This is the last chapter before the action begins. I tried to go in more detail about Tom and Hermione's relationship, so you guys can understand a bit more why she's so torn between her morals right now. She's still seventeen, despite her beyond-her-years attitude. Let me know what you guys think!

Rodolphus knew what his daughter planned; he's never been a fool. Hermione inherited Bella's wit, beauty, grace, and temper – but the intelligence came from him. Not that his wife was dim, far from it. But Rodolphus was nearly sorted into Ravenclaw, for he loved to learn; his lust for power simply outweighed his eagerness for education.

Bella and Hermione were spending time together in the library, it was a shock that their daughter managed to get his wife in there willingly. Despite being one of the sharpest minds he'd ever known, Bella had never tried in school, preferring to learn by practice. Only twice had Rodolphus seen her crack open a book; the first to locate a particularly nasty curse that would cause the blood to boil, skin to burn, and skin to melt like wax; the second to find the pregnancy diagnostic spell after she'd spewed her lunch all over the floor of their bedroom for the fourth time that week.

As he watched, Hermione seemed to feel the weight of his gaze, turning her head suspiciously to find the source. Gold met gold once she found him, and Rodolphus grinned as she smiled and beckoned him over.

She danced so fluidly between the lines of black and white, right and wrong. It was she that created regret for Rodolphus: regret for the life he chose for his child, regret for the fifteen years spent locked in Azkaban apart from her, regret for the sins marred on his soul.

Her beauty was hardly his favorite part about her, but he did love that she looked so much like her mother, the most exquisite woman he'd ever set sight on. With Hermione, her warm spirit, so alive and bright, that was his favorite bit.

For Hermione, he wanted to do better. He wanted to match more with her than just the color of her eyes. He wanted to be better, and so he would do anything to help his precious, vivacious daughter destroy the master he'd so diligently served for the majority of his life.

She deserved a better world than the one he'd helped create for her.

She skidded across the floor, her lungs burning as she pumped her legs hard, darting quickly toward the arched doorway several paces away. She was nearly there! Her heart was thudding twice as fast as she reached her arm out, aiming for the metal handle on the wood when she was suddenly jolted backwards. Hermione let out a small cry of defeat as she collapsed into the hard chest, groaning as she heard the soft chuckles in her ear.

"You cheated," she panted accusingly, trying desperately to catch her breath. "There's no way that you counted to thirty!"

Tom grinned, his lips ghosting along her neck. "Of course not, love. I couldn't wait to snatch you back up."

Hermione felt the familiar pang of guilt hit her stomach at the words: both for what she was planning, and for what she was doing with Tom while engaged to Theo, despite his agreement to it. He'd gone as far as urging her to take this time to gain closure, but more importantly, gain traction with the dark lord, earning his trust and learning more details about his life. She wasn't sure if snogging was entirely what Theo had in mind, as every time she'd tried to bring the topic to conversation, he'd reply mildly that she should do what felt best.

"I can practically hear your mind whirring when you think," Tom groaned into the soft skin of her throat. "It's very distracting, and - to be honest - a bit of a blow to my very large male ego."

She blushed, resolving herself to the task at hand. Theo had been kind and agreed to let her live this summer - relatively guilt free - so the least she could do to repay him would be to help unlock the mystery that was Tom Riddle.

"You need to learn to relax," he muttered, his hand moving to knead circles in the small of her back. She had to admit, it helped. "When's the last time you enjoyed a holiday?"

She paused, thinking of the time her parents had whisked her off to France for nearly the entire summer. They'd referred their clients to a fellow practitioner for the six weeks the small family spent touring the country. It was the happiest that she'd ever seen her mum be, since the news had spilled that she was a witch. Hermione took a few moments to allow the remorse wash over her, as it always did when she thought of her mum.

"France," she whispered, catching Tom's attention. "I loved France when I visited. My mum and dad took me all around the country - we stayed in everything from hostels to five-star hotels. They said I should experience the country properly to see past the obvious beauty, and it was absolutely amazing."

She felt his grin against her ear and prepared an answer for the question she knew was coming.

"Go to France with me," he stated confidently, alluringly.

Hermione turned in his arms to face him fully. "On one condition."

Tom peered down at her curiously. "Which is?"

She grinned maniacally. "You have to wear a beret and wear a striped shirt and eat a baguette while I watch and possibly take pictures."

He stared blankly at her for several, long moments. "You, my little witch, have some very odd fettishes."

Hermione' gleeful cackle filled the manor.

It was nearly cliché, the way they were walking around Paris. Tom had, for the past three weeks, taken her around the country, apparating daily to and from the manor for convenience. They'd visited Nice, Marseille, and Strasbourg the past week, and even planned on partaking in a river cruise up the Rhine the coming week. Tom had proven a vast knowledge of the country and its little nuances, somehow managing to take her to places even her parents hadn't known about.

Feasting on macarons, crepes, souffles, soups, pastries, and tarts than they'd ever eaten in their collective lifespans, they also toured museums, castles, countrysides, and mountain tops. Tom was an expert, truly top form in his ability to be a tour guide, which was something that amused Hermione endlessly. He would always point out which battle happened where, who murdered who just over the hill, and, surprisingly enough, which animals were known to come out of each region.

"Swot," she'd teased him multiple times, enjoying the boyish grin that always came after; the kind that lit up his whole face and stole the breath from her lungs at how handsome he really was. The bone-searing kiss that occurred after that was nothing less than amazing.

Her hair fell in sheets of dark, night-colored curls so black they nearly looked purple. She was spread out on the blanket outside, her wand softly lit beside her while her gaze scanned the sky above them. His arm was perched under her head, his other hand propping his own up as well.

"There's Orion," she muttered, gesturing off into the distance. He scoffed. "What?"

"That's the most well-known constellation," Tom pointed out. "If you're trying to impress me, find Hydra, or Castor."

He could hear the grin in her voice as she replied. "Honestly, I think it's nearly impossible to find a star in the sky that one of my ancestors isn't named after."

"You don't have a Hydra?"

"Yep," she nodded, her eyes lit with mirth. "Mum's great-great grandads cousin - Hydra Procyon Black. Procyon is the 'little dog star' - who Sirius Black the First is named after. Although, by far the weirdest is by mum's second-cousin, Orion, his third-times-great uncle named Betelgeuse Aldebaran."

Tom burst into laughter, snorting as his face scrunched with the grin that slid into place. "There's no way!"

Hermione turned to face him, her gaze glowing with humor. "Swear to god! I think I'd change it, myself. Reads too much like "beetle juice, in my opinion."

Tom chuckled softly. "I suppose you're the normal one then."

"With a name like Hermione, I've hardly ever been normal. Compared to the Black family? Absolutely. Even my dad, to be fair."

Grinning, Tom relaxed as he stretched his limbs, feeling more as peace than he had in ages. Hermione shuffled slightly, her body curling towards him as she rested her head on his chest. He opened his arms to welcome her into his embrace and exhaled as she cuddled close to him.

Her power was exquisite. Her beauty, intelligence, and aura was what drew him in. Even as a child, she'd been delightful; much more eloquent than other children her age, and more advanced in magic than half his followers. It was intoxication being immersed in her presence.

"Tom?"

He tilted his head to prove that he was listening.

"I'm quite fond of you."

She stared this quietly, her voice barely a whisper as she pressed her lips against his breast.

"As am I," he replied evenly, his excitement rising as his pulse thudded. His plans were all falling into place. Soon, Harry Potter would be dead, and the most powerful witch of the generation would be by his side, utterly drowning with love for him. "I-I'd probably say... it's closer to love, than fondness... in all honestly."

Unbeknownst to him, a single tear slid down Hermione's cheek.

She mumbled her response, a soft but sincere return of the term - he couldn't hear precisely, but Tom was positive.

A slow smirk graced his handsome features, victory coursing through his veins.

Hermione forced herself to say relaxed and not freeze at his admission. Words were only words, after all, and Tom Riddle had a way of making them sound so sweet, so perfect.

Actions were the true test of choice, and Tom had failed every single one.

Yes, he was handsome. He was wickedly sharp, his mind a powerful weapon, cutting through his enemies with his expansive catalog of curses and hexes. He was patient, and had a dark, witty sense of humor.

But he was a murderer, and a liar, and a cheat.

"I could've loved you too," she breathed, hoping he wouldn't hear the words, but wanting to have said them all the same. They were nearly true, anyway.

"Funny how we keep meeting like this."

Hermione glanced up, wincing from the bright glare of the sun. "Funny, I wasn't under the impression it was anything but intentional on your part."

Tom smirked. "Too true, love. I saw you leave twenty minutes ago."

"At least you waited longer than before to accost me," she replied with a hum. His lips widened into a true smile. "Sit down, then. I know you won't be going anywhere now that you've got my full attention."

He followed her gesture, gracefully taking the space on the blanket, closer than he'd ever had before. Hermione blinked as his fingers danced across the fabric, only to take up her own seconds later. She frowned at the action. "What are you doing, Tom?"

He shrugged. "I can't touch the woman who adores me?"

Her gaze focused intently. "Please, that's hardly a reason for you."

"Hermione, can't we just enough the time we spend together? It's a beautiful day - the warmest of the month. Skive off your homework and just sit with me. Stare at the sky, or something."

The girl slowly raised a brow, an incredulous grin softly painting her lips. "Did the dark lord actually just suggest that we watch clouds as a pastime? What's next? Are you going to open a not-for-profit, no-kill animal shelter?"

Hermione giggled at the thought, slowly losing her composure as she pictured a bald, noseless figure softly stroking a fluffy kitten. Her chuckles came out loudly before Tom rolled on top of her, muffling her mouth with his own. She gasped for air, but soon forgot the need for it as his tongue battled her own.

He pulled back just far enough to plant soft kisses down her jaw, across her throat, and all the way to her collarbone. "I always found certain breeds of canines to be somewhat enjoyable. I'm still susceptible to small, doe-eyed creatures, I suppose. Why do you think I fancy you so much?"

She laughed breathily, running her fingers through his thick, full hair. "I'm a cat person, myself."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Crooks is my familiar – though Cranky would be a better name for him, I suppose. He's an old grouch, but I know he loves me."

"I thought that was a dog?" Tom pulled back to stare at her curiously. She frowned. "Not a dog, then?"

"You thought my Kneazle was a canine?"

"That thing is part Kneazle?"

She stared blankly.

"Is this one of those 'cat-people' things? Getting all offended when someone doesn't think their pet is as cute as another?"

"First of all, Crookshanks isn't my pet-"

"Crookshanks?!"

"Oh my god!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting up and nearly knocking him to the ground in the process. "Are you joking? I've told you stories about him!"

"But Crookshanks?"

She narrowed her eyes in a glare. "What about it?"

"Nothing," Tom put his hands up defensively. "Nothing. I just thought it's name was Crackerjack, or something normal."

Hermione took a deep, calming breath.

Then she exploded with righteous, kitty-mummy indignation.

"CRACKERJACK?!"

The summer was nearly over, less than five weeks until the first of September and only days away from Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione would be attending, as a Granger, and promptly going on the horcrux hunt with Theo and Harry, who were also invited. Theo would be in disguise, as his features were very obviously pureblooded.

A knock on her bedroom door distracted her from her thoughts. "Hermione? Can I come in?" her father called from the hall. With a shout of agreement, Hermione stood from her spot in the closet where she'd been preparing for her trip. "You look flushed - is everything alright?"

Nodding, Hermione shut the door behind her with a thud and faced her father with a small smile. They hadn't spent much time together over the break, due to his activities as a top death eater. Therefore, it startled her when he sat down on the thin window seat and patted the space beside him. Cautiously, as she'd never seen the trepidation on his face before, Hermione perched down next to the man.

Without preamble, he threw himself into the conversation. "I know you're leaving, and that you're going to fight with the Order."

Shocked dumb, Hermione stared.

"I want to help, love." Here, he hesitated. "I know that your mother and I have put you in an extraordinarily difficult position, and trust me when I say that was never our intention. But I want so much more than this life can offer you, my darling. You're too intelligent, too driven, and I don't want you to be bottled down simply into a thoughtless wife."

The words wouldn't come out, no matter her best efforts.

"I've organized for your mother and I to be out on the 31st of July - I assume that's when you plan to leave - and your aunt has taken care of your uncle and cousin as well. There will also be a meeting... so you should be entirely alone, if you were to wander off.

"You don't have to say anything, my love, just know that I support you and wish, more than anything, that I could follow you in this journey. DOn't worry about your mother or I. Focus on keeping your distance from this side of the war, this family, and more than anything - focus on killing the dark lord."

The magical burst from the collective anger of Tom and her aunt shook the ground within a twelve-mile radius when they discovered her clean, empty bedroom, and her short, penned note explaining her decision.