hermione relax," Abraxas reassured her as she began to babble explanations behind him, "I saw everything." She fell silent but he felt her clutch the back of his robes anxiously.

"Are you sure about that?" Antonin asked darkly, "Did you see the minx trying to seduce me?" Hermione's fingers dug into his back angrily but she mercifully remained silent, allowing Abraxas to deal with the crass idiot standing in his library.

"I saw," Abraxas said carefully, "something you should hope I don't report to our Lord. You know she's untouchable."

"Then he should keep his whore on a shorter leash," Antonin sneered, leering at Hermione, "And allow us to bring other entertainment onto the property." Hermione twitched behind Abraxas, obviously itching to respond but a stern glance from Abraxas silenced her.

"Watch what you say about my cousin, and our Lord's fiancé, Dolohov," Abraxas' voice was quiet and even but held a dangerous edge. He pulled his wand from its holster on his belt and toyed with it loosely in his hand, daring Antonin to make another lewd comment.

Antonin scoffed but watched the wand warily. "No matter," he shrugged, "Our Lord has promised me a taste as soon as he's finished with her anyway. I hope you're prepared to disown her because—"

"I'd stop there if I were you," Abraxas said cutting him off with forced cheer, "I haven't disowned her yet, and I am rather fond of her at the moment. I wouldn't want to have to take offense to a careless comment meant in jest and have to defend her honour."

"No of course not," Antonin sneered, shoving his way past Abraxas and toward the Library's exit. "Your watchdog won't be on duty forever, sweetheart," he hissed as he passed Hermione, "Watch your back. You never know what's lurking in the shadows."

HG*TR

Hermione shuddered and collapsed against one of the bookshelves as she heard the library door slam shut. The skin on her lower back crawled where Dolohov had touched her and his warnings rang in her ears. She was barely aware of Abraxas calling to her as she gasped against the panic that gripped her. She didn't believe for a second that Tom was going to pass her on to Dolohov after she finally told him what she wanted. She knew him well enough to know that he didn't share his toys even after their novelty wore off. However, she also knew Dolohov's threat wasn't idle. Given half a chance he would violate her in some way and somehow twist it so she was the one blamed for the transgression.

"Hermione." She jerked as Abraxas managed to break through her panicked haze and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You- you don't believe…" she stuttered and stiffened as he pulled her into a tight hug. Surprised, she let herself relax into the gesture, feeling protected for the first time since she'd arrived here. Tears burned her eyes as he pulled back and examined her carefully.

"Are you ok?" he demanded, "Because if he hurt you…"

She swallowed. "Y-yeah," she said shakily, "Just… unsettled. He… I…"

"He's a fucking bastard," Abraxas hissed as he glared at the door Dolohov had disappeared through, "Did he do anything else? Touch you in any way other than what I saw?"

"N-no," Hermione said as the adrenaline started to fade away and she was left feeling drained, tired, and scared, "He came in here about 15 minutes ago, looking for you and when he found out you'd left me here alone… he… he cornered me. You walked in just as…"

Abraxas nodded. "Good. Try not to be left alone with him again. I probably made it worse and he's going to fixate on you now." She nodded and her hand fluttered over the scar on her chest. After a long moment of silence Abraxas shifted and pulled her to her feet. "Did…" he started hesitantly, "Did he ever do something to you? In the future?"

Hermione stiffened and pulled away as he grasped the hand that trembled over the scar Dolohov had given her in the Department of Mysteries. "There's history there, yes," she said finally, fixing her gaze on the ground, "They told me later I was lucky to survive. That the curse that hit me probably would have killed me if he hadn't had to cast it non-verbally."

"What—" Abraxas started to ask her but she shook her head and turned to walk back to the Library's study nook.

"Please… I don't want to talk about it right now," she whispered and was grateful when Abraxas fell silent and followed her out of the stacks.

"Right…" he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet uncomfortably, "How's the research coming today?"

Hermione sighed and gestured to the books spilling across her desk. "How does it look like it's going?" she rebutted and smiled as Abraxas laughed and sank into one of the arm chairs.

"Nothing yet?" he sighed and she shook her head, leaning against the edge of the desk and looking at him. "Have you considered that you might not…?"

Hermione's eyes slid closed as her shoulders tensed at the thought. "Yes," she grit out through clenched teeth, "I… Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who meddle with time. I don't want to… compromise anything that has to happen."

"I think you need to plan for that eventuality, Hermione," Abraxas said, "Tom's patience is wearing thin, especially after what happened last week, and the longer you leave talking to him, the less pleasant he'll be."

"I know," Hermione ground out. She flinched under the critical look Abraxas fixed on her. She did know but she also knew the consequences of meddling with time. She'd spent a year going back an hour at a time to attend classes taking place simultaneously using a Ministry-issued time-turner. And while she and Harry had gotten away with their (highly illegal) stunt with Sirius at the end of the year, there were so many things that could have gone unpleasantly wrong. "I do know. But… There has to be something," she finished brokenly.

Abraxas sighed. "Ok," he said, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly, "Ok. Just consider approaching him soon okay? I… I don't want to see you hurt."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude for the blonde wizard who, against all reason, seemed to care about her. "I will. I promise," she said, softening, "If I don't find something before the end of the week, I'll tell him… something. Ok?" Abraxas nodded and stood up. "Thank you," she whispered and watched as he nodded again, a small smile flickering across his face.

"You're welcome," he said, "I have to go see Tom for a while… Will you be ok here on your own? I'll Ward the door so only you, Tom, or I can enter or exit."

Hermione smiled thinly, not happy that he was going to leave her here alone after being cornered by Dolohov but not wanting him to see her discomfort. "I'll be fine," she said, "I'll probably be in the stacks when you get back. I'm pretty well finished with these." She gestured to the stacks of books on the desk with a grimace. She thought he saw through her mask nonetheless, although he waved awkwardly and left the library hurriedly anyway with a final comment saying that she could find him and Tom in the study if she really needed either of them.

She sighed and looked at the stack of discarded books disparagingly for a moment before she waved her wand to send all except one back to their places on the shelves. She turned to the page she'd marked, rereading the passage on the binding spell Tom had used on her the night she'd arrived.

Lorem fidei

Traditionally, this spell originated in the 9th century and was used to bind witches to their husbands to prevent infidelity. The spell creates a tether between the castor and its target, preventing the person it is cast on from moving farther away from the castor than they desire, effectively binding the target to them. The tether can be set to any distance, but will slacken if the castor does not set or maintain specific bounds. The binding can only be undone by the person who cast it.

The entry was short and lacked the detail (or the arithmancy equation) she'd wanted but it was the only book she'd found that even had a mention of the spell. Ever since the day Tom had cast it, she'd been curious about how the tether worked seeing as she seemed to be able to move as freely as she desired although she hadn't tested that extensively. She could only assume that Tom let the leash loosen when he didn't feel the need to intimidate her.

She closed the book with another sigh and sent it back to the bookshelves as well. Then she wandered over to the only section of the library she and Abraxas hadn't scoured. She scanned the titles tiredly, not really expecting anything to turn up and stopped dead as she noticed a soft glow from the far corner. She approached the shelf warily and paused when she saw the small black journal resting there. As she reached it the glow vanished and she stared at the journal warily. It looked eerily like Riddle's diary and she was wary of touching something that might possess a piece of the darkest magic she'd ever encountered. She drew in a deep breath and started casting diagnostic and detection spells and her frown grew as she started to cast them for a second time: nothing. So, what had made the slim volume light up?

Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the volume off the shelf carefully. As she held the journal gingerly in her hand, it grew warm and glowed softly again. She drew in a sharp breath and almost dropped it but caught herself in time. After a long moment of the journal not doing anything else, she gingerly flipped the small book open to the first page with trepidation and gasped as she read the inscription there.

This book is the property of Cannlos, son of Cú Chulainn.

Herein lies the story of Cú Chulainn and his consortium with Morrigu as relayed by his son Connla:

Hermione flipped the page and scanned the first entry excitedly. Cú Chulainn was a known consort of the Morrigan. One who had scorned the Morrigan and she'd retaliated by pitting against him in battle to kill him. This could be her answer! Proof that her dream of the Morrigan had some truth to it.

I am writing this as a cautionary tale to any who might draw the blessing of the Morrigan down upon them. In some ways it is a blessing – a chance to mend the lives of those wronged by bloodshed and violence – and others a curse. It has been many years since I righted the wrongs of my father Cú Chalainn and despite causing my own death in the timeline much sooner, I am still here as the Morrigan waives the repercussions of making changes to the timeline. Although she says that what was changed was never meant to happen in the first place, and my act of righting the timeline places me outside of it so there is no paradox…

I'm not sure that I will ever understand but I think it is important that people know of my father's folly and what it almost cost us all.

(-*-)

Father killed me this morning. He killed me in the Battle of Muirthemne, battle lust on his face, and no regret. I saw the malicious glee, the lack of humanity marring his face this morning. I do not know when he lost the last bit of humanity. He represented justice and fairness at one point but he's been twisted and contorted into a monster that does not know humanity anymore.

Any kindness is gone, I saw that today as he shouted the incantation to kill me and a green bolt of light flashed toward me. If it hadn't been for mother's intervention – her attempt at deflecting the curse meant to kill me – I might have died then, but her deflection charm intercepted the killing curse and turned the two streams of light an icy blue.

When the bolt of light hit me, it seemed to explode outward in a crackling ball of blue lighting. My hair stood on end and I heard my mother scream my name before the world imploded inward and everything went dark. In the darkness, I heard the words my father last spoke to me: "By my blood I have become undone." It was his voice and one other; a woman with a clear high voice. In the ensuing silence, the world exploded outward again and I slammed into the ground.

When I looked around I found myself in a cave with the main passage splitting three ways. In each passage one of the aspects of the Morrigan stood. At first, I could not believe it but then Macha spoke and told me of my father's derision of her and the curse she'd laid on him in revenge. She'd sworn if he would not have her love, he would have her hatred and she would pit herself against him in battle. But she hadn't anticipated her vow stripping him of his humanity and twisting him into the monster he became.

He wreaked chaos everywhere he went and too many lives were lost as a result. The Morrigan has tasked me with restoring the balance and to do so she has sent me back to a time before my father's birth to ensure he never chooses the path that led to my presence here today. She swore there would be no repercussions to any actions I might take to prevent my father's folly as the events that led to it should not have occurred.

She'd done it! She'd found the proof she needed to bring her theory to Tom. She laughed in relief, feeling tears roll down her cheeks as tension drained away from her. According to this she could tell Tom anything since the rules she'd learned in third year didn't apply here. She dashed out of the library happily to find Abraxas and show him what she'd found.

*HG*TR*