Author's Note: This will be the last chapter for awhile. My finals end on the nineteenth, so I'll probably start another chapter after that. Title and summary are still pending; I've read all of your suggestions (thank you!) but I haven't really had chance to sit down and think about it. So the title and summary will remain what it is until my finals are over. And thanks for the birthday wishes. (:

Also. Those of you who asked for hints, I will give none. I am terrible at giving hints and might as well give the whole thing away if I opened my mouth. However, I will say that you learn the genders of Five and One in this chapter, and some other goodies.

Also, I am planning to rewrite the first couple of chapters a bit.

And these book covers are quite cool, don't you think? Except they're so small that you can't really see much. The Hermione picture had the words 'I am a mystery' on it, which I thought was quite fitting for this story. Unfortunately, I doubt you can see it.

Aand...would anyone be interested in being my beta?

Anon: Thanks for reviewing! Yes, I do generally update Friday-Sunday every week, but since finals and summer are coming out, that schedule goes out the window.

Thanks for reviewing!

Virtuoso Wanderings, asianstotheleft, Weird-Chik2, LadyBalacenia, TheEscapeFromReality, Lost O'Fallon Girl, reader204, voldyismyfather, tHevoLtuRi'SdARkpRiNceSS, MIGHTY RULER OF GUMMY BEARS, harmonious, UniCryin, morpheusandmuse, crazyjr, Anon, Beaufale, Asarin159, hateme101, xXDragonSlayerXx, ruan-san, ShadowAngel55

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

The door in front of them flew open reveling Abraxas and Black, grinning happily. Abraxas was in his normal robes, though there was a bright red ribbon tied in his hair, most definitely Black's work. Black, however, went all out. He was dressed in a Santa suit, even going as far to charm his belly so that it expanded for the time being. A hat was placed on his head, slightly lopsided. He twirled a candy cane around his finger excitedly.

The first thing that popped out of Tom's mouth in the morning was 'It's Christmas. I can officially get out of this hellhole.' No 'Good morning, Hermione' nor 'Merry Christmas.' He simply grabbed her arm, grabbed her wand, and apparated the two of them away.

Apparently, Dumbledore and Tom had an agreement. Tom would stay at the orphanage until Christmas without killing anyone, and then Tom would be allowed to go anywhere he wanted. Of course, he still did not have his wand, so he usually set up a spot far away from the orphanage for Abraxas or Black to come pick him up.

However, now that Hermione was here, he had no need for that. She tried to reason with him, to say that since she was transporting to and from, he should owe her something. Tom then launched in to an entire speech on how in the past, women were bound to their husbands and had to do everything they were told. He had been so in to his speech that Hermione decided to let him rant and not point out the fact that times were different, and he was most definitely not her husband.

By doing so, he effectively avoided any questions from Hermione, and she learned to just apparate him whenever he wanted to be apparated.

"Hi Black," Hermione greeted cheerfully, and Black crushed her in to a massive hug. Hermione could see a Christmas tree behind him, and was rather shocked that the Malfoys even had something like that to begin with. She always thought the tree was a muggle idea, but that obviously wasn't the case. A huge star was placed on the tree. How long ago had it been since she last set up a Christmas tree? It had to be at least a decade. "Merry Christmas, Santa Clause."

"You can tell what I am, cant you?" Black asked excitedly, stepping back to allow her some room to breathe. Tom looked like he didn't appreciate the contact, but Hermione had learned long ago that there was too much stuff in the world that Tom did not like. "Abraxas here was insulting my magic casting abilities. I even did this nonverbally, and he couldn't give me a single praise." Black sniffled dramatically. "Oh, how you hate me."

Abraxas merely rolled his eyes, and then looked at the luggage that Hermione was lugging behind her. "Do you need some help with that?" he asked. "I'll get one of the servants to help you."

"Absolutely not." Hermione said firmly. "I can do it myself. Lavender and Harry have enough on their hands." She wanted to speak with Harry about something that had been on her mind for quite a while now.

Black peered around her at her luggage, a huge grin on his face. "Speaking of luggage, where's King Phillip Galapagos Jr.?" He asked. "I hope he's not in the luggage. He'll die of suffocation."

Hermione was bewildered. "Who?"

"The cat I sent you," he said, still looking around her as if the cat's head was going to pop out any second. "It was an adorable thing. I didn't want to part with it." He sniffled dramatically. "That's why I forced Abraxas to invite you here, because I knew you would bring him with you. Now cough him up, Squirtle. Sharing is caring."

Hermione gulped. "Um…"

"What?" Black's smile slid off his face as he looked at her. "You did get him, didn't you?"

"About that…" She squirmed around. "There was actually an incident…"

Black narrowed his eyes. "You couldn't possibly have thrown him away, could you?"

"Well, not exactly that, but—"

"I can't believe you." Hermione rarely saw Black truly angry. There was the time he talked to Gryffindors, but that was understandable considering the house rivalries. However, this anger was directed towards her. "You threw out my cat. You didn't even have the nerve to tell me you didn't like it, and you just threw it out. Well, if you didn't want anything, you could've just said so!" He turned around and then stomped nosily up the stairs and then disappeared out of sight.

There was a moment of awkward silence. "I'm sorry," Abraxas said apologetically. "Black's been so excited about seeing that cat again. I think he was more interested in the cat than me. I was there when he picked it out, and from the time he bought it to the time he sent it to you, he rarely parted with it." Abraxas cast her a sideways glance. "Next time—if there is a next time, that is—maybe you should try something less extreme."

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes and she hastily wiped them away. She was not a crier. She did not cry when she was crucio'ed for thirty minutes straight. She did not cry when a bullet went through her right shoulder and stayed there for two hours while an inexperienced doctor tried to get it out. She did not even cry when her mother died, though she had been close to. She felt extremely guilty that she had not cried, but Nick had told her that you didn't need to cry to show your grief.

But this, the killing of a cat that she had not met, made her cry.

She wondered why that was. Was it because her father cruelly killed a living animal just to demonstrate his power? Or was it because she was starting to care what Black thought of her? She hoped it was not the latter; Hermione Granger simply wasn't the type of girl who wondered what everyone thought of her at all times. People could think what they wanted.

But maybe she was changing. The old Hermione Granger, the one who would worship her father, would've never disobeyed him and ask to go to Hogwarts. But then maybe, this whole new Hermione Granger was what was hurting those around her.

It could've been also that this was the moment that she decided that she was going to break free from her father. Nick had done it, hadn't he? Had he cried as well? She didn't think he did. She would've remembered and made fun of him for it.

A finger reached over and gently wiped her eyes. Abraxas stared at Tom in amazement. Hermione guessed that such sentimentalities weren't common for Tom. Hermione herself had never seen Tom like this, his face full of concern. She wasn't sure if she liked him like this better or him trying to curse her.

"Was it the kidnappers?" He inquired, and Abraxas flinched at the last word, looking worriedly at Hermione. She nodded, and his eyes immediately darkened in anger. His hand, which was reaching for her hand, tightened in to a fist, nearly crushing her fingers.

"They killed the cat," Tom stated, looking at Hermione for confirmation. Hermione gave him another nod. He tilted his head to one side, his gaze calculating. There was a moment of silence. Abraxas looked thoroughly confused, glancing in between them, trying to get clues.

Finally, Tom said, "There's something you're not telling me."

"There's always something I don't tell you," Hermione said, trying to get over the embarrassment of crying in front of them. Now that the moment had passed, the action seemed completely stupid and uncalled for. "I could say the same about you."

Tom narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, a figure flew out from the house and barreled towards Hermione, nearly knocking her over.

"Hermione!" Lavender's hair was still as frizzy as ever, and the grin grinned widely. "You're back!"

"Hello, Lavender," Hermione inclined her head politely. She still didn't know where she stood with Lavender. The girl would hate her one second because of Tom, and then confide in her when her interest switched to Harry. "Nice to see you too."

Hermione noticed, rather sadly, that Lavender was still wearing the rags servants were forced to wear. Lavender, however, did not seem to mind. "Thank Merlin you're back! Finally, another girl in the Manor! Lady Malfoy doesn't count." Abraxas cleared this throat loudly, and Hermione could see a little bit of fear strike Lavender's eyes. Hermione frowned. Since when had Lavender been afraid of Abraxas?

"You two don't need to stand out there," Hermione noticed he didn't include Lavender in his group. But then again, she had spent so much time at Hogwarts she had come to think of everyone as roughly equal. She supposed it would take her some time to get used to the fact that some people were considered servants. "Come inside." Abraxas stepped sideways to let both of them in.

Lavender trailed next to Hermione as she stepped in to the Manor, feeling the familiar smell reach her nose. "I have so much to tell you," the girl whispered excitedly. "Do you think you could sneak down to the kitchen later?" She bit her lip, looking nervous. "That is, if you want, of course. I won't force you."

Hermione blinked at her. "You can come to my room and we can talk." Truthfully, she didn't want to listen to Lavender's gossip mill, but she figured a little conversing with some girls once in a while couldn't hurt. Plus, Lavender's life was much worse than hers at the moment—if she ignored the whole situation with her father—and the girl looked like she needed someone to talk to.

"I don't think that's proper," Lavender said, whispering and throwing glances at Abraxas, who was now engaged in a conversation with Tom. Well, if Tom ordering him around could be considered a conversation. "I'm your servant now. Master Abraxas wouldn't be pleased."

Hermione frowned. She couldn't think of Abraxas as a 'Master.' Tom, maybe, but not Abraxas. "Well, if Abraxas doesn't like it, he'll have to take it up with me." She knew he wouldn't, though.

Before Lavender could reply, an elegant woman came in to the room. Lavender instinctively hid behind Hermione. The woman, however, paid the two girls no interest as she floated over to her son, batting her eye lashes prettily. Abraxas's face was stoic, but Tom placed a polite look on his face and smiled.

"Tom," Lady Malfoy cooed, taking his hand in hers and stroking it gently. Hermione nearly gagged, and Lavender eyed her curiously when she made a face. "We're so happy that you could join us." She looked to her son. "Aren't we, Abraxas?" There was no reply.

"No," Tom said, his voice nearly a purr. Hermione didn't miss the indiscrete eye roll that came from Abraxas. "The pleasure is mine. Thank you for inviting me over to your lovely house."

"Your presence is most pleasurable." Hermione rolled her eyes herself this time. If she didn't know better, she would think they were both children, shamelessly flirting with each other. However, what they really were was an old woman flirting with her son's friend. She thought about her own mother flirting with someone like Tom and grimaced. Then she quickly pushed all thoughts of her mother out of her head.

"Why do you have so much luggage this time?" Lady Malfoy asked, gesturing towards the extra suitcase. Hermione raised an eyebrow; was she really that unnoticeable? "You know you don't need to bring everything. We have more than you need here."

To be honest, Lady Malfoy sounded like she was trying to sell Tom the house. Tom threw her a charming smile, and then gestured towards Hermione. "That's for Hermione." He added for extra emphasis. "My girlfriend."

Hermione almost groaned. Tom seemed to be enjoying this whole situation way too much, as Lady Malfoy swiveled around and regarded Hermione through narrowed eyes. Lavender let out a small giggle, and the hid again. "You…" recognition dawned her face, and a look of fury crossed it. "You're the servant that ran away! How dare you! I ought to have you executed for your impudent behavior!"

"Mother!" Abraxas jumped in, flabbergasted. "That's Hermione, the girl I was telling you about. I told you how she is as smart as Tom, remember?"

Hermione was flattered that Abraxas had talked about her. Tom, however, frowned and crossed his arm firmly. It was obvious that he thought no one came even close to matching up to his academic skills.

Lady Malfoy's eyes widened and she pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "She's in Slytherin?" She was nearly as annoying as Tracey. "A mudblood is in Slytherin? I must contact Armando. A mudblood simply cannot be in Slytherin." She looked over at Abraxas and smiled nicely. Abraxas seemed shocked at her sudden mood change. "Don't worry, darling." She cooed. "We'll get that mudblood thrown in Azkaban for cursing you."

Abraxas's mouth dropped open. "She didn't curse me! What are you talking about?"

"Do you hear yourself? This is not you." Lady Malfoy said at her son. "She is obviously trying to make you like her, because my real son would not ever defend a mudblood. We'll get you back to normal in no time."

"Excuse me, Miss," Hermione gritted her teeth. Lady Malfoy shot her an annoyed look. "I find it highly offensive that you keep calling me something I'm not. I am not a muggleborn."

"You lie," Lady Malfoy accused. "If you were not a mudblood, why would you need to work as a slave? Only mudbloods are slaves. No one else would be caught to sinking to such a low level."

Lavender flinched behind Hermione, and she remembered that the girl had said she was a pureblood before. What was Lavender doing here then? There were a lot more opportunities for her that would pay more and give her more pleasurable work than cleaning the floors all day.

And Harry, with his past and secretiveness, it seemed like all three of the servants had something to hide.

"Mother, may I have a word with you—"

"Pardon me," Tom said smoothly, interrupting Abraxas. The latter wisely fell quiet. "I apologize for not notifying you beforehand, but Hermione is spending the break with me. I would appreciate if you would let her stay here for a couple of days. I promise she will not cause any trouble."

On one hand, Hermione was mad that Tom that he was referring to her as if she was a wild pet. On the other hand, she was flattered that Tom Riddle was defending her. Hermione was aware that the words would mean less than nothing to him, but she couldn't help but feel better at his words.

"Tom, dear," Lady Malfoy cooed. "The mudblood must have put you under her spell as well. We'll have her arrested in no time." She harrumphed. "This is what happens when you let disgusting mudbloods do their own thinking. They backstab you." She sighed dramatically. "Mudbloods, always needing someone to think for them…"

"Mother, she's not a—"

Hermione didn't give Abraxas a chance to finish. She took one step forward and smacked the woman across the face. Shocked, Lady Malfoy stumbled backwards and fell on her butt, her hand on her cheek and her eyes wide. Even Abraxas made no move to help her up, and everyone just stared at Hermione.

"Pardon my intrusion," Hermione said as coldly as she possibly could. She narrowed her eyes at the woman on the ground. "I can tell I am obviously not wanted here. I will be taking my leave, then. I hope that I never have to see you again."

"How dare you!" Lady Malfoy screeched. "My makeup! I spent hours doing it! It's now dirtied with your mudblood fingerprints!" She sobbed in to her hands. "I must contact my makeup artist once again. She must floo from California." Lady Malfoy glared. "I hope you're ready to be thrown in jail for assaulting a pureblood."

"Bitch," Hermione hissed at her, and before anyone could respond, she stomped out of the house. She could hear Lady Malfoy still yelling, and Abraxas's pleas for her to be quiet, but Hermione didn't turn back once. She simply waved her wand, and she and her suitcase left the Malfoy Manor.

ஐ

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon kicking pebbles in to a tree.

She had gone to a muggle park and plopped down, unsure where she was supposed to go. Now that she basically blew any chance she had of living at the Malfoy Manor, she didn't know where she was supposed to go. Should she go back to the orphanage? Or maybe even visit the Weasley home?

In the end, she decided not to do either. She stayed in the park for the entire day. There were a couple of boys who came and decided it'd be hilarious to throw pebbles at her, but other than that, there was nothing interesting that happened. As for the boys, they had 'accidently' fallen in to the lake. There were no more pebble throwing incidents after that.

She had been sitting on the bench, feeling rather bad for herself, when someone behind her said, "Hey."

"Hi Harry." Hermione scooted over on her bench to let him sit down. He looked the same as he did when she left; his brown hair was still unruly and over the place, and his glasses were taped together with scotch tape. He had borrowed someone's clothes, because he actually had some jeans and a T-shirt on. Hermione wondered who would've been kind enough to lend him some, or if he just stole it.

"Lavender said you were back." Harry sat down, running a hand through his hair. "She also said that you slapped Abraxas's mother." He raised an eyebrow, a look of admiration in his eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes." Hermione said. "I don't regret it."

"I didn't think you would. You shouldn't, anyway." Harry looked at her. "How was Hogwarts?"

"Quite good. I'm alive, aren't I?" Harry gave her a grin. "I met some new people, studied some more. Though, I suppose the most interesting thing to you is the Quidditch Pitch, isn't it? It was huge." Harry's eyes lit up and he nodded. He really was a Quidditch fanatic. "You should come with me next time."

Harry looked down, the light from his eyes extinguished. "I can't. Servant, remember?" He sighed.

Hermione blinked at him, and then asked, "Do you know Ron Weasley?"

Harry's head whipped up so fast, she thought he snapped it. "Why do you ask?" he said, his voice cautious. His reaction, however, was enough to confirm her suspicions.

"Ron told me about his best friend and his sister," Hermione shrugged, and then watched as Harry noticeably winced. "I sort of put the pieces together after thinking about it. Did you really escape Grindelwald?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands together. "I did." He said, but didn't elaborate on that aspect."Yes, Ron was my best friend. As for Ginny, I loved her with my life. I still do."

"That's sweet," Hermione said, thinking out loud. "To have someone love you even when you're dead." She thought of Lavender, and wondered if the girl knew that Harry was still in love with his dead ex-girlfriend.

Harry shot her a look, but when she didn't respond, he dropped the topic. "Ron was quite angry with Ginny's death. I don't blame him. Of course it looks fishy. If Ron and Ginny went off, and only Ron came back, I would hate him too."

"Ron doesn't hate you," Hermione blurted out. "He still likes you. You're still his best friend. He just doesn't know how to start forgiving you. I shouldn't be telling you this, as you know Ron so much better than I do, but Ron's not good at these kinds of things."

"I guess so," Harry sighed. "After Ron and the rest of his family kicked me out of his house, I was essentially homeless. My parents died when I was young, you see, and the Weasley family was kind enough to pick me up. I had nowhere to go once they left me to die, and I didn't have any money."

"That's kind of mean, isn't it?" Hermione frowned. "To just leave you there by yourself?"

"People do weird things when death shows up."

True. Hermione thought back to her mother, to when the two of them played with blocks together. She remembered Nick, coming up to her one day after her mother's death and saying, "You're different now. You don't smile anymore." Death could do a lot to people, and it was so powerful that no one could escape it.

Harry, however, he had a whole life in front of him. And she was determined to help make it right for him. He deserved a second chance as much as everyone else did.

"Harry," Hermione said, and then held out her hand. Harry looked at it questioningly, and then raised his hand. Hermione snorted. "I'm not asking for a high five, Harry. I'm telling you to put your hand in mine."

Harry blinked, but did as he was told. Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on the house on the postcard that Ron had sent. A couple seconds letter, she felt the familiar pressure of apparition envelope her, dragging Harry along with her.

The first thing Hermione heard was a scream. The second was the feeling of intense pain and the feeling of liquid running down her leg.

"I'm sorry!" She squealed as the entire Weasley family came in to view, their jaws open wide. She, however, did not see neither Ron nor Nick, much to her disappointment. She could tell that this was the Weasley house based on their hair color, but other than that, they were strangers to her.

She had accidently apparated them inside of the house instead of outside. Harry had fallen somewhere behind the couch and was struggling to get up. She herself cut her leg on the coffee table, and it was bleeding. She paid it no mind. "I meant to arrive outside."

"Who are you?" The woman who Hermione assumed to be Mrs. Weasley asked. She placed her hands on her hips and regarded Hermione coldly. There was a wooden spoon in her hand. "If you are another one of those muggles trying to sell my husband those worthless junks, then—"

"Now now, dear," Mr. Weasley said, patting his wife fondly on her arm. "There's no need to bring muggle technology in to this. It is quite a fascinating subject, after all." His eyes brightened as he glanced over at Hermione. "You don't happen to have any on you, do you? I'm afraid I've run out since I finished my exploration with the telephone."

Hermione shook her head. She had learned quite quickly that keeping anything muggle on her was a death wish if she wanted to be anywhere near Tom. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Good," Mrs. Weasley harrumphed, waving off two of the Weasley boys, who looked like twins. They were loading something under the table, wearing identical grins. Mr. Weasley got a crestfallen look on his face before he returned to the object in front of him, which looked strangely like a yo-yo."Now, can you leave? This is private property. It's illegal to trespass."

Before Hermione respond, two huge balls of paint were fired at her head. She quickly ducked and they hit the wall behind her, painting it with two spots of green and blue. Mrs. Weasley quickly turned and scolded the twins, who were feigning innocent.

"Now, Ma, that wasn't us. Why would we want to scare away such a lovely lady?"

"It was Dad. If that was us, we wouldn't have missed."

"But since you're so convinced it's us, would you like us to show Dad how it's really done?" They took out identical paintball guns and pointed them at Hermione.

"What?" Mr. Weasley looked up from his inspection of a yo-yo. "Did you say something?"

"Dear!" Mrs. Weasley said, scandalized, waving her wooden spoon around. "There's an intruder in the house! Will you please drop your muggle gadget and help me here?" She glanced back at Hermione, as if she was going to curse her if her back was turned.

"Why?" Mr. Weasley scanned Hermione, a small smile appearing on his face. He looked like Ron when he smiled. "She seems perfectly harmless, doesn't she?"

If only I were harmless. "Actually, I'm here to—"

"Hermione!" Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as Ron flew down the stairs and grinned. "You made it!" Behind him, Nick appeared. He gave her a small nod and a grin. He looked like he lost weight, though; living with the Weasleys must have been painful for him, knowing he was bringing danger to them by just staying in their house.

"Hi Ron," Hermione greeted. "I meant to apparate outside of the house, but it accidently took me inside." She eyed her leg, which was still dripping blood. She quickly healed it and cleaned the rug that had been stained in her blood.

"That's alright. As long as you didn't hurt yourself." Ron turned towards his family. "This is Hermione who I was telling you would be coming over. Hermione, this is my family. Mom, Dad, Fred and George. Percy, Charlie and Bill are all overseas."

"Oh! You're Ron's friend." Mrs. Weasley looked extremely ashamed, and without her menacing look on, she actually looked quite nice. She placed the spoon down. "I'm so sorry for talking to you like that. I didn't know…"

"It's okay," Hermione smiled at her. "It was my fault as well. I didn't explain myself clearly enough."

One of the twins looked at Ron. "Ronniekins bringing home a girl?"

The other one sniffled. "Our Ronniekins is all grown up now!"

Ron scowled. "Shut up."

"Play nice, boys," Mrs. Weasley warned, and then smiled warmly at Hermione. "Hermione, dear, would you like to eat dinner with us?"

"I would love to," she suddenly remembered Harry and leaned over the couch. She was here for him, after all. His glasses were askew, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. "Get up, Harry. You should talk to them."

"They'll hate me," Harry moaned, shaking his head. "I don't know what I was thinking. I should've known you didn't just want to shake my hand." Hermione snorted. "Take me back to the Manor please. I'm begging you. I'll do anything."

"Hermione?" Ron asked. "Who are you talking to?"

Before Hermione could stop him, Ron looked over the sofa and froze. Harry didn't move at all and sat there, his eyes gauging his friend's expression. His eyes were sad and resigned, as if he had already guessed Ron's reaction.

By now, Nick had wandered over as well. He put a hand on Hermione shoulder, looked over, and sighed. "Oh." Was all he said.

"Harry?" Ron asked, apparently finding his ability to talk once again. His eyes were huge. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione tricked me in to coming," Harry glared at her. He got up and dusted himself off, and Hermione noticed that the rest of the family had stopped to stare. Mr. Weasley had finally taken his eyes off his muggle devices, and even the twins stopped joking around. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I'll be leaving now. It was never my attention to force my presence on you." He glanced sharply at Hermione. "Take me back."

"Wait," Ron said, cutting Hermione off. She wouldn't have agreed to, anyway. "You don't have to go, Harry. You can stay."

"Stay?" Harry repeated in disbelief. "You want me to stay?" He waved Ron off when he started to speak. "Have you forgotten who I am? Let me remind you. I am Harry Potter. I am the boy your sister was dating. I am also the boy who was with your sister when she was murdered."

"Harry," Hermione said warningly.

"Do you want me to stay so you can punch me?" Harry continued as if he never heard her. Nick pulled on her arm and gave her a look that told her to stay out of this. Hermione sighed, but nodded. This was not her business. "Do you want to strangle me? Go ahead then! I won't stop you!"

"HARRY!" Ron screamed over him, and then the place instantly fell silent. "Harry, I don't hate you. I actually want to apologize to you for being so mean to you." He paused. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," Harry replied hotly.

"Harry," one of the twins rolled his eyes. "Ronniekins is trying to apologize to you. This is a legendary moment. Just listen to him."

"Where's the video camera, Dad?"

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, and then turned back towards Harry. "Harry, dear, none of us blame you for what happened. We know Grindelwald is an extremely dangerous and evil man," Hermione gripped Nick's hand tightly, and he squeezed back. "There was nothing you could've done. We're happy that you managed to get back safe and sound." She paused, and some tears began to form in her eyes. "Ginny wouldn't have wanted you to feel guilty."

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, leading Harry up the stairs. "Let's go talk privately." Harry had a guilty look on his face, but he allowed Ron to pull him away. He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly at him.

The room became quiet again as the two of them left. "I should get going," Hermione said awkwardly, nodding at Nick. "I'll come back for Harry tomorrow morning."

"No, you can stay," Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her tears before giving her a small smile. "I apologize for being a wreck right now, but there's a spare bedroom upstairs. You could always sleep there."

"Or," one of the twins winked. "You can sleep in my room."

"Two for the price of one," the other twin grinned. "We can even sleep in the same bed if you like."

"Fred and George!" Mrs. Weasley said, clearly scandalized. "Stop corrupting Ron's friend."

"As if Ron didn't corrupt her already."

Hermione laughed, and the twins looked pleased. "Alright then, I accept your invitation to stay in this house," she said. "Thank you so much for your generosity." She didn't want to go back, anyway. Lady Malfoy would not let her in to the Manor, and she doubted that Tom would give up such a comfortable room just to spend the night with her.

"Does that mean you'll also sleep in our room?"

"Nope." She laughed at their crestfallen faces. "Try again next time." She pulled Nick along with her up the stairs, all thoughts of the Manor and Tom flying out of her head.

ஐ

Tom Riddle stomped down the street to a pub, his usually handsome face twisted in a nasty snarl. People stopped to stare as he walked by, acting like a five year old, but he didn't care. He was too angry to care.

He flung himself down on to one of the chairs at the pub and told the bartender to get him two of the strongest things he had. Once he got his drinks, he twirled around his straw and took a small sip of his beverage. It burned its way down his throat, but he paid it no mind.

When he had gotten back to his room, he was pleased to see Hermione sitting on his bed, looking thoroughly confused. He shut his door quickly, making sure to lock it in the process. He had asked Abraxas's mother for a spare wand, and she gave it to him without thinking. She certainly had her uses, but he had almost lost control and lashed out when she insulted Hermione.

However, if it weren't for her, he'd still be in that damn orphanage.

Still. Who did she think he was? If Hermione really were a mudblood, Tom would never have came anywhere near her. He didn't need mudblood filth staining him. No secrets were worth that.

"Tom?" Hermione questioned, eyeing him suspicious as he plopped himself down on the bed. He shot her a polite smile that gave nothing away. "What did you want that's so important that I needed to come here this very instance? Abraxas's mother could be here at any moment." She bit her lip, obviously feeling guilty about yelling at her friend's parent. "I don't want to cause any more trouble."

"She deserved it," Tom said sweetly, caressing her cheek gently. She slapped his hand away and scowled, and he smirked in response. It was worth a shot. He could already see that her defenses to him were crumbling. It wouldn't be long before she started to slip and told him all her secrets. "You are here because she decided to give you permission to live here."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "You wouldn't have anything to do with her sudden change of heart, would you?"

Tom said nothing, but instead pushed her so that she fell on her back and he loomed over her. Before she could do anything, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She froze for a moment, before relaxing and leaning in to him. Her hands tangled in his hair as his hands trailed the hem of her shirt, lightly skimming her warm skin.

The feeling of his fingers seemed to bring her out of her stupor, as she pulled away, much to his disappointment. Her eyes searched his, not suspicious anymore, but not quite trusting either.

He didn't know where she had been after Lady Malfoy kicked her out. He had a suspicion, though, that she had run off to Weasley's house. She even smelled like the Gryffindor. That wouldn't do; he wasn't going to have her going around smelling like a Weasley.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "We can't do this right now."

He did the only thing he knew how to do. "Scared, Miss Granger?" He breathed out, watching as her hand reached up to skim his face, and then buried itself in his hair. Her touches were soft and lacked confidence, as if she was unsure about all of this. Tom smirked; knowing her, she probably read about it in a book. "I would've never thought that you were one to back out."

He smirked as a determined look crossed her face. Hermione never backed out of a challenge, he knew, and in less than a second, she pulled her to him again. This time, she seemed surer, their kiss becoming more intense as their tongues clashed, fighting for dominance. He ended up winning, of course, but he never lost to anyone before.

His hands went back to the position they were before, touching the skin right above her jeans and began working their way upwards. Her hands weren't exactly inactive either; they had finished stroking his hair and instead were dipping slightly under his robes. She seemed to be still hesitant about touching him. Well, he would have to change that.

He lifted her shirt slightly, and then completely froze. He broke the kiss and sat up, staring. Hermione sat up too, her face confused, her eyes following his to her stomach. She quickly covered it with her shirt, but he had seen enough.

"What was that?" Tom demanded, very aware that she was refusing to look at him. "Where did you get those?" He narrowed his eyes and tried to get her shirt up again, but she held it down.

"Nowhere, Tom." Her voice was shaky, and she looked like she was crying. Her pity trick wasn't going to work on him, and he felt his handsome features twist in to a nasty snarl. If she thought she could distract him by crying, then she was horribly mistaken. "Please, it's nothing."

"Don't tell me it's nothing," he grabbed her wrist, watching as she flinched at the harshness of his grip. "And don't tell me you fell down the stairs, because that's not going to work for me."

She was silent for a long time, and Tom was about to force an answer out of her when she said quietly, "My parents. They were abusing me when I was little. They've healed now, though." She gave him a weak smile. "I'm alright now."

Did she expect him to believe that? "Why don't you tell me the truth now?" Tom suggested dangerously, watching as she gaped at him. So she had expected him to believe her little lie. "Before I get angry. And trust me, you don't want me to get angry." The magic that was crackling around him testified to that statement. Tom was sure his eyes were getting closer to red.

Hermione scowled at him, not intimidated by his magic. "And how come you don't believe me?"

"Oh no, I perfectly believe you," Tom gave her a sickening sweet smile, one that would've fooled any of the Professors at Hogwarts, with the exception of Dumbledore. He knew that it didn't work on Hermione, though, and the look of suspicion that crossed her face confirmed it. "Maybe a couple of scars, Hermione. That would be believable. Have you looked at yourself recently? You have scars everywhere."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Are you saying just because I have scars means that you're going to dump me?"

"I'm saying," Tom leaned in, his voice eerily quiet. "That I will do much worse than dump you if you do not tell me the truth."

"I did tell you the truth. You're just refusing to believe it." She sniffed. "You think it's easy for me to admit that? You're the only person outside of my family that knows about this. That's just rude to not believe me and claim I'm lying."

"Hermione, I know you," Tom narrowed his eyes. "You would've called for help the second those scars got halfway near what they are right now. Do you think I would believe that you simply stood there and let your parents abuse you?"

He saw a small look of insecurity pass through her eyes, but it was gone within moments. "I love my parents," she said, her voice cold. "They fed me and raised me, so if they want to curse me, it's okay. I'm not hurt too badly, and since I can never repay them for what they've done for me, I am okay with a few scars."

"You're an idiot," he said, and Hermione slapped him across the face. It seemed to be a routine now, but neither of them were smiling as Tom's cheek turned red once again. She was breathing hard, as if she had just run a marathon. Her eyes were completely void of emotion, just like his were at the moment. Her mouth was pressed in a grim line, but Tom noticed that she kept her hand near her wand, just in case he decided to curse her.

Well, she could keep on waiting. He wasn't going to waste the effort.

There was a moment of deathly quiet, and then he said in a controlled voice, "Get out."

She wasted no time exiting the room, not even bothering to throw him a reproachful look as she left. The second the door clicked shut behind her, he grabbed his wand and cursed everything in the room, knocking down expensive gadgets and furniture. He easily destroyed millions and millions of dollars, but he knew that Lady Malfoy would never care. She had too much.

Why wouldn't Hermione tell him about herself? Why was she so secretive, that the only thing he knew about her was her name, and that she was a halfblood? She must have something to hide, to be keeping so many secrets.

…there were so many scars all over her skin.

Tom Riddle clenched his teeth in frustration, and then apparated towards the nearest pub.

"Mister Riddle," someone jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a plump lady looking at him suspiciously. It had been too long since they had last seen each other. Tom gestured politely towards the seat next to him, and the woman sat down. She was determinedly ignoring the drink, Tom noticed. Well, he would have to do something to change that.

"Hephzibah," Tom greeted, bowing his head slightly and giving her a smile. She did not seem to fully believe it, but her tense posture loosened up slightly. He would've been surprised if it hadn't. "Please call me Tom. We've been acquaintanced enough, have we not?"

"I suppose so," She was not looking in to his eyes, and instead stared straight ahead. "Is there something you want, Tom? I have an appointment to keep. I'm afraid I can't stay long." She glanced at her watch to emphasize her point.

She wasn't going to leave anytime soon, not if he had anything to do with it. "I suppose I'll have to make the most I can out of our short time together." He raised his glass. "A toast to our re-acquaintance?"

She was still reluctant, but she had no other choice but to raise her glass as well. The bartender was watching them with his beady eyes, after all. It would've been rude not to. Tom watched her with a calculating glint, sipping on his drink. It would not do if he became drunk as well. The last time he had been drunk, well, Hermione helped him. He doubted that Hermione would coincidentally wander to this part of town, nor would she help him if she did happen to find him.

Hephzibah, unfortunately, seemed to have the same idea. Very little liquid left the cup and entered her mouth as she seemed determined not to get drunk.

Tom decided to help her. Concealing it under his robes, his flicked his wand. The glass tipped itself into her mouth, empting most of its contents in to her mouth. She was so surprised she swallowed it all, and then grimaced. Tom watched her, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Was it good?" Tom asked, leaning in. Before she could answer, he flagged the bartender over and ordered another glass for her. "Drink up," he whispered, placing the glass in front of her, tempting her.

"N-no. I can't drink that." Hephzibah shook her head, pushing it away. Tom merely picked it up and held it in front of her face. "That was too much. I should be going." She stood up, but he tugged on her arm and pulled her back down.

He wanted to do nothing more than to shove it down her throat, but there were too many witnesses in the bar. Instead, he purposely trailed his hand up her leg, watching in satisfaction as she jumped a mile. Tom knew that something good could've come out of hanging out with Black. Tom leaned in closer, and found her cheeks starting to turn red.

"You don't want to go, do you?" Tom murmured softly, stroking her thigh gently. She was unconsciously leaning in to his touch, and he smirked. He placed his lips next to her ear and nearly grimaced as a wave of an unfamiliar smell reached his nose. He had done this so much with Hermione that he had become accustomed to her smell. But now was not the time to think of Hermione. "Stay here with me. I'll make your evening much more enjoyable."

"I—I…alright." She gave in reluctantly. "I'll stay."

Unfortunately for Tom, though, while she was responsive to his touches and his soft words, she still refused to say anything of importance. It took five glasses, which cost a lot of money and made him receive a couple of strange glances from the bartender for ordering such a strong drink, before she finally agreed to take him to her place.

Her place was quite small for someone who acquired so many riches over the years. She went in to the kitchen to make tea for him, stumbling and falling on the way. Tom paid her no mind and focused his attentions on the artifacts she had. She had given him the fake ring last time, so this time he would have to check before taking off. The fake ring cost him so much additional effort.

He was just picking through a stack of cups when he felt plump arms circle his waist as a body pressed up against his. He tried not to wince; he had never had to try before. The acting just came naturally to him. Maybe it was Hermione's influence again. He wondered if he was doing himself more harm than good by trying to find out her secrets. He seemed to be acting rather weird ever since they met.

He spun around and smiled at her. Her eyes tried to focus on him, but they kept drifting away. He tilted her chin up and leaned in almost as if he was about to kiss her. Instead, however, he said gently, "Hephzibah, dear, do you remember the cup we talked about?"

"The cup?" Hephzibah repeated dumbly.

"Yes." Tom said kindly, his voice not betraying the irritation he felt. "The cup we talked about at the bar. The Hufflepuff cup."

"Oh that." Hephzibah grinned at him. "I have it. But…" she paused, and Tom nearly cursed her for making him wait so long. He would've probably found it faster himself. "I want something in return."

"Do you?" His tone was suggestive as he winked at her, and she blushed. "Name your price, Hephzibah. What do I have that is to your liking?"

"This." She pulled him in and kissed him, spinning them around so his back was pressed against the wall. Her hands were bold and they roamed everything, and Hermione's face suddenly popped in to his mind. Tom hastily pushed her away from his mind; now that she pissed him off, she was going to forever reside in his mind to annoy him? He tried to focus on the woman in front of him, but no matter how much he tried, a certain bookworm's face appeared in his mind.

Thankfully, Hephzibah broke the kiss and stumbled back, slightly out of breath. Tom leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, waiting for her to calm down. She was giggling uncontrollably now, though whether it was because of his influence or the alcohol, he did not know.

"I'll go get it right now!" She flounced away, looking more like Tracey Parkinson than the old woman she actually was. Speaking of Tracey…Tom's lips curled up at the thought of their agreement. Hermione was obviously jealous of her, and it satisfied him to know that he held that power over her. However…he had reacted the same way towards Porter, had he not? That would simply not do; he had simply shown too much emotion.

Tom stalked around the room, but was not surprised when he did not find anything of importance. Hephzibah Smith was beginning to be of no use to him; he had milked her of all her precious belongings. In fact, the cup was the last one he wanted from her. Then he could…

"Tom!" Hephzibah flounced back in to the room, holding a tiny golden cup. Tom eyed it greedily, his eyes momentarily turning red. Hephzibah didn't notice, and instead held the cup out at him. "Here you go. As you requested."

Tom forgot to put up his act, but he doubted that she noticed anyway. He leaned forward and gripped the side of the bowl, when he frowned at Hephzibah, who wasn't letting go. "Excuse me," he said as politely as possible, furious that she was dragging this on for so long. Just give me the damn cup! "May I have this?"

"I…" Hephzibah looked confused, and she bit her lip. She shook her head, and then looked like she was speaking to herself. "I can't. I-I must not…"

Maybe his eyes had scared her? Tom composed himself slightly and turned back to her. "Please, Hephzibah," he pleaded in his best voice. "I need this."

He suddenly felt the cup being wrenched out of his grasp, and his furious eyes met a grinning Hephzibah. "I knew you'd try to get me drunk!" She said, way too happy for his taste. "It's one of my fabulous ideas, if I may say so. I left a note to myself to drink some sobering potion, and it worked!"

"If you were really smart," Tom said, narrowing his eyes. His magic crackled around dangerously around him. First Hermione pissed the hell out of him, now this stupid woman wouldn't give him the cup?" You would give me the cup right now."

"Sorry, Tom." She turned around and headed towards the kitchen. "You'll have to try somewhere else. Now, I trust you know your way to the front door?" Humming a cheerful tune, she headed in to the kitchen, throwing Tom a mock wave over her shoulder.

A sneer appeared on Tom's face. You fool, he thought nastily. Never turn your back on Lord Voldemort. He raised his wand, and a jet of green light flew out of it.

Hephzibah didn't even get a chance to scream before she crumpled to the ground, the green light connecting with her chest. She died instantly.

He levitated the cup over, greedily putting his hands all over it. He could see his reflection; a handsome boy ruined by his blood red eyes. When he had started making them—horcruxes, as Slughorn had said—he had felt a piece of his soul getting ripped out of his body every time he killed. Now, he barely felt anything.

ஐ

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she cackled. "Aren't you supposed to be with your family now? I'm sure that Master will be quite disappointed to know that you've been following after his daughter." She made a face. "Can you imagine the disappointment he must feel, for her to be falling in love and befriending her subjects?"

He frowned. "Now listen here, One—"

"Now, dearie, let's not do codenames," She said. "I've had enough of my name at Hogwarts too. Call me Bellatrix, honey." Bellatrix looked at him seductively. "Maybe I'll even let you call me Bella one day."

He eyed her warily. "You can call me Five."

"You won't tell me your real name?" Bellatrix cooed. "Such formalities. Fine then, Five. What exactly are you doing here, other than to enjoy my presence, of course? Did Master give you your next mission?"

Five shot her a sour look. "You know he did not. I've been on the mission for five years now."

Bellatrix laughed and clapped gleefully. "But it's an important mission, Five. We've made so much progress," a nasty scowl crossed her face. "And that stupid girl is ruining it."

Five frowned. "She is not. Master would've given her a warning by now."

"Burning that cat wasn't enough of a warning to you?" Bellatrix sniggered. "That was too soft of a punishment for her. I would've taken her hand and burned let. Let her know real pain."

Five remained silent.

"Every time I see her I want to strangle her," Bellatrix continued, snarling nastily. "Why is she so clumsy? Why is she so stupid? I don't see how she can get anything done with all the mistakes she makes."

"You're just jealous that she's Master's daughter, and you aren't." Five said offhandedly.

"No, I'm not." Bellatrix sniffed, though it was obvious that she was. "She was just lucky that Master was in his lovesick stage at that time." Five glanced around nervously, as if Grindelwald would pop up out of nowhere. Bellatrix waved him off. "If he wasn't so in love with that woman, she never would've appeared. Master himself stated that that was a moment of weakness that he will never repeat."

"There's nothing wrong with falling in love," Five said, though more to himself than to Bellatrix.

"That's where you and I are different, Five." Bellatrix purred. "Everything is wrong with falling in love. Do you see how much power you give to your partner, if you love them? You'll refuse to kill them. You'll refuse to sell them out. You'll die for them." Bellatrix sniggered. "So pathetic."

"You would die for Master," Five pointed out, a frown etched on his face.

"That is because Master is Master," Bellatrix rolled her eyes, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Master does have power over me; he has power over everyone. I am happy to serve someone who has power."

"Master's daughter is in love with someone who has power."

Bellatrix waved him off. "You think that's love? Think again. She's just lusting after the subject, quite pathetically, I might add. They're not in love. She might think so, and she might die for him, but the subject would never die for her." She cackled. "One sided love is a beautiful thing."

"You certainly seem like you've spent a lot of time watching them," Five commented dryly.

"I'm doing my job. Don't tell me you've been slacking off on yours?" Bellatrix sighed dramatically. "I suppose Master will have to make do with just me. His own daughter is prancing around, having completely forgotten about the mission. And you, apparently, are not doing your work."

Five wisely chose not to respond.

"I wonder how Master will award me," Bellatrix sighed dreamily. "Maybe he'll even give the subject to me as a play toy once this is over." She licked her lips. "I can't wait until his pathetic daughter finds out what the real mission is."

"I don't know why you don't just tell her," Five rolled his eyes. "There's nothing secretive about it."

"Oh, but there is." Bellatrix laughed. "She has to be so attached that by the time the subject is captured, she'll be completely devastated. She'll be broken." There was a glint in her eyes. "I will have my fun breaking her even more, until she is nothing left but an empty shell."

Five frowned. Bellatrix sure hated Hermione a lot for someone who was just jealous for Grindelwald's attentions. But then again, Bellatrix wasn't the definition of normal, so he guessed that anything was possible with her.

"But never mind about her. How have you been doing, Five? Have you made progress? Have you found out any information?" She smiled seductively at him, as if it would make him tell her.

Five shrugged. He knew that Bellatrix would not give him all her information, preferring to keep it secret lest someone stole it. "That's for me to know," he said, and Bellatrix frowned at him. "I'm sure you have your own information, don't you?"

"Yes." Her face suddenly lit up. "Did I tell you about my new play toy? He's quite adorable." Her eyes held an evil glint in it. "All it took was one little Imperius, and he was mine. He's been killing the witnesses for me, did you know? Saves me so much work."

Five raised an eyebrow. "And who is slacking off now?"

Bellatrix scowled. "I'm not going to risk being caught just because I wanted to get some blood on my hands. There's plenty enough in the world to go around." Her face lit up. "We're going to hunt mudbloods this evening. Would you like to come?" She licked her lips. "They'll be blood."

"I'll pass," Five said, eyeing her cautiously. With her tousled hair and wild look, she looked quite like an animal. "Is Master going?"

"Master doesn't waste time on trips like these," Bellatrix sniffed. "I, however, need to go." She grinned wickedly. "I'm addicted to their blood, addicted to listening to them scream. I love it when they squirm and–"

"That's it." Five stood up shakily. "I heard enough. I'm getting out of here."

"Had enough already, Five?" Bellatrix laughed, her voice sounding slightly insane. But then again, that was what she was. Insane. Completely out of her mind. Just as messed up as Grindelwald was. "Can't handle a little blood?"

Five ignored her and walked towards the exit of the room when he felt pain ripple through his body. He fell down to the floor, writhing. He had saw Hermione not scream even after put under the Cruciatus for so long. He was not as strong. Dimly, he realized that Bellatrix was laughing, but all he could do was focus on not choking on his tongue.

He was released from the curse a minute later, and he sat up, trying to catch his breath. Bellatrix watched him curiously, a smirk on her face. As he stood up shakily, she pointed her wand at him again, her head tilted slightly to the side.

Five burst forward, and before she had a chance to cast her spell, he leapt on her. He knocked her backwards and grabbed her wand, turning the tip away from him. She struggled and clawed at him with her fingernails, but there was little she could do not that he established a firm position on top of her.

He took out his wand and pointed it at her, shooting her a warning look. Bellatrix immediately stopped moving, her eyes darkening with hatred. "That was cowardly." He informed her coldly. "If you want to curse me, why don't you curse me when I'm looking at you?"

Bellatrix spat in his face, and it took all his willpower not to just curse her brains out. He didn't think Grindelwald would appreciate that. "What the hell, Five." She growled at him. Though she was no longer laughing crazily, she still looked quite insane like this. "Where did this come from?"

Five raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who cursed me while I was defenseless, Bellatrix."

"That was nothing. It was only a little Cruciatus," Bellatrix said, and Five could see that she really meant that. "You're a big boy, aren't you? You can handle a little pain."

"Well then, so can you."

Unfortunately, he found that he could not cast any serious curses at her, and the smirk on her face widened. It seemed like the only way he would be willing to hurt someone was if Grindelwald ordered him to.

He really was a puppet, wasn't he?

Five sighed and climbed off of Bellatrix, but he missed the glint in her eyes, and he also forgot about the wand she still had in her hands. Within seconds, he was pinned to the floor, unable to move a muscle. His wand was in her hands as she looked down on him, her eyes dark and her lips in a sneer.

"Let me show you to never attack me," she said sweetly, and then the pain came, again and again. She seemed to have no limit, and even after the pain was gone and now there was only a feeling of numbness, she didn't stop.

Fifteen minutes later, when Five was battered and had completely given up, she dropped his hand next to him and smirked. Without warning, she raised her boot and stomped on his face. Five could feel his nose break, and the feeling of liquid flowing down his face. Bellatrix laughed gleefully.

Five looked up at her, his eyes dark with hatred. "I will kill you," he said threateningly. "I will find you one day, when you're defenseless, and I will make you feel pain. I will make it hurt so much that you would be pleading for me to kill you. And I will. I will kill you in the most painful way possible."

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" Bellatrix laughed and then flounced out of the room, leaving Five strapped to the floor, his body aching in millions of places, and his nose bleeding profusely.

Author's Note: Now that I've re-read the last scene, I have to say that I dropped a lot of hints on who Five is, and for other secrets. So, if you can figure them out, congrats. If you can't, they'll be revealed real soon as we come upon the halfway point of this fic. (Yeah, we're not even halfway through yet. Sigh.)