CHAPTER TEN

Rosier was biting his fingernails, pacing in his dorm before his friends ... once followers of Tom Marvollo Riddle. Without their leader, they all felt vulnerable and without purpose. Rosier was once Riddle's confidante, his most trusted ally. There was a time not too long ago where he would have considered himself to be closer to the dark lord than any of the boys now sitting at his feet in a semicircle.

"She has seduced him from our righteous path, my friends." Rosier said quietly, making the boys have to listen hard to hear him. "Hermione Granger has corrupted our lord."

Nott asked, "What can we do about it?"

Rosier stopped pacing and looked down at him, "After having our cocks permanently fixed to our thighs, I'd have said 'nothing'. But, now ... I must take his throne." Rosier seemed to be trying to convince himself more so than the boys and resumed pacing, "Our lord must be reminded why he brought us all together. Who here is still faithful?"

Every boy, some more hesitant than others, raised their hand.

Rosier nodded with an involuntary shiver, "Right. Let's not delude ourselves that our lord has been weakened in any way. He could still wipe us out with one request from that mudblood-whore. That is why, on the night of the Graduation Ball, we will make our own mark in this castle's history. One that our lord will be too tempted by to not take part in.

"Our lord goes wherever that slut goes. Hermione Granger will be our main target. Once she is gone, I have little doubt that our lord will return to us. Then, we will lay a genocide to all the mudbloods at this castle on that night. They will be the first of many on the path to purifying our world, restoring our rightful place over the muggles. Who is with me?"

A first year Slytherin passing by Rosier's dorm flinched at the sound of many boys roaring a war-cry from behind the door.

Hermione squirmed restlessly beneath her bed sheets. She had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but, her brain had other ideas. Hermione was dreaming of Tom Riddle. He was standing at the gateway where the thestral-drawn carriages would stop outside the castle. There were flashes of green light flickering violently behind him, throwing his staggering outline into sharp relief.

In the dream, all she wanted to do was to embrace him. She wanted his arms around her. But, something was wrong with her body. She could not make it do what she wanted it to do as though she had been Imperiused.

Then, in her dream, Tom said to her, "You gave me no choice."

Hermione awoke with a gasp, lurching upward and breathing shallowly. Her dark eyes darted around the dormitory. She was alone. She squinted out the window at the morning sun, swallowing in an attempt to regain control of her lungs. With trembling hands, Hermione disentangled herself from her blankets.

It took her a moment to realize that the whimpering was coming from her own mouth. She calmed down as she was riffling through her trunk for a clean set of uniforms to wear. Then, she came across her calendar. It was shocking when she realized that the dance was no more than six days away. Beneath her calendar was the dress she had bought that day at Diagon Alley.

She stroked the dark green ornate fabric and toyed with the white elbow-length gloves that came with it, "Too bad I won't be wearing this."

Hermione scoffed darkly. As far as she could conclude, without having discussed it with Tom, they were no longer together. 'Consequently', she would not be attending the Graduation Ball. Hermione tried not to be too hard on herself for destroying all she had worked for to bring Tom back from the brink. But, the nights between now and her failure have been filled with back-to-back nightmares of seeing her parents dead, Ron dead, Harry dead, Mrs. Weasley dead ... Tom Riddle dead.

Hermione rubbed her welling eyes and blindly set out her clothes to change in to. About ten minutes later, Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor dining table bench that was furthest from the teachers. She considered not telling Slughorn that she had not succeeded with Tom. Hermione was starkly separated from all the other Gryffindors who were still lingering over their breakfasts, talking about nothing important. They don't know that their lives are in jeopardy and that it had been down to her to save them.

As she distracted herself with forcing down a decent breakfast, Tom took a seat on the bench directly behind her at the Hufflepuff table. If Hermione turned around and saw him, he would have frightened her and it would not be because she didn't expect to see him. The dark circles around his eyes had gotten worse. They looked more like bruises now. His skin, which had always been pale, was sickly.

If this hadn't been so serious, Hermione would have been astounded that he could still look so handsome. He observed her thick dark curls cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Tom winced when Hermione whimpered his name, so quietly that no one would hear it unless they were as close as he was to her. It was then that he realized he had been leaning closer to her and was off his seat. In his haste to withold his impulse, Tom made to sit back down on the bench but missed it by inches. He fell to the floor and Hermione immediately twisted around.

He could see that his ill health frightened her more than anything else, "Tom?"

Hermione had never considered what Tom would look like if he were sick. As ironic as it was to think, she always found him ... invincible.

As he scrambled back to his towering height before anyone else in the Great Hall would notice that he had fallen, Hermione whispered, "What happened? Did you stay out in the storm?"

Hermione didn't know where her mourning had gone. The second she saw how sickly Tom was, everything she had been thinking about was rapturously pushed aside. Tom was backing away from her, staggering a little.

"Stop," Hermione ordered him quietly, grabbing his boney wrist. "I'm not letting you go again. Let me help you, Tom. You're not alone, okay? You've got me."

Without waiting for him to reply, she pulled him out of the Great Hall just as they were starting to draw an audience. Tom felt weightless, and he knew it wasn't because he hadn't eaten in a day or more, "You just don't give-up, do you?"

Hermione looked up over her shoulder to give him a comforting smile, "I almost did. But, I'm here and you're with me. That's all that matters."

Tom let her guide him to an empty classroom on the second floor, sensing that there was a lot to be said. He didn't know how much time he had left. The curse was sucking his life straight from his heart, the culprit behind his failing health. Time was running out like the sand of an hour glass had been transfigured into mud. Tom decided that he wouldn't tell Hermione that he was ... dying.

He had read and reread everything he could get his hands on about rejecting horcruxes. From what he had gathered, adding to it that he had gone further than anyone else in history to achieve immortality, he would have to make a grand sacrifice to undo this powerful enchantment. This could kill him. He had never considered that there was something he could fear more than death ... it was losing her. He knew he would not be strong enough to atone for what he has done without Hermione at his side.

She had told him she was afraid of what he would do. Now, he realized, so was he. This all needed to stop. If he had to die for it to end, that was a price he was now willing to pay ... with interest.

Once they were inside the empty classroom, Hermione was at a loss as to how to proceed. Tom wasn't looking at her. That spot on the floor must be really intriguing to him. Hermione felt like this was the loudest silence they had ever shared.

She cleared her throat but he spoke, "That was hardly the way I had intended our trip to Hogsmeade to be remembered."

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms, leaning back on a desk, "Not preferably."

Tom, whom was much taller than her, had to sit on the top of the desk opposite her, "After my poor behavior, I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"I considered it," said Hermione.

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched almost into a smile, "You have nothing to contribute? Nothing to commentate on? For once, your lips are sealed."

Hermione nodded then leaned forward, "Unlock them, then."

Tom sat up from the desk, his black shoes clacking against the stone floor. He swaggered towards her at a steady pace, a confident pace that Hermione had been missing.

Before their lips would softly collide, Hermione gave him a weak grin when he whispered throatily, "Alohamora."