Chapter 10

"Hermione, wake up. It's time to go."

Her eyes snapped open at Tom's voice and she sat up in the ancient bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"It's still dark," she said, flinging her legs over the edge of her bed. She could make out the hazy outlines of his shoulders against the window but his face was hidden in darkness.

"Yes, it is and I mean to reach our destination before evening. We'll need a clear idea of the area, the building and the people inhabiting it and for that, we need light."

Yawning, she reached for her coat.

Her hair had managed to get loose and was giving her a hard time.

"Alright," she said, tying her bushy mane behind her. "I'm ready to go."

When they left the house, the moon was still shining in the sky. It was pre-dawn.

She shivered and pulled her cloak closer to her body, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

Tom had stayed silent all this while and she could see from the slight frown in his face that he was immersed deep in thought. He also walked faster than her and she had to jog to keep up.

When they reached the town centre, however, he halted, craning his neck sideways and it seemed like he was listening for something.

She bit her lip as a strong gust of wind hit them. It was cold, far too cold outside. She squinted up at the sky and noticed that clouds were gathering.

And still, Tom stayed immobile, his eyes glassy and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Finally, when she began to get annoyed, she crossed her arms and asked him, "What is it, Tom?"

He blinked and turned his head to face her, scowling, and she felt like he had only just noticed her presence.

"Stay here," he said and turned away from her. "I'll be right back."

And without another word, before Hermione could protest, he took off towards what look like another well-preserved building. It was larger than most and she watched his wiry form disappear in the door way.

She sighed and sat near a fountain; a beautiful construction made purely of white marble, and looked heavenwards.

Bugger. It would definitely rain. And if Tom didn't return in time, she'd get soaked.

She waited for him and as time grew longer, she started wondering about things that weren't immediate concerns.

Her memories, she squeezed her eyes shut. No, don't go there. Not now.

And those men—she swallowed. There had been no mercy in their eyes and as such; she could believe that they were perfectly capable of murder at will. But why had they taken Tom's friends? Those idiotic boys came from wealthy families and perhaps it was for ransom—that would explain why they didn't abduct Tom as well. And yet…

They bore the Hallows' mark and this bothered her, pricking a distant part of her mind.

Why the Hallows' mark? Was it mere symbolism or something more? Could it be that Grindelwald was after them? But the story was simply a myth—it couldn't be true.

She took a deep breath and stared at the dim outlines of buildings around her. What had happened here? Why had a prosperous community simply abandoned its town?

"There you are," Tom's voice called out from some distance and she looked up in surprise. She hadn't seen him emerge from the building. He waved her over and she rolled her eyes.

She stood up and brushed the dust off her cloak. She dragged her feet while she approached him with an annoyed look on her face.

"I thought you wanted to be early," she said accusingly. "And running away sight-seeing isn't exactly conducive to our tight schedule, is it?"

"Well, yes and we will reach in time." He had a smug look on his face and she raised her eyebrow in question.

"Why did you go running into that building then, if I might ask?"

He shrugged and turned away from her, ready to leave.

"Well?" she persisted, catching up with him. She matched his faster pace, not giving him a chance to evade her question. "What was so important?"

He halted and she almost ran into his back.

"All in good time, Hermione." He gave her a wink and she bristled.

"No. I want to know now. No secrets between us, remember." She crossed her arms and pinned him with a glare.

He was beginning to get annoyed, she could see.

"Hermione," his tone had an edge to it and she cringed inwardly, "now is not the time."

Well, she was annoyed too. She had virtually no answers to any of her questions and this had to stop.

"Well, I am not moving until you tell me. I'm sick and tired of not being in the know, especially when you have the answers and won't tell me." It was the wrong time to throw a tantrum and especially in a place like this but there was this block in her mind—she couldn't take it anymore and she had no reason why. "I thought we were partners, and if we are to remain so we can't have secrets between us."

Tom tilted his head and she thought she saw something crimson cross his silver gaze but she stood her ground. Let him be mad if he wanted to. She wouldn't move until he told her. And this might only be a small victory, but it would be worth it.

For the longest time, he stood staring at her, his face expressionless and his eyes intently focussed on her face.

"Very well," he said finally. "If you must know, dear Hermione, then here's your answer: I went inside the building to fetch this."

She winced at the razor edge in his voice but her attention was immediately drawn to a small crystal orb that he withdrew from his pocket. It was the size of a small tennis ball, and inside it swirled snow.

Snow.

She felt cold.

"What is it?"

"I don't know but I mean to find out."

"I can't believe you went in for… this. I mean, it might just be a toy."

He gave her a look that clearly meant to ask 'how stupid are you' without him uttering the words.

"It's not a toy or I wouldn't have noticed it." He rolled his eyes. "Just hold your tongue and listen, for once. It's not that hard to distinguish magical object from others. And you're a witch, aren't you?"

Much as she wanted to give him a fitting reply and wipe that condescending smirk off his face, her interest was piqued. Now that he mentioned it, she could see that there was something different about it. She closed her eyes slightly, her eyelids half open, and the strong hum was unmistakable…

It was no toy.

"I could hear it buzzing, even when we were in the house," Tom said, pocketing the tiny orb.

"It's very strong, isn't it?"

He nodded imperceptibly. "I don't know what it is or what it does, but I'll know soon. I'm good at magic, aren't I?"

"You're too arrogant when it comes to magic, you know."

"And why not? I've earned the right, don't you think? Oh don't look so annoyed, Hermione; truth isn't something to turn your nose up at—you need to relax and accept it."

She rolled her eyes at his statement and punched his shoulder lightly.

His eyes were mirthful, dancing in humour now.

She liked that. She liked it when he smiled, and when he laughed. She even liked it when he declared arrogantly, far too often for her liking, that his skills at magic were unsurpassed.

A heavy drizzle covered the world around them—the trees, the cracked mud and the sky. Tom sat motionless under a tree, vaguely aware of the sounds that rain made. Not a single drop fell on them, of course. An invisible dome of a water repelling charm covered them and the tree, and as such they were dry. Cold was another case entirely. Of course, he could draw them a fire but he refrained from it. It could invite unwanted attention.

He glanced at Hermione—she had fallen asleep whilst they waited for the rain to subside, her head leaning against his shoulder and her arms hugging herself tightly.

She was so—infuriating. His eyes travelled to the stray curls that had spread around her face, marring her features here and there, and his lips cracked in a small smile. Stubborn and irksome, like a housefly.

And in every aspect, she was hard to understand. He could list more than twenty flaws he found in her, off the top of his head, ranging from lack of beauty to distinct, unladylike behaviour. And there was very little to like in her, very little—and yet…

His thoughts shifted to their destination. They were close, less than an hour away, which was why he had deemed it alright to rest for a while before they moved on. He was sure of the location—the boys would be there.

"Tom?"

His attention went to her, surprised that she had woken up so quickly.

She did not remove her head from his shoulder though and he didn't mind.

"It's so cold."

He could feel her shivering.

"Only for a little while," he answered, wondering if he should start a fire. No, it would be unwise.

She shifted and removed her head, moving her neck sideways while she rubbed the back of her neck.

"I've been thinking—do we have a plan for when we reach the town? To—you know…"

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the rainfall.

"Yes, but I can only know fully once we reach there and scout the area for probable dangers."

She didn't reply for a while and he looked at the sky once more, breathing in the damp smell of rainfall. He had always loved storms, for as long as he could remember—they opened an unknown door in his soul, or whatever remained of it, and he remembered feeling joy.

Joy, what a treacherous word.

Nothing gave him joy anymore, though. The rain simply eased the burn.

His plans had been waylaid disastrously and the trip had failed utterly—unless… But he couldn't know for sure and there was no point in striking unless he knew. But all that could wait.

All this while, he realised, Hermione had been speaking and he had missed her conversation entirely.

"Well?" she said—perhaps she had asked a question.

"What was that again?"

She shook her head, cracking her knuckles. "You weren't listening, were you? Honestly, sometimes you're as bad as Malfoy!"

He snorted.

She glared at him.

"You know it's true, don't you?" she repeated, arms crossed. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. Really now, she could have chosen someone better for comparison.

"How so?" he humoured her; there was very little to do and they had to bide their time until the rain stopped.

"Well, for one thing—you're both arrogant."

He inclined his head. "Yes, but you forget that my arrogance stems from real knowledge and power whereas Malfoy—well, he's just drunk on wealth and influence. Two entirely different things, when you think about it."

"Nah," she said, clicking her tongue at him. "Arrogance is still arrogance, no matter the reason behind it."

"Hmm. What else?"

"Well, you're both ambitious—I won't go into the reasons or your goals, but the bare facts are enough—you wouldn't have ventured out here, and all those boys wouldn't have followed unless there was something to gain by the trip, no?"

She was close, quite close, and it surprised him.

"Friendship is a good reason, don't you think?" he tried to wrong foot her, hoping she'd take the bait and agree with him.

"No, I don't believe that one bit. It doesn't take long to judge that friendship isn't a motivator."

He turned towards her completely, looking straight into her eyes.

"And you? Why are you here with me? You didn't have to come—with us, blindly, into this expedition. Even now, you can go you know. Or stay here, away from danger—I am quite capable of handling my matters alone. Are you guilty of ambition too, Hermione?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times, and finally looked away.

"I'm here because you're my only friend in the world, Tom, and you know that quite well. If I learn something from you and others along the way, that's a different case altogether."

She looked flushed and he wondered why. But he did not doubt her words. It was another one of her faults—as far as he had known her, she was transparent—guileless in so many ways that it annoyed him to no end.

"I believe you."

She nodded in acknowledgement and gazed up at the sky.

"We could go. Your impervious charm will hold even while we walk. There's no need to stay here anymore."

He stayed silent for a while, watching her quietly while she watched the grey clouds.

"A little more time," he said, rubbing his Slytherin ring in his palm, away from her sight. "It won't be long before the rain ceases altogether and I want to have the benefit of complete sight."

She said nothing and he watched as she drew out an apple from his backpack, taking a huge bite from its red crust, not even bothering to offer him some.

It was a small town, hardly the size of a large village, and sparsely populated. A river ran through it and was used as the main transport route. As Tom had said, it was a small trading outpost, nothing more.

They crouched behind a few bushes, close to a warehouse, and scanned the area. So far, it seemed deserted.

"Is this it?" she asked in confusion.

Tom nodded imperceptibly, his silver eyes glistening and he took in the entire scene. "This is it. The boys are in there and we have to figure out a way to get to them."

"How do you know for sure?"

His shoulders went taut but he did not turn towards her. "Now is not the time for questions, Hermione. Follow my lead."

His tone had such finality to it that she could not protest.

And without a warning, he took off towards the backdoor. She paused in surprise but gathered her wits about her quickly, and launched after him.

He pressed a finger on his lips, indicating her to keep quiet while they sneaked through the small corridor. The warehouse seemed to have various levels for some reason and Hermione wondered why. Entry hadn't been difficult at all. The backdoor had been unlocked and they simply had to walk in. So far, they hadn't caught sight of anyone around.

She kept close to him, breathing silently. Her head flitted to and fro while she took in every bit of the interior. Her heart beat loudly and she was afraid of getting caught any moment.

Tom halted suddenly and she almost yelped in surprise.

He withdrew his wand and tapped her shoulder and she felt cool liquid begin to flow through her skin. Of course, a Disillusionment charm. He repeated the same for himself and Hermione felt better immediately.

For all intents and purposes, they were invisible.

As soon as he was finished, he grabbed her hand and led her forward. It was safer, she reflected. Despite the disillusionment charm, his hands felt wonderfully soft and large.

They passed by a small room. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear voices, loud voices. She also caught the stench of alcohol.

Tom tugged at her hand, urging her to move quickly. The stairs at the end of the corridor were close by and she tried to make very little sound as she climbed upstairs.

The first floor landing was just as bare as the ground floor and she felt claustrophobic. She turned her head this way and that, wondering if there was someone around. It seemed deserted and she breathed a sigh of relief, concluding that they had passed undetected so far.

"Which room?" she whispered in his ear.

"The last one, I think," he answered, not letting go of her hand, and she was dragged towards it. She heard, rather than saw, Tom turn the handle. It was locked.

She felt him reach for his wand and the lock opened a second later, its loud click making her bite her tongue.

The inside of that room was bare and without windows. The wooden floor creaked under their feet and the ceiling was too low.

No furniture graced the room, however, and in one sweep of her gaze she took in everything.

The boys were there, alright. They were conscious too but it looked like someone had beaten the shit out of them. They were also tied to the wall behind them, manacles clamped on their wrists, and Hermione thought they looked deathly pale.

"Malfoy."

The boy looked up in surprise. He seemed to be largely unhurt and his blonde hair was a dirty colour. But he hadn't heard them enter. She could see large, angry red marks lining his pale skin and she was reminded of her own bruises. She had taken the worst of them, when she had fought those men, and the boys had simply surrendered.

"You came," he whispered hoarsely, coughing. Perhaps he wasn't unhurt after all. "I didn't think you would."

Tom said nothing and turned his head towards Lestrange. Despite his desperate situation, he seemed bored.

"Lestrange, are you ready?"

"Ready when you are," the dark-haired boy replied. "Mulciber might need some assistance though."

Hermione's attention went to the plump boy in the corner. His eyes were scared and his face tear-stained. He was the most pathetic sight of all and her heart went out to him.

"What—why did they do this to you?" Words left her mouth before she could think.

"Not now," Tom cut off Malfoy just as he was about to reply. His eyes went to Avery, who had his head buried in his knees. He hadn't even looked up. "We need to get out of here, silent and fast. Is he awake?" He pointed his thumb at Avery.

"Yes."

Avery looked up this time and swallowed when he saw Tom's face. "Tom—I—"

"Not now, Avery. Later."

He nodded quietly and Tom set to freeing the boys of their manacles whilst Hermione stood watching, feeling quite unhelpful once more. She couldn't do anything but stare. She had no wand. And the cubes—no, not now.

"Have they checked in? The captors?"

"No. Not since yesterday."

"Good. This won't take long and then we should hope that our luck holds out."

Within a few minutes, the boys were freed. Malfoy stood gingerly and Hermione noticed that he was limping. Avery on the other hand, could walk normally and Hermione wondered why he hadn't been punished as much as the others. Lestrange straightened quietly and helped Mulciber.

"How do we get out now—we have no wands, and all of us are hurt." Malfoy voiced the question that had been hanging on the tip of her tongue.

"We improvise," Tom replied casually, scanning the room. "I'll disillusion us all—it won't last very long but it should be just enough so that we can get out of this building. Avery and Lestrange, you help Mulciber—Malfoy will lead and I'll take the rear. Hermione, stay close."

The trip downstairs was more harrowing than the one upstairs—every moment Hermione was afraid of being caught and the slightest sound made her jumpy. Mulciber was heavy, and Lestrange and Avery were slow but they managed to reach the backdoor without much incident.

She was thanking the stars that their luck had held out and she was almost sure, when they stepped out of the door, that they'd manage to escape.

This was the moment when things began to go wrong.

Horribly wrong.

The Disillusionment charm wore off as soon as they climbed down the stairs. A loud yell rang across the yard and she looked up in horror, noticing the men who had only just emerged from the forest path.

The very path Tom had meant to take home.

Another man shouted something and began to run towards them, ready to attack, and they were trapped. Behind them lay the warehouse and in front of them were their adversaries.

"Shit!" Tom cursed, flinging a well aimed stunner at the closest man. It hit him squarely in the chest and he slumped against the ground. "Alright, this is desperate. I had meant to avoid this but there is no other way. We're running towards the river. Now. Take any exit you can find and just find your way to the docks."

He ran to one side and a curse barely missed him. Hermione's senses returned to her and she followed after him, running as fast as she could. She heard others follow behind and more shouts went up in the clearing. The warehouse lights began to come on and she urged her legs to run faster, after Tom, taking cover of the walls and the trees as much as she could. Behind her, she could hear Malfoy limping as fast as he could. But there was no sign of Avery, Mulciber and Lestrange.

Grindelwald's men must have been surprised at their sudden escape and it gave Hermione a small amount of time but she could hear the louder thuds of their boots chasing them. She turned a corner, Malfoy following close behind, and she found herself in an alley.

"Which way to the river?" Malfoy panted, halting only for a second.

"I don't know," she said hurriedly and chose one path. "Just run, there's no time to waste."

She ran blindly into the night, turning this corner and that, and it was surprising that she didn't run into anyone. There were no pedestrians, no townspeople to speak of. But she could hear the men following them, close behind, and no matter how hard she tried, they couldn't lose them.

Her breath was beginning to get shorter now and there was no sign of Tom.

Suddenly, Malfoy stumbled and fell down behind her.

"You idiot!" She ran back to him, holding out her hand. "Get up, get up—if they catch us because you could not run, I swear—"

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, for just then, she heard him.

"Don't move."

A loud command.

A burly man with auburn hair and piggish eyes, probably in his forties, stood at the end of the dark lane. He had his wand pointed straight at her and the cold look in his eyes told her that he would murder her without question if she disobeyed.

Behind him, more men poured into the alley, cursing, yelling—she couldn't make out their words but it wasn't going to be anything good. The one in the front though, he seemed to know English, and he moved towards her with slow, sure steps.

She stepped backwards, all thoughts of aiding Malfoy forgotten from her mind.

"So you're the girl who fought my men?"

She swallowed. One of Grindelwald's men had already reached Malfoy by now and Hermione watched in horror as he kicked the boy in stomach, landing him face down, and Hermione thought she heard his rib bones crack.

She had to do something, she thought as she eyed the brutish man standing before her. She stepped back once more, ignoring the pained cries of Malfoy, and her hands shook as she reached for her cubes.

She had no chance to use them; however, for just then, the burly man moved quickly and slammed her into the wall.

She screamed.

The cubes tumbled out of her fingers and landed far away from her.

"My master wants everyone imprisoned—everyone who enters his territory—but your presence won't be missed, little girl," he snarled, pushing all his weight against her. "My men said you fought bravely but lost—and imagine my surprise to find that you walked free somehow and returned here to rescue your friends. But there will be time for questions later. Where is Luke? Tell me!"

He must be talking about the last man—the man Tom said was dead.

She didn't answer him, choosing to struggle in his grasp, but he was far too strong and the bones in her back burned like they were on fire.

"Luke was one of my most loyal men, little girl, and if you won't loosen your tongue willingly, I will have to use other ways. Believe me, you don't want me to try them."

As if to lend credence to his warning, his hands moved dangerously close to her thigh.

"Please," she gasped in pain. "Let us go. We're innocent—we haven't done anything."

His crooked smile ran cold currents down her spine.

"You want to go? Free? Answer my question—simple, isn't it?"

His right hand surrounded her slender neck and his fingernails were ready to bite into her flesh.

She took one last look at Malfoy, bleeding and crumpled in the street. Grindelwald's men were everywhere and Tom—

"He's dead," she croaked. "There was a fire, back at the inn—no one survived."

His blue eyes widened in surprise and anger and he removed his weight away from her, releasing her throat.

"He was my son," he whispered and everything went quiet. "And you lie."

And quite suddenly, without warning, he slapped her hard.

She lost balance and hit the ground, barely registering the pain that had become inevitable and was present everywhere. He yanked her by the hair and dragged her to the middle of the street. She struggled against his grasp, scratching, trying to bite but it was no good.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she shouted, trying to find some area to punch, but she knew it was futile.

She was fighting a losing war.

She did manage to land a kick in his legs and he buckled but recovered quickly.

"You bitch!" He grabbed her by the hair once again, and kicked her in the stomach. She howled and doubled over, coughing violently. He tore off her cloak and the right portion of her sleeve. She bit his hand but he didn't relent—an animalistic growl left his throat when he slapped her once more and she hit her head against the ground, her body going limp as survival instinct took over and she braced herself for another wave of violence

"That is enough."

Tom?

With great effort, she moved her neck.

He stood on the other side of the lane, with Avery and Lestrange—both the boys had wands.

The man let go of her, either due to surprise or because he had found another adversary, she couldn't say. He stood up and faced Tom.

"You should have run, little children, when you had a chance."

If she had believed Tom to be angry before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. Never had she seen his mask of calmness torn off this violently before. His eyes were crimson and his jaw taut. His knuckles were white from holding his wand too tightly.

And there was this tick, this violent tick in the corner of his mouth—he looked like a small cloack ready to go off any second, causing the world to crumple under the strength of his rage.

It was perhaps her imagination but she could see darkness swirl around him like a cloak, like some sort of demonic entity ready to engulf him and yet he stood there unharmed, challenging.

"Run?" Tom chuckled. "Indeed. We plan to do just that, mongrel, but before that—"

The man didn't know what hit him. In less than a second, a silent curse left Tom's wand and hit the man right between his eyes.

He let out a terrifying scream and fell to the ground, his eyes bleeding and dark, his skin leaking black liquid—Hermione felt bile rise in throat.

Grindelwald's men, who had hitherto been watching quietly, let out a shout and moved to attack Tom but he was too quick for them. He moved his wand in a circular pattern, whispering a soft incantation, and a large blue shield rose between them, dividing the lane into two halves.

She knew the shield. It was dark and powerful—no curse could break it –but it only lasted a few minutes.

She could see the men trying futilely to break the shield with their weak spells but to no avail.

"Hermione." Tom reached for her as soon as the immediate threat subsided. "Are you okay?"

"No, but I will be," she replied hoarsely. "How long until the shield drops?"

"Long enough." She could see genuine concern shining in his grey eyes and his thin lips were— "I'll have to carry you—but you'll be fine. Yes?"

Yes.

Of course.

"Yes."

"They'll follow us," Lestrange said to him, squinting in the darkness. The boat had been loaded when they decided to enter it. It bobbed up and down, gently, and Tom knew that they would have to hurry. "What do we do now?"

There was enough space for every one—there was shade and a smallish cabin.

But they had to hurry.

His eyes landed on Hermione. She rested in a corner, covered with his cloak—his eyes went to the angry red marks on her shoulder, her bleeding lip, and the large gash across her cheek—he hadn't had the time to heal her but that would be remedied shortly.

"Now," he closed his eyes and peace flowed through him like wind, "we watch this town burn."

Lestrange had a confused look in his eyes but being the intelligent boy that he was, comprehension dawned on him shortly.

He swallowed, horrified.

"You don't mean—is it even possible?"

He said nothing and turned away, raising his wand.

Crimson fire erupted from his wand, landing on top of the dockyard and the wooden building went up in blaze, crackling madly—screaming, laughing—he watched as it spread towards the town, cackling wildly, like some animal unleashed after thousands of years in captivity. It destroyed everything in its path and spread to the interior like flood.

"Yes, Lestrange. I'm quite sure it's possible. Loosen the anchor—we need to sail away quickly. The fire should cover our tracks perfectly."

Lestrange said nothing for a few seconds, his black eyes reflecting the horror he felt. He gaped open mouthed at the rising flames, the destructive Fiendfyre unleashed from the black rage that Tom felt, and hurried to draw up the anchor.

Gods, there were people in there, he thought as he tried to block out the screams that rose up in the night. He sneaked one look at Tom, who was sitting hunched over Hermione, and looked away.

So thanks to everyone who reviewed.. JuliSt Infernalbooks XxAngry-Evil-PoptartsxX brighteyes2889 oslca35 and every one else. Your reviews make me write more and faster.

I wonder if you liked this chapter, I don't really know for sure, so please tell me.

Oh and one more thing, do you think this story hold together so far? Have I made Tom too dark in this chapter? Do you like Hermione? The story is picking up pace and expect more revelations and twists soon. SO please read and review.

Oh and I need a beta reader so if anyone is up for it, please let me know. I'll be ever so grateful.