A/N: Oh, man, this chapter drove me mad! It was like banging my head against a brick wall. I loved writing it, but I felt something was lacking. Next week some more adventure!

I also wanted to say that I apologize profusely for subpar grammar skills I never realized mine was that bad.

A SIMPLE UNMISTAKABLE FACT

Previously….

"We just arrived today actually," I smiled at her while rubbing my sore thigh, I'm sure when I look at it tonight, it will be purple.

"Oh my, Bienvenue à Paris! Such a lovely city despite the mongrels", she spat in the direction of the man trying to nurse both his injuries.

"Yes, welcome to Paris."

Hermione POV

After our little scuffle on the streets of Paris, we retreated to a hotel- or what you could call a hotel in the 1800s. At least it was relatively clean, and we had access to a regular water supply. I, for one, was happy about that. I would not say I liked the small dent it was making in the coins, but I think we deserved a good rest and a proper bath. We haven't had one since we left London.

Tom has been missing in action for the last two days, and I am worried- not about him. I am concerned about the Parisian population that is at his mercy. I'm sure he is out there swindling some poor sod, then stuffing his body into a back-alley crate and left to rot until someone notices the ungodly stench.

I sigh as I take in the grey skies outside. It had been raining and miserable as if the weather is a reflection of my state of mind at the moment. I want to go home, be with my friends and pseudo-family again. I hate having to rely on Tom, because I never know when he may turn on me for real, not just as a threat. He isn't a friend at least not in any traditional sense. This is more of a 'friendship' out of necessity. The strange thing is, why does he continue to stay when he could easily leave me here? Is he lonely? What I am conflicted about is that I am growing fond of him. I like it when I make him crack a rare genuine smile or the way he lights up when I ask a difficult question about magic. I have also found it difficult to sleep over the last two days, and I never realised that I subconsciously depended on him for sleep. He has kept most of my nightmares at bay- especially the ones about Bellatrix. He is such an enigma, and I find myself wanting more. To know more.

A sharp bang behind me jerks me out of my introspection, and I pick up the nearest heavy thing ready to use as a weapon. Whirling around with the 'odd' figurine poised in the air to strike, I see that it is only Tom.

I slowly lower the figurine, relieved. "Where have you been?", to my ears, I sound like a nagging mother.

"Nowhere. What in Salazar's name are you holding?", he looked perplexed why I was holding such a thing.

I looked down at the figurine, it was a reflex to grab for a weapon when startled, but I'm not sure if he means why I was holding it in the first place, or why I was holding that specific thing.

"Ah..a figurine...of a...elephant...crossed with a hippo?... I guess...?", I didn't know what it was.

"Mmm... yes the love child of an elephant and hippo", I narrowed my eyes, he was looking slightly mischievous when he looks like that he has been up to no good. However, when isn't he up to his neck in dastardly misdeeds?

I gave him another once over, but my eyes double-backed to a spot on his shirt. Is that blood?

"Tom, what did you do?", he stands there looking rather pleased with himself. With a flourish, he reveals a wand and starts twirling it around rather amazingly with those magically dexterous fingers.

"Just nicked his wand…", I gave him a look to say who? "The guy from yesterday, I broke his fingers remember."

I was a little surprised, but not that much, and this wasn't even that high on the list of his offences. Compared to murder, what was a bit of wand stealing?

"Oh, is that it?" I couldn't even muster the energy to pretend to be indignant of this misdeed.

"Is that it? Is that all the fake righteous anger you can manage? Becoming immune to my criminality are you Mrs. Granger?", he stepped closer the smugness oozing off him.

"Yes, Mr. Granger, petty theft isn't worth it. Besides we could use the wand and the guy was a complete chauvinistic pig", I offered primly, crossing my arms. I looked at him. I really looked at him. My thoughts drifted back to moments ago.

He had stubble growth, and he looked a little older, more real. Not perfect. Human. A flawed man. A sum of imperfections wrapped up in this unrealistic version created by Dumbledore. He had always given Tom a…sense of divinity. Untouchable. The name Lord Voldemort made people wet their pants in fear. However, looking at him now, he was counterfactual. Everything Dumbledore had said was faulty, tainted by personal bias and whatever his agenda is. Tom was just a man; it astounded me that we all lost sight of that simple unmistakable fact.

"True Mrs. Granger. The guy does not know how to appreciate a good thing when he has it in front of him."

"Really?" I got the feeling we weren't talking about the man/wizard from the street anymore. My heartbeat picked up.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Is that why I'm still here? Why you haven't just killed me or left me here to rot?" I placed the weird hippophant figurine back on the table.

He stepped close into my comfort zone, making me uncomfortable. He knew he was making me nervous. He leaned in, our lips almost touching, a whisker barely between us. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. If anyone saw us now, they would comment on the two lovers sharing an intimate moment.

I was distracted by the fact that he was so close, the intense look in his eyes drilling into mine. His honey-coated lips that expelled poisonous words, that lured many to their deaths because he commanded it, were mere millimetres away. I could remember how they felt when I pressed my own against his. Soft yet a little chapped. Would they feel that way again?

"There's something about you…"I feel the point of the wand digging into the soft fleshy spot under my chin. I swallowed hard. I wouldn't show fear; he feeds off it. His other hand cups my jaw and he drags the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. My lips part slightly. I never thought they would be sensitive like this. The tension building in the room is becoming stifling. His eyes are watching his thumb, with eagle-like precision.

"...that is addictive, 'You have witchcraft in your lips.' You are a dangerous woman", he closes that infinitesimal gap capturing my bottom lip between his teeth. It isn't exactly a kiss; he tugs gently nipping. The wand clatters to the floor, and the now freed hand encapsulates my wrist.

He bites down enough for his top teeth to break the skin. I could feel the sting, my eyes watering. Tom sucks gently where they breached. He pulls back.

"What's this?", he bares his teeth in anger revealing the bloodstaining on the bright white enamel. He punctuates the question by pressing his thumb into the scar Bellatrix was so happy to give me.

My eyes widen, and I suck in a quick breath, startled, and off-kilter. I'm unsure about what is going on, and I manage to get a low whine out past my constricting throat. Getting a hold of myself when he adjusts my arm so he can get a better look at it; I am both horrified and furious.

I watch as he stares down at the derogatory slur carved into my arm. He is tracing the letters with his index finger. I briefly wonder if he can feel any residue of dark magic remaining.

"Who did this?", he drags his eyes away from the cursed wound.

"You know who," snaps out of me before I can stop it. I try to jerk my arm out of his hold, but he grips it tighter.

"Who Hermione?", he was using his low, threatening voice. It made me shiver because the air around him always dropped in temperature, and you could feel the magic in the air.

"One of your idiotic sycophantic followers, that literally kissed the ground you walked on! Bellatrix!" I was highly emotional from missing home, being alone for two days, and lack of sleep from nightmares that I didn't entirely think when I brought my right hand up and across his face. My palm stung from the contact. His face was turned away with a significant red mark now blooming on his cheek. The resultant crack from the skin to skin contact broke whatever strange moment we were caught up in and back to our senses — the only sounds where the floorboards creaking from the room above and my heavy breathing.

I froze torn between wanting to run away and fixing what happened. My decision was made for me as my feet refused to move from the spot; they were in. He brought his hand up to touch his cheek. I stared wide-eyed waiting for retaliation.

"I'm sorry… I slapped you, but you overstepped Tom. You can't just do that. You scare me sometimes when your mood changes rapidly...I can't keep up. It's unsettling...unpredictable". I bit my lip and instantly regretted it as I had momentarily forgotten that he had just split it.

"I'm not good at this," there was something in his eyes that I couldn't decipher, then the shutters came down. His cheeks have a faint hew to them which wasn't attributed to the slap. Was he embarrassed?

"Good at what?", he just stared at me frowning, the cogs where turning, but he ultimately made the decision not to explain further.

"Don't worry Hermione," he licked the remaining drops of my blood from his lips. I felt a little warm watching him enjoy it. It was twisted and possessive; nothing good could come from that.

I watched as he picked up the wand from the floor and rolled it in between both hands.

The amusement from earlier returned.

"Now my dear...list for me the ingredients for the medicinal Hawkesgrass potion, their strengths, and weaknesses, how they interact in the potion, and what could be altered to make it more efficient. Plus, for extra points, tie it into defence against the dark arts and how it can be adapted for use in the field", I groaned.

"Now now there's no need to stop your education because we are stuck in this..." he waved his hand around indicating everything, "1st circle of Hell, although I'd say I would be more in the 6th Ring", he tapped his chin thoughtfully. I just shook my head; he was more of a book nerd than I was. I rather liked it.

"Mm, yes I'd say you are much lower in Dante's inferno than I," rather than push anything further I acquiesced to his instruction. It was easier to avoid any confrontation and think about my stagnating education.

Snorts, "Of course Hermione, I have a much darker past. Here are a pen and paper…do not look at me like that…I hate quills you always run out of ink in the middle of a blasted sentence, it takes three times as long to write something. Start writing. You have an hour". My Pavlovian response to exam conditions kicks in, and I automatically start writing furiously.

Later that afternoon

"Your Linaeus Valdos?", the disbelief that drenched the question made him pause and lookup.

"Yes, Hermione," he resumed what he was doing.

"The author of The Principles of Transfiguration: complexities of inanimate to biological transformations and how to perfect the method?"

"Yes, Hermione. Are you hard of hearing?" I picked up the pen and threw it at him.

"Mature," he said rushed as he ducked the writing instrument, the clattering of it breaking the otherwise silence.

"I don't know what to feel exactly. Elated one of my favourite authors is here in front of me or like I've been duped". I frowned slowly just watching as he nonchalantly turned the pages of the paper, I had written on Hawkesgrass, and the other finger pushing his glasses further up his nose.

It's bloody ridiculous.

No

It's infuriating.

He is challenging everything; a lot of preconceived notions have been metaphorically blown out of the water. I know I have thought about these countless times but just witnessing it, again and again, makes it drum home. That I am not hallucinating, he still has his issues, and I don't know how to reconcile that- I probably never will. Why did he try to scare me then initiate a non-kiss? Everything else? It could be worked on, change his trajectory of destruction and focus that ferocious energy into something a little more productive. But what? The eternal question.

Tom POV

What in Salazar's name was I thinking? I'm not a hormonal teenage boy. Attempting to kiss her? It was a stupid impulse; she was looking stunned and beautiful, holding that ridiculous figurine. Clearly, someone needed to know what the damn elephant or hippo looked like before attempting to sculpt it. However, I digress.

I can't get the taste of her out of my mind. Her soft lips are a narcotic. Her saliva and blood mixed with mine, for that short amount of time…was like no other. But that fucking scar it was a distraction that I hadn't counted on. She most likely feels more insecure about it now that I have seen it. It was inevitable. I can get rid of it for her, but without my full magical ability, it will be an impossible task.

Bella…Bella…Bella, my most loyal follower…what to do with you?