A/N: Quick reminder that in this narrative, Universe A's final battle of the war was a bit different - it didn't take place at Hogwarts, and it happened about six months after it did in the book narrative. So when Hermione references an activity that she, Harry, and Ron did together that didn't quite happen that way in the books, know that in this story, they did.
There and Back Again, Part 2
When Hermione had first (and last) descended to the Chamber of Secrets, it had been with Ron and Harry some six months earlier to gather basilisk venom for the destruction of the final Horcruxes.
Even though the tunnel system in Universe B lacked a gargantuan shed basilisk skin, an ominous reminder of what lay ahead… it was just as sinister and creepy in this world as she remembered it being in hers.
Her feet sloshed through shallow puddles of water and grime in the dripping, shadowy pipework, her lighted wand partially raised and at the ready. Only fifteen minutes earlier, she and Draco had slipped into Ravenclaw Tower and levitated Kendra Dumbledore Selveretnam's Time-Turner from around the girl's neck, replacing it with a quill Hermione had transfigured to look just like it. That and a mild sleeping charm would buy them at least five hours before Kendra awoke.
Draco was right - it had been easy.
As they rounded the final bend in the passageway and the Chamber's snake-entwined entrance towered before them, Hermione had a feeling that whatever lay at the end of this tunnel would not be the same.
"Wicked!" Peia exclaimed in delight. From the moment she'd greeted them cheerfully in the lavatories, she hadn't seemed to share Hermione's considerable concerns. With an enthusiasm rivalling a child heading to Zonko's rather than the Chamber of buggering Secrets, she had grabbed Hermione's and Draco's hands and had all but dragged them down the tunnels eagerly.
"Peia, did Harry give you a reason why he wanted to come… here?" she asked tightly.
"Of course not," she said. "You know Harry. He rarely gives an explanation for anything, does he?"
"Oh believe me, I'm well aware," Hermione muttered heatedly, swallowing back another fierce wave of anger that Harry had had actually told a twelve-year-old to wait for her and Draco in the second floor girl's lavatory at one in the morning.
"But I imagine you have some idea, don't you, Pei?" Draco wheedled. "Do you think you could have read something from him, something that could… indicate what he has planned?"
The wild-haired girl gave him a somewhat pretentious expression that clearly questioned why he had even needed to ask. "Oh — of course I know." She released their hands to fearlessly step directly up to the stone door, and tilted her head back, examining it. "Look at these eyes! Are they made of real rubies, d'you think?"
"Peia, focus please," Hermione said more testily than she intended. "This is important. Why did Harry take your uncle to the Chamber of Secrets?"
Peia sighed impatiently and glanced back at her. "This is the only place we can go and never be found," she explained. "This is sanctuary."
Of the many words Hermione could list to describe the Chamber of Secrets, 'sanctuary' was not one of them… and given Ginny's near-death experience in the Chamber in Universe A, Hermione didn't particularly like the sound of 'never being found.' As far as she was concerned, Peia's responses were as unintentionally vague as a fact-sharing statement from Luna Lovegood.
Draco's expression said he shared her confusion. He took a few steps closer to Peia, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Peia, love," he said carefully, "Have you ever seen the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Oh, yeah. Loads of times," she said dismissively. "Just not directly."
Not directly, Hermione thought. In other words, Peia must have "read" it from someone…. Someone whose name was probably an anagram of a phrase that included the words Lord Voldemort.
Merlin, even if this was a different universe, this was a terrible idea. Hermione again eyed the closed door and lifted her wand, preparing for the worst. "Go on, Peia," she said, gripping it tightly. "You just have to ask it to open, and it will."
Peia smiled eagerly and nodded. Without hesitation, she turned back toward the great door before them… and easily addressed the stone snakes on it in a hiss.
Instantly, the bolts along the door's edge's shifted and turned, responding to Peia's Parseltongue command just as the sinks had in the second floor girls' lavatory.
Hermione sucked in a breath and swiftly exchanged a glance with Draco. He didn't seem so much nervous as resigned. He glanced down at Peia and then back up at her and nodded, his gaze filled with mixed emotions. Hermione understood: Though it wasn't impossible for any ordinary child to be a natural Parseltongue, given the context, there was very little doubt in her mind that Peia was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.
She nodded and mouthed, I know.
Their attention was drawn back to the Chamber when the massive door slowly opened. Hermione followed his gaze, peering into the misty darkness beyond them. The interior of the Chamber must have been darker than in Universe A. From her current perspective, even the statue of Slytherin was impossible to see.
"I'm going to extinguish the light so our eyes can get used to the darkness," she said. "It'll be easier to see the entire Chamber that way."
Really, she was extinguishing the light so they weren't an obvious target. Harry had deliberately lied about using the Room of Requirements, and that made her wary. Why would he utilize the highly impractical Chamber of Secrets instead? What was he hiding "to protect them?" (An argument she didn't buy in the slightest.)
She caught a movement in the shadows to her left, and Hermione knew without a doubt that Peia was already going in. She swiftly jumped forward, her heart thudding. "Peia — wait," she whispered, firmly fumbling for her hand before she could sprint off into the room. "We'll all do this together." She glanced over Peia's head to look pointedly at Draco. Her eyes were adjusting to a soft, very dim glow emanating from the doorway, faintly illuminating her companions. "Won't we?"
"Indeed we will." Draco offered his hand to Peia with a small smile. "Milady."
How he had the energy to be charming at a moment like this, Hermione didn't have the slightest. The minute Peia grinned back and accepted it, Hermione looked determinedly toward the Chamber. "Right then. Let's find out exactly what Harry Evans has been hiding from us."
She stepped through the doorway into the muted, silvery light, holding tight to Peia's hand.
She froze.
No thought, only shock, filled her mind.
"What…?" she heard Draco breathe in stunned awe.
Her mouth dropped open. "Oh - Oh my god."
Since entering the wizarding world when she was twelve, Hermione had seen many startling magical "firsts," from the floating candles in the Great Hall to the everyday magic used almost constantly by wizarding families like the Weasleys. From the day she had first wandered, openmouthed, through Diagon Alley to the final battle of the Second Wizarding War, she had witnessed countless unbelievable feats of magic.
This wasn't that.
This was like watching an orange Harvest moon rise above the crashing ocean waves, like wandering through the streets of Hogsmeade during the holidays, with multicoloured holiday lights strung all around while carols played merrily and the world glowed with goodwill and cheer, like laying on a carpet of grass on a perfect summer day while sunlight streamed like beams from heaven through gently rustling leaves and branches, like dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding before all hell broke loose, where, just for a moment, life was a celebration, everyone was happy, and all was right.
This was truly magical.
No floating pathways had been laid upon floodwaters that rose to the base of Salazar Slytherin's head and down the length of the chamber. No — this Chamber of Secrets wasn't flooded at all.
Instead, a wide staircase spiralled tens of metres down from where they stood and to the floor, revealing the Chamber's truly enormous size.
They were looking out upon a cavernous space.
Above them, the stone ceiling wasn't dank and dark. The entire Milky Way and a waning gibbous moon shone overhead, surely enchanted like the Great Hall's. The moist air was at once warm and cool, and a very faint mist on one side of the Chamber shrouded her view of the full body of Salazar Slytherin at the opposite end of it. In the flickering of starlight, moonlight, and lamplight illuminating the cavity in a silvery glow, she could just make out a lush, almost primordial world.
Rather than serpent columns, six towering, cylindrical pyramid-shaped structures lined the Chamber's edges. The massive edifices rose from the bottom of the Chamber clear past Hermione's eye level high above it, covered from tip to base with densely flowering plants, shrubs, and other greenery. Over the top and from the midst of the structures, waterfalls tumbled, sparkling under the pale light of the moon. At varying heights, lanterns hung like some strange form of holiday tree decorations, illuminating a smattering of otherwise dark gaps in the vegetation.
The gaps were either entranceways or windows, Hermione deduced, realizing at once that this was why Harry had brought Lucius Malfoy here: These strange edifices must have been some sort of self-sustaining dwellings. The Chamber of Secrets wasn't just a room… it was a living, breathing ecosystem.
Tiny lights that could only be fireflies were blinking cheerfully around many of the jungle-like structures and clusters of trees interspersed between them. Extremely abundant plant life carpeted the ground. Over the sound of rushing water, she swore she could actually hear crickets. She had to remind herself that they were at least 50 meters below Hogwarts and not in some forest village out of a science fiction novel.
Reverence began to kindle like a warm fire in the middle of her chest. Someone had created this place, built through what must have been years, even decades, of careful, deliberate spell work and painstaking planning. If a descendant of Slytherin could produce something this — this beautiful, this peaceful and full of life rather than coldness and death, then… Merlin.
For the first time, Hermione truly believed that this really might be a universe in which Peia's biological parents weren't monsters after all.
A small, contented smile tugged at her lips.
Sanctuary, the child had called it.
Perhaps it truly was.
She tore her gaze from the Chamber to see if her equally silent companions shared her awe. Peia's eyes were huge, her lips parted slightly. Draco too was staring into the Chamber, a smile similar to the one Hermione wore on his own face. As if he'd felt her gaze, his head turned toward her slightly, and then he looked over at her fully, his pale features bathed in moonlight.
In the warmth and the softness of the fine lines around the corner of his eyes, Hermione had no doubts that he appreciated the enchanting beauty of this moment, this incredible place, as much as she did. Her small smile widened hesitantly. So did his.
By now, Ron surely would have made a jocular comment about the jungle setting; Viktor, bless his heart, would have grunted and inquired as to what it was exactly that they were looking at. But Draco simply continued to look gently at her with kind eyes and no words whatever.
Suddenly, she caught herself, and jerked her gaze away, her heart hammering. What was she doing? She didn't know why he was willing to hold her extended stare, but she absolutely could not send him any signal that could be construed as anything other than friendly, not when he was legally bound to her. What if he thought she was taking advantage of him, of the bond? That would surely make for an uncomfortable situation that wouldn't be fair to either—
"This," Peia said dramatically, interrupting her thoughts, "is awesome."
Then she pulled away from both Hermione and Draco's hands and took off down the stairs.
"What — Peia!" Hermione yelped in panic. She cursed and darted after her, gripping the stone bannister tightly as she skidded down the slightly slippery stairs. Just because this place was beautiful didn't mean there wasn't a basilisk slithering around it; the jungle-like habitat was probably its idea of paradise. "Peia, wait! We said together!"
"Harry!" she heard Peia exclaim loudly. "Harry, we're here!"
Hermione groaned and briefly buried her forehead in her palm. Wonderful, now Peia's shouting had probably awakened the bloody thing. "Peia!"
As she reached the foot of the stairs, floating candles suddenly flared to life, lighting a bridge that led over a creek-like stream from the first foliage tower to the main gravel pathway. Harry strode out from inside it. "Granger!" he barked. "Good god, about time you showed up." His gaze shifted upward, and he stopped walking. "Malfoy. What in the blasted name of Merlin d'you think you're doing here?"
"That is an excellent question, Evans; I rather think I should be asking you the same thing," Draco retorted from somewhere above her. "It seems a bit too convenient to me that you simply happened to know you needed to ask Peia about the Chamber of Secrets. Who told you about it?"
With a final burst of energy, Hermione caught up to Peia at the foot of the bridge and snatched up her hand. "Peia, just - just wait—"
Before she knew it, Harry was in her face. "Have you lost your mind?" he hissed, ignoring Draco's highly pertinent question. "What were you thinking bringing him with you— he's a sodding liability! And what the devil did you do to your transmitter?"
Hermione straightened, glaring at him. "What did - what did I do?" she repeated, astonished. "Your 'high tech device' died on its own! Perhaps you should think twice about using a prototype for a high risk operation rather than a system that's proven it can work!"
"There wasn't anything wrong with ours," Peia piped in then, following their squabbling with wide eyes. "I've been talking to Harry this entire time. It was you we couldn't reach, Hermione."
"Yes, ours worked only far too well," Harry snapped, momentarily shooting a disgruntled scowl in the child's direction before he held out his hand toward her and looked at Hermione triumphantly. "There, you see? The midget agrees with me. The glitch was clearly on your end."
In the glowing firelight of the candles, Hermione actually saw red. How dare he? How dare he waltz around orchestrating separate and highly dangerous plans, withholding critical information from the people who would be directly affected by them, and then accuse her of dropping the ball?
Clenching her hands into fists, she shot a quick glance behind her: Draco had reached the base of the stairs but wasn't approaching. She wondered if he was deciding whether he wanted to enter the spat or not.
Calmly, she turned to the girl standing beside her. "Peia, why don't you go join Draco for a bit?"
Peia looked worriedly between Harry and Hermione. "But why are you—"
"Just do it, please," Hermione said through gritted teeth.
Peia frowned unhappily. "Fine." She sighed, lowering her head, and trudged back toward Draco despondently.
"Peia… really?" Draco said suddenly. "Is that… reluctance I see on your face? After all this time, after everything we've been through and everything you've done, could it - could it be you don't truly love me after all?"
He sounded so legitimately heartbroken that Hermione peered back at him in concern, but Peia began to giggle wildly. "Draco, stop teasing me!"
The next time he spoke, he sounded devious. "Then you'd better chin up before I keep at it, hadn't you?"
Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly.
"Granger, there's something you need to know," Harry suddenly said beside her.
She stiffened, immediately remembering why she had sent Peia away in the first place. In a heartbeat, the smile had dropped from her face. Wandlessly, she cast a Muffliato between the two cousins and Harry, spinning toward the dark-haired wizard.
"Oh. There's something I need to know?" she asked waspishly, advancing on him. "After I've been relegated to a 'need to know' basis that conveniently didn't include your transporting Lucius Malfoy to the bloody Chamber of Secrets, or that Cassiopeia Longbottom was not only part of tonight's escapades but Tom Riddle's daughter — both of which I think I bloody well needed to know — now you're going to tell me something that I need to know?"
He actually leaned away from her, though of course he would never admit to being afraid of anything enough to back away. "Granger—"
"No!" she exclaimed. "No, you slippery, slimy — infuriating bastard, now there's something you need to know!" She jabbed her finger in Peia's direction. "How dare you bring that child into this! Leaving her alone in the middle of the castle where anyone could find her — anyone, like Dementors, or the Investigation team, or the bloody Dark Arts-loving ruler of this entire empire! And then, what, you told her to come here, to this - this snake sanctum? Did it every occur to you in all your oh-so-brilliant plans that Slytherin had a Basilisk, which is a XXXXX-rated creature, by the way, and stashed it right—"
"The Basilisk is dormant. Has been for the past eight hundred years," said an unexpected, deep male voice behind them. "So I'd say this - snake sanctum, as you so expressively called it - is relatively serpent free. Of the non-human sort, anyway."
Hermione spun, instinctively raising her wand.
A man was standing in the middle of the unlit bridge leading to the vegetation-covered tower beside theirs, his features swathed in shadow. "And Mr. Evans here brought Cassiopeia into it because I instructed him to," he continued over the sound of rushing water, his inexplicably rich voice sending a strange shiver down her back. "So if you have an overwhelming desire to continue shouting at someone, well… you should probably be shouting at me."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Harry. He didn't seem concerned — in fact, he appeared to be the very opposite. "That would be what you needed to know," he said calmly.
She quickly looked back toward the unfamiliar man and jerked in surprise. Very suddenly, he was very nearly in front of her, now fully illuminated by candlelight. He was tall, middle-aged at best, with a slightly tanned face, a thick head of short, coffee brown hair parted to one side, and dark eyes.
He was shockingly handsome.
He cocked his head, studying her closely, his gaze sharp. "Miss… Granger, I presume," he said, his smooth voice as resonantly magnetic up close as it was from a distance. "I've heard your name quite a bit today." He glanced between her and Harry and raised a single eyebrow. "Impressive tirade, I might add. I have a feeling Bella's going to take quite a liking to you."
Bella - brown hair - dark eyes - dangerously charming - Chamber of Secrets —
Those very basic facts were a dead give-away as to his identity, but no— it was impossible. First, how on earth would he be able to breach Hogwarts' walls after he'd been bloody wiped from every history book in the entire school, and second, this man who only had the slightest flecks of grey hair around his temples could not possibly be even remotely old enough to be—
He looked down at her raised wand. "Are you going to lower that?" he asked in a low voice. "Because if not, I'm going to have to take it from you."
Hermione gaped at him, gripping her wand tightly to keep her hand from shaking. "You — You're—"
"Tom!"
Peia suddenly burst through the Muffliato charm Hermione had cast earlier. Hermione quickly looked behind her to see Draco staring in unabashed astonishment at the new presence as well — obviously, the two had just noticed him. Then he shook his head in disbelief and smiled broadly, following Peia toward them.
Peia charged past her, and Hermione swivelled her head back toward the entrance of the tower to see Tom- Tom Riddle crouch down and sweep her up in his arms. "Peia! How's my favourite girl?"
"I missed you!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him so tightly it was a wonder he could breathe.
Hermione lowered her wand numbly as the man who she had only known as a dark lord hugged Peia closely back, standing and lifting her off the ground. He simultaneously groaned and chuckled. "Merlin, you were half this big the last time I saw you! Don't tell me Herbology has you working with the Amplexius patch behind the greenhouse," he commented, and Hermione recognized the reference to an obscure herb that acted as a growth steroid. "How've you grown up this quickly?"
Peia loosened her grip reluctantly, turning her face to look at his. "It's been hard," she informed him solemnly.
The smile faded from his face. "I know it has, kit," he murmured, gently touching his forehead to hers. "It's been hard for us, too."
The moment was so clearly one between a father and his daughter — whether or not Peia knew it, though Hermione suspected she did — that Hermione looked away and forced herself to breathe in and out of her nose, still trying to process what she was seeing: That this was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he was showing actual affection and love and humanity toward something, and Hermione was standing within striking distance of the very man who in her world had murdered hundreds of people without a second thought —
A hand touched her shoulder.
She jumped and automatically swung her wand around — into Draco's startled face. "Hey. It's me," he said hastily.
She blinked in surprise, then lowered her wand. "God, I'm sorry."
He gave her a small smile. "As I said… at least your abuse is unintentional." But his amusement vanished as quickly as it had come. He stepped closer, searching her eyes, his own concerned. "Are you alright?" he asked, quietly enough that the conversing Riddle and Peia wouldn't overhear.
"No. Yes. Well… I will be eventually." Hermione sighed and raised a hand to her throbbing temples. "I thank the stars above he at least looks nothing like Voldemort."
"And he doesn't act a thing like him, either," Draco murmured. "Look at the love he has for her, Hermione. That isn't the monster you've always known."
They both looked back toward the dark-haired wizard and wild-haired little witch, the latter of whom was chatting on happily, while Riddle listened with an affectionate and most certainly amused smile. Hermione nodded to herself and took a small breath, letting it out slowly. Draco was right. This man was very, very different from Lord Voldemort, and that at least would make the bizarre adjustment much easier. "How on earth does he hardly look a day over forty?" she hissed in Draco's ear. "He was born in 1926; that would make him seventy-two right now!"
Draco leaned closer to her still, so close that his lips were practically touching her ear. "He and Nicolas Flamel collaborated quite closely when he was fresh out of Hogwarts," he whispered back. "He always said that working so near the elements used to create the Elixir of Life had rubbed off on him, but rumors spread that he actually took some Elixir himself."
Hermione mentally kicked herself for not making the time to unravel the riddle that was, well, Riddle. Then again, she hadn't counted on bloody well running into him so soon. "Flamel was alive for hundreds of years and never shared the Elixir with anyone but his wife. Not even Dumbledore, and they were great friends… at least, he didn't in my universe," she whispered thoughtfully. "In all those centuries, what would make Riddle different from any others who surely wanted to share the Elixir?"
Draco shook his head. "From what my mother told me, Flamel had never supported the Sovereignty's move to modernize. He claimed the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed when Dumbledore came about asking for it," he said in a low voice. "Then he was mysteriously killed… more of a disappearance, really; the entire thing was covered up. Mum thought he'd lied to Dumbledore about the Stone being gone and had given some Elixir to Riddle to support the cause before then. If Dumbledore found out, that may have even been why he died."
Hermione listened in rapt attention — the differences between this world and hers were truly fascinating. While Voldemort had been after the Philosopher's Stone in her world and Dumbledore had helped hide it from him, here it was Dumbledore who'd wanted it, and Voldemort's alter-ego who Flamel trusted. "If that's the case, then why would…"
She trailed off as Tom Riddle bent forward slightly, allowing Peia to slip back to the floor. She beamed up at him, practically bouncing with excitement, and Riddle smiled at her again, ruffling her hair and then resting his hand on her back. Harry, Hermione noticed, had disappeared, and she wondered for the first time where exactly Lucius Malfoy was.
Before she could voice the question aloud, Riddle turned toward them. His face broke out into another shockingly good-looking smile. "Draco," he said warmly, extending his hand. "Now, you have grown up. My god, it's good to see you again."
The same wide smile had stretched across Draco's face. He grasped Riddle's hand firmly. "Believe me, sir, that sentiment cannot be more strongly returned."
Riddle laughed and stepped forward, pulling Draco into a hug. Hermione winced when Draco immediately recoiled slightly before he returned the embrace. The motion was minor, and she thought she'd been the only one to notice it until Riddle himself pulled back quickly, holding the blond wizard out at arm's length and searching his person for injury. "What is it, Draco?" He seemed genuinely concerned. "Is something wrong?"
Draco shook his head, looking frustrated, and Hermione knew then that his reaction hadn't been intentional. "No. It's nothing." He smiled again, although this time it seemed strained. "I'm sorry, sir, I — I really am very glad to see you."
"It isn't nothing if it caused you to react like that," Riddle pursued, not easily dissuaded.
Draco took a small breath, avoiding the dark-haired man's searching gaze. "It isn't you, it's… I'm not… particularly comfortable with sudden contact."
Riddle frowned, studying Draco closely. Then he lifted his hand, and with a twitch of his fingers, wandlessly moved aside some loose platinum hair that had slipped over the left side of Draco's face, and the scar Ronáld had burned into him. His expression swiftly transitioned from concern to shock to a cold fury so strong it practically emanated from his features. With a jerk, Hermione was reminded that while this man may have loved his daughter and was not the same as Lord Voldemort… he was certainly still as powerful, and he certainly was not to be trifled with.
Draco stood rigidly and stared down at Riddle's shoulder, his jaw tight. As the seconds stretched on, the wait for one of them to speak or move became physically painful. She couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for him to stand under the appalled gaze of a man he so clearly respected, and before she could stop herself, she exclaimed, "We've brought a Time-Turner!"
Riddle blinked. In an instant, his expression of rage vanished, and his penetrating gaze slipped toward her, his eyes still dark. She shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps we should… talk about what's happened tonight, and what still needs to be done. Sir."
For the briefest moment, he glanced back at Draco, then took a step back. "Peia," he said, looking down at the girl who still stood beside him, her own dark eyes worried, "I need to discuss something privately with your cousin."
"You'd like me to go inside and stay with Harry," Peia said knowingly.
"Yes, I would, and I thank you for being the wonderfully intelligent and understanding girl that you are." He lifted her hand and squeezed it, before she turned away. "In any case, I'm certain Mr. Evans will be utterly thrilled for the company," he added, a slightly sardonic edge to his voice.
Even though he'd acknowledged Hermione's interruption, Riddle had fairly ignored her otherwise. Hermione wasn't certain if she should feel slighted or relieved about that, but his message for privacy had been quite clear. "Right," she said, nodding once to herself. She supposed this would give her the opportunity to learn what Harry was doing with Draco's father — she assumed the two were together. "Wait a minute, Peia, I'm—"
"No, Hermione—" Draco suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm before she got more than a step away. She looked back at him quickly. "Stay," he implored quietly, his glistening eyes betraying the calmness of his voice.
It took her no more than three seconds to decide that Lucius Malfoy and Harry Evans could wait. She nodded. "Of course."
"My apologies, Ms. Granger, it hasn't been my intention to ignore you completely," Riddle said, turning toward her. "Here I've been speaking to you as though we're acquainted, when I haven't so much as returned you the favor. My name is Tom Riddle." Rather than offering her his hand, he afforded her a piercing stare. "I've been told people and personalities are significantly different in the place you call home. But I assure you, right here, I'm on your side… if it's my side you're on."
Hermione suddenly wondered exactly what — and how much — Harry had given away about her. She could have groaned — knowing him, she couldn't be certain any of it would be favorable, either.
"She is," said Draco before she could respond, moving to stand alongside her.
Hermione glanced at him quickly, but he was staring hard at Riddle. She looked back into Riddle's probing gaze. "If by 'on your side' you mean we'd both like to restore basic rights to those who've lost them, then yes, I rather think I am."
Riddle looked between Draco and Hermione. "Excellent."
Then he held out his hand.
Hermione swallowed hard before she took it, hesitant to look at him straight in the face… she was finding it exceedingly difficult not to stare at him every time she did. "It's a… pleasure, Mr. Riddle."
He let out a short laugh. "Please. Call me Tom. There's only one person who calls me Mr. Riddle, and as luck and skill would have it, he doesn't seem to have an inkling that any of us are here right now."
Draco straightened abruptly. "About that—"
Riddle held up a hand, cutting him off. "One moment, Draco. Before we speak another word, I must know one final thing." He returned his intense gaze to Hermione. "How trustworthy do you know yourself to be?"
Hermione felt herself automatically become defensive. "Given my record of utmost loyalty to the people and causes I care about, I'd say very," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Riddle shook his head, his eyes still deeply connected with hers. "No. Not the superficial you you would describe yourself as being. The subconscious you. The you that still exists when the you you think you are is sleeping. The you that a Master Legilimens can see when he or she looks inside the deepest recesses of your mind for the pure tendrils of consciousness that indicate at the most basic level just how likely one might be to be tempted and swayed by the Dark Arts…"
He was so skillfully subtle that it took Hermione a few seconds to realize that he was actually performing Legilimency on her at that very moment. Her heart lurched, and she swiftly raised her mental defences. She noticed then that Riddle was standing only inches from her, so close that she could actually smell his cologne — when had that happened?!
Riddle cocked his head at her, his gaze analyzing. Hermione held her breath, kicking herself for not having anticipated that Lord Voldemort's alter ego would perform Legilimency on her. Then he smiled slightly. "Not bad."
She shook her head, flushing slightly. "It was awful. I wasn't ready. I should have been. I'm much better at it than that."
"Ms. Granger, if I tell you your Occlumency wasn't bad, you can be assured it wasn't," he said with all the confidence of a Hogwarts professor. "Who taught you that?"
"No one." Hermione finally brought herself to look back at him. "I've heard bits of theory here and there, but I've only thrown myself into picking it up myself when I got here in August."
"Hermione's a brilliant witch. Not a single person's seen through her yet," Draco added, actually sounding proud. "Not Snape, not Kingsley, not even Lily Evans, and she had plenty of opportunity. She performed an Eighth Level Invisibility Charm twice tonight with four Dementors practically on top of us. Saved both our lives."
Riddle's gaze shot toward her. "You what?"
Hermione flushed again and shot Draco an expression mixed between gratefulness and embarrassment. "I honestly didn't even feel it working. What really saved us was Snape's Patronus," she said, wrinkling her nose in a frown. "The timing of which was… oddly impeccable."
He examined her calculatingly, his gaze intrigued. "Self taught Occlumens, Eighth Level Invisibility Charm in the presence of Dementors, familiarity with Time Turners. Those topics aren't even breached in N.E.W.T. level courses. What were your Ordinary Wizarding Level grades?"
She shifted awkwardly, now definitely embarrassed. "Nine O's and one E."
"And N.E.W.T.s?"
She shook her head. "I didn't take any N.E.W.T. classes. I was… erm… out of school getting practical experience."
For a moment, he was quiet. "That's interesting," he said, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he shook his head. "Well then. We'll work further on your Occlumency. You've grasped the basics; now you must refine them. The best Occlumency is not a defence, but an offense. You must anticipate a Master Legilimens before he or she even locks eyes on you, before they even know it's you with whom they'll be speaking next. The moment they do — the second they make eye contact — you're fair game. You won't have time to raise your walls without them realizing it, and when they do, they'll know immediately you have something to hide."
Hermione nodded, engrossed in his explanation. She honestly wouldn't have minded if he'd continued the training then and there, but Riddle tilted his head toward Draco. "Speaking of which, I believe you have something for me. Palm-sized, diamond embedded, the chain of which is hanging from your righthand pocket…"
After a beat, Draco withdrew the jewel-studded Time-Turner that belonged to Dumbledore's niece.
Suddenly, everything made sense to Hermione — why Harry had forced her to get the Haitian spellbook so early; why he'd taken it and promptly disappeared for another two hours. Harry wasn't prepared to do an incredibly advanced Dark Arts curse… but Tom Riddle was. Not only that, since he had just described the Time-Turner before Draco had even pulled it from his pocket, clearly he knew what it looked like, which meant he'd already seen it, which meant that he must have still been in the Chamber to see his future self come back in time, which meant that he'd actually already seen himself perform the Shadow Double Curse.
And since he was loitering here talking to them, he obviously wasn't terribly worried about casting it.
Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling slightly. It was brilliant.
Riddle took the Time-Turner from Draco, holding it up. He raised an eyebrow. "Look at this. The old man didn't lend me one of these when I was Minister of Mysteries, and we managed his entire cache of them. Who's the favored one this time?"
"Kendra Selveretnam," said Draco simply.
He let out a dark chuckle. "Why does that not surprise me?" He shook his head, and reached out toward Draco's scarred face. "So many riches… built on such suffering." His eyes hardened, and he turned away from them. "Come with me. Your father's just inside."
Draco didn't move. His eyes were struck, and he looked so alone that Hermione felt an overwhelming desire to reach for his hand, simply as a reassurance… simply as a friend. She'd certainly done it when they were recovering from the Dementor attack an hour earlier. Her fingers twitched, but she couldn't bring herself to move them. What if he interpreted it the wrong way? What if he didn't —
Draco shoved his tense hands into his pockets then and looked over at her. Her hand tingled, and she felt a distinct sense of disappointment.
She nodded toward the bridge. "Coming?" she asked, ignoring the pounding of her own heart.
He bowed his head, tracing a line in the gravel with his shoe. "You know, it's funny," he said quietly, smiling weakly. "I've dreamt about this moment my entire life, but now that it's here, a… a part of me would really rather not walk through that door."
Hermione gazed at him. Though he seemed to have the utmost confidence in her, in so many others, she was coming to learn more and more that he was legitimately worried about how the people who truly mattered to him would perceive him. But in focusing on his weaknesses, he forgot so many of his strengths, of the characteristics that made him so worthy of respect. She had no doubt his imprisonment was at fault for that, and she knew he simply needed time to work through it, to become used to making his own decisions again.
But that didn't help him when he was on the threshold of meeting the father he hadn't seen since he was five.
"You know what I think?" she asked quietly. "I think you should do it for your mum."
Draco looked up at her quickly.
"I don't know very much of her," Hermione continued, "but from what you've told me, I don't think she could bear knowing the two people she loved more than anything else in the world were so close to meeting, and didn't."
He swiftly looked away from her, blinking rapidly. After a moment, he nodded and said thickly, "You're right." He cleared his throat, then smiled slightly, his glistening eyes distant. "But she would be the happiest woman in all of Britain if she knew we had."
In that moment, Hermione wished so badly that she had had the chance to meet the Narcissa Malfoy that was this wonderful man's mother. Her own eyes stung with tears as Draco's gaze returned to her face, a resoluteness in his expression that hadn't been there before. Before she knew what was happening, his hand was holding her cheek, his bottomless grey eyes boring into hers. "Thank you," he whispered.
Then he turned away and was gone.
Hermione's face tingled, her heart hammering. She swallowed hard, and shook her head. All he was doing was being a good friend, and meanwhile she was feeling — feeling this. Yes, alright, she wasn't so emotionally daft as to deny she'd become a bit… fond of him. And that alone was almost as terrifying as nearly colliding with Albus Dumbledore. In this world, she absolutely could not risk a factor so uncontrollable as - as fondness. Not here, not now, and probably not ever.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, crushing whatever feelings were kindling inside her. Something inside her deeply protested, and her burning eyes blinked rapidly before she took another small breath, following him across the bridge.
Tom Riddle was conversing with Draco just outside the lantern-lit entrance, the top of his tall silhouette a few fingers above Draco's, even. "—him before he's conscious. Ease yourself into it."
Draco shoved a hand through his hair, nodding. "Fine, fine - That's fine. How's he holding up, though? Is he… alright?"
"For a near-fourteen year imprisonment, I'd say he's doing remarkably well. Spending most of his time at Hogwarts rather than with the Dementors of Azkaban no doubt helped tremendously in that department."
They both looked at Hermione as she approached. "Everything alright?" Riddle asked. Hermione thought she detected the slightest bit of suspicion in the inquiry.
"Fine," she lied, stopping beside them. "Just taking in everything. This place… it's incredible."
"It is, which is why I'm particularly glad that neither Dumbledore nor Evans seemed to notice the activity in this area of the castle tonight." He paused, looking at her closely. "That was the case, wasn't it? Or do you not trust your grasp of their characters in this universe to make that judgment?"
"No, I do," Hermione responded tensely, getting the odd sense that he was restraining the urge to interrogate her. "Dumbledore's actually surprisingly similar here, compared to… well, compared to others," she said awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm developing a theory about the differences between our worlds, you see. While Headmaster Dumbledore was a great wizard, he was very tempted by power when he was quite young. When his sister died, he swore it off, but in this world, she lived. I suppose he wouldn't need much of a personality shift for him to choose to take the path of power here." She paused; Riddle was watching her with the same expression she imagined she wore when Draco explained elements of Universe B to her. "But to answer your question plainly, no, he certainly didn't seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary."
"The Viceroy was also her… toxic self," Draco added, an uncharacteristically tight edge to his voice. "Nothing off there."
For a few moments, Riddle was silent, his expression deeply pondering.
"You think Dumbledore came to the castle because he sensed you arrive," Hermione guessed.
He glanced at her. "The thought did cross my mind."
Draco frowned. "Does he have a Trace on you specifically? Is that possible?"
"For Dumbledore, it is. We received a tip he had. It's the primary reason I've avoided Britain until today; he'd know the second we stepped, flew, Apparated, Flooed or in any other sense of the word travelled back to the country. Now, this place — " He raised his hands, gesturing around the Chamber, "—is different. It's special. I suspected we could return here — only here — without detection. Of course, there was no way to test that theory without just doing it, and with that came the small but cataclysmic chance that I could be wrong."
Draco shook his head. "I take it Evans filled you in on the explosion last night?"
For a moment, Riddle's dark eyes shifted to Hermione before they returned to Draco, and she knew Harry must have relayed his suspicions about the explosion's true culprit on to Riddle. "He did."
"I think Hermione and I both received the impression he was quite interested in examining that site alone. If the Trace had worked, wouldn't it make more sense that he would've come straight here, rather than wasting his time elsewhere?"
"Yes… You're quite right." Riddle nodded slowly, though his gaze was still distant. After a beat, he lifted his head. "That'll have to do. For the moment." He looked like he was about to put his hand on Draco's shoulder, but stopped. "It's time."
He ushered them over the threshold and inside the tower, and Hermione found herself moving from a jungle-like world into a largely hollow, very habitable space. The ground floor of the pyramid, though wall-less, seemed to possess all the trappings of an ordinary flat: a rustic kitchen, a living room-like space, an eating area. In the very centre, a spiral staircase soared five stories into the air to the roof of the building like a great tree trunk, branching off at each level to lead to different floors, which wrapped around the edge of the structure like bands. Each floor seemed to support a number of closed-off rooms, lit similarly with the occasional lantern.
An architectural feat, it was as impressive as the precariously balanced floors of the Burrow. "Who built these?" Hermione asked in amazement. "What for?"
"I did." He strode toward the stairs, appearing neither conceited nor modest at the statement. "Took me the better part of a dozen years. I was originally curious if such constructions could even sustain themselves, and when it appeared they could, their purpose developed into that of a refuge for wanted conservatives, if it ever came to that."
"Sanctuary," she murmured in understanding as they followed him up the stairs.
Riddle nodded. "As I began to call it."
"Did you ever use it?" Draco asked keenly.
He looked toward him and chuckled slightly, but the sound held a dark edge to it. "I am now." He gestured to his right, toward a branch of stairs that floated across thin air to the first level. Light glowed from inside a room ahead.
Draco frowned. "But why not during the Second — during the last war? This place would have been ideal for so many displaced families…"
Riddle shook his head. "That was a different situation altogether. That wasn't a few conservatives who needed to temporarily hide their heads, that was an entire people who needed to leave a very adverse situation for an indeterminable length of time." He turned, meeting Draco's deeply inquisitive gaze. "Information had come to light, Draco, information not even you knew." He glanced up toward the partially open door. "But I imagine that'll change very soon."
Just then, Peia popped her head around the doorframe, her features glowing in the firelight of multiple lanterns. "You're here! Harry was getting mad irate waiting."
Hermione heard an unintelligible but clearly displeased grumble from inside the room.
"You bet we are." Riddle smiled and again ruffled her hair as he walked past her, entering what was quite clearly a bedroom. Hermione followed him inside. A small table and a few floating lanterns met her gaze, as well as a curved sofa and a large bed, each atop wicker wooden frames.
Harry's dark form leaned against the curved wall near one of the windows. Lucius Malfoy slumbered peacefully on the sofa, wearing the same dull grey clothing Hermione had seen him in when she'd ventured past the vampire statue a few weeks earlier. He was as painfully thin as his son and pale as a ghost, a grizzled beard on his face, tangled silver hair cascading down his back. He looked about as similar to the Lucius Malfoy of Universe A as Draco did his other world counterpart: hardly at all.
She realized then that Draco was not beside her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Draco was hovering stiffly in the doorway, his eyes locked on his father. Not even his chest moved - he looked stunned.
Riddle strode directly over to the sofa and crouched down beside Lucius. "Repeat your exit time, Mr. Evans."
"Between 0:05 and 0:06," Harry said.
"Ms. Granger, Draco, what time would you say Dumbledore entered the cell?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "No more than five minutes after that."
Riddle tossed the chain of the Time-Turner around both his and Lucius Malfoy's necks and pulled out a silver pocket watch. He checked it, then looked up at them. He winked at his daughter. "Be good, Pei. We'll be seeing you all momentarily."
"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed — she couldn't let him leave without at least confirming her theory. "So you — know the spell worked already," she said quickly. "Because you were already there when you came back. You saw it happen."
His lips quirked upward. "Look at you. You are a bright witch." But something in his gaze remained distinctly unfriendly. He didn't trust her, Hermione thought… and honestly, if it had been Harry who'd provided him a synopsis of her background, she could understand why. "You're correct," he continued, "except for one thing." He lifted the bejeweled Time-Turner in his hands. "I didn't just see myself cast the spell. I helped me do it."
He flipped the Time-Turner over, and he and Draco's father vanished.
For a moment, not one of those who remained in the room moved. Then Harry let out a heavy sigh, walked over to the same sofa, and collapsed on it. "Thank Merlin and all the blasted gods that's handled."
"Draco!"
Hermione jumped, startled. The sudden shout was undeniably Riddle's, and it had come from… outside the bedroom window?
Peia leapt up from the bed and dashed past her, looking out into the - seeming - night. "Tom?" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Hello, kit. Didn't I tell you I'd see you momentarily?" His voice swiftly transitioned from affectionate to commanding. "Ms. Granger, the window."
Hermione quickly came up beside Peia, as did Draco. On the same level in a lit room in the tower beside theirs, Tom Riddle was looking out at them. He and Lucius Malfoy must have been in the other building all along, she realized, waiting for his other self to go back in time. Now that he had, the time loop had closed.
As soon as they appeared, he said, "I suggest the two of you make your way here immediately. Cassiopeia, stay with Mr. Evans. You both can move over here if you'd like."
For a moment, Harry buried his head in his hands, gripping his hair, before he stood and wordlessly held a hand out to Peia. As if she realized he didn't want to talk, she took it silently.
Draco was already standing at the door with his back to them, his shoulders tense.
For a moment, Hermione wondered why he didn't simply leave, and then in a rush she remembered he couldn't — not with the bond. She swallowed back the frustration she knew he must have felt a hundredfold and hurried across the room. He all but tore out of the room once she was beside him, and she took the gnarled, tree-like steps two at a time to keep up. "Draco, he didn't say something was wrong," she said breathlessly.
"Of course he didn't — not with Peia standing there. Why else would he ambiguously ask only you and I to join him?"
"Because reuniting with a long-lost loved one is an intensely personal thing! The whole world shouldn't be standing around for it. Anyway, don't you think the past Riddle would have said something if the spell hadn't gone correctly to stop future Riddle from moving ahead with it?"
Draco shook his head and only walked faster, his gait uneven. "Not if he didn't want to interfere with the continuum…"
The second tower's interior was very similar to the first. This time, they followed the left branch of stairs to the first floor. Riddle was waiting for them outside the door, his gaze unreadable in the flickering torchlight, his chin resting on a hand while he supported his elbow with his other. As Draco barged past him, he moved in front of the limping blond so quickly Hermione wondered if he'd Apparated. "No, Draco. Not yet."
She could tell from his tired expression alone that all had not gone according to plan.
Her heart sank. Whatever it was, it wasn't what any of them needed.
"What's the matter? What's happened?" Draco demanded.
Riddle reached out slowly, gently placing his hands on either side of Draco's shoulders. "Calm, Draco. Calm," he assuaged in tone so mesmeric Hermione could see how Lord Voldemort had had almost a hypnotic hold over many of his followers. "Nothing is wrong. Not yet. But something must be done that only you can," he said in a low voice. "I know this won't be easy for you… but I need you to go into that room and speak with your father."
The request shocked Draco as much as it did Hermione. For a moment, he simply stared at Riddle. "Wait — What?" he asked in confusion.
Riddle pressed his lips together, clearly weighing his response. "The potion isn't… working as intended."
"You've administered it already?" Hermione asked in surprise.
Riddle looked past Draco toward her and nodded. "After my other self left to meet the group of you. We may have waited too long to use it."
Draco's expression must have been truly horrified, because Riddle took one look at it and added, "That being said, an expired potion can produce one of three effects: one, it won't work at all; two, it'll eventually produce the intended effects, but much more slowly than the mature potion would have; or three, it'll produce vastly different effects from those intended, in unpredictable manifestations. Until I see otherwise, I'm banking on the second." His expression was at once encouraging and grave. "You're his son," he said quietly. "Experiencing your presence may be just what it takes to trigger his memories."
Draco swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yes — Alright."
Riddle looked deep into his eyes, and gave him a small smile. "Good lad."
"What's he like now?" Hermione asked tensely.
Riddle tilted his head toward her, though he didn't stray from Draco's side. "Still believing he's imprisoned without any idea in the world of who he is or what we want of him."
Draco closed his eyes briefly. "Let's get on with it," he muttered wearily.
Riddle nodded and turned, waving his hand toward the partially closed door. The air shimmered, and Hermione wondered if he'd raised a Muffling Charm to mute their conversation. Then he pushed the door open.
Lucius Malfoy was pacing inside. When he saw them, he stopped walking abruptly, his gaze travelling swiftly between Riddle to stop on Draco. For a moment, he simply stared at him. Then he backed away quickly.
"Oh no," he said, shaking his head wildly. He wrapped his arms around himself. "N-n-no. Not this, not again… Every time!" he burst out, causing Draco to visibly flinch. Lucius shoved a finger at Riddle, his eyes burning. "I don't know who - who you are. New, perhaps. But you cannot do this again! I've already told you, I don't know who he is!"
Draco and Riddle swiftly exchanged surprised glances, before Draco nodded once and turned back toward his father, stepping slowly inside the room. "You… recall seeing me before?" he asked hesitantly as Hermione cautiously climbed the last few steps to the top of the stairwell.
Lucius looked between them. "W-What is this?" he stammered. "Some sort of game? Of course I have. But you - you weren't… quite so big." His vociferous voice had become as smooth and quiet as she remembered Lucius Malfoy's being, but this man's was different, somehow — this man sounded more soft-spoken than leopard-like, waiting to strike. He stiffly lifted his hand until it was slightly beneath shoulder level. "A-About… there, I'd say."
Draco again shot a bewildered glance over at Riddle before he looked back at his father. Hermione felt the same confusion he did: at that height, Draco would have been much older than five years of age. "In what… capacity… did you see me last?" he asked uncertainly.
Lucius looked nervously at Riddle, then gestured toward the bottom of Draco's shirt. "Perhaps you - Perhaps you could be ever so kind as to - to raise that a bit?"
Draco looked down in confusion. "My shirt?"
"Is that… what it's called?" For a moment, Lucius seemed vaguely enlightened, before he nodded. "Yes, your… shirt. Just - Just a bit."
As Draco complied, Hermione glanced at Riddle to see if he found the request as bizarre as she did. The dark-haired man — who, for all intents and purposes, actually appeared to be younger than Lucius — was watching their interaction closely. Though his concentrating expression gave away nothing of his thoughts, and his arm hung loosely at his side, his wand was poised between two stiff fingers.
Just then, Lucius sucked in a small breath and stepped back. His eyes, wide as a cornered lion, were locked on Draco's waist in horror.
"What? What is that?" Hermione asked hurriedly before she could help it.
Draco looked at once baffled and unnerved. "To be honest, I — I don't quite know what it is." After a moment, he lowered his shirt. "It's a… line across my stomach. It's much… older then the rest," he said with another glance at Hermione that she suspected only she understood. "I'd say it's a nasty scar, but I certainly would've remembered the cause of something like that." He turned back at his father. "How do you know about it?"
Lucius was looking between Draco and Hermione now, before his gaze fixed back on his son, scanning his face. Then he cleared his throat and turned away, his focus dropping to the floor. "I suppose just a… just a lucky guess," he said quietly. "It isn't — isn't important."
"But it… it is." Draco shook his head, the speed of his words increasing with his confusion. "I didn't — The first time I ever noticed it was after I got to Hogwarts, so you couldn't have possibly seen it. But you know about it, which - which means you saw me sometime after you disappeared…" His stare shot back to Lucius. "When?"
"I don't know," Lucius murmured tautly, avoiding his gaze.
"But—"
"I said I don't know!"
Draco flinched again and hunched over, cradling his forehead in a shaking hand. Riddle stepped forward then, his gaze somber, and reached for Draco's arm. "I think it's time we—"
Feral fear suddenly scrawled across Lucius's face. "I've told you, I don't remember! I don't know! Nothing can - can make me remember if I don't know what it is to begin with!" he exclaimed, his eyes wild. "For the love of god, just - just leave him out of it!"
Hermione gasped, and tears sprang to her eyes. Oh god, it wasn't… They couldn't possibly have… Not to a child…
Draco and Riddle looked at her swiftly. She shook her head, her hand over her mouth in horror at the very idea of it, then held out her other hand toward Riddle. "Ri - Tom," she said quietly, returning his intense gaze determinedly. "I think you should leave."
Riddle cocked his head at her calculatingly, and Hermione pointedly raised her eyebrows. She didn't know how often he used Legilimency uninvited in everyday conversation, but at that moment she didn't make an effort to hide her thoughts.
Whether he read her mind or had come to his own conclusions, understanding briefly crossed his expression, and he nodded once. With one last glance at Lucius, he turned and walked past her out of the room.
She let out a small sigh of relief and returned her focus to Draco, tears blurring her vision. His gaze lingered on her face, a shard of unwilling realization in his pale eyes, and she prayed that for once in her life, she was wrong.
Draco turned back toward his father. She saw him take a deep breath, his expression simultaneously gentle and resolute. Slowly, he took a cautious step toward him.
Hermione's heart broke when Lucius moved backward swiftly. Draco stopped walking, lifting his hand slightly in the universal signal that he meant no harm. Standing face to face, the two looked so incredibly similar that any witness would've had absolutely no doubt they were father and son… but Lucius himself seemed to have no concept of it, and Hermione wondered if he even had any idea of his own appearance.
"I know we don't know each other right now," Draco said quietly, "and I can only imagine what you have gone through. But I have been fed lies over and over. I've been hurt, and confused, and lost, and questioned my own sanity on many occasions, and I… I suspect you have as well." His voice had become hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "I can't ask you to trust me — I can't ask you to believe in someone you don't even know. But please, if you have any goodness within you, which I have no doubt you do, I - I need to hear the truth. And I need to hear it from you."
When distress crossed his father's features, Draco added quickly, "It doesn't matter what it is. The words aren't important. All that matters is that you believe it's true. Whatever it is… I promise I'll believe you, too."
Lucius stared at him for a long time, his thin, shaking hands clutching the back of the wicker sofa so tightly that Hermione didn't doubt he might splinter the wood. She held her breath, and released it in a rush when he finally moved, looking down at his hands.
"A… A long time ago," he began quietly, "Years, it must have been — They brought a… a boy. A boy who looked quite like… you." Lucius raised his eyes to Draco and traced them over his features. "Pale hair… pale eyes… pale face. But much… younger."
Hermione knew then that she was right. Her chin trembled, and she blinked rapidly, swiping away tears, as Lucius continued distantly, "They told me… he was my son. But I never had a son — how could I? I never had a wife, never had a job, never had a name… so that - that couldn't be possible. But they… insisted." His own pale eyes shifted back to Draco's stomach, his gaze haunted. "Then they… they told me, that if I didn't tell them what I had heard, they - they would— " His voice broke and he hunched over, covering his mouth. His eyes were anguished. "I'm sorry, I - I just need a moment…"
Draco stood stiffly, his expression frozen with such pain, one would think Lucius had physically struck him. "They tortured me. To get to you," he whispered. "And then they wiped my memories of it ever happening."
Lucius looked back up Draco regretfully, his eyes shining with emotion. Then he nodded. "Yes."
A place that had held such magic and hope only an hour earlier now seemed as quiet as a tomb. Hermione sat heavily on the stairs outside Lucius Malfoy's closed door, blankly overlooking the expanse of the tower's interior.
Peia sprawled across the width of the stairs, her head in Hermione's lap on a pillow Hermione had conjured for her. Harry had apparently fallen asleep in one of the bedrooms, but Peia had assured Hermione that she'd taken good care of him… which apparently consisted of removing his shoes and covering him with a quilt. Exactly why the little girl could be so fond of someone so callous, Hermione honestly didn't have the slightest idea, but she didn't want to dash their budding almost-friendship, even if it was one-sided.
From their perch, she could just see Draco sitting at the foot of the spiral staircase, his head bowed deeply, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. She wished there was something she could do to erase the immense pain and disappointment and utter violation she knew he must be feeling… but as she had learned the hard way with Harry Potter, there were some burdens she couldn't take from the ones she loved, no matter how much she may have desired otherwise. All she could do was provide support in any other way she knew to lessen the weight of their load.
What Draco had asked from her and Riddle very specifically fifteen minutes earlier was space. And though watching him suffer from a distance hurt something deep within her, she would honor his request.
"Don't worry, 'Mione. He'll be alright. Draco," Peia mumbled, her eyes closed.
"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "He's experienced a bit much for anyone to take in, all in one night."
"But… he… has us," she said sleepily, yawning.
Hermione smiled faintly. "You're right, darling," she murmured. "He does."
She heard the door behind her open, and she looked over her shoulder to see Tom Riddle shut it just as quickly. He walked over to them, towering over her even more now that she was sitting. "You should take him and go," he told her in a low voice. "This will not improve tonight." He withdrew the Time-Turner from his pocket and held it out to her. "Return this then."
Hermione nodded. "I'd planned on it."
To her immense surprise, he sat down on the stairs beside her, slowly lifting Peia's limp body until she was mostly on his lap. He let out a small groan. "Merlin, she's getting too big for this."
Peia only sighed deeply and tightened her grip around Hermione's left leg, continuing to snuggle across both of them. His lip quirked slightly to the right. "Clearly she disagrees."
He waved his hand as he'd done earlier, and the air shimmered again very faintly — he'd raised some kind of Muffling charm. He looked over at her, a small smirk on his uncannily flawless face. "Your services as a headrest are greatly appreciated."
Hermione snorted, unable to believe that Lord not-Voldemort was joking with her. "One of my diverse talents."
Riddle's gaze shifted from amused to scrutinizing. "Indeed, it certainly seems to be."
He was analysing her again, she knew he was, and she looked away uneasily. They sat in silence for a minute before he said, "I hope you realize, Ms. Granger, that if you ever breathe a word of this to any other living beast or being, you will meet a fate worse than death itself."
His tone was so pleasant that Hermione had to repeat what he'd said in her mind to make sure she'd heard it correctly. When she did, her mouth opened and closed, and she spun toward him. His gaze was deadly, his eyes burning into hers. In a split second of panic, she questioned whether he truly was good in this world; then fear turned to outrage. After everything she had risked since stepping foot in Universe A, her loyalty was being questioned?
"Let me assure you of two things," she hissed. "First, I despise the Dark Arts with a strength I can't even begin to express. Second, I - would - never — never — betray the only people I care about here. I have been nothing but—"
"Alright. Alright. Don't get upset," Riddle cut off calmly, though it was clear he was weighing even that response. He tilted his head, surveying her. "They say you come from a different universe in the midst of war — a war in which you were at the forefront. You have looked down two Master Legilimens in the form of Lily Evans and Severus Snape, and you've detonated a building and successfully duped the most thorough investigation team in the Sovereignty into believing another was at fault. I think I need to know who I'm dealing with. Don't you agree?"
Her heart had begun beating rapidly. Rationally, she knew any shrewd leader would do the same as he, but she felt as though her very character was under attack. "I told you, my name is Hermione Granger," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm 19 years old. I'm a Muggle-born witch, and I've been a student at Hogwarts since I was 11. I am essentially the same person here that I was in my world."
"But you aren't. I understand the person you're posing as was quite the opposite of who you appear to be. And I know Draco trusts you implicitly, which he never would have her. Peia does too, and she's my truest indicator of one's core essence. But I've only known you for an hour. I have yet to fully form my impression." Hermione couldn't bring herself to look away as he leaned toward her, his gaze penetrating hers with all the hypnotism of a serpent.
"So tell me, Ms. Granger," he said in a low voice, "what is in your heart? What is it that drives you to risk your own safety and your very life to side with a lost cause when you could easily ride out your existence here as a powerful Elite? Don't even think of lying to me, because I will know, and you do not want to make an enemy of me."
She finally ripped herself from the mesmerizing intensity of his stare. "Because it's the right thing to do," she said fiercely. "D'you think I could just sit back and watch tens of witches and wizards tortured on a daily basis? To see their — their very freedom taken from them, forever, simply because they preferred to practice the Light Arts?" Her sight became uneven, and her eyes began to burn. "Do you think I could stand by while creatures are — are — slaughtered without a second thought, all in the name of a society's paranoia and greed? No. I can't." Tears were streaming down her face, now, but she didn't care. "Because my heart tells me it's wrong."
Riddle sat up, his eyes locked on hers. "Slaughtered?" he repeated dangerously.
Hermione's heart lurched. She swallowed hard and looked away, her chest so tight she was afraid something might rupture. "The centaurs," she whispered eventually, scrubbing away the wet trails that clung to her cheeks. "The entire Hogwarts herd. The Sovereignty… killed them all. In the Hangar."
For several seconds, he didn't speak. "When was this?" he finally asked, his voice so flat it sounded nearly dead.
She looked toward him. Despite his tone, his expression was as terrifyingly dark as it had been when he'd seen the scar on Draco's face, and her heart skipped an anxious beat. "I don't know how long it's gone on," she said. "I discovered it last night."
Illumination flickered in his eyes. "So you destroyed the building. Why?"
Hermione clenched her hands and looked forward again. "I spoke with… Firenze… before he died. He asked me to ensure such savagery would never befall another centaur." She closed her eyes to reign in the wave of emotions raging through her body. "I gave him my sacred word I would."
She felt Riddle's gaze on the side of her face for a very long time afterward.
"I think, Ms. Granger," he said slowly, "that you and I may understand each other after all."
Hermione looked back at him quickly, but his focus was out upon the building's vast interior. He did not elaborate. "I believe I owe you my gratitude," he said instead. "Tonight would have proceeded quite differently had you not discovered L'ombre deuxième."
With a start, Hermione realized two things: first, his distrust of her seemed to have inexplicably vanished, and second, the earlier plan for Lucius Malfoy — a plan Riddle must have helped develop — involved killing him. Her lips parted slightly. "But he — you— weren't you friends?" she asked, appalled.
Riddle's jaw tightened, his only visible reaction. "We exhausted every option we thought we had before we arrived at that decision." He shook his head. "I graduated from Hogwarts two years before Dumbledore took power. I wasn't forced to study the Dark Arts like all those who came after me. In all my years, I have never encountered a spell so ideal for what we needed to accomplish as the one you proposed."
She frowned. "So what does Draco's father know?" she asked. "What is it that Dumbledore, you — that people are willing to torture and kill to find out?"
Riddle studied her again, and Hermione welcomed him into her mind if that was what it took to convince him of her sincerity. But she was still surprised when he said in a low voice, "A prophecy." He looked down at a sleeping Peia, gently stroking her hair. "Lucius Malfoy was the only person to overhear the conclusion of a prophecy."
With a lurch, Firenze's impassioned words jolted through her mind: "One by one, they found us all, tried to extract our most valuable prediction from us… But I always knew I would see it come to pass before my own light too was extinguished…"
Her palms began to sweat, and she was inordinately glad he was no longer looking at her. Was this prediction the same one Firenze had referenced... the one he erroneously thought had to do with her? Or was it something different entirely?
"Must be quite the prophecy if Dumbledore's spent over a decade trying to learn it," she said casually, dreading the answer he would give.
"Oh, it is." Riddle learned toward her, his voice thick with an ardor that clearly expressed the weight that he himself had placed on it. "It predicts that Dumbledore's reign can end, Ms. Granger… and it tells us how."
A/N: I am currently in the middle of a 350 km adventure relay race… it would so make my day when I finish it to come back and hear what you thought of this chapter! :) :) This one was actually pretty tough for me… a lot of new information, new places and new characters all interacting with each other! What did you think?
Guys, we are officially at the halfway point - there is a lot more story left here, and I'm excited to tell it!
I would really like to thank all of you who have stuck with me this far and have continued reviewing, chapter after chapter. I read every single one, and for the amount of time writing this takes me, I cannot express the amount of joy your reviews and encouragement - and simply knowing that you're actually still reading and enjoying it - brings me. So this rather pivotal chapter is dedicated to you: my loyal readers!