Madam Umbridge Home for Wayward Girls

by A.Lovely.Villain

Hermione's life takes a dark turn after the death of her parents, leaving her at the mercy of a tyrannical Matron. Her new home is more prison than sanctuary, haunted by ghosts bearing terrible, bloody secrets. Though she's surrounded by troubled young women, it's the men in her life who teach her freedom comes at the greatest price of all. Victorian AU, Tomione, Dramione, no triad

25. Compunction

A/N: Happy Birthday, Tom Riddle!

Unless you live in Tokyo or Auckland... in which case Happy Belated Birthday!

Thank you guys so much for your support and encouragement while I tried my hand at writing this year. 2018 was a great year because of you. This fic is now at over 400k words because of you. And I'll continue creating work in 2019 because of you. You're awesome, I adore you, and I hope you have a fantastic New Year ❤︎

---

I knew who I was this morning,

But I've changed a few times since then.

. . .

Tom descended upon her like a dark, crashing wave, one foot bracing the narrow strip of floor and the other bent, knee wedged between the seat and her writhing form.

He gripped her hip with one hand, pinning her in place, the other grasping her neck, fingers tightening as her breath thinned, pupils blown wide.

She pulled her skirts higher yet, bare flesh pressing into his thigh, a searing heat that turned the air to steam around them, filling his lungs with a cloud of water vapor, stuttering his pulse.

"If I should be found murdered tomorrow the list of suspects would be twice as long."

He squeezed her throat tighter, leaning in until his lips hovered just a hair's breadth away from her own.

Red overtook his vision, swallowing her form and washing away the lines of the cabin interior, suspending him in a river of woe, drowning in bloodlust.

She gasped in his hold, the sound echoing into his mouth and waking him from the powerful stupor.

He drew back, hand loosening around her neck, fingers stiff and wrist locked with tension.

"What is it?" Her voice was gravel thick, dark smoke swirling in her eyes.

He blinked slowly, senses returning in phases. He breathed deeply, arms trembling with the strain of holding the monster at bay.

"What I want to do to you cannot be confined to a train car."

Her lips curved into a coy grin.

"And what do you want to do to me?"

His jaw tensed as he released her fully, rising to his feet, swaying in place before placing a hand to the overhead rack to steady himself.

She propped her elbow beneath her, making no attempt to lower her skirt.

"For a moment, I wasn't certain whether you intended to strip me of my clothing or my flesh."

He drew a hand over his mouth, meeting her gaze.

"Neither was I."

She blinked. Then arched a dark brow, smiling with pure delight. "Do you mean to scare me away, Doctor?"

He stepped back. "Nothing scares you, Madam."

"Call me Bella."

He lowered to his seat, straighten his coat and cuffs.

"Is that what your husband calls you?"

Her smile fell. She glanced away, pushing her skirts back over her knees and sitting up with fluid grace.

"That's what everyone calls me."

He regained his faculties at last, hands settling upon the armrests.

"Then I'm not interested."

Her eyes flickered up, flashing with pleasure.

"Tell me something about you." She leaned in, crossing her legs, color high in her cheeks. "Something no one else knows."

"I detest beets."

Her teeth gleamed. "No more games, luv. Not unless you're prepared to finish what we started."

His chin tipped higher, gaze steady even as his heart rioted.

"When I was a boy…"

He wet his lips, unable to capture the words before they were slipping free from his tongue.

"Before I knew who my father was, I prayed every night he would come and take me away." His hands loosened, the twisting tension inside of him releasing with every word. "To some grand estate with sprawling lawns and private carriages. Or on a massive ship, en route to some exotic land. The fantasies varied greatly. But they all shared a common thread." He took a deep, slow breath, lungs unconstricted at last. "Escape from my reality."

The amusement was long faded from her face, the delicate porcelain set with hard intensity.

"What happened?"

He released the breath.

"My wish came true. My father came for me." His gaze darkened. The interior of the cabin followed suit, shadows flaring to life as the moon fell behind the hillside. "And took me away."

Her eyes were unwavering, smoldering with black flame. "Hope is a great and terrible burden. We are stronger in its absence. Free."

His smile glinted with a razor's edge.

"That is one of many lessons I learned by his hand."

She tilted her head. "Did you regret praying for an escape?"

He blinked, dark memories crawling through his mind on dirty hands and knees, trailing blood and decay in their wake.

"No." His expression remained unchanged. "I regretted believing in God at all."

---

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing Theo's arm from behind and dragging him into the empty cabin to their left.

"Christ, this one is fine."

His companion groaned, eyes roaming the tight confines with open derision.

"They obviously forgot to clean after the last change over."

"It's fine, you uppity ponce." Harry pulled the door shut behind them, sliding the bolt into place. "This is how the other side lives."

"Says the sole heir of two of the wealthiest families in the Realm."

Harry dragged a hand through his hair before collapsing into a seat beside the window, arms falling lifelessly at his sides. Theo remained standing at the door, fingers clenched as he fought the urge to cross the small cabin and run them through the chaotic mop.

Harry met his eye, brow raised. Theo swallowed thickly, moving slowly to the opposite seat.

"Alright, Potter. What is the asinine plan you've concocted this time?"

Harry scrubbed a palm over his face, eyes bloodshot.

"It's not my plan." He yawned into the back of his hand. "Well, not only mine." And then scratched the back of his head. "Riddle is on the train as well."

Theo sat. "The Doctor you told me about at lunch?"

"Yes." Harry slouched lower, knees bracketing Theo's legs. "He's going to lead us to Lestrange's estate."

Theo blinked, expression tightening, realization quickly sparking to life in his gaze.

"He's with Bellatrix, isn't he?"

Harry's brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Impressive."

"I'm capable of analytical thought every now and then."

"It's sexy."

Theo rolled his eyes, glancing to the window, unaware he'd just put his blackened eye in full display of the moonlight.

"Your turn."

Theo tensed. Harry drummed his fingers atop the neighboring seat.

"Who hit you and why."

"I wasn't-"

"Theo. Tell me who put their hands on you."

He inhaled deeply, holding it until the pressure threatened to rupture his lungs, releasing the gust in a satisfying rush.

"I got into a row with my father."

Harry's fingers froze.

"I'm going to break every bone in his fucking hand-"

"I assure you, what I did was far worse."

He sat up straighter. "What did you do?"

Theo turned his head, meeting his gaze. "Held a proverbial mirror before his face. I will be shocked if he's able to pull himself out of his drunken abyss before the new year."

Harry's jaw tensed. "He deserves worse."

"Physical wounds heal." Theo raised his chin, eyes blazing. "I stand by my recourse."

The train flared to life, pulling slowly out of the station. Harry's legs jostled, their knees pressing.

"What was the fight about anyway?"

Theo blinked, airway constricted. He opened his mouth but the words refused to surface.

"Theo?"

"It was a squabble about finances."

Harry arched a dark brow, looking supremely unconvinced. "Finances."

Theo grasped the armrests, trying to imitate the man's leisurely sprawl and failing terribly, a childhood worth of social etiquette lessons refusing to bend his spine.

"You know how he gets when he drinks. If he's in the mood for a row he'll fight about spots on the silverware."

Harry's expression tensed, emeralds glinting. "You need to get out of that house."

"I'm working on it." Theo carded a hand through his hair, realigning the strands. "And I'm tired of talking about him." He held Harry's gaze, tone hardening. "Besides, you look barely capable of speech."

"The hair makes me appear far more feral than I am."

"I beg to differ, though I was referring to the bags beneath your eyes. When is the last time you slept?"

Harry shook his head, averting his face towards the window, dark scenery rushing by at blurring speed. "Christ, you're as bad as Sirius."

"Worse. I have the power to bend you to my will."

Harry's head snapped forward, irritation falling by the wayside to make room for sultry heat. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something wildly tantalizing. You, taking a nap against the window."

He smirked. "Utterly filthy."

"Potter-"

"Bloody hell!" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine, Theo. And I can't sleep right now, I need to-"

"You need to be at your fittest to help Granger. You'll only sabotage this already flimsy rescue mission if you can't walk a straight line."

He sighed deeply, shoulders lowering as he blinked, vision hazy.

"Just a few minutes-"

"Stop fighting it and close your bloody eyes already." Theo wet his lips. "I promise to wake you once we arrive."

"If we miss the stop-"

"Harry."

His compartment mate blinked.

"Trust me."

Harry's jaw tensed, but he slowly nodded, adjusting in his seat as his lids fluttered shut.

His features fell lax within seconds, breath slow and deep.

Theo watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for several minutes before his eyes began to wander beyond his control. He traced the hard lines of his arms and shoulders, the swell of his Adam's apple, the strong curve of his jaw, darkened with five o'clock shadow.

He swallowed thickly as his slow perusal led to the set of his lips, gently parted in sleep.

His fists tightened atop his thighs, muscles locked tight as he fought to remain still.

But the battle was lost within moments.

He leaned forward, arm extended, fingers gently raking through the wild mane atop Harry's head. The man's forehead creased, breath stuttering. Theo froze in place, fingers consumed by the thick locks.

A moment later his steady breathing resumed, though his face remained tensed. Theo bit his lip, combing his mane back once more before lightly tracing the worry lines with his fingertips, heat swelling as he watched the tanned flesh fall smooth beneath his touch.

He ran the back of his knuckles across his pert cheek before settling back at last, breath slowing until it mirrored his slumbering companion's, eyes hooded and fixed upon his still form.

He was content to simply gaze upon him in silence, chest aching as he wondered whether it would be the final time he was afforded the privilege.

---

Draco clutched the metal bar above the window, leg bracing the opposite seat, fighting to remain upright as the carriage charged through the wild terrain.

The horses raced over uneven grass, between rocky ravines and through shallow streams, the compartment bouncing violently all the while.

The driver shouted into the night, propelling his animals forward, making good on his promise to cut the most direct path to the countryside estate no matter the difficulty. The horses turned, the carriage rocking precariously on two wheels as it struggled to round the cluster of small boulders. The back one clipped the stone and caused Draco to lose his grip on the bar, crashing into the opposite wall, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain as his shoulder took the brunt of the impact.

The carriage regained its balance, the right wheels hitting the ground with bone-crushing force. His teeth snapped together as he jolted, pushing himself back towards the window, seeing nothing but flashes of dark trees streaked with moonlight. Low hanging branches scraped the roof, snapping as they snagged the frame.

A wolf howled in the distance.

Others joined in, closer.

His blood ran cold as he gripped the bar once more, knuckles turning white.

Fucking hell, I'm going to be savaged by wild beasts before we even arrive.

And then they were bursting through the thicket, a wide strip of moonlight highlighting a section of woods in the distance.

A large, dark mass sped through the clearing, racing in the opposite direction.

Christ…

His heart skipped a beat.

What is that?

He blinked as the figure moved into the moonlight once again, drawing closer.

His mouth ran dry.

He pounded a fist against the roof.

"Hey! Are you seeing this?"

"Aye, Sir! It's a fae spirit! Don't look upon it or it'll scratch out your eyes and steal away your soul!"

He rolled his eyes before once more focusing on the figure ahead, heart seizing painfully as it passed them by, separated only by a few yards of petrified trees.

He surged forward, head hanging out of the window as he struggled to keep it in his sights.

"Turn around!"

"Sir?"

"Go after it!"

"Are you mad?"

"I'll double your fucking fare! Now turn around!"

The driver nearly dropped the reins.

"Forty pounds, Sir?"

Fire raged through his chest. "I'll make it fifty if you shut your bloody mouth and turn around now!"

The carriage made another tight pivot that sent him sprawling into the opposite bench. He was too fixated on the carriage ahead to worry about the pain firing to life in his arm and wrist, sliding back into place and gazing out of the window once more.

He attempted to lean out but the trees were too close, branches clawing at the side of the car, rocks firing like missiles from the spokes.

The horses panted loudly, feet tearing through the grass and leaves as they quickly gained speed on their target. The foreign carriage shook violently, more than the knotted terrain called for.

He narrowed his gaze, silver eyes alighting on the busted back left wheel, causing the car to lurch and drag, its blinding speed and unbalanced weight making the supporting side buckle.

Draco gripped the bar with enough force to nearly rip it off the wall.

"Pull up beside it!"

The driver gazed down over his shoulder. "The route is too narrow!"

Draco groaned, eyes rapidly scanning the terrain.

He did a double take, pulse thrumming.

"Drive it toward the clearing ahead!"

"Aye, Sir!"

They caught up at last, riding its tail, his driver directing the horses just beside the busted wheel, preventing it from the making the turn it obviously was preparing to make.

Instead the broken carriage lurched right, bursting through the bushes and into the moonlight strewn field beyond.

His heart swelled as his compartment pulled forward, the foreign driver finally coming into blurred view.

His hands curled around the bottom of the window frame as he pushed his head and shoulders out.

"Pull over!"

The deafening roar of the horses muffled his voice, but his vision cleared at last, fixated upon her tear streaked face and gleaming, wild eyes. Her face was averted forward, shoulders tight, lost to fight or flight instinct.

He wet his lips, inhaling deeply before shouting with the full force of his lungs.

"Hermione!"

She jolted, head turning.

He met her eye.

"Pull! Over!"

Her jaw dropped, mouth agape for several beats before regaining her senses, pulling on the reins.

The carriage rolled to a gradual stop, as did his own.

He pulled violently on the handle, launching himself free of the car before it stilled, staggering in the tall grass as he charged forward.

She remained seated, panting hard as she gazed down, gaze wide and unfocused.

"Draco?"

He skid before her carriage, reaching up and grasping her waist, pulling her down as she gasped, bracing her hands against his shoulders as his arms encased her fully.

He pressed her tight until he felt the breath squeeze from her lungs, blowing against his ear. Her feet dangled high off the damp grass, arms slowly sliding around his neck, though her body remained stiff and awkward in his hold.

He pressed his face to her shoulder, swallowing past the heavy constriction in his throat.

"Nice dress."

She jolted.

And then fell boneless, melting into his frame fully as she was seized by powerful, hysterical sobs.

He closed his eyes, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat echoed against his chest.

"I've got you." He buried his face into her wind-blown hair. "I've got you."

---

Tom tugged on the reins, the wheels crunching the finely milled gravel as they rolled to a stop outside the entrance of the secluded estate.

The sprawling structure was backdropped by heavy, dark woods. The windows glowed brightly, orange and unshuttered.

Bella adjusted beside him on the driver's bench, hand tensing upon his arm.

"How unusual."

He tilted his head, watching the flickering glow of a hearth dancing along the back wall, visible through the large bay windows.

"The staff perhaps?"

She shook her head. "They should be in bed." Her sigh was laced with aggravation. "I wonder if Rabastan has made an impromptu visit."

"Shall I wait outside?"

She wet her lips, releasing his arm and sliding to the end of the bench. "Perhaps that is best. I'll only be a moment."

"Of course."

She descended fluidly, heels softly dispersing the gravel as she progressed to the ashen steps, lifting the hem of her dress as she ascended.

The moment the front door closed behind her Tom descended as well, tying the reins to the post and glancing over his shoulder at the top of the drive. He saw faint movement in the distance, horses emerging from the trees, two distinct riders atop, though only one was recognizable.

He had no time to ponder the stranger in their midst, nodding once to Potter before heading for the house. He took the steps two at a time, opening the door with bated breath, braced for utter madness.

Only to be greeted by an empty, silent entry hall.

He closed the door softly, eyes flickering along the various open doorways lining the circular perimeter.

He heard faint movement to the first door on his left.

His fists clenched, boots clicking the mahogany wood as he breached the threshold, stopping in his tracks as his shin collided with an overturned chair.

He blinked, gaze sweeping the furniture strewn floor, littered with shattered glass and bits of busted wood.

The Madam stood in the center of the explosion, dark eyes drifting along the wreckage without emotion.

He stepped around the chair, leaning over to set it right side up.

"I take it you didn't leave the room in such a state?"

She cocked her head, slowly turning to face him. "My taste is eccentric to be certain, but this avant-garde even for me."

He drew near, pushing aside the remnants of a shattered vase with the sole of his boot.

"Go wait in the carriage. I'll inspect the rest of the home."

She wet her lips, grabbing his arm, nails pressing through the material of his coat.

"What if they're still here?"

He met her gaze. "I can take care of myself."

She pressed in close, voice low, eyes gleaming.

"There's a pistol in the study, bottom right drawer of the desk beneath a false bottom. Rod keeps the key on him at all times, but you can pry it open."

He nodded, placing his hand over her own, gently extracting it.

"Go outside. Wait for me to fetch you. Don't step foot on the grounds no matter what you hear."

She swallowed, complexion waning as he stepped back, clearing her path to the door.

"Be careful, Doctor."

Her eyes lingered upon him for another heavy beat before she gathered her skirts and strode for the door. He remained in place, listening to the echo of her heels across the entry and the open and closing of the main door before resuming his search of the room.

A wrought iron poker lay discarded on the ground.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, studying the tip.

No blood.

He eyes grazed the floor once more.

No blood anywhere.

The observation managed to comfort and unnerve him at once.

He pushed the thoughts aside, exiting the demolished space quickly, crossing the hall and glancing into open doorways until he found the room he sought.

He entered the study, crossing to the desk and wedging the tip of the poker into the seam of the designated drawer, jaw clenching as he pried it free, wood splintering as the lock busted.

He laid the poker atop the counter, pushing aside the random contents until he found a crescent notch in the bottom panel. He lifted the plaque away, gazing down at the gleaming pistol.

He picked it up, weighed it in his hand, then flicked open the cylinder, counting the bullets within. He snapped it shut and lowered the hammer, expression fixed as he strode back into the entryway.

And stood in silence, gazing around slowly.

The first level was unnaturally silent, given the destruction gracing each room.

His eyes fixed and narrowed upon the main staircase.

He started up the center, hand tensed upon the gun, finger curled and poised at the trigger. He paused at the first landing, glancing in either direction, picking one at random and venturing down the adjoining hall.

It led to a row of bedrooms, doors unlocked and furniture undisturbed.

Except for one, which bore a shattered vase and the remnants of fresh cut roses.

The bed was made, but the covers were askew.

His jaw tensed as he continued his path, halting when he heard a muffled thump in the distance.

He pressed close to the wall, gun held at the ready as he continued further down the corridor, glancing into each room before reaching a closed door at the end.

The thumping grew faster, more erratic.

He reached for the knob, but quickly reared back as rapid footsteps echoed up the staircase.

He spun around, pistol aimed-

Potter skid to a stop on the landing, hands raised. A dark-haired man was just at his back, eyes wide as he gripped the former's shoulder and dragged him back.

Tom sighed, lowering the weapon.

"Where is Malfoy?"

Potter lowered his arms, shaking his head as he stepped forward, the man's hand falling away as he advanced quickly.

"I don't know. We waited on the platform as long as we could, we never saw him leave the train."

Tom opened his mouth, but before he could respond there was a particularly loud thump behind the door.

The men stopped mid-approach, eyes fastened on the door.

Tom ground his teeth, braced for impact as he grasped the knob, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Potter's startling green gaze.

The man nodded, once, and then Tom gazed ahead, opening the barrier and raising the gun.

The three men entered swiftly.

And then froze like bronze statues at the center of the room.

Potter opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide, unblinking.

"Holy shite."

Tom's arm slowly lowered, weapon resting at his hip, equally transfixed by the sight ahead.

Rabastan Lestrange let out a guttural scream, muffled by the rope-twisted shirt tied across his mouth, acting as a makeshift gag.

He pulled at the silk cords binding his wrists to the headboard, the wood slamming against the wall in a violent cacophony as he sent them each a murderous glare in turn, face flush and veins bulging.

Potter's companion cocked his head to the side, blinking slowly as his shoulders lowered from their defensive posture.

"Well… I dare say the damsel got tired of waiting for her rescue party."

---

The carriage rolled a steady and even path along the paved road, the horses braying softly as they took a leisurely pace back to the city.

Draco had loaded the girls into his carriage several minutes ago, Hermione sharing his bench while her companion laid down across the opposite seat, eyes heavy with exhaustion. The strange girl hadn't spoken a word when he shrugged out of his coat and laid it across her.

She was asleep before they even pulled onto the main road.

Hermione had been trembling with cold as well, or perhaps it was nerves. He'd been content to wrap her in his arms, but the moment he reached out she shied back, face averted to the window as she laced her fingers tightly atop her lap, their breathless reunion in the field a distant faded memory.

The rejection unfurled a deep, lancing pain in his chest. He dropped his hand, fist clenching as he studied her profile in the moonlight.

And then his eyes drifted lower.

To the faded welts on her neck, the fingertip-shaped bruises along her arms and the fresh, vibrant lines wrapping her wrists.

Red filled his senses as he envisioned every disturbing scenario of how they came to settle upon her pale flesh.

At last he drew a hand over his face, inhaling deeply, forcing the words free.

"Are you…" His heart stuttered painfully. "Did he... "

But he couldn't force the rest out, not without losing control and ripping the carriage apart with his bare hands.

Thankfully she seemed to understand all the same, glancing at the purple mottled wrists in question, covering one with her palm.

"No." She wet her lips, still gazing down. "I'm alright."

He released the breath, but the fire still remained, flames licking higher in his throat.

"How did you escape?"

She closed her eyes, face pinching in either concentration or distress, though likely some combination of the two. "It's all a blur. Though I'm fairly certain I left Lestrange tied to a bed."

He blinked, fists loosening by the outlandish mental image her words contrived.

"And you commandeered a carriage?"

She nodded lightly, eyes fluttering open. "It was outside, the horses were still attached." A hand drifted to her neck, fingers gently encasing it, hiding the violet and blue marks beneath. "I've no idea how to steer one. The wheel busted and I was afraid we'd have to walk the rest of the way."

Draco followed the direction of her focus, gazing upon the carriage's third, slumbering occupant.

"She looks frightfully familiar."

Hermione swallowed thickly, voice edged in steel. "Parvati thought she was dead."

He looked back to Hermione, the pain in her eyes causing his hand to jolt, the urge to reach out and touch her nearly overwhelming.

"Is she one of them?"

She looked at him sharply, brows drawn. "One of them?"

"A doll."

She leaned away, a visible tremor racing through her limbs.

"Yes." Her eyes shuttered. "But she seems to respond to her name. Especially her sister's. I think she can recover her memories with time." She glanced back to the girl, hands lowering to clutch the edge of the seat. "I just wish I knew what he does to them. Maybe then we could reverse the damage faster."

She shook her head. "There's still so much to do. Luna is still missing-"

"She's at Grimmauld."

She spun towards him, eyes wide. "What?"

"We found her at Avery's estate."

She blinked.

"We?"

He opened and closed his mouth, settling on the first explanation that came to mind. "I've joined forces with a rather motley crew of misfits."

She leaned forward, hair falling across her shoulders, causing his heart to swell.

"She's alright? Did he hurt her?"

"She's fine. Not a mark on her." His eyes flickered back to her throat, gaze darkening. "If only I could say the same about you."

She glanced away, turning forward, the moonlight revealing a bright flush across her neck, steadily working its way to her dirt-marred cheeks.

"I have to warn them about the Dollmaker. I know his identity now. We can go to the police." Her eyes shone with manic urgency. "Unless he has moles in the force. Maybe I can reach out to Susan, see if she knows who-"

He reached forward at last, setting a hand on her knee, causing her to jolt violently, but his fingers gently encased the silk-clad limb, holding her in place.

"Hermione. Slow down."

She opened and closed her mouth, shaking her head as she obviously sorted out a rebuttal in her mind.

He squeezed her knee, causing her jaw to snap shut with an audible click.

"Take a breath. You've been through hell and back, we'll wait until daybreak and-"

"I can't slow down, Draco. They won't slow down so I can't slow down-"

"Alright, we'll figure everything out once we get back to London." He breathed deeply, a heavyweight pressing his chest. "But right now, please just rest."

She blinked slowly, tilting her head as her eyes roamed his face carefully, the intensity of her gaze unsettling.

And then her lips parted, her words setting him adrift.

"Why are you here?"

He drew back, though his hand still clutched her tight.

"What do you mean?"

She leaned in, voice louder, firmer. "Why are you here, Draco?"

He continued to stare at her in the resounding silence, his own heartbeat deafening to his ears as his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.

"For you."

She blinked. He leaned in.

"For you," he repeated, the heat of her thigh sending a scorching heat into his palm, a searing brand he relished.

"Only for you."

Her eyes glistened, and a moment later tears over spilled the bottom lashes, tracking down her cheeks and dropping off her jaw. He reached out on instinct, wiping them away with his thumb.

She leaned into his touch, the small movement clipping away the final threads of his self-control. He released her knee, sliding his arm behind her back and pulling her slight frame into his side, warmth flooding his chest when she made no attempt to pull away.

She laid her head atop his chest, centered over his rapidly thudding heart, hand gently curled and settled across his thigh.

"You're safe now." His chin rested atop her head. "You got yourself out, you got her out, all by yourself." He rubbed a hand across her arm, trying to dispel the gooseflesh. "You're incredible."

And suddenly, his long-buried confession burst free from the depths of his heart, climbing rapidly up his throat, eager to unleash itself at last.

"Hermione, I-"

But it got caught on the back of his tongue, hitting an invisible barrier, unable to travel any further.

She tensed in his hold, head tilting back to meet his eye.

"You what?"

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"I'll keep watch while you rest."

She blinked as well, the fire that backlit her eyes dimming. She opened her mouth but seemed just as incapable of speech. She cleared her throat, jaw tensing as she made another attempt.

"Rabastan and his guard may break free, they'll come for us-"

He silenced her with a soft kiss. His lips didn't linger or coax. It wasn't a gesture of passion, but one of gentle assurance, an urge that came naturally and couldn't be denied.

She didn't retreat, nor did she seek out anything more. She merely held his gaze, muscles relaxing until her weight was molding against him.

He leaned his head down once more, his promise whispered and filled with lethal conviction.

"I'll kill anyone who tries to take you from me."

She swallowed, eyes glittering anew. She wiped them dry with the back of her hand, nodding slowly before resting her head upon his chest once more.

His hold remained firm, as though primed for someone to wrench her away at any moment. He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb, tracing idle patterns as he listened to her breathing grow slow and measured.

When he was certain she was asleep, or feigning it to the best of her abilities, he tipped his head back against the seat, gazing at the dark ceiling panel.

He listened to the steady gait of the horses, the faint creak of the wheels, and for one fleeting moment, the rest of the world and all its chaotic inhabitants faded away.

Nothing existed but the endless road, Hermione in his arms, and true contentment in his heart.

---

Tom tucked the pistol into the back of his waistband, crossing the carpet to the bed, reaching out and pulling the spit dampened shirt out of Lestrange's mouth.

"Riddle?" He blinked rapidly, gazing at them each in turn. "Potter? Nott? What the hell is going on?"

The man Tom deduced as Nott inclined his head, dark brow poised high.

"Asks the bound, gagged man."

Potter surged forward, displacing Tom with his shoulder as he leaned over the bed, eyes gleaming with hellish intensity.

"Where is Hermione?"

Lestrange blinked rapidly. "I-" He drew back, spine pressing the solid headboard. "Untie me at once!"

Potter lunged.

Tom grasped his shoulder and wrenched him back, causing his swinging fist to connect with open air as he stumbled, catching himself against the side table with a scowl.

Tom ignored him, turning back to Lestrange and reaching for the hilt of the gun.

"Where is the girl, Lestrange?"

Rabastan's gaze flickered back to Tom, narrowed with simmering rage.

"I knew it." He bared his teeth like an animal. "I told Bella you couldn't be trusted!"

Tom withdrew the pistol.

And proceeded to whip him across the face with it.

Lestrange bucked with the force of the impact, head snapping to the side and blood flying from his mouth, creating an impressive arc of red across the sheets.

He tried to curl in on himself a moment later, the ropes quelling his attempt, but it was the gasp of pain he emitted after Tom tucked the gun away that sparked his interest.

Tom tilted his head, eyes roaming his crumpled form with meticulous precision.

His gaze settled on his right foot, dark and swollen. He raised a brow.

"Your leg is injured."

Lestrange licked his busted lip, blood coating his tongue and teeth.

"The fucking bitch broke it."

Potter edged closer to the mattress. "Where is she?"

"Fuck you!" He spit, bloody phlegm stringing across his own chin and shirt. "You're all dead men!"

Tom calmly made his way to the other side of the bed, bracing his hand atop Lestrange's leg and earning an automatic gasp of pain as he attempted to scoot away. He idly noted the knots in the cord were an approximate match to the ones he used to bind Dolohov.

His heart swelled with pride.

And then it blackened and decayed, hand pressing firm as he sought out the source of the injury. Lestrange screamed like a banshee, the keening pitch nearly taking the paper off the walls as Tom discovered the break, pushing directly upon the torn muscle and tendon.

"I don't know! I don't know where she is!"

Tom decreased the pressure, staring upon him calmly.

"Who else is here?"

Rabastan's face glistened with blood, snot, and tears, chest heaving with broken sobs. "M-My guards! But I haven't seen them since she left me here!"

"And how long ago was that?"

His mouth opened and closed, wet and gaping like a fish.

Tom pressed anew, digging his fingers between the gap in the tibia.

Lestrange cried out for mercy, thrashing in his binds.

"I-I'm not sure! An hour! T-Two! Two hours!"

Tom rose to his full height, idly straightening his lapels.

"Did she leave by foot or carriage?"

Lestrange wet his lips, panting hard, sweat dripping from his face.

"I don't-" Tom raised a brow, glancing at his swollen leg. "I had a carriage parked out front! If it's gone then she took it!"

Tom dismissed him at once, making his way to the foot of the bed and catching Potter's gaze. The man's expression wasn't easily discernible, and Tom wasted no time with the attempt.

"Go, take your horses and see if you can catch her."

Potter's jaw ticked as he made no move towards the door.

"What about you?"

Tom raised his chin, tone indifferent. "I'm going to clean up here."

"Are you sure you don't need my help? What if his guards show up?"

"I'll be fine. Go."

Potter's shoulders drew back, gaze narrowing.

"Don't forget, you have another loose end waiting for you in the drive."

Tom's eyes flashed. "Thank you for the reminder."

Potter held his gaze for another loaded beat before glancing to his side, meeting his companion's eye and nodding. At last he stepped forward and led the way out of the bedroom.

Tom waited until the pair rounded the corner into the hall, disappearing from sight, footsteps fading as they approached the stairs.

And then he turned to face his prisoner, leaning forward and bracing his hands against the footboard, leveling his gaze.

Lestrange snarled, tugging at his binds and rocking the bed frame.

"I knew you were a bottom feeder the moment I laid eyes on you."

Tom smirked, eyes gleaming with sinister mirth.

"You were out-wit and out-matched by an adversary less than half your age." He arched a dark brow. "You also crumbled like a house of cards after one broken bone."

He relished the enraged snarl that followed.

"What a shame you have such a weak constitution. I would have enjoyed seeing her break every bone in your body."

His smirk unfurled into a full-fledged grin, teeth sharp and hungry.

"And if I weren't so pressed for time, I would have some fun of my own."

"Now that I would love to see."

Tom spun on his heel as the feminine voice filled the room.

Madam Lestrange stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with casual disinterest.

But her eyes glittered in the fading light, dark, keen and predatory.

"I'm not sure what game this is, darling." She licked her lips. "But you must let me play."

---

Hermione sank slowly into the sea of darkness. Weightless, suspended.

"Mione."

The voice echoed all around her, sending powerful ripples through the water.

"We're here, luv."

Something pressed into her hip.

She jolted awake all at once, gasping for air, pushing away from the warm, solid barrier at her back.

"Calm down! It's just me!"

She turned her head, eyes wide. Draco's calm visage took form in the shadows. She pressed a hand to her chest, shoulders lowering.

"What time is it?"

He shook his head. "I'm not certain."

She leaned forward, gazing out of the window to the star-filled sky above, when Padma stirred in her bench, drawing both their gazes.

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair, fingers catching in the snarls.

"Stay with Padma for a few minutes, let me explain everything to the others. I don't want to overwhelm her and cause another seizure."

He nodded.

"Alright."

He shifted back in the seat, allowing her room to pass, though their knees brushed and his hands raised to gently grasp her waist, helping steady her. She bit her lip, unable to meet his eye as she reached for the handle and opened the door, stumbling outside awkwardly, gravel biting into her bare feet.

She fists clenched tightly as she turned to face the house.

And then felt the overwhelming urge to gaze back.

She slowly turned, heart leaping at the intensity burning in his eyes. She wasn't used to seeing such raw emotion in his gaze, and wished she was in the right state of mind to process it.

"Draco…"

He leaned forward. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth…

… and then closed it, taking a step back.

"I'll see you in a few minutes."

His jaw tensed. She turned away, chest aching fiercely as she started up the drive.

She made it halfway to the door before it was wrenched open, a familiar face emerging.

"Kitten!"

Laughter bubbled up from her throat, the tension in her shoulders and back melting away as she sprinted across the drive, the gown's mud-caked train trailing after her.

Sirius met her at the base of the stairs, picking up her and spinning her around like she was nine years old again. She clung to his neck, burying her face in his neck as she fought back tears.

"Hermione!"

Parvati appeared in the doorway.

Hermione released another shriek of joy, releasing Sirius as he set her down and charging up the steps, half colliding and half embracing the girl, nearly sending them both sprawling to the floor.

Hannah appeared just over her shoulder. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but then her eyes drifted to the face staring back at her from just behind Hannah.

"Luna!"

They raced for each other, the impact just as jarring as just as satisfying as her hug with Parvati.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Luna clung to her tightly, and then there was movement on either side of they swaying forms. Parvati and Hannah swept in and wrapped their arms around the duo as they all burst into laughter and tears.

"Group hug!"

Blaise launched himself forward, head rising high above the cluster of women as he reached out and encased them all with his long arms.

"Get off, pervert!" Parvati sent a glare over her shoulder, though her tone sounded mostly amused.

"That's what I'm trying to-"

"Zabini?"

Blaise blinked, meeting Hermione's eye. "At your service, luv." He smirked, releasing the group and bowing like a Queen's guard. "Good to see you."

Hermione pried free of the group and leaped forward, throwing her arms around his neck and causing him to rear back, eyes wide as he gaped like a fish, hands raised awkwardly.

"Thank you for helping rescue Luna. Draco told me what you did."

He relaxed a small fraction, gently patting her back.

"Well, saving damsels is what I do, princess."

Parvati rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a smirk. Hermione released him a moment later, spotting the final member of the group hovering awkwardly near the archway.

"Neville."

He smiled in all his nervous, charming glory.

"Hey, Mione, I'm so relieved you're alri-"

His jaw snapped shut as she pounced, standing on her bare toes and embracing him tightly. He burned red with a fever, embracing her more awkwardly than Blaise.

"I'm so happy you're here!" Tears tracked down her face. "I thought I'd never see any of you ever again."

Everyone's expression tensed, though she missed their reactions behind her closed lids.

"Not to cut you short, kitten, but where is Harry?"

She released Neville, stepping back and facing the group.

"I'm not sure." She shook her head. "Draco missed the train, he intercepted us in the woods after we escaped the mansion. He's probably on his way back to London now."

Sirius raked his hands through his hair, tipping his head back as he stared at the vaulted ceiling.

"That kid is going to give me a massive coronary."

"Wait." Hannah stepped forward. "Why did you say 'we'?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She turned to face Parvati, face paling.

"Christ, I meant to tell you right away."

Parvati blinked, arms dropping at her sides.

"Tell me what?"

There was a knock at the front door. Everyone spun around, Sirius bursting to life and charging towards it. Hermione gasped, stepping forward and reaching out a hand, grasping open air.

"Wait, Sirius-"

"Just a moment, kitten."

He pressed a palm to the wood, reaching for the handle.

Hermione turned on her heel, eyes wide.

"Parvati-"

He opened the door.

"Drake, there you… holy shite."

Parvati was still staring at Hermione, brow raised, but her eyes averted to the door at Sirius's bewildered statement.

And then she went stock still, blood draining from her complexion in a rapid flood as she gaped at the entrance, dark eyes reflecting the sconces like pools of ink.

Hermione blinked rapidly, heart thrumming as she peered over her shoulder. Everyone stood equally transfixed, gazing upon the woman standing beside Draco in the doorway.

Padma looked around the room cautiously, shoulders tight and hands clenched.

And then her gaze fell upon her sister.

She jolted, stumbling in place, arm clipping the frame.

Parvati pressed a hand to her chest, feet frozen, eyes unblinking. Hermione reached out and placed a hand upon her shoulder, the gentle touch awaking her at last.

She shrugged free of her grasp, bolting forward, crossing the tile with wide bounds.

"Parvati, wait!"

"Padma!"

Tears erupted from Padma's eyes, her mouth opening but no sound emitting.

And then she started to seize.

Draco surged forward, catching her before she hit the ground, struggling to maintain his hold as she jerked violently in his grasp. He sank with her, laying her on the tiles with eyes wide.

Hermione chased at Parvati's heels, watching as her friend collapsed before her sister's trembling form, grabbing her arm and pulling her from Draco's grip into her own lap.

"Padma!"

Hermione dropped beside her.

"What's happening? What's wrong?"

"It's her mind." She reached beneath her jittering chin, tipping her head back and trying to pry her jaw loose to open her airway. "It's affecting her physical systems. I don't know how-"

And suddenly, Padma's struggles ceased at once. Her entire body went lax as her arms fell lifeless to the marble.

Her eyes closed.

"Padma!" Parvati clung to her tighter, dragging her higher into her lap, tears dripping from her face onto her sister's pale complexion. "What happened? Is she dead?" She gazed up, eyes wide and frantic. "Hermione! Is she dead?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, pressing trembling fingers to the pulse in the comatose girl's neck, holding her breath as she felt the faint flutter beneath the cool skin.

"No, she's just fainted."

Parvati choked back a sob, vibrating so hard it appeared Padma was seizing in her sleep.

"Is this real?" More tears fell, hot and heavy. "Is this really happening?"

Hermione nodded, her own eyes misting over.

"She was at the house. Rabastan has had her for years."

Parvati's gaze snapped up, narrowed and incensed, even in misery. "What did he do to her?"

Hermione took a deep breath, hands settling in her lap.

"It wasn't him. It was the Dollmaker. He's suppressed her memories, but they're still there, buried deep, that's why she's having these fits."

Sirius drew a hand over his mouth, gazing upon them with weary eyes as he took a slow step back from the settling wreckage.

"Alright, let's get her off the floor and into a bedroom."

The air shifted at her back as someone else moved forward.

And then Blaise was lowering to his haunches between them.

"I'll take her-"

"No!" Parvati leaned over Padma, crossing her arms over her middle as though trying to pin her in place. "Don't touch her!"

Hermione blinked. "Parvati-"

"Nobody touch her!" Parvati's voice broke, face twisted in acute pain, grabbing handfuls of her sister's silk gown, fists shaking. "No one touches her ever again!"

Blaise swallowed heavily, reaching out slowly, letting his hand hover mid-air for several moments before finally clasping Parvati's shoulder.

"Parvati." His tone was deep and calm, no trace of the lilting amusement Hermione was so used to hearing.

Parvati's refused to meet his gaze, face buried beside Padma's as she continued to shake with silent tears. He continued, undeterred, words slow and measured.

"I'm only going to carry her upstairs. You'll be right beside us the entire time. She won't leave your sight." His hand lingered. "No one is going to hurt her."

She drew in a sharp, gasping breath, at last drawing back, blinking rapidly to clear her vision as she met his gaze.

Hermione's heart broke a thousand times over, stealing any comforting words she may have added. But it seemed Blaise's quiet promise was enough. Parati nodded slowly, fists unfurling as she slowly released Padma from her death grip.

Blaise shifted forward, hands slipping beneath Padma's shoulders as he gently lifted her off Parvati's lap. Hermione pushed to her feet, extending her hand to her friend and helping pull her up, both women watching as Draco and Blaise gently maneuvered the unconscious girl into the latter's arms.

He rose to his full height, tipping back and allowing her dead weight to lean against him as her bare feet dangled high over the marble.

Luna shifted forward, placing a hand on Parvati's arm, squeezing. They all moved back, allowing Blaise a clear path to the staircase.

He met Parvati's eye, face somber.

"I'll put her next to Dawn."

She wiped her cheeks dry with the backs of her hands.

"No. I want her in my room."

He nodded, waiting for her cross in front and lead the way to the second level. He adjusted Padma in his grasp and then followed, the entryway falling tense and silent as everyone watched them ascend.

They turned on the landing, disappearing into the hallway a moment later.

Hannah shifted forward, rubbing her palms anxiously.

"I'm going to sit with Parvati, if she'll let me."

Luna nodded. "I'll come with you."

As she crossed to her side she passed by Hermione, pausing her steps to gently touch her hand.

Hermione swallowed, glancing up, mesmerized by the clear blue of her friend's eyes.

"You did such a wonderful thing, Hermione, bringing her home."

Her heart lurched painfully. She nodded slowly, still at a loss for words, too overcome for coherent thought.

Hannah and Luna took the steps quickly, footsteps padding softly. As they too turned the corner on the landing Hermione blinked, the explosive chaos of the last few minutes settling over her mind in a thick, oppressive haze.

She slowly turned, eyes drifting between the room's three remaining occupants.

Until finally settling on Draco.

He held her gaze with steady poise, spine straight and shoulders squared.

At long last Hermione broke the silence, her voice hoarse echoing off the columns and archways.

"Who's Dawn?"

---

Bellatrix watched him from the doorway, expression caught between amusement and intrigue. She tilted her head, eyes unnaturally bright.

"Please, don't stop on my account."

"Bella! Run! He's-"

"Do shut up, Rabby."

Rabastan sank back into the pillows, blinking quickly.

"You don't understand, he-"

"I understand perfectly, darling." She continued to hold Tom's gaze with ease. "Do you have a gag handy?"

He arched a dark brow, unable to contain his smirk as he reached down and grabbed the discarded shirt from the mattress, leaning forward and gagging the screaming man anew as he thrashed and rioted in his binds.

"I thought I told you to stay outside."

"You should know by now I never do as told."

She watched him tie the shirt behind his captive's head, slowly stepping away from the bed.

"No valuables are missing, nor can I find the bodies of my staff." She folded her arms calmly. "Perhaps you can enlighten me as to what this is all about?"

Lestrange screamed into the gag, face red and glistening. She addressed his concerns without an imparting glance.

"No one is talking to you, Rabby." She proceeded forward, steps slow and calculated. "What is going on, Doctor?"

Tom folded his hands before his body in casual repose, but his gaze turned acute, assessing every nuance of her expression.

"I came here in search of someone your brother-in-law was holding captive."

She arched a brow, her only outward reaction to the revelation.

"Selene?"

Lestrange went wild at their back, headboard pounding the wall.

Tom tilted his head, curiosity peaking at the foreign name.

"No."

Her brow fell. "Then I've no idea who you could be referring to."

"Perhaps not." He wet his lips, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. "But you know what I'm referring to, don't you, Madam?"

She raised her chin, something flashing in the depths of her dark gaze as her body turned to unforgiving marble before his eyes.

"You never had any intention of joining the organization, did you?"

He held her accusing stare.

"No."

The gun rested heavier at his waistband. "I always intended to bring it to its knees." Heat unfurled inside his chest. "And then I plan to cut the head off the snake."

Her eyes flashed. "You used me."

"No more than you used me."

Her jaw clenched, arms dropping to her sides. "I never once lied to you."

"Neither did I."

She inhaled deep and slow, eyes flickering between his shoulders, lost to thought.

"So what happens now?"

Tom leaned back, resting his spine against the canopy post. "Now, I kill your brother-in-law."

Lestrange exploded to life once more. They both ignored his muffled screams.

"Do you have any objections?"

She met his gaze, the corner of her lips turning up, visage positively cat-like.

"Only if you don't let me watch."

Tom raised a dark brow, intrigued by her effortless switch, the bed trembling at his back as his prey tried to break free of the rope.

She took a step towards him, leaning forward and lowering her voice as though imparting a secret.

"I've been planning his murder for quite some time and will be absolutely incensed if you deny me the satisfaction of watching the life drain from his eyes."

Her lilting laughter intertwined with Lestrange's frantic screams, the dissonance ringing in Tom's ears. She settled down a moment later, rolling her eyes at her brother-in-law's frantic commotion.

"Perhaps we should move this conversation to the adjoining parlor."

Tom inclined his head. "Certainly."

He stepped back, holding out his arm, gesturing her to pass. She did so with swift and languid movements, hips gently swaying, steps unhurried. Tom followed at a leisurely stroll.

He crossed the threshold into the hallway, closing the door on Rabatsan's broken screams, and then entered the narrow parlor behind her, barely having cleared the doorway before she rounded on him, eyes glinting like faceted onyx.

"And just what do you plan on doing with me, Doctor?"

He remained rooted as she grew closer. "I haven't quite decided yet."

She licked her berry-stained lips, stopping just before him, head tipped back to maintain eye contact.

"You could have extracted the location of this estate back in London."

"I didn't have time to torture the information from you then."

"Liar." She leaned forward, chest pressing in. "You brought me along because deep down you wanted to reveal your hand." Her hands braced his ribs as she rose on her toes, mouths aligning. "Wanted to see if I'd crumble and fold, or hold my ground and push my chips in beside yours."

Tom captured her wrists. She inhaled sharply, zeroing in on his mouth.

He turned his face away, leaving her gasping against his jaw.

"I brought you because I wasn't certain what security the estate had. I needed a golden ticket inside."

He pried her hands away from his torso, her extended claws seeking purchase in the frigid air.

"And I would only keep you alive now to provide evidence later, when the organization is exposed and taken before the magistrate."

She scowled, wrenching free of his hold as she lowered to her heels.

"You'll never be able to stop this. It's too big for one man to conquer, even one as capable as yourself."

"So I keep hearing."

She blinked, opening and closing her mouth as realization took root in her eyes, expression darkening in the room's swaying shadows.

"You murdered Dolohov."

"And the Home's previous physician."

She tilted her head. "You've been a busy boy." Her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I stand less chance of leaving here alive than I thought."

"I suppose it depends on your definition of alive." He folded his arms, tone perfunctory. "You'll be tried for the crimes you committed in association with the trafficking ring. Your money and title will be useless when your husband is also behind bars. The rest of the gentry will do everything in their power to distance themselves from you both. You'll spend your life incarcerated in a female penitentiary or a mental asylum, depending on how you plea."

She arched a brow, shoulders drawing back as though to distract from the slight tremor in her limbs.

"Then I beg you to shoot me where I stand."

He made no move towards his weapon, gaze unwavering. She inhaled deeply, swaying back as her feet remained rooted.

"Do you think me an awful person, Doctor?"

He blinked, taken aback not by the inquiry but the notion he of all people was equipped to answer.

"I'm hardly in a position to judge."

Her feline gaze glowed. "But surely you justify your crimes as serving the greater good?"

"I don't waste time with such sentiments. My soul is condemned no matter how I pretend to justify my actions in this life."

"I thought you didn't believe in god."

"I don't. But the devil is real enough."

She wet her lips, voice lowering, introspective. "Living within all our hearts."

The air thickened upon his tongue, eyes darting between hers, gaze searching.

"Yes."

His eyes settled at last, shining brightly in the lantern glow.

"Why did you involve yourself in this? I understand the other's motivation, but not your own."

Her jaw ticked.

"I owe Him."

He took a step forward, propelled by the revelation, pursuit instincts firing to life.

"The Dollmaker."

"Yes." Her voice was heavy, course, eyes glittering with sudden emotion as she glanced away. "He saved my life."

Tom was rendered frozen. She inhaled deeply, fists clenching as she continued, eyes fixed to the wall.

"I suffered a late-term miscarriage many years back. I…"

She shook her head, gaze unfocused for the space of a heartbeat. Tom held his breath, watching her closely, transfixed.

"I nearly lost my life in the delivery. By the time they staunched the bleeding, I'd lost my son and the ability to ever bear children again."

Her eyes clouded, fingers pressing in at her temples as she stared blankly at the floor.

"I became rather unbalanced after that." Shrill laughter erupted from her lips, causing his skin to prickle. "If you can imagine such a thing." Her arms settled at her sides, countenance draining of any visible emotion. "I tried taking my own life several times. The shrinks piled in through a revolving door, prescribing every mood suppressor they could spell on a prescription pad."

She met his eye at last, voice foreign, hollow. "I was a living ghost. Floating through this life without thought or desire." A heavy beat. "And then I met Him."

Tom released his pent breath, lungs burning with the strain.

"He saved me. Provided me with treatment to suppress the trauma of the miscarriage. To allow me the chance at a normal life once again."

Her brows furrowed, limbs reanimating.

"I owe him everything."

Tom struggled to remain in place, fingers curling restlessly.

"You've undergone treatment?"

She blinked, settling back on her heels, seemingly thrown by his response.

"Yes. Many times."

The wheels in his mind turned rapidly, connections sparking, information rushing from one point to the next, the commotion all contained behind his gleaming gaze.

"I've lost you, haven't I?" She asked suddenly.

His racing thoughts hit a brick wall. Her eyes roamed him slowly, expression carefully void.

"Or perhaps I never had you at all."

The sadness in her voice was far-reaching, encompassing much more than this current moment.

She looked away abruptly, clearing her throat.

"So, have you decided my fate?" She gazed upon him once more, armor fastened in place. "Shall I die this night?"

Tom raised his chin.

"I cannot kill what is already dead, Madam."

She blinked. His gaze darkened.

"He took a ghost… and turned it into a doll."

She reared back.

"What?" And then she laughed, amused and manic. "Hardly! I assure you, darling, I'm in full control of my faculties."

"Do you recall anything that happens during treatment?"

Her expression fell. He nodded, slowly advancing.

"You've no idea what seeds he's planted in your mind."

She shook her head, retreating back with his every step.

"He wouldn't-" She opened and closed her mouth. "He saved me. He saves all of them-"

She gasped as her heel caught the edge of the rug, causing her to stumble, catching herself against the back of an upholstered chair. She clutched the backing, nails piercing the fabric.

"You couldn't possibly understand!" Her finely milled complexion turned red, expression twisting with rage. "Every decision I make I make of my own free will!"

Tom's eyes glinted with unnatural brightness, continuing his advance. "We'll see."

She collided with the wall a moment later, hands pressed flat on either side. She inhaled sharply, struggling to hold his gaze.

"What do you intend?"

Tom came to a stop just before her, the darkness of his aura swallowing them both.

"Exactly what you wanted, Madam." He smiled, teeth sharp and gleaming. "We're going to play a game."

---

Hermione came to a stop in front of the four poster bed, spinning on her heel and folding her arms as she faced the room's second occupant.

"What's going on, Draco? Who is Dawn?"

He shut the door, gaze lingering upon the wood for several moments before he turned.

"Another doll. Gifted to me by my doting aunt and uncle."

She paled. "What?"

"I was trying to find you. We had no idea where you were and I was terrified the trafficking ring had picked you up. I thought if I…" He swallowed heavily. "I thought if I made a request, maybe they'd return you to me. I pretended to be a client."

Her heart skipped with dread. "What does this have to do with Dawn?"

He visibly tensed, causing her nerves to wind tighter.

"She looks like you."

Hermione drew back. "That poor girl." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Where is she? I have to see her."

Draco blinked, shifting as if to block the door. "Why?"

"To assess her mental and physical state. Lord only knows the trauma she underwent before she came under your protection."

"Riddle already examined her."

Her thoughts stuttered at the name. "How?"

"I panicked. I had no idea what to do." He wet his lips. "So I took her to the Home. I thought maybe he…" He shook his head, face stricken. "I hoped he could fix her."

"And?"

"He discovered her memories are repressed, though perhaps not destroyed. But he didn't know how to access them."

"Did she have a seizure?"

"No. She just falls… dormant, for lack of a better term. Nothing like the girl downstairs."

She nodded. "I'd still like to see her."

"It won't make any difference."

"Maybe not, but-"

"I'd rather you didn't, Hermione."

His decisive tone stole her next words. She searched his gaze instead, a new fear taking root within her chest.

"Why? What's wrong?"

He glanced quickly to the windows, staring intently at the room's reflection in the dark glass.

"I…" He carded a hand through his hair, pulling roughly at the pale stands. "Shite."

"Draco." She shifted forward. "What is it?"

"I know her." He spoke so quickly the words were barely discernible. "Knew her. From before."

Hermione's steps faltered. She blinked twice, brow furrowed.

"Before she became a doll?"

He nodded, hand dropping to his side, curling into a fist.

"That's wonderful!"

He jolted, gazing at her sharply, silver eyes round and glinting like coins.

"It is?"

"Yes!" She practically bounced in place. "You can help us trigger her memories. I imagine that's the key to unlocking their minds, if we can find a way to do so in a controlled setting."

She rubbed her palms together in eager anticipation. "Parvati will be able to assist with Padma, and you can help us cure Dawn."

Draco gaped like a fish out of water, struggling to take a full breath.

"I don't… I don't know anything about her. I mean, not personal information. I just know her name."

She shook her head. "I thought you said you knew her from before."

"I…" He glanced to the floor, studying the stitching in his boot leather.

Hermione watched him intently, frustrated by this uncharacteristic coyness. She opened her mouth, the next question sitting on the tip of her tongue-

And then it hit her, square in the chest, rocking her back on her heels.

She swallowed heavily, fingers clenching.

"Oh."

Her cheeks heated at the simple, unintended utterance. Draco met her gaze swiftly, eyes intense.

"It wasn't serious."

She forced her hands to relax at her sides. "Obviously. You only know her name."

He stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She took a reflexive step back. He halted immediately, expression tightening. Hermione looked away, struggling to make sense of her reaction, the hollowness permeating her chest.

"Why are you apologizing? You don't owe me anything."

His spine straightened.

"Don't I?"

"We never agreed to be exclusive."

His knuckles cracked as his hands curled, irises darkening. "So you really don't give a shite?"

She barely bit back a scoff, arms crossing tightly as she met his incensed glare. "What do you want, Draco? You want me to be angry?"

He surged forward. "Yes, dammit!"

She held her ground, set firm in her outrage. "Is that why you did it? To get a reaction from me?"

She watched as his mood once more flipped on a pence, smoldering flames turned to cooling embers by her words. "No. I never intended for you to know."

"So why are you telling me now?"

"Because I don't want to keep secrets from you."

She blinked, heart skipping.

Only to resume beating at a dizzying speed.

"I don't think so." She shook her head, gaze diamond hard. "You just want to unburden yourself. Alleviate yourself of any guilt."

"I'll never alleviate myself of this guilt."

She sighed and tore her eyes away, pacing towards the window, trying to escape the oppressive weight of his stare.

"It's just sex, Draco. It's not like you ran off and married the girl."

She couldn't see him, but the shock in his voice was palpable enough to visualize his expression with clarity.

"I thought…" A torturous beat. "Sex used to signify more to you."

"It still does." She stopped just before the glass "To me." She avoided her reflection. "But you obviously don't hold it in the same regard, and I can hardly punish you for harboring different ideals."

"You really don't care?"

"I never said I didn't care. I said I wasn't angry."

Another beat. This one far more ominous, turning the air frigid.

"It was the night of our fight."

She blinked, processing his words.

And then a powerful current raced along her spine.

"The night…" She struggled to breathe, to think. "Of the fire?"

He swayed in place, as though fighting the urge to close in on her.

"Yes."

She spun slowly.

"You slept with her the night of the fire."

He wet his lips. "I didn't know…" He took a step closer before catching himself. "I was so upset with you. You stormed out on me, said you were done with me for good."

"I've said that many times."

"I know. But I believed you that night." His jaw worked silently. "Because deep down I've always known I don't deserve you. And I thought you'd finally realized it, too."

Her brows drew in. "So you slept with another person?"

"I went to a club on the East End. I tried to drink and gamble my way to oblivion. But the pain wouldn't fade. I…" He drew in a slow breath, as thought fortifying himself. "I saw Dawn standing by a roulette table, and in the low light and the heavy smoke I thought for an instant it was you I was staring at." He swallowed, though the motion seemed to get caught in his throat. "I thought, for just one night, I could pretend you were truly mine. I could have you as I've always wanted-"

"Stop." She closed her eyes, averting her face. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake-"

"From everything I've just heard, it was quite deliberate." She shook her head, loose hair dancing across her shoulders. "It's… upsetting. But I'm not angry."

She opened her eyes at his prolonged silence. He watched her carefully, body strung taut as though poised to charge or flee depending on her next words.

"You aren't?"

Her arms hung limply at her sides. "If you had told me this earlier, perhaps just a few days ago, I imagine my reaction would be quite different."

His temper switched once again, visage contorting into its signature scowl complete with a hellfire gaze. "But now you couldn't care less."

She matched his disposition quite effortlessly. "Now I'm a little preoccupied. There are quite a few concerns a bit more pressing than our relationship if you haven't noticed."

He continued to seethe. She wondered if he'd burn a hold in the rug just by standing in one place for too long.

"I'm well aware. I'm just as entangled in this mess as you are, if you haven't noticed. I brought Dawn to Grimmauld, fought to have your guardianship transferred, and engaged in a fucking chariot race through the woods to intercept you in Bath." A vein throbbed at his temple, reminding her unnervingly of his father. "Don't pretend I'm merely some sideline character in your epic tale!"

Her throat tightened, heart thundering.

"I know you aren't." She spoke calmly, forcing her vocal cords to relax. "You've done a great deal, Draco. And I appreciate it. I truly do. But you can't be angry at me for not providing the reaction you want."

He flipped once more, seemingly drained by his own rapid mood swings. He spun on his heel, gazing at the wall as he drew a hand over his face, wiping away the perspiration as his breathing leveled.

"You're right. You've been through hell and back. I shouldn't have put this on you." He rested his hands on his hips, gazing over his shoulder. "I'm not thinking clearly. I've been sick with worry these last two days, I can't remember the last time I slept or ate."

She tried to smile. It felt grotesquely misplaced so she abandoned the effort, trying to convey warmth with her words instead.

"You need to do both."

"I could say the same to you."

"I'm too wound up to rest."

He nodded slowly, facing her fully. "You should still try."

She swallowed again. "I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and wake up somewhere else again."

His eyes flickered.

"What if I stayed with you?"

She blinked, heart stuttering.

"You don't have to-"

"I'd like to." He took a step closer. "I'd like to hold you." A weighted pause. "If you wouldn't mind."

"I..." She swayed in place, overcome by a strange panic. "I don't know if we should."

He closed the distance, gently grasping her arms.

His grip warm, strong, certain.

Pain lanced through her chest.

He drew her forward, until only a narrow chasm existed between them, their chests pressing with every breath. One hand slid across her shoulder and along her neck, grasping her nape and tipping her head back, forcing their gazes to meet.

He held her so softly… and yet she felt trapped.

Captive.

Her stomach twisted violently. She drew back. His hands fell away immediately.

"Is this too much?"

"I-" She rubbed her palms along the stained silk of her dress, trying to collect herself, wishing desperately for a wall to hide behind. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I shouldn't have-" He shook his head. "I'm just content to hold you. To know you're safe in my arms. I don't expect anything from you, Hermione. I won't pressure you to give me anything more."

She blinked, a familiar and unwelcome burning sensation beginning behind her eyes. She sucked in a breath, desperate to keep the onslaught at bay.

"Draco…" She carded her fingers through her hair, gathering it back into a messy pile, alleviating her neck of the burning heat.

"What?"

"I…"

She licked her lips, studying patterns in the wood grain and letting the pile of curls tumble loose across her shoulders.

"I think I'd like to be alone."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him, to witness his reaction. But she felt it in the air, the way it sparked and sizzled against her skin. She cleared her throat, unconsciously bringing a hand to her neck, fingers curling around her throat.

His eyes tracked the movement, posture falling unnaturally still.

"How did you get the marks on your wrists?"

She blinked, lowering her hand to gaze upon the bruises.

"Lestrange's guard grabbed me."

His eyes flashed, the shadows beneath his cheekbones and brow darkening, turning his face into a sinister mask.

"And what about the ones on your neck?"

She felt the blood drain from her face, yet a cursed blush still managed to stain her cheeks.

"Those aren't fingerprints," he continued before she could formulate a response. "I know what those are."

Her lungs constricted in an invisible vice. The same binds squeezed her heart.

"Did he-" His voice was low, weighted, inescapable. "Did he rape you?"

She quickly shook her head, the tears springing free at last, always making their appearance when least wanted. She wiped them away with the backs of her trembling hands.

"No. I promise. He didn't get that far."

"But he put those welts on you."

Her face crumpled, more tears rushing to the surface, the dam breaking within her at long last.

"No."

His hands clenched. He stepped forward.

She sucked in another shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper.

"The marks were already there."

He halted halfway to her, expression rapidly cycling through an amalgamation of emotions.

Until finally stalling on one.

Realization.

He drew back swiftly.

"Of course." And then realization gave way to rage. "How could I be so fucking blind?"

"Draco-"

"Those are from Riddle."

She wiped her eyes dry once more, to no avail.

"Yes."

He shook his head, tipping his face back and releasing a toxic cloud of bitter laughter.

The grating sound filled her throat with acid. And then it cut off abruptly as he spun on his heel and drove a fist into the bedpost, violently shaking the frame and causing her to jump.

"Fuck!"

"Draco, please calm down-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!"

He turned towards her, advancing quickly. She staggered back, colliding with the wall and edge of the window frame.

"Do you have any idea the hell I've been through, Hermione? What it took to find you? How out of my mind with worry-" he changed course a moment before reaching her, pacing along the rug instead, hands pulling restlessly at his hair. "And the entire time, the entire bloody time you were shacked up with the fucking Doctor!"

"Shacked up?" She pushed away from the wall, tears evaporating with the smoldering heat of her outrage. "I was in a bloody mental asylum! I was a prisoner in Lestrange's mansion! I haven't seen Tom in days!"

He stopped in his tracks, shoulders squared and voice lethal. "Tom?"

The name was a dark spell, summoning a winter chill and stealing away her righteous fury.

"I…"

He spun to face her, pinning her in place with the quiet malevolence of his gaze.

"Are you in love with him?"

Her hands clenched.

"Were you in love with Dawn?"

"Don't change the subject-"

"I find this topic highly relevant! You're mad at me when you just admitted to sleeping with another person!"

"I was drunk out of my mind with longing and misery! I pretended it was you the entire time!" He arched a brow. "Can you say the same? Were you thinking of me when you were with him?"

She felt sick.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Tough shite!" She jolted. The vein in his temple throbbed anew. "Now answer the fucking question! Do you love him?"

"No!"

She summoned every ounce of strength left within to hold his gaze, vision hazed with fury, tears and shame.

"It was a mistake, alright? Just like yours!"

He raised his chin. "And what about me?"

She blinked.

"What about you?"

"Do you love me?"

She released a sharp, humorless laugh. "You really want to have this conversation now?"

"I find this topic highly relevant."

She sighed deeply, lungs burning. "I don't know, Draco. I don't know what I feel. About you. About myself. About anything." She swallowed thickly. "I don't know who I am anymore. I change moment to moment. Crisis to crisis. And as soon as I think I have a handle on my identity, it changes again."

She took a steadying breath, eyes unwavering.

"You don't recognize the girl standing before you. I don't recognize her either. But she's who I have to be in this time and place. She's a survivor. Capable of walking through flame and emerging on the other side unscathed." Her chin raised. "She's not who I want to be. She's who I have to be. And when this madness comes to an end, if I even survive it, I'll likely change into someone else."

Her eyes glinted, lit from within. "You asked me if I'm in love with you, but have you stopped to ask yourself the same question?" She tilted her head. "The girl you loved is long gone. And I don't know if she's ever coming back."

She wet her lips, heartbeat strong and steady.

"I don't know if I want her to come back."

Silence encompassed them, the gravity of her words so intense neither could move for several moments.

Until at last, Draco swallowed heavily and took a step back.

"Alright then."

His voice was gravel thick, distant. He turned on his heal and started for the door.

"Draco."

He paused, but didn't face her.

"I never meant to hurt you."

A beat.

Then two.

He nodded.

"I know."

He continued forward.

"You never thought of me at all."

Her eyes burned anew, but no tears fell. She watched him grab the knob, his shoulders tense.

"If you ever figure out who you are, what you want." He opened the door. "Let me know."

And then he crossed the threshold, swiftly turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Leaving her with the dark mess of her thoughts.

She crossed to the bed, sinking against the edge of the mattress in a boneless heap, drained down to her marrow.

She crawled to the center of the bed, curling into a heap and pressing her face into the plush pillowtop, willing the blissful reprieve of unconsciousness to take her under, to silence the sharp whispers in her mind, erase the dancing shadows along the walls.

But sleep refused to answer her beckoning call.

Yet another pardon eluding her.

She released a sharp sigh of frustration, driving her fists into either side of the comforter, causing the mattress to gently rock against the wall. Her gaze drifted to the tall posts.

She remembered tying Rabastan's arms and legs to the canopy-

She sat up abruptly, closing her eyes, rubbing them with the heels of her palms.

She couldn't sit still. Couldn't let her mind wander.

Her lids snapped open, jaw tensing as she slid her legs over the side of the bed, toes skimming the rug before she dropped off the edge, swaying on her feet. She steadied herself against the side table, setting her shoulders in a hard line as she pushed away, cutting a quick and precise path to the door. It still sat ajar from Draco's departure.

She pushed those thoughts aside as well, emerging into the hall with a searching gaze, desperate for any means of distraction.

Only to find it standing a few yards away, casually tipped against the wall and watching her with dark, amused eyes.

She crossed her arms, coming to a stop.

Blaise smiled.

"Granger."

"How much did you hear?"

He arched a dark brow. "I covered my ears like a proper gentleman."

She rolled her eyes, arms dropping as she started towards him.

"I'm sure you did."

"Why the cold shoulder, luv? Downstairs I couldn't pry you off of me." His teeth gleamed. "Is that what has Drake in such a fit?"

He ran a casual hand through his hair, nodding as though her silence provided the answer he sought. "Can't blame him, really. Wouldn't be the first time a pretty dame passed him up for my company." He wet his lips suggestively. "What do you say we make the most of the empty bedroom down the hall?"

She shook her head, standing beside him.

"Eventually, we all become what we pretend to be." She rested a hand against the wall, leaning into it. "It may be an act now, but someday, the face staring back at you in the mirror will no longer be a mask."

"That sounds profoundly philosophical and far beyond my comprehension." His eyes skimmed her disheveled form. "We really must work on your flirtation skills, dove."

"I don't think it would make any difference. We both know nothing will pry you away from that door."

He blinked. And then opened his mouth, broken sounds emitting.

Hermione pushed away from the wall, patting him on the shoulder as she passed.

"It'll be our little secret."

A flush stole across his tanned complexion. She put him out of his misery, elbowing him aside in order to knock on the closed door at his back.

"Parvati? It's me. May I come in?"

There was a faint shuffling, followed by the creak of the knob as it turned beneath her hand.

Luna's face appeared in the gap. She smiled and then opened the door the rest of way, backing up to allow Hermione entrance.

Her eyes immediately fell upon Hannah seated in the corner, expression tense as she met Hermione's gaze.

And then her attention cast to the bed.

Padma was laid across its center, fully clothed atop of the covers, hands folded across her stomach. Her black dress and pale complexion made her seem like a corpse at a wake.

And then Hermione's gaze fell upon Parvati, seated so close to the mattress she was half on top of it, her own hands entangled with Padma's across her middle.

Her dark eyes were transfixed upon her twin's lax face. She gave no indication she even heard anyone enter the room.

Hermione took a deep breath, turning to Luna. The blonde hovered beside the door, expression serene, but Hermione knew better. Luna was standing guard and would unleash her own brand of hell upon anyone seeking to harm the room's inhabitants.

Hermione smiled gently.

"May I have a few minutes with Parvati alone?"

Luna tilted her head, ocean-gaze roaming Hermione's face with unnerving precision.

And then she nodded, smiling in turn.

"Of course."

Hannah stood, hearing their hushed exchange from across the small room. She imparted a sad smile of her own as she followed Luna out of the room. The door clicked at their backs. The room fell silent. Eerily so.

Hermione turned to face the pair at the bed. Her fists tightened as she mustered her resolve, taking a tentative step closer.

"Parv-"

"Did Lestrange hurt you?"

She stopped in her tracks, thoughts scattering at the hollow voice echoing all around her.

She blinked, throat working to deliver the response.

"No."

Parvati nodded, still focused upon her sister.

"Did he hurt her?"

"I…" Hermione swallowed again. "He said he never hit her."

Parvati tilted her head, thumb idly stroking the back of Padma's hand.

"Just rape."

Hermione inhaled deeply. "Parvati-"

Her friend glanced over her shoulder, eyes black and filled with red fire.

"For three years." Her voice was unrecognizable. "He raped her for three years."

Hermione tried desperately to think of a comforting response.

But there was no comfort to be found in this morbid reality they all resided in.

Parvati lifted her chin, eyes unblinking, relentless in their intensity.

"Did you kill him?"

Hermione struggled once more to communicate.

"I…" Her hands clenched helplessly at her sides. "No."

"Good." Hermione jolted. Parvati turned back to Padma, settling into her chair. "Because he's mine." She traced the inside of her sister's palm "I'm going to carve the meat from his bones and cut off every last appendage, starting with his rotten fucking pecker."

Hermione blinked and felt tears cut a searing path down her face. She quickly wiped them away, mortified by her reaction, desperate to remain strong and stoic for her friend.

"He'll go down, Parvati. They all will. That I promise."

"Prison isn't enough." She shook her head, loose strands brushing her shoulders where her braid had come undone. "I know what prison means for a man like Lestrange. A private cell with all the amenities. Conjugal visits every day. He'll be out within a year, onto the next country with a new name and a free ticket to destroy more innocent lives."

Hermione shifted closer. "I'm sorry I left him alive."

"I would never put that burden on you. You aren't a killer."

Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom smoke filled the air, her nose, her lungs. Dolohov's screams echoed loudly, deafening in their shrill terror and agony.

"Besides." Parvati's voice awoke her from the dark reverie. "I'm glad you got her out. That's all that matters."

Hermione wet her lips, hovering at the foot of the bed, hands twisting anxiously before her. "Parvati, you shouldn't…"

She bit her lip, nerves failing her. Parvati glanced up, brow raised.

"I shouldn't what?"

Hermione started around the footboard, towards the chair. "What happened earlier, downstairs… she had a similar episode in Bath when I said your name." She lowered to her knees beside the bed and placed a hand on Parvati's arm. "I think seeing you is triggering her memories."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Not if it's causing her seizures." She swallowed heavily. "She could go into cardiac arrest the next time."

Parvati paled, twisting in her seat to face her. "So we take her to Mungo's."

"I don't think that's a good idea either. I doubt they'll know the first thing about treating her, and we'd be leaving her exposed. The Dollmaker has snatchers all over the city. They may already be on the lookout for all of us."

"What are you saying?"

She gently squeezed her arm.

"I think you should let Luna and Hannah look after her. Until we know-"

"What?" Parvati reared back, yanking her limb free. "You're telling me I can't sit with her?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for her to see you when she wakes up. Not until we can-"

"I'm not letting her out of my sight, Hermione."

"I know you want to protect her, but-"

"Protect her? Protect her!" She pushed the chair back with her feet. "Look at her!" She gestured to the bed wildly. "I think it's a bit late to protect her, don't you? Her mind's been destroyed, her body violated, and now the very sight of me sends her into an epileptic fit!"

Her gaze sparkled in the light as she rose to her feet. She blinked and tears brimmed past her dark lashes, framing her heart-shaped face in abject misery. "I couldn't protect her then, what chance do I stand now?"

Hermione pushed to her feet beside her.

"Parvati, this has nothing to do with anything you did or didn't do-"

"Of course it does! She's like this because of me!"

"How can you possibly think that?"

"Because I abandoned her! When she needed me the most, I abandoned her!"

Hermione shook her head. "What are you talking about? You didn't abandon her, they took her from you! They told you she was dead! What could you have possibly done?"

"I should never have let her out of my sight." Her hands trembled violently as she brought them to her face, cupping her mouth to capture her broken gasps. "I should have stayed at her bedside night and day."

Hermione felt tears wetting her own face as she moved forward, reaching out. "You had to earn money for her care."

Parvati reared back, evading her grasp. "They got to her because I wasn't there."

Hermione rounded the chair, undeterred. "Lestrange wanted her, Parvati. He would have done whatever it took to obtain her. And if you had been there, he would have taken you, too."

"It should have been me." She drove a fist into her own chest, directly over her heart. "I wish to god he had taken me instead."

"I doubt Padma would agree."

"You don't understand. She isn't like me. She isn't like you. She was…" She gasped as Hermione reached her at last, gripping both her arms. "She was like Luna. So full of love and hope and innocence."

Her face crumpled in acute pain as she swayed heavily, knees buckling. Hermione gripped her tighter, steadying their descent as she followed her down, legs tangled as they landed in a heap.

"The bastard should have taken me." She listed into Hermione, heaving for breath. "I could have survived it."

"Parvati, look at me." Hermione released her arms to grasp her face, tipping her chin up and holding her gaze. "She did survive it. She is strong, and she still possesses all of the qualities you just described. He didn't take that from her. She protected her heart. It's still intact."

Parvati gasped for every stuttering breath, face flushed and glistening beneath the relentless flow of tears. "How can you possibly know that?"

Hermione's fingers clenched against her cheeks as she held her gaze steady. "Because she barely reacted when I said her name." She wet her lips. "She only had her fit when I mentioned you. You are her heart. You are the treasure she fought to protect, the love and the hope she clung to for three years."

Parvati began to quake in her grip. "She refused to let you go." She released her face, resting her hands on her shoulders. "She's home now. She's safe. But we have to give her time to heal. We can't force the memories to the surface."

She brushed the tear dampened hair away from her friend's face. "And until I can figure out how to help her, I think we should let Luna and Hannah sit with her."

Parvati went boneless in her grip, tipping forward to rest her forehead against Hermione's chest.

"If that's what you think is best." She sniffled loudly, and then nodded. "I'll do anything to get her back."

Hermione stroked her back, then carded her fingers across her scalp and through her dark hair, mimicking the soothing motions her mother used to perform to calm her in her youth.

"I promise, we'll get her back, Parvati. Whatever it takes, we'll get her back."

Parvati sighed heavily, her hot breath racing along Hermione's neck. "Thank you, Mione."

There was a soft knock at the door. Parvati leaned up, wiping away her eyes and snot with the back of her hands without shame. The door opened without prompt, earning both girl's alert gazes.

They both calmed as Luna appeared on the other side.

"I'm sorry to interrupt." She met Hermione's eye."But I thought you'd want to know, Harry just arrived, and Draco just left."

Hermione sighed deeply, rubbing her throbbing temples and nodding. "Thank you, Luna. I'll be out in a moment."

The blonde nodded and began to turn.

Parvati extracted her legs from Hermione's. "Wait."

Luna stopped at the threshold, glancing over her shoulder. Parvati set her jaw, expression hardening to the visage Hermione most recognized.

"We're afraid Padma will have another seizure if she sees me." She took a deep breath, bracing her hands upon her thighs as she pushed up. "Do you mind sitting with her?"

Luna smiled brightly. "I would be honored." She turned to face them, pressing her palms and interlacing her fingers. "I'll plait her hair and read her stories. We'll have such fun."

Parvati laughed lightly. The sound was genuine and went a ways towards loosening the knot in Hermione's stomach.

"Thanks, Luna. That sounds lovely."

Their ethereal friend nodded once more before quietly slipping from the room, footsteps silent.

Hermione gazed up at Parvati. "Are you going to-"

"I'll be fine." She met her eye and extended a hand. Hermione accepted it with a grateful smile, lurching gracelessly to her feet. Parvati released her, tipping her head towards the door. "Go on ahead, Mione. You have work to do."

Hermione stood fast, fists clenching anew.

"I won't stop until we find justice for her. For all of them."

Parvati arched a dark brow, the corner of her mouth rising.

"I know."

Her dark eyes gleamed. But not with unshed tears.

With righteous fire.

Hermione's heart swelled as she realized Lestrange had been right about one thing after all.

Isis was a fitting name for Parvati Patil.

For surely the Egyptian goddess stood before her now, burning brighter than a thousand suns, ready to strike down anyone who dare bring harm upon the innocent.

Parvati raised her chin, poised and powerful in her conviction.

"And I'm going to help you."

---

Tom strode into the room at a leisurely pace, straightening his cuffs where he'd rolled his sleeves. The man on the bed screamed bloody murder into his gag.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

He met Rabastan's bloodshot eyes at last, stopping at the edge of the mattress. The man attempted to speak, nearly choking in the process.

"Hm. I didn't quite catch that."

He reached forward a steady hand, tugging the sweat and saliva drenched garment free of his gnashing teeth.

"What have you done to Bella, you fucking bastard?"

Tom tilted his head. "Bella?" The corner of his mouth curved up. "Oh, the woman who's been enthusiastically plotting your murder these last few years?"

"Fuck you! What have you done to her?"

"That's none of your concern."

Rabastan thrashed in his binds, headboard rattling. "I knew you couldn't be trus-"

"We've already had this discussion." Tom stepped back. "We're onto the next phase." He tugged on the binds, testing their strength. The knots held strong.

"I'm only going to ask you this once, and I'll know if you're lying to me. If you lie, I'll gouge your eyes from their sockets with my bare thumbs. Do you understand?"

Rabastan turned deathly white, throat bobbing convulsively as he nodded, lost for words.

"Good." Tom held his gaze steady, the air crackling in his quiet fury. "Did you harm Hermione?"

Rabastan swallowed again, shaking his head so quickly droplets of sweat flew free.

"No, I swear I-"

"Did either of your men harm her?"

He reared back.

Tom's gaze flashed.

"Tell me."

"Elliot roughed her up a bit, at the asylum. But just her wrists, m-maybe her arms. He dragged her. That's all I swear it."

Tom tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

"Who is Selene?"

Rabastan fell motionless, lips pressing thin, eyes blazing. Tom arched a dark brow.

"I see." His chin lowered, shadows cloaking his gaze. "I surmise she's another one of his monstrosities."

"She's perfect! You have no idea what-"

His outburst clipped abruptly as Tom extracted the gun from his waistband, studying it idly in the dim light.

"Is she on the grounds?"

Rabastan swallowed thickly, transfixed by the gleaming metal.

"Granger took her. I heard them walk past my room."

Tom traced the sleek barrel with the pad of his thumb, chest tightening.

"Of course she did."

Rabastan examined him in the silence, jaw flexing as he no doubt tried to formulate another means of escape.

"Who-"

"Am I?" Tom dropped the gun to his side, tone edged in boredom. "Seems to be the question of the hour." He met Rabastan's eye. "I'm the man who's going to kill you. Just as I killed Dolohov. Just as I'm going to kill your brother. Though I suspect that's one funeral you'd have loved to attend."

Rabastan wet his lips, hands curling around the rope. "Listen, Riddle, I can pay you-"

"I'm not interested in money. Nor do I have time for your desperate attempts at bartering." He turned away. "I have a few loose ends to tie up."

He started towards the door. "I'll leave you to hasten through the remaining stages of grief." He glanced over his shoulder as he entered the hall. "Don't worry, it'll all be over soon."

He closed the door on his homicidal ragings.

As he made his way down the narrow corridor he examined the pistol once more, realizing Hermione managed to overcome her assailants without the use of firepower.

He shook his head, gazing forward as he turned the corner and started down the grand staircase.

Brilliant girl.

The chaos of the main level made his pulse race. He ignored the main rooms and cut a path for the back of the house, navigating the tight, darkened hallways until he at last came across something of note.

A shattered vase in the middle of the corridor. He tilted his head, stopping just before it.

There was no pedestal or table in sight.

Which meant the vase was taken from its display.

He lowered to his haunches, carefully grazing the fragments with his fingertips.

No blood.

He sighed, starting to rise.

And then he caught sight of something else.

Glinting on the wall.

He stood, squinting, unable to make out the item.

He sidestepped the mess and began a slow, silent trek to the obstruction.

His heart jolted when it at last came into view.

He wet his lips, head tilting in either direction as he walked a methodical path around the knife, eyes narrowed as he traced the wooden handle with his finger.

It was an identical copy of the one she wielded outside his bedroom.

He smiled.

And then his gaze flickered to the seam in the wall, stepping back as the hidden door came into clear view.

He held his breath as he pulled the knife free with a hard tug, raising the gun with his other hand as he gave the paneling a hard kick.

There was a muffled thump.

His jaw clenched, hand steady as he pointed the barrel.

And then the panel was swinging open.

A pale face appeared.

The man gasped as he caught sight of the weapon and then Tom, arms raising as he staggered back, tripping on the step and listing to the side, catching himself against the railing.

"Whoa!" His hands trembled as he held them aloft. "Take it easy, mate!"

Tom raised a brow. "Who are you?"

"My name's Elliot! I work for Lestrange!"

Tom's pulse thrummed, vision sharpening as he studied his prey in the shadows.

"I see." He lowered the gun. "I'm one of Rabastan's associates. I came to check on the girl's transfer."

The man dropped his arms, walking to the top of the steps once more, fear giving way to lethal anger.

"The little bitch got away."

"Obviously." Tom tucked the gun back into his waistband. "How did that happen?"

"Luck." He braced his hands against the frame. "But don't worry, I'm going to find the stupid cunt."

Tom wet his lips, hunger awakening his most primal urges.

"And what do you plan on doing to her?"

The guard smiled, face lit with malevolent longing. "I'm going to beat the chit bloody. Then I'm going to fuck her in every hole until she screams for mercy."

Tom tilted his head, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Creative. I can tell you're a deep thinker."

The man blinked, confidence faltering. He settled back on his heels, shoulders tensing.

"Where is Lestrange?"

"Upstairs. Tied to a bed."

He opened and closed his mouth.

"I… should go free him."

Tom smiled. "That won't be necessary."

The guard swallowed heavily.

"Who did you say you were?"

"It doesn't matter."

The guard inhaled sharply, pushing off the frame and surging forward.

Tom remained in place, drawing an arm back with lightning reflexes and driving it forward, clocking him dead center of the face, breaking his nose with an impressive crunch.

The man screamed, blood exploding past Tom's fingers. He reared back, stumbling back into the cellar doorway as he clutched his mangled face, red dripping past his chin and onto his shirt.

Tom sighed, stepping forward grasping the door.

"Back in you go."

He leaned back and kicked him in the stomach, the heel of his boot cracking against his hip. The air expelled from the guard's lungs in a powerful rush as he catapulted back into the darkness, body colliding with every step as he rolled to the bottom of the stairwell.

Tom stood at the top of the steps, dark silhouette outlined by faded candlelight.

He addressed the shadows calmly, voice edged in steel.

"You shouldn't have touched her, Elliot."

The guard scrambled on his battered hands and knees, trying to stand.

"No!"

Tom stood back, grasping the panel and slamming it shut. He turned the knife over in his hand before slamming it home in the seam, pushing it in with all his strength until the blade could journey no further.

He stepped back, straightening his collar.

And then smirked, shaking his head.

She's wrapped them all in pretty ribbons for me.

He started down the hall once again, the thought prompting him to place his hand in his pocket, wrapping the faded ribbon around his finger.

And then he turned the corner, heading towards the kitchen.

Hoping it would have the supplies he needed.

---

Harry raked a hand through his hair for the fifth time in thirty seconds, the strands standing completely on end as they drove through the center of the square.

"If she isn't there-"

"Then we'll tear the city apart."

"I'm being serious, Theo. I don't know what to do next."

Theo sighed from his side of the bench, gazing around at the night-drenched scenery.

"Where else do you think she would go?"

Harry shook his head, pulse spiking as he pictured London from a bird's eye view. His grip tightened on the reins.

"She may not have made it back to the city at all."

Theo tapped his fingers against the frame. "Granger out-maneuvered Lestrange and his goons single-handedly. She made it back to London."

Harry carded his fingers through his hair again. "What if something happened on the road-"

"Harry." Theo leaned forward and grabbed his wrist, gently extracting it from the rat's nest atop his head. "I'll visit the Home, will that settle your nerves?"

Harry swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Partially."

Theo smirked, releasing him. Harry absently rubbed the inside of his wrist, pulse throbbing where Theo's touch had lingered.

His companion gazed ahead once more. "Okay, drop me off here, I'll catch another carriage across town."

Harry inhaled deeply, pulling on the reins.

"Thank you, Theo."

Theo slid to the edge of the seat as the horses slowed to a stop along the curb. The road was dimly lit by street lamps, empty but for their carriage.

"You can thank me more creatively than that later."

Harry blinked, mouth opening and closing as he watched the man descend, gripping the edge of the frame and landing gracefully upon the cobblestone.

"Theo."

He steadied himself against the side of the carriage, peering up a moment later.

"I…" Harry wet his lips, heart skipping as Theo's violet gaze lowered to his mouth. "Something's changed."

Theo arched a dark brow.

"Changed?"

"With you. With-" He choked on the rest, hyper-aware of their public venue despite the resounding silence of the night.

"With…?"

He shook his head, gazing forward and adjusting his grip on the reins. "Nevermind."

Theo tapped the side of the paneling before stepping back onto the pedestrian walk. "Don't get squirrely on me now, Potter. You can't afford to be incoherent with that hair. You'll be carted off to an asylum faster than Granger was."

Harry rolled his eyes. Theo laughed to himself, tucking his hands into his coat.

"Too soon?"

"Just a bit."

"I'll wait until we find the warrior princess to make clever jokes at both your expense."

"I look forward to it."

Theo saluted him, his resounding laughter following him down the street as he urged the horses forward, sending a pleasant chill along his spine.

But then he steered the carriage around a shop corner and the sound faded, leaving him along with his raging thoughts once more.

His knuckles turned white, circulation waning as he wound the reins tighter and tighter, distracted by his fear. He regretted leaving Bath. They should have scoured the woods deeper, looked for some sign of her. Anything.

Alas, Theo had somehow convinced him Hermione was clever enough to find her way back to London, and that she'd be in greater need of Harry's protection once she set foot within the city limits. He shook his head, thoughts scattering on the wind, drifting rapidly to Riddle, wondering what the hell the mysterious doctor was up to at this very moment.

He was so lost to his internal musings he was hardly aware of journeying across the city. He only became alert to his surrounding when the horses brayed softly outside the familiar rod iron fence.

He jumped down to open the barrier and then steered the creatures through. He was shocked he made it to the front of the stone drive without being accosted. His bewilderment increased ten-fold as he tied the horses to the post and started up the steps. He hovered outside the door, sending a silent prayer to the dark, smog-filled sky before knocking heavily against the wood.

Quick footsteps clicked across the marble on the other side. His heart swelled as he recognized the gait.

The lock slid free. The door flew open.

"Fucking hell."

He was wrenched off his feet by a strong arm around his neck, dragging him over the threshold.

"Do you have any idea the torture you've put me through, kid?"

"I sent you a letter-"

"Fuck the letter! For all I knew you were forced to write it at gunpoint while bandits did god knows what to you!"

Harry blinked, finally regaining his footing as his godfather released his unintentional chokehold.

"Bandits? I think they're all busy robbing trains in the Wild West."

Sirius scowled, throwing his arm across his shoulders instead. "I'm relieved to see your smart mouth hasn't dulled any."

"I'm sorry I worried you. But I still haven't found Mione-"

"She's upstairs."

Harry reared back, heart leaping into his throat as his blood surged.

"She's here?"

"That's what upstairs implies."

He released a sharp breath. "Is she alright?"

"You can ask her yourself."

He dragged him in close, ruffling his already thoroughly-ruffled hair. "And then you're going straight to bed. No more galavanting around the city with a glaring target on your back."

Harry rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to speak but falling silent at the resounding footsteps at their backs.

"Potter."

Harry tugged free once more, raking both hands through his hair to smooth it back. "Malfoy? Where the hell have you been?"

Draco came to a stop under the archway. "I missed the train."

"So you came back here?"

"Not quite." The blonde looked supremely tensed, every line rigid. "I'm sure Granger will provide the details." He nodded in farewell, starting for the door. "Gentlemen."

Harry spun on his heel, following his departure with a slack jaw. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Out."

"What about Mione?"

"As long as she remains inside until sunrise she's safe." He gazed over his shoulder, holding Harry's accusing stare with a carefully void expression. "I trust you'll ensure that happens."

"You're just leaving? After everything that's happened?"

And then his silver gaze sparked to life. Molten at the core, boiling with incinerating heat.

"Yes, Potter. After everything that's happened." He reached for the knob. "I'm leaving."

And then he did just that, striding outside with the elegant swiftness of a man with a pole shoved up his arse. Harry blinked as the door slammed shut, turning to face his godfather.

"I'm obviously missing something."

"Those will the words engraved on my tombstone someday."

"Fitting." He started towards the grand staircase. "I'm going to talk to Mione."

"I know you are." Sirius slid his hands into his trouser pockets, tipping his head as he watched him ascend. "Oh, avoid the first two doors on the left."

Harry paused on the step, glancing back wearily.

"Do I want to know?"

His godfather sported his signature, rakish grin. The sight provided the complete opposite of comfort. "There's been a lot of excitement here tonight."

Harry nodded, the words imparting a great weight upon his shoulders despite the fact they were delivered in jest.

"Let's hope it's run its course."

As if waiting for its baleful cue, a cold breeze rushed through the entryway, scattering dried leaves across the marble and whistling past the columns.

They looked at each other.

Sirius arched a brow.

"Well, that just happened."

Harry mirrored his expression, gripping the banister.

"Let's pretend it didn't."

"I'm excellent at ignoring obvious signs of peril."

Harry shook his head, fighting back a smile as he resumed his upward trek. His godfather leaned against the base of the railing, voice filling the room.

"Good to have you home, kid!"

Harry rounded the landing, tossing back a shout of his own. "Good to be home, old man!"

And then he started down the east wing, spotting a familiar face as soon as he entered the hall.

"The knight in shining armor returns." Zabini stood away from the closed door. "Surprised to see me?"

"Not really. I knew you'd stick around."

Zabini crossed his arm, lips curving wryly. "I can't abide all these insinuations that I'm a decent human being."

Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Where is she?"

The man tipped his head toward the end of the corridor.

"Two doors down."

Harry nodded his thanks, starting towards the designated room. Zabini's arms fell to his sides as he sank back against the same door as before. Harry paid the motion no mind as he stopped before the bedroom and knocked, heart steadily climbing into his throat with each successive beat.

"Mione?"

There was a muffled thump, followed by the most precious sound in the universe.

"Come in!"

He wrenched open the door, eyes immediately latching onto the movement at the foot of the bed.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling her stocking into place. She met his eye and smiled, standing swiftly, pale skirts falling into place.

"Harry!"

He inhaled sharply, closing the door before crossing the room in a single bound. She laughed as she seized her, pulling her off her feet in a tight embrace. She clung to his neck, face buried against his shoulder as they clung to each other in silence.

At last he spoke, unable to keep the questions at bay a moment longer.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

His hold loosened, allowing her to slip down his body as she regained her footing. "I found Lestrange."

She nodded, hands still clutching his arms. "Draco told me-"

"What happened, Mione? What did he do to you?"

"He served me tea."

Harry blinked, hands clenching upon her waist.

"Tea?"

"And then he propositioned me."

Harry's jaw ticked, red filling his vision. "Did he touch you?"

She shook her head, hands dropping to her sides. "Not like that."

"How the hell did you overpower him?"

She shook her head again, stepping back, out of his reach, hands playing idly with the ends of her hair as she gazed at the window.

"I'll tell you everything, I swear, but not right now. It's in the past and I want to focus on the future, on what we do next."

He swallowed heavily, fists heavy at his sides.

"I'm sorry, Mione, I can't just skip over it all. You were in a mental asylum for christ's sake!" He stepped towards her. "Did they hurt you?"

She turned to face him, expression guarded.

"It was a blessing in disguise."

His mouth opened but only choked breath escaped.

"I know who the Dollmaker is, Harry. Had I not been shipped away, we may have never found out the truth."

Harry's jaw snapped shut as the words settled in his brain like a heavy fog.

And then he nodded, shoulders drawing back.

"We need to tell Riddle. He stayed in Bath to clean up the mess but he should be back anytime."

And then to his great intrigue and discomfiture, Hermione turned an alarming shade of white, swaying back as though faint.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and cleared her throat, glancing away to compose herself, the entire ordeal lasting merely a few seconds.

Harry shook his head, hackles rising.

"Okay, this we're definitely not skipping." He braced his feet apart, prepared for battle. "What's going on between the two of you?"

She met his gaze, the picture of innocence. "I don't know what you mean."

"Hermione." He held her steady in his sights, allowing no reprieve. "I've spent time with him. I've seen the way his eyes spark at the mere mention of you."

She turned her back on him, pacing towards the window. "I don't want to hear that."

"Why not? Did he-"

"No, he didn't hurt me, Harry!" She threw her arms up, spinning on her heel, eyes gleaming. "I'm not made of china! I'm not going to shatter!"

He swallowed heavily, barely resisting the urge to grab hold and shake her like a rag doll until she saw reason. "I don't think you're fragile, Hermione. I never have. But I don't know what the hell to do with all these secrets."

Her face twisted. "Secrets?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Dolohov?"

She reared back as though struck.

"How…"

"I broke into his office with Riddle. We had to crack his safe to find your guardianship papers." He wet his lips, fists trembling. "The combination was your birthday."

She pressed her palms flat against her chest, eyes darting across the floor, lost to the endless depths of her mind. Harry took another step closer.

"Now don't tell me you don't want to talk about it." Another step. "He's the reason for the dark cloud that's been hanging over you these last few months, isn't he?"

She held his gaze for a deafening beat, tears brimming along her bottom lashes. Pressure swelled inside his chest, threatening to rupture his ribcage down the center.

"Please. Talk to me, Mione."

She blinked and a single drop fell. She wiped it away before it reached her cheek, chin lifting, expression guarded, composed.

"He attacked me in his office."

His heart skipped a succession of beats, the edges of his vision hazing. Her voice kept him grounded, the even, impassive tone pulling him down like quicksand.

"He didn't rape me. Not for lack of trying. But I was able to fight my way free."

He drew a hand over his face, palm lingering over his bared teeth.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She calmly held his eye, rolling her shoulders back. "He swore me to secrecy."

Harry shook his head. "How?"

"He told me if I said anything to anyone…" She broke off, gaze dropping at last. Harry took an unconscious step forward, closing the distance between them at last. He grasped her arms. She felt cold and rigid to the touch.

She took a deep breath, eyes lifting. "If I reported him, Rabastan would have fired Arthur, and then blacklisted him throughout all of Europe."

His hands clenched. "Mione…"

"He used the same threat to ensure I stayed at the Home, easily accessible when he conducted his quarterly visits."

He blinked, something cold and wet cascading down his nape and spine, an icy wave chilling him to the bone. "That's why you refused to come to Grimmauld?"

She wet her lips tentatively. "And the Burrow, yes."

He ground his teeth, forcing his fingers to relax their steel grip. "You should have told me, I would have killed him."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's precisely why I didn't tell you, Harry." She tugged free of his grasp for the second time that evening, crossing her arms tightly. "I knew you'd throw away your entire future in a fit of blind rage."

His blood percolated in his veins, snapping and sizzling in his ears.

"That bastard got away with attacking you! Lord knows how many other girls he raped while he continued roaming the streets!"

She rocked back with the intensity of his words, cheeks flaming bright. "How dare you try and put that on my conscience! I was trying to protect Arthur and his family! Molly and Ginny rely entirely upon his income, they'd be destitute if he was blacklisted!"

"Sirius could have offered him work-"

"And what would that have done to Arthur's pride? Relying solely upon the generosity of another? It would have destroyed him all the same!"

"And what about you?" He threw his hands up, mouth foaming, eyes gleaming with feral light. "Dolohov just gets to walk away without punishment? Without recourse?"

"He got his recourse when I burned the bastard alive!"

Harry opened and closed his mouth, choking on the rest of his tirade, the blood that throbbed painfully at his temples draining to his feet in a powerful rush, leaving him staggering.

Hermione gaped as well, eyes wide as saucers as she pressed her hands to her mouth, brows creasing.

Harry swallowed thickly, his tongue a barren wasteland. After several seconds he recovered his voice, though it sounded distant and foreign to his ears.

"You set the fire?"

"I…" She closed her eyes, hands sliding away from her face. "I didn't mean to tell you that."

"Fucking hell."

Her eyes opened, burning bright, even as her face was cloaked in shadow.

"He set the fire at my house, Harry."

He staggered anew.

"He killed my parents." Her jaw tensed. "I could have gone on living with the buried shame of his attack. But when I found out he was responsible for all the tragedy and pain in my life..."

She released a long, weary breath. "It was too much."

They stared at each other in the resounding silence. Harry shifted forward, shoulders lax.

"He deserved to die, Mione." He nodded, as much in assurance to himself as to her. "And I'm glad you were the one to do it."

She blinked.

"You're not…" She shifted anxiously. "Do you think differently of me?"

He tilted his head. "I could never think differently of you."

Her eyes flickered between his.

"I took a life."

"So have I."

"That's different. You were protecting our nation."

"And you were protecting his future victims."

She swallowed, opening her mouth as though to respond, only to close it without uttering another word.

Harry pressed on.

"Riddle was there?"

She nodded.

"How did you get taken to the asylum?"

He watched her draw a hand over her face, an obvious bid to buy herself more time to think. His stomach twisted as she moved away from the window and started towards the bed.

"Because I acted very foolishly." She sat on the edge of the mattress, feet barely skimming the carpet. "He was right. I wasn't in my right mind."

"What-"

"Harry." She gazed up, eyes wide and heart-rendering in their innocence. "I…"

He drew towards her. "What is it, Mione?"

She swallowed heavily, hands curling over her knees. She gazed at her lap.

"I feel so much. And yet I feel nothing at all." And then she looked up, face stricken. "Does that make any sense?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "More than you know."

He crossed the rug, sitting beside her, his weight causing her to sink into his side. He raised an arm and laid it across her back. She immediately burrowed into him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

He took a deep breath, resting his chin atop her head.

"Are you in love with him?"

She pressed her face into his chest, as though attempting to block out the light.

"I felt…" Her sharp exhale burned a path across his placket. "I can't quite describe it. It was unlike anything I've experienced before." She twisted the fabric of his shirt beneath her fingertips. "It burned so brightly, so intensely. It consumed me entirely, leaving behind no trace of the person I was before."

Her curls brushed his jaw as she shook her head. "But it couldn't have been love." Her voice was hoarse, strangled. "Love is a force of creation. Of beauty. Whatever possessed me was born of darkness and destruction."

A beat.

"It was exhilarating. And terrifying."

Harry rubbed a gentle circle against her spine. "You're speaking in past tense."

She shuddered faintly in his arms.

"I know."

He exhaled deeply, breath blowing loose strands of her hair across her forehead. "When you see him again, it'll change things." He tucked the curls behind her ear. "Trust me. Seeing them always changes things."

She shifted beside him, starting to pull back, no doubt detecting the sudden melancholy in his voice. He held her tighter, heart beating through his chest.

"What happened with Draco?"

She stiffened, halting her retreat, instead sinking into his hold once more.

"Why is love so complicated? Why can't it just be simple?"

He meant to laugh, but the sound escaping his lips sounded more whimper. He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing. "Because then it wouldn't be worth fighting for." He wet his lips. "It wouldn't be worth bleeding for."

She loosened her hold enough to tip her head back, searching out his gaze.

"Harry… what is it?"

He ground his teeth, shoulders tensing. "Nothing."

"I'm not the only one who has secrets." She drew back further, placing a hand on his knee. "I know there's something you've been keeping from me."

"Hermione…" His hands started to sweat. He clenched them in the fabric of her dress to hide their tremor. "I-"

His gaze cut to the floor, tracing the grooves in the wood, the fibers of the rug. "I've been…"

"You can tell me, Harry." Her hand gently squeezed. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

He inhaled sharply, releasing the words in his next breath. "I've been seeing someone for the last six months."

She jolted, hand slipping away.

"Six months?"

He nodded, muscles tensed to the point of hypertension.

He finally met her gaze.

She was smiling.

"That's fantastic!" He blinked rapidly, dumbfounded as she reached up and cupped his cheek. "It's something serious, then?"

He turned his face away on instinct, missing the look of hurt that flashed across her features.

"It's not-" He choked back a groan, rubbing his eyes. "Fuck, I don't know why it's so hard to say." He tipped his head back, glaring at the crown molding. "I've never said it out loud before. I don't think I can."

She leaned away and began to mimic his previous motions, rubbing soft patterns into his shoulder blades.

Her voice was patient, soothing.

"It's a man."

And yet the words sliced through his chest all the same, spilling his heart and lifeblood across his lap and onto the floor. He reared back, eyes wide.

"I-" He swallowed convulsively, cold sweat drenching him. "How-"

But her expression remained unchanged, placid like a gentle lake. He took a long breath, holding it in his lungs.

"Yes."

She smiled again, tilting her head, long curls falling over her shoulder in a thick curtain.

"Is it someone I know?"

He blinked again, senses slowly returning, though surely this was all a dream.

"Yes."

She arched a brow. "Are you going to make me guess?"

His jaw clenched and released several times before he could work the name loose from the recesses of his heart.

"It's Nott."

The hand on his back paused, her expression falling carefully blank for a gut-wrenching beat. And then she brightened once more, the name registering at last.

"Theodore?"

He released the searing breath, lungs aching. "Theo."

Her hand fell to the mattress as her eyes narrowed. "Hm…" She stared ahead, chewing on her bottom lip. "Handsome, smart, terribly witty and sarcastic." She met his gaze, her own gleaming like campfire embers. "You must drive each other around the bend."

His lips formed a smirk of their own accord.

"Around the bend and back."

Soft, feminine laughter filled the room, a cooling balm to his spent nerves. She settled a moment later, eyes soft as smoke.

"It's more than a casual fling?"

"I think I'm in love with him."

Both their expressions sobered, equally taken aback by the admission. She leaned forward, tone hushed, as though Theo may be hiding in the wardrobe, listening in.

"Does he feel the same?"

Harry's scalp began to itch. His fists clenched at his sides, the urge to tug anxiously at the stands nearly blinding in its intensity. "I don't know."

She leaned back once more, chin lifting. "He would be a fool not to."

His battered heart lurched but somehow continued to beat.

"Do you think differently of me?"

She lifted her arm and placed her hand against his chest, palm centered over the thrumming beat within.

"I could never think differently of you."

She smiled again, but it was different than any of the others he'd ever seen her wear. More radiant, more breathtaking. "I love you just as you are, Harry Potter. And you are the greatest person I've ever known."

He blinked, eyes and chest burning with a familiar fire.

"You deserve all the love and happiness life has to offer." Her fingers curled in, as though attempting to grasp his heartbeat. "I'm so happy you've found someone to share it with."

He placed his hand over hers, holding it firmly in place.

"Thank you, Mione."

She nodded, swallowing heavily, as though unable to speak any more. He understood, his throat was so tight it was a miracle he could breathe.

"Does anyone else know?"

The question jolted him. His hand fell away.

"You're the only person I've told. But Daphne knows. And unfortunately, I think Zabini does as well."

Her hand lowered to her lap. "He won't report you."

He nodded. "I know."

She studied his expression closely. "I'm glad you told me, Harry."

"So am I." He sighed deeply. "It feels… freeing."

"I feel it, too." Her shoulders drooped. "Like a weight has been lifted."

He couldn't help but laugh, throwing an arm around her and pulling her into his side once more.

"Look at us, barely adults and already guilty of executable offenses."

Her hands folded primly atop his thigh. "I never knew adulthood could be so exciting."

He laid his cheek against her head. "Ron's going to feel left out-" He jumped, accidentally squeezing her waist until she yelped. "Shite."

She pulled back swiftly, brows creased. "What is it?"

"I need to tell Ron you're okay. He's still out there trying to track down Lestrange."

She paled, pushing back further.

"Find him. He could draw the attention of the wrong people."

Harry nodded, already rising, only to halt mid-step, hand wrapping the bedpost as he hesitated. Hermione braced her hands to either side of the mattress, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Sirius doesn't inherit guardianship until daybreak."

She blinked.

"I know."

Harry sighed, meeting her distraught gaze over his shoulder. "If you leave before then-"

"I won't."

He remained frozen. She clenched her jaw.

"I promise, Harry."

"Just like you promised to return straight to Grimmauld from the slums?"

She bristled. "That was different."

"Mione-"

"Harry, Ron could be in danger. You have to find him." She pushed to her feet beside him. "I won't leave Grimmauld before daybreak."

His hand dropped to his side. "I don't want you to leave period."

"I won't, now go!"

He drew a hand over his face in exhaustion, too spent to continue rowing.

"Alright." He started towards the door, step weighed with fear and reluctance. "I'll see you soon."

"Be careful."

He stopped at the threshold, grasping the knob and meeting her eye one final time.

"I always am."

---

Draco kicked a stray rock aside as he marched down the pavement, eyes narrowed and burning a scorching trail along the sidewalk.

There were very few pedestrians wandering about at the ungodly hour, even fewer carriages. Yet one slowed to stop beside him on the curb. His shoulders tightened, teeth grinding as he kept his quick pace, daring the idiot inside to try and obstruct his path-

"Thought that was you."

He jolted at the familiar voice, stumbling along the path as he spun to face the street.

"Christ, Theo! You scared the shite out of me!"

The man smirked, leaning casually against the window frame. "Then it's a good thing you're in dark trousers."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in this part of town?"

"Just dropped Potter off at Grimmauld."

He blinked.

"What?"

Theo drummed his fingers along the glossy paneling. "You missed the train I take it?"

Draco reared back.

"How-" He shook his head, stepping forward. "Why were you with Potter?"

Theo glanced towards the driver. "I'm being charged for the displeasure of your company. Hop in if you want to talk."

Draco opened and closed his mouth, setting back on his heels at last.

"I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Well, perhaps you're in the mood to help me find Granger."

His pale brows drew together, hands clenching at his sides.

"She's at Grimmauld."

He watched with uneasy fascination as his friend sighed with obvious relief, leaning back in his seat.

"You found her then." He carded a hand through his dark hair. "Thank god."

Draco scowled. "I had no idea you were so concerned for her welfare."

Theo sighed, shaking his head with an air of amusement.

"Fucking hell. You'd get jealous at a pigeon for staring at her wouldn't you?"

"Comparing yourself to the flying rodent?"

"I assure you, I have no interest in your star-crossed love." He leaned forward again, pushing open the door. "Now get in. I'll take you to the West End. Unless you planned on walking the entire way?"

Draco stifled a groan, glancing ahead at the barren street, debating continuing ahead by foot in blissful solitude.

His jaw clenched, realizing he'd merely be plagued by torturous thoughts the entire way home.

At least Theo provided a potential distraction.

He turned to the carriage, sighing heavily as he stepped forward and grasped the handrail, lifting himself into the compartment.

Theo smirked but said nothing as Draco took the opposite seat, leaning out of the window to shout to the driver.

"Belgrave."

The man nodded, urging the horses ahead. The carriage lurched softly, rolling back onto the road, rocking them from side to side before steadying.

Draco glared across the shadowed interior.

"Alright. I'm in. So talk."

Theo rested his elbow in the frame, listing casually to the side and propping a booted foot on the edge of the seat.

"I ran into Potter at the train station."

"What were you doing at the train station?"

"Looking for Potter."

Draco shook his head in annoyance.

"And why were you looking for him?"

"Black seemed concerned for his welfare. As did the others."

Draco scanned his face carefully. "Your answers only create more questions."

"Perhaps you're just asking the wrong ones."

His face twisted effortlessly into another scowl.

"Alright then. What happened to your eye?"

Theo glanced away, though his tone remained flippant. "My father."

Draco felt his stomach tighten.

"You fought?"

"I suppose you can call it that."

"Do you want to stay at the Manor tonight?"

Theo blinked, meeting his eye in disbelief. Draco bristled.

"What?"

Theo shook his head slowly, eyes fixed. "I'm just surprised by the offer."

Now Draco looked away.

"I thought that's what friends do."

"Are we friends then?"

His teeth clenched painfully, pulse thrumming.

"When I came to your house…" He squirmed in his seat, clutching the edge of the bench. "I said some things that…" His eyes flickered along the passing scenery, seeing nothing. "Things that I've come to regret."

Theo arched a dark brow, examining his moon-lit profile closely. Draco wet his lips, forcing the rest free.

"I was upset over Granger and I took that anger out on you."

He sucked in a deep breath, willing it to choke him.

"I'm…"

Theo leaned forward as the silence lingered.

"Yes?"

Draco's face pinched in acute discomfort.

"Sorry."

Theo blinked, falling back in dumbfounded silence.

And then burst into riotous laughter, clutching his middle and seizing in his seat.

Draco growled, pinning him with a lethal glare.

"Fuck you, too."

Theo wiped the corner of his eyes, still caught mid-fit.

"Well, that grand reformation didn't last long."

"I'm trying to be serious."

"And succeeding brilliantly." His amusement quelled, thought the smile remained. "The atmosphere of this carriage is positively grim."

Draco shook his head and folded his arms. "Nevermind then."

Theo took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back. "Relax. I'm only jesting."

"I can see that."

He tilted his head, studying the blonde anew.

"What brought on this sudden change of heart?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He raised a dark brow. "I think you do, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten into my carriage." His smile widened. "You'd have told me to go bugger myself and flagged down one of your own."

"I still might."

"Draco."

Draco released the breath he'd been holding, reluctantly facing forward.

"She's alive." Theo's expression was back to its normal somberness. "Everything else can be fixed."

Draco swallowed heavily, the words erasing his previous ire, rekindling the crippling emotions that plagued him on the sidewalk.

"Not this."

He gazed out the window. "I've wanted very few things in this life. Because I've never had the burden of being without. Everything's been gifted to me on a golden platter before I could even think to desire it."

His jaw tensed, the words heavy on his tongue. "Everything else I've been able to purchase. Everything has a price tag." He wet his lips. "Even people." His eyes fixed upon a dark row of trees in the distance. "Especially people."

The carriage hit a rough patch. Draco grasped the frame.

"But not her." He shook his head. "Never her."

He swallowed thickly, still clutching the ledge until his knuckles threatened to burst from the skin.

"I could never buy her. My name and rank mean absolutely nothing." He sighed deeply, chest aching. "If anything they've been a hindrance."

His head snapped forward once more.

"I can't make her love me, Theo."

The final admission rendered him breathless and numb. Theo watched him in the swelling darkness, the silence suffocating.

Until at last, his friend leaned forward, a beam of moonlight hitting across his face in a diagonal strip.

"Are you certain you love her?"

Draco pressed back in his seat, already baring his teeth.

"We've already discussed this-"

"No, we've yelled about it." Theo's foot fell off the seat as he turned to face him fully. "And the last argument was as much my doing as it was yours." He nodded shortly. "I'm sorry as well. But I don't take back any of the things I said that day."

He took a deep breath, as though bracing himself. Draco braced himself as well, sensing something profoundly unsettling on the horizon.

"Are you in love with Hermione Granger or merely the idea of her?"

His lips pressed thin, turning bloodless.

Theo continued on, unrelenting.

"The girl who defies all logic yet is filled to the brim with it. The only one who sees beyond wealth and beauty and nepotism to the very core of a man."

He wet his lips, voice taking on a hypnotic cadence. "Loving her is an act of defiance. A way to break the chains of your birthright. A chance to stand outside of your father's all-encompassing shadow at long last."

Draco attempted to swallow, it got caught halfway.

"But you truly love her?" Theo tilted his head. "When you picture your future together, is she standing beside you in your world, or are you standing in hers?"

He sighed again, leaning back and releasing Draco from his thrall.

"Love is messy and complicated. But it shouldn't be this painful."

Draco watched him for a long beat.

And saw him at last.

He tilted his own head, trying to make sense of the revelation.

"You speak from experience."

Theo held his gaze.

"Yes."

Draco continued to study him in the moonlight.

And then his heart skipped a beat.

His chin raised, hand sliding free of the sill.

"Potter."

Theo said nothing, merely stared back in the ensuing silence.

Draco blinked, overcome by the revelation for a weighted second.

And then the chaos passed. His shoulders relaxed, chest loosened.

"Suppose it could be worse."

Theo lifted a brow.

"Who's worse than Potter?"

Draco smirked. "Blaise."

Theo mimicked his expression.

"Point taken."

There was a tense beat. Both their countenances sobered.

"You love the gaping idiot then?"

Theo sighed, gazing out of the window as they turned a corner. "Unfortunately."

Draco joined him, the news already falling by the wayside as his mind was once more consumed by thoughts of Her.

Always Her.

Ever since she collided with him at the bloody birthday party.

If only she'd have been watching where she was going. If only she'd tied back those riotous bloody curls and seen what was right in front of her-

Their paths may have never crossed.

The mere notion made his chest wrench down the center. He bit back a gasp of pain, facing his companion once more.

"How do you know when it's real? When it's more than just a figment of the imagination?"

His hands clenched upon the seat, fighting the urge to press them to his heart, terrified the vital organ would fall out of his chest cavity and into his lap at any moment.

"How do you know when it's worth fighting for? Worth dying for?"

Theo met his gaze and smiled, expression tinged with such sadness Draco was certain the answers he sought were contained somewhere within it.

And then his friend nodded, kicking his leg back onto the seat.

"You're finally asking the right questions."

---

Hermione paced a rapid trail along the perimeter of the rug, hands clenched at her front, fingers twined tightly. Any chance of sleep was long gone, fleeing the room at Harry's heels.

Please let him find Ron.

Please let them be okay.

She wondered if the Dollmaker's minions were already scouring the city for her. Surely they didn't know of her escape. How could they? Rabastan was still bound when the boys arrived and the Dollmaker wasn't scheduled to arrive until morning.

The second guard…

What did Rabatsan call him?

Stephen.

Could he have alerted someone?

She shook her head.

No, he'd have freed his Master first. There's no way he came back to the house before they arrived-

She was jarred from her thoughts by a soft wrap on the door. She spun so quickly her foot caught the carpeting, causing her to stumble, heart in her throat.

"Come in!"

The door opened gently, she held her breath, surging forward-

Neville's head appeared, eyes wide and nervous.

"Er… hi, Mione."

She stopped in her tracks, deflating.

"It's you."

His brow furrowed. She shook her head, stepping closer.

"I'm sorry, Neville, I didn't mean it like that. I was just hoping-" She swallowed lightly, glancing away. "Nevermind."

His smile was warm. "No offense taken." He shuffled inside, leaving the door ajar. "I just wanted to check in, make sure you're alright." His eyes roamed the room, and then her figure, blush blooming to life.

"You changed your dress." His smile widened. "I like this one better."

She ran a hand over her skirts and laughed.

"Me too." She gazed back up, tilting her head. "How are you doing, Nev?"

He shuffled awkwardly.

"I'm good."

She nodded. "Thank you for looking after my friends."

"Of course." His expression grew tense. "I wouldn't have left them alone. Not that I can do much in the way of protection. Not like Harry."

She reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jolted, rocking back on his heels before settling once more.

"Neville, you're just as capable as Harry." She squeezed. "And much more capable than me."

Her arm dropped as he erupted into laughter, eyes bright.

"You're kidding, right? Rumor is you single-handedly beat up three thugs."

She opened her mouth, brow raised, only to clamp it shut soundly, shaking her head.

"Blaise."

He nodded.

"He exaggerated I take it?"

"Just a bit." She rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't talk to him for too long. He's liable to corrupt you."

"I don't doubt it." His laughter faded as he scratched the back of his head and glanced down. "It's alright. I've spent more time talking to Hannah."

She tilted her head, chest warming at the excited lilt in his voice as he spoke her friend's name.

"Let me guess, you've bonded over engineering and architecture?"

He met her eye, expression heavy with pleasure and embarrassment. "Among other things."

She grinned brightly. "That's wonderful, Nev. I-"

She blinked, distracted by a new face in the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt."

Parvati pushed the door open, expression tense, eyes glinting like gunmetal. Hermione swallowed, stomach twisting.

"What's wrong?"

Parvati glanced quickly between them, her gaze finally settling on Hermione. The air became heavy, corrosive, difficult to breathe.

"We have a visitor."

Hermione's fists tightened, bracing herself for the worst.

"Who?"

Parvati wet her lips, eyes narrowing.

"Doctor Riddle."

. . .

Hermione turned the corner onto the landing, clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white, insides turning to lead with every step towards the staircase.

She peered over the banister into the entryway.

And faltered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and then thudded hard, painfully, creating a steady throb in her wrists and behind her knees.

Tom stood in the center of the room, dressed entirely in pitch, eyes unnaturally bright.

And fixed upon her with predatory stillness.

She drew in an unsteady breath, holding it, swaying in place, suddenly light-headed.

"When you see him again, it'll change things."

She tried to tear her eyes away but couldn't, as trapped by his storm cloud gaze as she was the night of their first encounter.

She was trapped inside the wardrobe once more. Frozen in fear and shock, breathless in her hopelessness.

Hypnotized by the dark avenging angel standing above her.

Their perspectives were flipped this time, but the feeling his presence inspired was no different. She cursed herself for allowing him to have such a profound effect upon her. Especially after all that transpired.

All she'd been through.

She was stronger than this. More resilient.

She swallowed thickly, nails digging crescent grooves into the banister before she forced her fingers to loosen and her locked knees to bend, urging her feet forward.

She paused at the top of the steps, unnerved by how eerily still he held himself, how tightly wound, every muscle rigid, as though poised to spring.

She clutched the railing, trying to hide the tremor in her limbs. As she began her slow descent she felt the air change, an invisible force pulling her forward as though she'd breached his gravitational force, drawn in beyond her control.

His eyes gleamed beneath the chandelier, as otherworldly as they appeared in the moonlight.

In the cemetery.

"We aren't going to talk about this anymore."

She shuddered, tearing her gaze away at long last, focusing upon a random portrait in the distance as humiliation took root within her once more.

In all the chaos that ensued over the last two days, she had yet to fully process what transpired between them.

And she certainly didn't have time to do so now.

There's nothing to process.

He regrets what happened.

She raised her chin.

As do you.

His jaw tensed as she reached the bottom step.

They both stood motionless.

Frozen.

And then the energy sparked and crackled all around them.

He sprung forward.

Long legs carried him swiftly, movement fluid and catlike, the air charged, alive-

He stopped with only a few feet to spare, body colliding with an invisible barrier.

His proximity ate up all the remaining oxygen in the room, leaving her gasping and flush as his eyes began a slow methodical perusal of her body. His gaze was clinical, detached, the same eyes that examined her in the clinic.

Until he spotted the bruises on her wrists.

And then his gaze darkened and morphed until it became the same one she gazed into as they stood before Dolohov's bound, bloodied form. Her fingers twitched at her side, weighted by a phantom scalpel.

His eyes moved higher.

And reached her neck.

She burned with torturous fire as he studied every welt, every slight discoloration.

And his visage transformed yet again…

Into yet another mask she recognized.

Standing outside his bedroom, wielding a knife, adorned in finery.

Sequestered in the dark, doll and terror-drenched attic.

Hidden beside a stone mausoleum with only tombstones and the dead as their witnesses...

His gaze made a slow ascent of her face, lingering at her lips before at last reaching her eyes.

Her stomach clenched as something flashed in the depths of his swirling irises, clouds split by lightning.

"This was a mistake."

She glanced down, grabbing handfuls of hair and dragging it over her shoulders, concealing the evidence of their folly.

She steeled her strength and met his gaze, taking a measured step back.

And watched something akin to worry mar his features, there one moment and gone the next.

Or perhaps it was hurt…

No.

He isn't capable of either emotion.

She bristled, grinding her teeth before lifting her chin.

"Doctor."

He blinked.

And then his eyes shuttered, spine straightening as the temperature around them dropped, the heat that stole through her limbs washing away with cold dread.

"Ms. Granger."

Her chest ached at the lifeless tone.

Heavy silence echoed off the marble.

She refused to squirm.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I am?"

He tilted his head. "I found the aftermath of your handiwork in Bath." The corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm quite aware of how you are."

Her stomach tightened, bile rising in her throat.

"Is he…"

"Yes."

Her heart stuttered. "How?"

"I set the building aflame." His tone held no inflection but his eyes gleamed brightly. "I was feeling nostalgic."

She absently pressed a hand to her chest, gaze drifting. "I couldn't bring myself to do it." Her jaw set. "I wish I had. But when the moment came… I couldn't."

He watched her closely, nodding shortly.

"I know."

Her eyes lifted, hand dropping to her side, clenching into a fist.

"I knew the risk of leaving him alive. I put us all in danger."

"We were in danger long before now." He leaned in, barely a fraction, yet close enough to set her nerve endings aflame. "And you saved a girl's life."

Her heart stuttered at the reminder, Padma's face flashing before her eyes, the excitement and dread of discovering the long-lost sister seizing her anew.

"He told you about Padma?"

His jaw tensed, eyes flickering as though debating his response.

"She came up."

Hermione suspected there was more to the story but didn't have the time or energy to pry for it.

He wet his lips. "Who is she?"

"Parvati's sister."

He blinked, and then raised his chin, shadows dancing along the hallows of his cheekbones, transforming his face into a sinister mask.

"She suffers the same affliction as Dawn?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you'll need to examine her. She passed out earlier but seems stable-"

"There isn't time."

Her heart jolted, the dread spreading through every limb.

"What do you mean?"

"It's unwise to keep all three witnesses under the same roof."

She paled, gooseflesh racing along her skin.

"What do you suggest?"

"We need to separate them. In case Grimmauld falls."

She swallowed heavily, worst fears confirmed. "Then we need to move everyone out-"

"That will only draw unnecessary attention." His voice brokered no room for dissent. "Enough carriages have come in and out of here already. The last thing we need is a procession down the street."

"Where will you take them?"

"I know a place they will be safe." His words were clipped, precise. "I'll take Padma, I can examine her after we arrive at our destination."

"Like hell."

The new voice echoed all around them.

Hermione spun on her heel, facing the landing. Parvati stood at the railing, both hands bracing the banister, eyes narrowed and lethal. Blaise hovered at her back, leaning casually against the wall with a look of careful indifference painting his handsome features.

Hermione stepped forward. "Parvati-"

"He isn't taking my sister anywhere." She shook her head, disheveled braid swinging like a rope. "Not without me."

Tom tilted his head, countenance calm, unaffected by her vehemence. "It is unwise for you to come, Ms. Patil."

"Then she stays." She raised her chin, dark eyes flickering with flame. "End of discussion."

Hermione heard Tom inhale slowly, no doubt preparing to further his argument.

So she turned and grasped his arm.

He immediately fell silent, eyes casting down, fixing upon her pale fingers.

He stared at their joined limbs for several beats before she felt the muscle relax beneath her touch, the rigid lines of his posture easing.

And then he glanced up, meeting her eye.

She shook her head. His jaw tensed. A heavy look passed between them.

Until at last he nodded shortly.

She released him, arm dropping and palm burning at her side.

"It's alright. Padma can stay here. Luna is sitting with her until she wakes." She wet her lips. "So we'll take Dawn."

His eyes turned molten, dangerous.

"There is no 'we'. You are staying here."

Hermione swallowed, spine lengthening and she drew her shoulders back.

"You were wrong earlier."

He blinked. And then his face went blank.

She realized a moment too late the potential double meaning of her words.

Her pulse spiked, humiliation stirring in her gut.

She pushed the useless emotion back down, forging ahead.

"You said three witnesses." She arched a brow. "But there are four." She held his gaze, eyes hard, unyielding. "Including me."

She allowed her words to permeate the air with their weight before continuing, undeterred by the blooming violence taking shape in his gaze.

"So it makes sense to split us in half. If you really trust the safety of where you're taking us, that is."

Her body pulsated with the force of her heartbeat, expending every last ounce of energy and resolve in maintaining his tempestuous gaze.

Until finally his eyes settled, though the darkness remained.

"I do."

She nodded. "Good. Then there's nothing to worry about."

She turned her back to him, gazing up at Parvati.

"Will you and Hannah prepare Dawn for travel?"

Her friend released a troubled sigh. "Mione, are you sure you should-"

"Parvati." A meaningful beat. "You said you would help me."

She stiffened. And then nodded slowly, releasing the railing.

"I'll have her downstairs in a few minutes."

She awarded Tom with a calculated look before disappearing down the hall.

Blaise stood from the wall.

And lingered on the landing, gazing down at the pair.

The silence pressed heavy and oppressive, the air buzzing with it.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and smirked, paying them a cheeky wink.

"I see." He started after Parvati, voice laced with amusement. "I'll leave you crazy kids to it, then."

She fought back a cringe, happy to see him go and yet desperately wishing he had stayed.

She continued to face the stairs, pulse radiating through every limb, unable to turn around.

Stop acting foolish! There are bloody lives at stake.

She inhaled deeply, holding it in her lungs as she slowly spun in place.

He watched her closely.

"Hermione."

She released the breath, the sound of her name on his lips puncturing her lungs.

'What happened before…"

Spots appeared before her eyes, blood pressure spiking until she was certain she'd faint at his feet.

"I-"

"There's no need." She swallowed heavily, blinking to clear her vision. "It was as you said."

Her hands curled, nails piercing her palms until they punctured the skin. "A mistake."

Her heartbeat was painful. A painful reminder of what being alive meant.

"And it's in the past. Now we move forward."

She straightened, hands unfurling, blood beneath her nail beds.

"I know who the Dollmaker is."

She awaited his reaction with bated breath, anticipating a grand explosion to accompany such a grand revelation.

Instead, he merely raised his chin, eyes falling hooded and malevolent.

"Angus Bumby."

She jolted.

"How-"

"I was told in Bath."

She blinked. And then swallowed heavily, darkness taking root in her mind, legs heavy and sore as though forced to tread water all over again.

"He's a monster."

Her voice came out more brittle than intended, thin with emotion. With anger and sadness and hatred.

She blinked, overcome, and suddenly Tom stood directly before her, moving so quickly she never even saw him take a step.

"Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She blinked them away, feeling angry and foolish to shed them here, now.

"No." Her eyes were unwavering. "I wouldn't let him break me."

His hands clenched, arms tightening, as though he was keeping them pinned at his sides. Despite his tense demeanor, his voice was smoky and dark.

"I doubt he's ever encountered an opponent as formidable as you."

The corner of her mouth twitched with pleasure.

"He hasn't met you."

Darkness flashed across his features, heavy and frightening.

"He has."

She gazed up in bemusement.

"I visited the Asylum. You were already gone." He released a deep breath. It blew the stray curls from her temple. "I should have known who he was. The pieces were lying right in front of me." His jaw ticked. "But I was distracted."

She released a heavy sigh of her own, sensing the true intent of his words.

Or perhaps she was merely projecting.

But all the same, the gut-wrenching feeling prompted her to take a step back.

"Then let's hope neither of us encounters any more distractions."

A heavy beat passed.

Neither dared to look away.

And then Tom inclined his head, eyes bright and unblinking.

"Let's hope."

She glanced away first, thoughts and emotions caught in a violent storm centered at the very core of her being.

"I want to finish this, Tom. The Dollmaker may not have broken my mind, but he poisoned it just the same." She gazed up once more, eyes brimming with conviction. "I'm as possessed as the rest of his victims. Consumed as you are."

He remained silent. Transfixed. The air burst to vibrant life around her, sparking through her voluminous hair.

"Nothing will stop me from seeing this through."

His eyes gleamed just as brilliantly.

"We'll stop them." His voice shook the marble, trembled the portraits. "We'll kill him."

She lifted her chin, steel lacing her spine. "I won't hesitate again."

Her chest cracked down the center, resolidifying as a metal cage. Protecting her heart from all future onslaught.

"I will not compromise. Not until I've taken it all."

His gaze seemed to soften and harden at the same time. And then the floor fell away, leaving them suspended above the dark abyss that hungered for them both since their first fateful encounter.

"You've finally learned."

Sunlight slowly streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating half his sharp features, casting the other side into darkness.

She turned her head, tracking the growing spread of orange across the violet sky.

"The sun is up." Her shoulders lowered. "The Lestrange's no longer have legal claim over me."

She breathed in deep, savoring the taste on the back of her tongue, as though enjoying the sensation for the very first time.

Sunlight struck her own face, the room rapidly brightening. She squinted and turned her head away.

And became mesmerized by the look on his face.

She couldn't begin to process what she was seeing, little less what she was feeling, but all rational thought scattered as he slowly brought a hand towards her face-

There was movement on the landing, followed by the sound of twin footsteps.

They broke apart like a shotgun pellet, an endless chasm of space between them as Parvati appeared at the stairs with a strange girl in tow.

Hermione swallowed, smoothing a hand over her skirt as she addressed him over her shoulder.

"Get the carriage ready. We'll meet you outside."

She couldn't bring herself to look upon him but could sense the deep unrest radiating from his form.

He continued to stand motionless for a short eternity before finally turning for the exit. She released a sharp sigh of relief once the door closed at his back.

The light obstructed her vision. She struggled to calm her pulse as she held a hand before her eyes, eager to glimpse her supposed doppelganger.

The pair were halfway down the steps before her face finally came into view.

Her gut clenched painfully.

They certainly did share many common features. Not nearly enough to pass as twins, but certainly as sisters.

She imagined Draco spotting the girl from across a smoke-filled gambling den.

She turned away, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to forcibly expel the vision from her mind.

At last the duo reached the main level. Hermione pried her lids open and journeyed the short distance to meet them.

"Mione, are you sure about this?"

She met her friend's gaze, accepting the traveling cloak she held aloft.

"No. But I haven't been sure of anything in a long, long time."

"How do you know you'll be safe with him? He couldn't stop you from being dragged off to the asylum."

"That wasn't his fault." She slid her arms through the garment, fastening the front. "Not entirely anyway."

Parvati sighed, face stricken. "We just got you back."

"He's right, Parv. It's not strategic keeping all four of us under one roof. If the worst should occur, someone needs to survive the fallout. Someone needs to put these animals in cages."

"Fuck cages. I want them six feet under."

Hermione fell still, holding her friend's dark gaze. "He killed Rabastan."

Parvati reared back. A bevy of emotions raced across her features, everything from relief to disappointment. Hermione understood them all.

At last she settled forward, eyes glittering with pent energy.

"Did the bastard suffer?"

Hermione arched a brow.

"Immensely."

Parvati inhaled deeply, tipping her head back, relishing the news.

And then she gazed forward once more, a reluctant grin curving her lips.

"Alright. Riddle isn't all bad I suppose."

Hermione let out a short laugh, smiling to herself.

"I don't know about that."

She turned to face their third, silent companion, sidling in close, voice soft and measured.

"Hello, Dawn, my name is Hermione. We're going on a little trip-"

"Don't bother, luv. She doesn't speak to anyone but Malfoy."

She sighed with resignation, rubbing her eyes.

"Of course not."

She reached down and grasped the girl's hand, stomach twisting when she didn't react in the slightest, merely staring ahead blankly, eyes lifeless beneath the surface.

They reminded her of Padma.

She turned to face Parvati and saw a similarly troubled look marring her features, no doubt thinking of her sister as well. Hermione reached out and squeezed her arm.

"We're going to fix her, Parv."

Parvati nodded. "One step at a time." She gestured to the door with her chin. "Go ahead. I'll explain to the others where you are."

"It's safer if they don't know the location." She blinked, considering. "Then again, I don't know the location."

"Just be…"

She trailed off, shaking her head as though overwhelmed by the possible descriptors.

Hermione fought back a grin. "Safe? Careful?"

Parvati smirked. "Yourself. Seems to be working out pretty well these days."

Hermione smiled, nodding and releasing her arm. She then started for the door, gently pulling Dawn along in her wake.

By the time they stepped outside the sun was fully above the horizon, the sky a clear blue.

Yet storm clouds raged above the carriage at the end of the drive, drawn by solid black steads.

Tom stood by the car, the door open at his side as he watched their slow approach.

She studiously avoided his gaze as they reached him, stepping back to avoid his offered hand. He didn't react to her snub, simply taking Dawn's hand instead.

She started toward the driver's bench as he helped get the girl settled. He stepped aside, blinking in confusion when he didn't see her standing beside the car.

And then his gaze found her at last, the surprise on his face deeply satisfying to her pride as she situated herself on the raised seat, reaching forward to unwind the reins.

She glanced over her shoulder, raising a brow.

"Coming?"

He smirked, closing the door and moving to the front of the carriage, grasping the handrail and hoisting himself up.

He settled into the other end of the bench, their thighs pressing, a scorching heat eating through the heavy layers of fabric and flesh, charring the bone.

He held her gaze, holding up his palm. She placed the reins upon it.

And then he faced forward, urging the horses into motion, the corners of his mouth lifting into a breathtaking grin as he spoke just loud enough for her to hear.

"Right beside you."