Hello my wonderful readers! Welcome to Ch14...

Sorry this one took a bit longer... It's been a busy couple of weeks for me, in between travelling for work, going on holiday to Port Douglas (tough life - haha) and Uni stuff... but I made it in the end!

Thank you to: mad_bout_horses_nd_cowboys, Azura_Soul_Reaver, f4vivian, psalmofsummer, CheshireCat23, ilovefireyredheads, AwesomePersonlolxx, LeahHeartsTomRiddle, Megii_of_Mysteri_OusStranger, Ceralyn, Shamonti, e_m_o_m_i_n_t, HereToRead84, Kelly_Starr, CaBuckeye, ItsUpToYou, mekom, nikif, C-berries, aringle42 and Loza-98 for reading and reviewing.

Thank you to everyone who favourited or alerted this story... 157 Alerts at last check! The response to this story has been way beyond my expectations, so thank you :)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon – Oasis (Morning Glory)

How common is the name Abraxas? Tom thought, as he lay awake the next morning, with Hermione spooned into his side. How common was the name Abraxas, with the same white blonde hair, similar demeanour and the same name as the Grandfather of the spoilt turd who was linked, again, to Hermione.

The name 'Abraxas' wasn't the glaring clue in all of this… It was something small, almost innocuous. If Tom were any less observant he may have let it all pass by, without even noticing the small links. But Tom was observant… perhaps a little too observant – something he was incredibly proud of. And the most observant people are always aware that the smallest details are often the most important.

Tom wondered if, perhaps in this case, if the small details were perhaps even more important than the big details… such as talking to a snake or that book he found at Hermione's place. Some would scoff at this – vehemently disagree even, but the small details gave the 'back story' and caught those giving these details out unawares. It was information that one didn't need to work for as it almost always landed accidently in your lap. It helped give sense to the bigger details, such as, for example, talking to snakes…

Tom suddenly realised, perhaps through the clarity of early morning thought, that this was actually much bigger than him individually. He was linked to it – he knew that much, but he had finally realised that he was simply a link in a much larger web.

"Hey, you're awake." Hermione said sleepily, stretching her soft, warm, body against him and effectively interrupting his thoughts.

Tom leaned down and captured her lips in his. She sighed and returned the kiss, and he pulled her closer towards him as a result. "Good morning." He murmured against her lips, smirking as he trailed a hand down her body.

"I like these types of greetings in the mornings..." She murmured, letting her arms loop lazily around his neck.

Tom wrapped the duvet around them, effectively cocooning them both in his own desired little world. In this moment, he felt an incredible surge of possessiveness and protectiveness ran through him as he looked at Hermione. She looked so small, as she looked up at him with her big brown eyes and wild hair. And now, after everything that had happened recently, he wanted to know everything little thing about her – every secret, every story – everything. Perhaps these emotions also stemmed from the fact that she was making him discover things about him that made Tom feel important. And if Hermione made him feel important, well, she was important to him.

This, of course, brought him to his next train of thought. In the last couple of weeks, Tom had felt his feelings strangely shift for Hermione. Though he couldn't place his finger on what exactly had shifted. All he knew was that he just wanted her, and not just the feelings that seemed to be exacerbated by her being near him. Even though he knew that she was lying about a part of herself to him, it still didn't put him off of her. If anything, he wanted to know what exactly she was hiding. Something told him that once he found out what she was hiding, he would understand why and he believed that he would therefore understand himself.

Hermione stared up at Tom's impossibly green eyes. She felt secure in his embrace as he wrapped the duvet tighter around them and then broke eye contact, nuzzling her neck, effectively moving himself between her thighs.

Kissing her neck, he murmured in her ear, causing her to shiver. "I don't know much about how you were in school… tell me." He urged.

Hermione involuntarily tensed at the mention of Hogwarts. "What's there to tell?" She sighed – trying to sound nonchalant, as she felt one of his hands move under her singlet top and move towards one of her breasts.

"Oh, I don't know… Everything…" He said, and she could feel him smirking against the skin of her shoulder as he placed kiss after kiss there. "Okay… what kind of student were you?" He said, taking the initiative.

Hermione thought for a minute, formulating a response, before speaking. "My greatest fear – literally – was my fear of failure… I was a high achiever, always working to be top of the class." She replied.

"So… my Hermione was and is a model student?" He replied as he bent down and sucked on one of her nipples, through her material of her top, causing her to sharply exhale a breath.

"You could say I was outstanding." She replied with a hint of purposeful sarcasm, trying to control her breathing as he lifted her top and reigned more kisses on her bare skin.

"Interesting… tell me something else…" He demanded.

Hermione furrowed her brow and thought for a minute, before finally responding. "I didn't have a huge group of friends in school… just a few really close ones. My academic endeavours certainly didn't endear me to a lot of people." She said, not meaning for the last part to sound somewhat sad and indignant at the same time. She mentally chastised herself for being too emotional as Tom looked up at her from her lower abdomen, with a sudden keen look look of interest in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Hermione bit her lip and looked at him again. She didn't really want to speak about this. "Oh it's nothing…" She trailed off.

Tom manoeuvred his way up her body until he was looking directly into her eyes. "Don't you want to talk about it?" He asked, looking at her, and she felt so hypnotised looking at him. "You can tell me, you know." He added, before kissing her lips gently.

Hermione returned his kiss and suddenly felt the memories shift in her mind. From the very beginning when she helped Neville find Trevor in the Hogwarts express to sitting alone in the tent trying to support Harry during the Horcrux hunt, all the important moments of friendship travelled through her mind. What could it hurt talking about them? She wondered. With how quick Tom was, it would look worse for her to not say something or act evasively.

Hermione finally sighed and began speaking. "Until I started at boarding school when I was 11ish, I never really had any friends at school – you could say I didn't really fit in… I met Harry and Ron on my very first day. Ron completely hated me the first day we met…" She laughed at the memory of being on the Hogwarts train for the very first time. "I was a bit of a know-it-all though, telling him that he was always doing things wrong – it really annoyed him to no end." She chuckled as she remembered Ron's indignant attitude at her trying to help him with his school work.

"You could have hung out with me… If we went to the same school, that is." Tom said, cheekily, as she felt his hands move down and lift her up slightly, so he could grasp her backside. He lightly squeezed it before leaning down and kissing her again.

Hermione chuckled and broke away. "Right, I'm sure you would have taken Ron's side too… Anyway, after a while, Harry and Ron became my two best friends. Then there was always Ginny, Neville and Luna… I was really quite lucky in the end, actually… considering my terrible start to my social life." She grinned at him.

"Luna?" Tom asked, eyebrows raised.

Hermione grinned. "Yes. And she's just as spacey as what the name suggests… Though that's what makes her kind of brilliant, you know?" She smiled.

Tom chuckled. "And Ginny? Didn't I speak to her on the phone once?"

Hermione thought for a second and suddenly remembered. "OH Yes! You did… She's Ron's younger sister and is engaged to Harry." She explained.

Tom chuckled. "Wow… it's almost like you're part of a little family there."

"They are my unofficial family." She said with so much conviction and Tom raised his eyebrows in question, but Hermione decided that she wouldn't say anymore on the topic. He didn't need to know anymore at this stage. She felt incredibly protective of her friends… and what they had all been through together. Even though Tom was a muggle, after putting up with too many nosey witches and wizards since, well, forever, she couldn't help but instantly clam up about their bond.

She remained stubbornly quiet, looking away from him, running her fingers lightly through his soft hair for a couple of minutes. She didn't want him to think that she was mad at him, but also didn't want to, at this stage, elaborate further. He finally took the hint and she felt him shift and softly kiss her shoulder.

"So it must have upset them when you didn't end up with Ron?" He asked, which she thought was rather perceptive of him.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose, in a way… Everyone thought we'd end up together, even me – for years… but then after the-" Hermione quickly stopped herself before she stupidly said 'war'. Stupid Hermione! "After school finished I realised that we probably weren't right as a couple."

"Well I, for one, am glad that you two didn't work out." He grinned mischievously, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at him. His grin turned into a smug smirk before he spoke again. "Because it means that you're mine now."

Hermione scoffed. "I'll have you kn-"

But before she could give him a piece of her mind, his lips crashed against hers, whilst his hands roamed freely over her body, effectively making her forget – for now – about her rant and his possessive proclamation towards her.

Harry was walking through the Ministry corridors in a tired daze, having just finished training for the day. Today was all about 'effective records management' and Harry had the biggest head-ache from the new program that the Ministry was touting as the new, greatest asset in the management of dark arts related crime. Harry just thought it was plain, ruddy useless! Nothing seemed to link properly and you had to fill out a million pieces of parchment to record just one offence. He remembered his Uncle Vernon always complaining about mountains of 'paperwork' at the Drill Factory… but he never thought that as an Auror he would have to put up with the same thing!

He would much rather be out there working on Operation Kerang, and trying to track down one Rabastan Lestrange, who despite their best efforts, still remained at large. All they had to go on so far were sketchy sightings… but nothing concrete enough to send a whole team out. So it was really just him assisting Beretz on the investigation.

Sighing in relief as he neared the exit to the Atrium, he almost missed hearing his name being called out.

"Harry!" the voice called. Harry stopped, not really recognising the voice, and sighed – hoping that it was not another person who wished to discuss his life story in perfect detail – as was often the unfortunate case.

He let out a breath of surprise when he turned and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt rushing towards him, with what looked like two advisors scurrying after him.

"Ah! I thought it was you!" Kingsley said happily as he stopped in front of him and held out his hand to shake.

Harry shook his hand firmly. "Kingsley! Ah, I mean, I should say, Minister!" He said, with just a touch of awkwardness.

"Now, don't start with all that 'Minister' rubbish, Harry. I already have to listen to it from enough people." He said, with a wink. "How have you been?"

"Great. I just finished a day of training in the office… hope to go back out in the field tomorrow, though." Harry replied.

"Ah yes, Head Commissioned Auror Stewart told me in our last meeting that you are doing exceptionally well in the program and that you have a particular talent for the more practical aspects, such as interviewing."

Harry couldn't help the blush that tinged his cheeks at the compliment. "Well, I couldn't do it without the help of the Aurors training me."

"Good to see your humble nature is still intact Harry, but don't ever doubt your own skills either." Kinsgley replied kindly. "Now, I do believe congratulations are in order with your engagement to Miss Weasley!"

Harry immediately brightened further at the mention of Ginny. "Thanks. We are really happy." He replied.

"Good, good. And how is Ronald Weasley going? I have heard he is doing well in the program as well."

"Yeah, he's great. I think I'm actually going to catch up with him tonight."

"Pass on a 'hello' from me. I assume the lovely Miss Granger will be with him?" Kingsley further queried, with mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, no. Hermione's actually at university. They aren't actually dating… still friends, though."

"University?"

"Yeah! She's gone to muggle university." Harry responded enthusiastically.

Kingsley raised a dark eyebrow in question. "Why? Did she not receive any satisfactory Ministry offers?"

"Oh no, no. She got some good offers actually. She wanted to just to get away from the wizarding world for a bit." Harry explained, and grimaced slightly when he mentioned the last part. He knew Hermione didn't really like to spread around that she was taking a break.

"Oh what a shame to hear that. Miss Granger would be a huge asset to any department! What university is she attending?" Kingsley asked.

"Oxford."

Harry noted a flash of recognition in Kingsley's eyes before he schooled his features again. "Ah, yes, of course. Only the best for the brightest witch of her age." He noted, before pulling a gold pocket watch from his robes and sighing at the time. "Well Harry, I would love to stay and chat more but unfortunately this Minister job is a full time affair." He chuckled.

"That's okay Kinglsey. Perhaps the Order can all have a little reunion soon?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes! I will definitely clear any plans for that!" He replied happily, with Harry noting the disapproving glance shared between the two advisors at the obvious thought of having to rearrange the Minister's calendar.

Kingsley walked away from Harry deep in thought. Something of recognition was niggling at his mind about what Harry had just told him… constant vigilance… He thought, as he attempted to run back through the conversation…

"Minister, we need you to sign these papers before you leave." One of his Advisors broke his train of thought by motioning towards the pile of parchment in his hands. Kingsley looked at the parchment, effectively grimacing at how many signatures would be required, before sighing.

The Advisor gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry Sir, we know you hate this kind of work…"

"But it has to be done." Kingsley finished, and gave the two worried looking Advisors a small smile. At his smile, he noted that they looked relieved that he would do the task without complaining.

Paperwork! He grumbled to himself, sighing as he remembered that there was yet another pile waiting for him at his desk. He'd think more about that niggling feeling once he got some time to himself tonight… not to mention the idea of organising an Order reunion soon.

Rabastan apparated into the small country lane, quickly moving to the tree lined edge of the road for protection. The last thing he needed was one of the muggle farmers who lived nearby to see him. Rabastan was currently just outside the town of Dorney, not too far from London.

He had spent too many childhood summers here. His family had once had a holiday home here – his father preferring to be located close to London, where he keep abreast of gossip and conduct business, whilst Rabastan and his brother had somewhere they could fly their brooms with wild abandon and not bother with nosey muggles.

Whilst Rabastan knew it was risky being close to London, he needed to be in close proximity because it was time to work out what he wanted to do. Getting out of the country was easiest via London, whether he caught a muggle airline or boat – shudder – or risked using the international floo network. London, whilst being obvious was also incredibly easy to disappear in, if you knew the right places and people for that matter… There were still a few wizards out there who would help Rabastan. Whether it was because they had discreetly supported the work of Lord Voldemort and survived without being charged post-war or simply been such old friends of the Lestrange family that the allegiances to the Dark Lord would never matter, they would still help one of the sons of Arsenio Lestrange.

Rabastan strolled down the laneway, being careful to stick to the tree-lined edges. He knew that with his height and distinctive auburn hair he ran the risk of attracting attention. Now, should I stay in the forest or to take over a muggle house? He mused. He would enjoy the comforts of an actual home… something he had sorely missed and craved since the war and his previous incarceration – not that he'd ever admit that weakness to anyone. Rabastan would like nothing more than to be able to soak in a nice, hot bath at the moment. All this moving around gave no time for relaxation!

Maybe he should just leave the country altogether? If he went somewhere like Morocco he could still enjoy practicing dark magic without being persecuted for it and the British Ministry of Magic would have no chance of legally touching him there… since the relations were still rather frosty between the two Ministries after Morocco openly funded the Dark Lords campaign and had since cut any negotiations to start a new diplomatic relationship with the current Ministery.

Rabastan scowled at the thought of the new Minister, Shacklebolt. He couldn't stand Kingsley Shacklebolt and his muggle-loving ways. They were only a couple of years apart at Hogwarts and Rabastan remembered how Kingsley was always one of Dumbledore's pets. In fact Rodolphus and Shacklebolt had been in the same year at Hogwarts and Rabastan recalled how Rodolphus would always storm into the Slytherin common room, furious at Kingsley for being favoured by the Professors, even though they both achieved extremely high marks. Just because they once caught Rodolphus hexing a mudblood Hufflepuff, Dumbledore always eyed him suspiciously. Thankfully it was virtually impossible to blame Rodolphus for the other mischief he got up too – as he learnt to cover his tracks quite well. Something he taught his younger brother Rabastan.

Rabastan smirked, the old fool Dumbledore was never able to pin anything on him… he was always much too clever to be caught by the Headmaster. Unfortunately, though, he was never able to escape a suspicious glance from the annoying old coot every time a nasty prank was pulled on a mudblood. Who cares? He's dead anyway! Rabastan smirked at this. Yes, dead indeed… If only that pathetic Potter with his blood traitor Weasel and mudblood would join him! Rabastan would relish in the possibility of taking down Potter and his rag tag bunch of Gryffindorks... He would love for nothing more than to get revenge for the death of his Lord and the destruction of Rabastan's ideal pureblood world. If only Potter and Weasel weren't the new Ministry pets… he would go after them for sure.

He wondered what had happened to the little mudblood witch who followed Potter around like a lap dog? Probably some cushy job at the Ministry, he sneered. Although, that little wench provided plenty of hours of entertainment with stories often regaled to the Death Eaters about her crusade to free house elves… that had even earned a snigger from the Dark Lord. There was an even higher bounty on her head than the Weasel; she had been second only to Potter himself. Mainly because Malfoy had said that she was the brains of the outfit. Dolohov, in particular, had grown a rather unhealthy obsession relating to the mudblood during the war… what was her name…? Granger! He shuddered as he remembered how Dolohov had once asked the Dark Lord if he could keep Granger for himself once she was captured. The Dark Lord had proceeded to torture Dolohov for daring to ask something that was 'so generous' of him, considering his failure at the Department of Mysteries when they lost the prophecy.

He continued walking, lost in his thoughts, until he heard a twig snap behind him. Reeling around, with the speed and agility only an accomplished duelist could achieve, he found himself face-to-face with a woman who looked to be in her sixties or seventies. Shit! What if she is a muggle? Oh well, I'll just kill her. He calmed himself and arched an eyebrow in question at her; she didn't seem fazed or confused by his wand at all. He watched as she calmly stepped towards him and he became somewhat confused as a look of recognition crossed her face.

"I know you. You're one of Arsenio's boys aren't you?"

"How did you know who I was?" Rabastan asked, as he sat across from the witch who introduced herself as Louise Tallis at a small, but antique opulent oak table whilst the old house elf the woman had prepared him something to eat.

"Oh, I knew your Father and Mother quite well." She said. "You're a spitting image of your father, you know. I almost thought it was Arsenio for a minute." Rabastan noted the quiet far-away look in her eyes at her admission.

"How did you know them?" He asked curiously, the nice and polite tone feeling foreign in his mouth.

"We went to school together." She smiled, still slightly wistful looking.

"Oh. Father never spoke much of his time at Hogwarts."

"Strange." She said casually. "Arsenio was one of the most popular boys in school… Along with Malfoy, Avery and Riddle; they used to saunter the school halls as though it was rightfully theirs."

Rabastan had to smirk at this. His father sounded like how he, Rodolphus and Lucius Malfoy used to traipse Hogwarts in their time. He observed the woman who now seemed to be lost in her own memories when a sudden urge of curiosity over-took him. "What house were you in?" he asked.

"Ravenclaw." She smiled. "I know you were in Slytherin." She added.

"Of course." He cocked an eyebrow, in mock arrogance and confirmation.

The house elf suddenly appeared and a steaming bowl of chicken soup with fresh crusty bread appeared in front of Rabastan. Trying, but miserably failing, to remember his pureblood manners – as he was starving for good food, he began wolfing down the meal.

"Long time since you've had a good meal?" Louise questioned, knowingly.

Rabastan raised his eyebrows, knowing that by her tone, she knew he had been on the run.

"Don't look so surprised." She tutted. "I know all about you, Rabastan Lestrange. I know what fate you're running from."

Rabastan flinched automatically.

She looked slightly concerned all of a sudden. "Don't worry. I won't turn you in. I could never do that to your father." She said with surprising conviction.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, confused. "What do you owe my father?"

"Let's just say… a lot." She smiled simply, and didn't seem to want to share anymore. Rabastan decided he didn't want to push her. "You can stay here, for as long as you need. My home is open to you."

"Thank you." He replied, politely – a complete personality change from the man who, not that long ago had watched as a muggle woman tortured herself for his own pleasure.

"Never. And please call me Louise… or Lou – as your father and mother both used to call me." She gave him a sly grin that made her look much younger.

Tom sat calmly in the reception area of the English Faculty waiting for his meeting with Professor Hoskings. He was early – wanting to make a good impression. Casually observing the paintings around the waiting area, he suddenly felt like he was being watched. Surely enough, the Receptionist – who looked to be in her late twenties – quickly looked down and blushed at being caught staring. Tom rolled his eyes inwardly; most women were always so predictable and transparent. Except Hermione, he mused. He heard a throat clear nervously and turned to the woman, he looked at her with a slightly imperious expression.

"Are you nervous?" She asked, with a voice that surely sounded like it belonged to a teenage girl – not a woman in her twenties – surely not!

"No." Tom answered mildly.

"Oh. Well, what's your interview for then?" She asked curiously. Tom felt like rolling his eyes – yet again.

"The Summer English program." He replied politely. Why did people feel the need to make conversation when there was silence? Tom had never appreciated people who had to constantly fill voids with mindless chatter.

"Oh wow! That's very exclusive you know. Professor Hoskings only picks the best students for that." She prattled off.

Tom wanted to groan. Really! Listening to this squeaky voiced woman was getting tiresome already!

"My name's Holly by the way. I already know that your name's Tom." She added, smiling a bit too brightly. Tom gave her a tight polite smile and looked the other way.

He wondered if she would leave him alone if he pretended to be engrossed in reading his application. Quickly he looked down and began pretending to go over his work, casually flicking through the pages and pausing at all the right moments.

"Think your application's okay?" She then questioned. Tom ground his teeth together as a wave of annoyance surged though him. He thought his quiet dismissal of her would be obvious enough. What part of 'I don't want to talk to you!' did the fool not understand? He wondered as he felt an uncontrollable, familiar feeling to do something mean to the girl.

He looked up, took a deep breath, and tried to remain calm. Thankfully, for everyone around him, Tom was rather good at controlling his emotions. He turned and looked at the woman, who was eagerly smiling like a puppy dog.

"Of course." He replied in a controlled tone.

"Oh, well perhaps-" She began to say, but was interrupted by the door to the office swinging open.

"Holly!" the man exclaimed whilst looking down at what looked like an appointment diary. "Is Tom Smith here yet?"

Holly quickly sat up straighter – all hints of previously flirtatious body language disappearing immediately as she nervously stared at the man in front of her. Tom looked at the man who must have been Professor Hoskings, he looked very similar to the man – was he a Professor? In the dream he had the other night… perhaps the dream was actually an omen to this?

"Yes Sir, he's right here." She replied nervously, gesturing to Tom, who started to stand to greet the man.

"Well what were you waiting for Holly? I've been waiting for five minutes now!" Professor Hoskings replied in a clipped tone.

Tom immediately turned and glared at the girl. Why on earth did she keep him waiting? Then it clicked and his scowl grew deeper… Stupid woman! The girl turned and looked at him and did look somewhat repentant… at being caught out, that was. Tom was brought out of his angry thoughts of possible revenge by the Professor quickly striding towards him.

"Tom Smith? Pleasure to meet you. I'm Professor Peter Hoskings." Firmly shaking Tom's hand, he gestured for Tom to follow him into the office quickly, without even giving Tom much of a chance to say anything except the usually obligatory pleasantries.

As he shut the door behind them, without a second glance at the Secretary who had turned a bright red colour, he gestured for Tom to take a seat in front of his desk.

"So sorry about that, Tom. It's very hard to find professional help sometimes – even in a place such as this." He smiled apologetically.

Tom smiled politely at the man. "Not a problem. Though, if I may be so bold-"

"My permanent secretary is on maternity leave." He interrupted, as if this was something he had to explain often. "She gets back in a couple of months. It's easier just keeping her on than getting rid of her and having to completely re-train someone." He smiled affably at Tom.

"Well Professor, thank you for seeing me." Tom said charmingly.

"My pleasure Tom. When Robert approached me about your work and progress so far I was extremely impressed to say the least." The Professor replied, referring to his English Literature Professor who had nominated him for the interview and program.

Tom didn't reply, he simply nodded and smiled politely again.

"Now! Let's discuss this Summer Program shall we?" He clapped his hands in what was a rather jolly manner. Tom was again reminded of the Professor from his dreams. This is a good omen, he thought to himself.

Hermione was sitting in the library, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair whilst she lazily read through her assignment. Tom told her that he'd meet her here once his interview was over. She was excitedly wondering how he had gone… although at the same time, she had no doubt that he had already been accepted into the program and that this meeting was simply a formality.

She sighed and turned to the next page, skimming over her notes, and wondered how much longer he would be. It was amazing and some might even say alarming at how 'joined at the hip' Hermione had become to Tom since he became her boyfriend. They spent so much time together and yet Hermione still missed him when he wasn't around. Oh no! Have I turned into Lavender? She thought with worry, remembering how annoying Lavender used to become whenever she had a new crush or boyfriend… urgh!

But being with Tom felt so right… so what was wrong about it then? She suddenly heard her Mother's strict tone saying something along the lines of 'Hermione, I didn't raise you to lose your identity over a boy!' … Was she really losing her identity over Tom though? She had always been someone who was proud of her strong personal convictions and still believed she held them just as strongly as she did before she met Tom… so what if they wanted to spend every moment together, they were still getting to know each other… everything was new, she reasoned with herself. Plus, why did her magic tingle whenever she was with him? At the risk of sounding exactly like Lavender, she felt her magic every time she was with Tom. It was strange, as she never expected this to happen with a muggle. Surely it was a good thing though? It was a different tingle to what she felt around Harry, Ron and Ginny. Around them it was always calming and comfortable – like their friendships… however with Tom it was almost electric in the way it coursed through her. Hermione thought that her magic reacting to Tom in this way was fascinating… in both the personal and academic sense… well, Hermione would never stop being a bookworm. She wondered if anything had ever been written about the topic. She knew there were Wizards who had theorised over the connection between psychology, biology and the magical core… but couldn't exactly recall the details. It was something she had remembered Sirius and Remus – of all people – discussing one late night at Grimmauld Place after too much whiskey and coffee and Hermione had over-heard. Perhaps she would look at that over the quickly approaching summer holidays?

Looking up from the long-forgotten study notes she noticed Tom walking across the library towards her. She couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face as she took in his composed and confident gait. He walked as though his decisions meant something to the way in which the world turned. She had never seen anyone walk that way… even Harry, who literally did affect the way the world – well, at least wizarding world – turned, never walked like that. Harry's gate was much more humble, with a touch of wonder too. Not that Tom was part of magic, like Harry, Hermione mused… but she wondered how he would walk if he was a wizard? The same, but with much, much more; her subconscious whispered.

"Thinking about me?" Tom said as he leant down and cupped her cheeks with his large but elegant hands, and placed a kiss on her lips.

"Pfft. Please. Why would I be doing that?" She replied, in what could be conceived as both a haughty and cheeky tone, earning a quirked eyebrow from him.

He sat down next to her and wrapped one of arms around her shoulders, pulling her into him. "Why wouldn't you?" He smirked arrogantly.

She raised her eyebrows at him and then chuckled. Looking into his eyes, she then spoke. "Well, don't leave me in suspense… how did it all go?" She asked.

"I am officially starting on the program this summer."

"Oh Tom, that's so wonderful! I'm so happy for you!" She replied and hugged him. She noticed his smirk at her over-enthusiastic response. "What?" She demanded.

"Oh nothing…" He replied. "You are quite entertaining when you get overly excited about something." He replied with amusement.

Hermione scowled. "Excited about you, you ungrateful dolt!"

Tom just chuckled at her, not taking her insult seriously, and ran one of his hands through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"Even though you are ungrateful," she added – rolling her eyes, and reached for her bag, "I did actually buy you a present…" She trailed off and pulled a small simply wrapped rectangular package that she handed to him.

Tom eyed the gift and felt something strange stir within him. Of course he had received gifts before, but no girl had ever gotten him something so thoughtful… most girls he had seen in the past always expected everything, but never gave anything in return. He held the modestly wrapped present in his hands and stared at it until Hermione said something.

Raising his head, he looked at her. "Sorry, what?" He asked.

"Well," She replied, laughing, "Are you going to open it?"

He took in the smile that was only for him, and gave a tentative, small smile back. Opening the wrapping paper slowly, which obviously frustrated Hermione because she sighed audibly and jiggled her leg up and down in a nervous gesture, he had guessed by now – due to the feel and size that the gift must be some kind of book. What he was surprised to see, when he finally pulled the gift out of the wrapping paper was that it wasn't just an ordinary book, it was instead a beautiful, black leather bound notebook. He lightly ran his fingers over the supple leather; it felt incredibly soft and smooth under his touch. Opening the notebook, he noted that the paper was unlike the usual, rather thin note paper, but rather thick – he remembered almost instantly that it was the same paper as Hermione's notes in that old book he found in her flat. A strange familiar pang of something ran through him – an unidentified emotion – as his fingers touched the paper. He admired the gift; it was only simple, but very thoughtful at the same time.

"So…" She looked down at her clasped hands, blushing slightly. "Do you like it? I thought you could use it for your classes… you know, record your thoughts and your own writing. If you don't like it I can take it ba-"

Tom cut off her nervous rambling by placing his hand under her chin and lifting it they were now looking each other directly in the eyes. He noticed that her eyes widened, making her look like an innocent doe, caught in the eye of a tiger. Moving his hand gently across her jaw line and then through her curly hair, he never broke eye contact as his hand finally came to rest on the soft skin on the back of her neck, he then closed the distance between them and kissed her demandingly. She returned the kiss, though he noticed that her pace was much softer than his. Running his fingers along the back of her neck subtly, he was pleased to feel her body shiver under his touch. Slowly pulling away, he looked at her, admiring her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Mine! He thought as he took in her features.

"Thank you," His voice staying smooth and not betraying the myriad of mixed and unknown emotions currently coursing through his body. "It's perfect."

Later that evening Tom sat on his couch with his new notebook. Opening it to a blank page, he pulled out his other notes that he had been taking ever since strange things had begun happening to him. That notebook looked completely inferior to the one Hermione had gifted him. Therefore, he would dedicate her gift to solving the mystery that surrounded him since he had met her.

He absentmindedly fiddled with his pen as it hovered over the blank pages. Something in Tom's subconscious told him that he was so close to solving this. Every piece of the puzzle was there… it just needed to be pieced together properly. If these pieces were placed together correctly, what he was missing would suddenly become clear.

Why isn't it clear yet? Tom thought, frustrated that his usually quick mind had not solved the problem yet. He considered himself as being extremely clever… yet what was holding him back? He had had enough of this! Briefly closing his eyes, he tried to control his breathing as his chest furiously tightened in anger. Over and over he felt as though he was hitting an invisible wall that kept pushing him back to square one. It was as though his mind was playing tricks on him, as he would see something that would trigger a subconscious feeling of familiarity and then he would be immediately pushed back – almost forcefully and everything would become confusing and disorganised again. What was the use of having all this information if none of it allowed itself to be linked together?

But Tom knew it was linked together. As soon as he had realised that this was bigger than him as an individual, it was like he had forcefully ripped through a wall that had been previously pushing him back. A wall which had previously told him that his thoughts were 'crazy'… Every time his regular upbringing and normal life told him that these thoughts, occurrences and dreams were 'crazy' and seemingly coincidental 'accidents' he felt his subconscious furiously deny this. The strength of his subconscious had now become louder than what his environment and society dictated to him.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and breathing heavily, he re-opened them with an even stronger resolve and he put pen to paper and wrote… For almost two hours straight he wrote like a man possessed, only pausing at the significance of certain occurrences. He wrote about everything; Hermione, the dreams, the book of fairy-tales, strange occurrences, the symbolism of the snake, Abraxas, Slytherin, Tom Riddle, Runes… the people, the places… the school, the feeling of a different time and place… It was as though his mind was writing him an open letter. His hand didn't stop; it was like his body was just an instrument relaying a message. None of it was analytical, none of it was pre-determined and finally, none of it was calculated like it had been before.

His momentum slowed as his mind began to get tired. The emotional and psychological magnitude of what he had just done began to catch up with him. His mind, which had just been sharp as a tack for the last two hours began losing the previous drive which had spurred him on. The doubts began licking at his thoughts again, but the subconscious… it quickly pushed and fought the doubt… too much had been said and done now… it had gained too much ground on the doubt.

He didn't even hear the pen hit the ground or feel the book slide off his lap as his eyes snapped shut, his mind pulling him in and shutting him away from the doubts…

Tom suddenly found himself standing in a large chamber. He looked around and stopped when he saw his own mirror image walking towards him, dressed in that same uniform of green and silver from other dreams. Behind him was the giant snake-like creature from his very first dream that told him to seek the truth.

"Hello Tom Riddle." His mirror image said. "I see you've finally found us." He stopped walking and stood about a metre from where Tom was standing. The giant snake slithered out from behind him and began forming what felt like a protective ring around the two of them.

"Who are you?" Tom asked, wondering why he was called 'Riddle' – yet again.

His mirror image rolled his eyes, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. "Not this again." He sighed and then began to imitate Tom in a mocking way, "Who am I? Why do these things keep happening to me? Who is Hermione? Why is a snake talking to me? Honestly! The answer is right here! Don't you see?" He said as he gestured around the giant cave-like chamber.

Tom almost flinched at the now frustrated expression of the mirror image, but managed to keep his expression blank, which was good because his image began to speak again.

"I've worked so hard… Do you know how difficult that Obliviate was to break through? Thankfully we're – " He said, gesturing a hand between the two of them, "quite intelligent. And special…" He looked at Tom with a calculating glint. "Yes Tom, you were absolutely right to think that something was different about you."

"I feel as though I keep getting pushed back from what I am supposed to know." Tom explained.

His mirror image nodded; a glint in his eyes. "You were. Then you unexpectedly met Hermione, who unwittingly brought you closer to the truth." He said. The Snake hissed in what was almost an approving manner at the last comment. The image turned to the Snake and smirked, "Yes, she helps us with the truth, doesn't she? Her form is a rather surprising truth for us…" He said cryptically.

"Is Hermione the truth?" Tom asked, losing some of his well-maintained patience and composure.

The mirror image smirked. "It's who Hermione is, Tom. It's what she is… You are, essentially, what she is too, Tom."

Tom felt confused at the explanation given. The Mirror Image seemed to sense this and took a step closer to Tom and held out his hand.

"You have one more wall to break down, and then it will all be yours again – do you see?" He said, and Tom nodded slightly. "Take my hand and the final wall will fall down." He said, and Tom felt electricity swirl in the air as his image compelled him to come closer.

Tom stared at the hand for some time, not knowing whether or not to reach out for it. The image sensed this and gestured his outstretched hand again.

"Don't listen to the doubt, Tom. It doesn't want you to know. It wants you to keep being ignorant." He explained.

Tom breathed in and out heavily. He felt as though he could hear the blood pumping in his ear, it was so constricting. He felt so unsure about what to do right now… what if something bad happened to him?

Just as he was thinking this, the giant serpent brushed himself against Tom's legs – almost in a strange, comforting way. It nudged him lightly and Tom took a small step forward.

"The Heir." The Snake spoke, and both figures turned to look at the Snake. "Reunite the Heir!" the Snake demanded as he let his scales brush against one of Tom's hands. He felt the headiness of power in the touch of the snake.

At the Serpents prompting, Tom felt a wave of confidence and assurance roll through him. Slowly, but confidently, he began reaching out to his image…

... ! ... dun, dun, dun! Magical Cores seem to almost have their own personalities, don't they? ;)

How about our fave baddie (besides Tom, hehe) Rabastan and his new acquaintance Lou... How close do you think Lou was to Arsenio Lestrange? Rab wasn't as evil this time. I wanted to show the "switch" that many of the death eaters had when it came to who they dealt with in society... as in, who was acceptable and who wasn't...

Then of course, Kingsley... I want to keep showing that in government, often process gets in the way of action and not by the choice of workers either...

I hope the gift giving scene wasn't too OOC either... but he has Hermione on a huge pedestal so he is having trouble understanding and processing the emotions he feels when she does nice things for him.

... please read and review xox