The Snake Charmer

by midnightweeds

Hermione Granger travels to the past to learn the Dark Lord's secrets. During her stay, she finds herself in a precarious situation. Will she return to the world she left behind? Or will her stay with Tom Riddle alter her future forever?

26. Nine (2)

Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling and I'm sad about it sometimes.

Remember when Tom overheard that conversation between Abbott and Orion? And that conversation between he and that girl he killed? And that he had to lose his shit at some point? Please don't kill me.

A/N: There is violence, abuse, and recreational drug usage in this chapter. I've added dates/times to help censor, and bolded titles mean to tread carefully. If abuse is a trigger, stop reading at the bolded Friday title. There are three breaks in the page after that scene to show where you can continue reading.

---

Nine

---

Spring bloomed around Hogwarts quietly, a sea of dreary, grey days turning to sunny warmth in a slow crawl.

As flowers bloomed around the castle, Hermione felt as though she were shedding her skin. Her status within Slytherin seemed to rise constantly, and outside of the comfort of her House, Half-bloods stopped her to chat in the hallways. Muggleborns asked her for help with their assignments if they caught her in the library. It was exactly how her 7th years should have been, and she found herself feeling a genuine sense of accomplishment over the fact that she'd found normalcy in the sea of chaos that the 40s consisted of.

A sense of understanding had, at long last, settled upon her.

She was studying for finals. She was in love and okay with it. She was focused on what she had to do. She would go home, know more than the Light ever expected to, carrying her Tom in her heart (forever, if he got his way), and life would move on. It had to. She had to, really.

.

.

Wednesday, 27 May 1942, 10:15AM

Tom watched as Granger scribbled on her parchment, the edge of his pencil slipping between her teeth every now and then as she considered her next word. It felt as though it'd been weeks since they'd sat together in peace, and he resisted pulling her into his arms to keep the moment. Somehow, despite his efforts to better their relationship, he felt her distancing herself from him. It wouldn't do to be bound to someone who wanted nothing more than to escape him.

Leaning in, he settled his hand over hers and waited for her to look up at him. She smiled, and he it felt smooth over his mind. "You're supposed to be studying, Tom."

He smirked. "I am."

"NEWTs are next week!" She whispered fiercely. "As Head Boy, you should be setting an example through-"

He kissed her, quickly, chuckling at the shock that etched into her face. "I'm not worried about my Transfiguration NEWT, love."

She bristled, but seemed to realize he wanted to talk. As she turned to him, Tom found himself inhaling the gentle scent of her perfume as it mixed with the lavender of her soap and shampoo. It calmed him, which he realized he'd needed as her knees brushed against his legs. Leaning just a fraction of an inch closer to him, he frowned at the skeptical look filling her eyes.

"Don't you think we're taking this a little too far?" She initiated with a murmur.

It didn't take too long for him to understand what she was referring to, as he'd been wondering the same thing lately. Hearing the words set a fire in his stomach, though. She had no right to think that their relationship had peaked. They were doing fine.

"Why would you say that?"

She fidgeted, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. "We went from zero to eighty, you know; from hating each other to this, at the drop of a knut. Between swearing myself to be of assistance to your cause to bonding with you, we haven't really gotten a moment to take any of this in, have we?"

Tom felt his heart speeding up. His chest tightened painfully, and he was suddenly aware of every fracture in in soul. It all seemed heavily obvious to him, and he resisted looking around to see if anyone had noticed anything.

The bond seemed to wrap around him comfortingly, as though assuring him that everything was okay. But he found that he wasn't quite sure. The way her wide eyes watched him left much to be desired, and he couldn't figure out if he wanted more from her, or from himself. Somehow, he resisted the urges to rub at his chest…and throttle her.

"What is there to take in?" He asked her, voice barely above a whisper.

She picked up her pencil, continuing to work on her mock-NEWT essay. "The fact that we're…I don't know, Tom, please. You understand. We've never really discussed what any of this means, or the fact that we've essentially been living together for over half of the school year. It isn't normal. None of this is."

"Does that displease you?" He questioned, but didn't wait for a reply. "I wouldn't have imposed on you so greatly if I'd known you were uncomfortable."

She laughed lightly, leaning into him and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. Tom noticed that the action caught some of their classmate's attention; looking pointedly at them, he waited for a bit of privacy before returning his attention to his witch. She'd gone back to working on her paper, a small smile on her lips. Glancing up at him, Granger seemed to bite back more laughter.

"I admire you for believing those words, you know."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She turned to look at him, "I doubt you'd have left me alone if I'd pulled your eyes out with my teeth, Tom. I know you. Once your hooks are in something, there is no taking them out."

He leaned closer, eyeing her carefully. "What are you saying, then, my dear?"

She sighed. "The Knight's mentioned that they saw you walking around with a book on marriage bonds. You know that I care deeply for you, and that I support you completely, but I don't want you rushing in to something you're going to regret."

"Why do you keep saying that? What makes you think I'll regret this?" Tom asked her softly, noticing the doubt in her eyes. He felt the pressure that'd been building blow over. This was about her, as he'd wanted it to be. She was, after all, the one pulling away from everything they had. Marriage was the next, natural step for them; of course he would be looking in to it. After all, it was rather hard to find a marriage bonds that they could safely add to the soul bonds they already shared, as most couples didn't find it necessary to pledge so much to each other.

He knew, logically, that this wasn't about commitment for her. She wouldn't have created the original bond with him if that had been the case. As Tom waited for her to explain herself, he recalled that she'd been hesitant to allow anyone to become to attached to her, as she feared being responsible for more deaths. Remembering this helped to quell the uncertainty that sudden ran rampant through his body. The fact that they shared a soul was a quiet and intimate truth; Grindelwald wouldn't be after him for that because he wouldn't know. She wasn't worried about the psychotic wizard being after him anymore than he already was. But, marriages were public domain. He would have unrestricted access to any information surrounding the circumstances and severity of their union, and he'd no doubt want to take away any sense of comfort she allowed herself.

Feeling better about her having been so distant as of late, the young wizard relaxed into his seat, drawing his arm over the back of her chair and running his fingers along her spine. As he reached the top, he found that he couldn't stop his fingers from wrapping about the back of her neck as she spoke.

"I'm just some witch that showed up from nowhere, Tom. You barely know three things about me. I have no doubt that, at some point, you will learn something that displeases you, and I will be worth no more than a Knight. You've already proven that you aren't above hurting me."

Her toned worried him. She sounded too fragile, but also too deadly. It reminded him of how she'd spoken on his birthday.

"We should have this conversation someplace else."

"You have no idea who I am," she murmured, working on her paper. "I could rip you limb from limb, Tom, I really could."

He let her go, noticing the small smile on her lips and feeling her anger licking at him through the bond. "Granger," he warned, but she didn't seem to hear.

"And you're so wrapped up in yourself that you have no clue."

His fingers ached, and he worked his hands in attempt to sooth them. As she looked over at him, he saw himself in her eyes. Rage flared within him, the savage and unforgiving emotion coursing through his body like fiendfyre, and bleeding into her. She pursed her lips, seeming to realize that he was unable to stop his emotions, but nothing about her become forgiving. She'd been honest with him, and he felt his flesh burning with the thought of deception.

She couldn't, he told himself. But, it wasn't helpful. The seed had been planted. What is wrong with her?

"I could tear you apart, and you want to marry me."

He brushed a knuckle over her cheek. "Shut your mouth, or I'll make you."

.

.

Wednesday, 27 May 1942, 11:34PM

Tom stopped himself from going to Mimi for answers. Instead, he chose to treat her as he always had –carefully, gently, and prepared for another emotional bleed-through. That was what had happened, after all. How she managed to constantly keep her cool, even as she flared with anger and swelled when her needs became too great for her body to hold any longer, was completely beyond him. There was no conclusions he could draw, beyond the fact that she'd been right.

He had no idea who she was. The way she simply seemed to know who he was and what he needed left him on edge. Where he once found comfort in the idea of the witch having been created for him, he found himself disturbed. She knew his weaknesses and his faults, and having her help him overcome them wouldn't be beneficial if she could work against him. He didn't want to believe that she would ever bring harm to him, but she had. Regardless of the fact that it had been his own damn fault, he couldn't shake the feeling of knowing that if his power could bleed through the bond and posses her the way that it had on his birthday, there was darkness lurking within her.

What was it that she had told him about Light and Dark magic? She'd argued passionately that while some ideas were inherently darker than others, there was a time and place for everything. She'd shown him that as she'd butchered his arm. He'd been her enemy.

That was the last thing he wanted. He needed her on his team. But, more than that, he just needed her. She'd grown into a vital part of his life and cause, even if she seemed adamantly against having anything to do with it publically. He'd grown so used to her that imagining her working against him lit a flame in his chest.

Angrily, Tom pressed the photo of them he kept on his desk down, unable to stand the homeliness of them sitting together in the Head's longue any longer. Standing, he stalked over to his closet and shrugged into an inky, black cloak before starting out to the Forbidden Forest for his Knight meeting.

Even if she were working against him, who would she have been working for? Dumbledore had thrown her to the wolves, and she'd been trying to do away with him for months before it actually happened. Grindelwald was literally trying to kill her. She didn't communicate with anyone outside of the castle, and with one of the Knights or Lady Slytherin constantly around her, there was no way for her to be leading a double life. All she had was himself and the Malfoys, who were too proud to ever follow anyone else's lead. There was no possible way.

He had no idea who she was, but he knew her. They were the same, after all. He'd bonded with her, and the light, honor, and loyalty that made up every inch of her soul had been bared to him. She wouldn't have done any of that; she couldn't have, if her intentions had been anything but pure. He'd ensured that when he'd selected the bond. Dealing with the fact that he, in theory, needed her was something he could handle knowing that she needed him just as desperately. They were vital to each other's existence.

Insecurities plagued him as he climbed the stairs out of the dungeon. Orion was lingering at the top of the stairs, his eyes curiously scanning Tom. The young Lord frowned, "Shouldn't you be outside?"

"I had a private question for you, my Lord."

The pair started out of the castle, slipping into the shadows upon exiting. "Well, get on with it."

"You know that Mimi is in danger, don't you?" He asked quietly.

Tom eyed his Knight. "Is that a threat, Black?"

"No," he bit out. "I am not a threat to my Lady. I want nothing but good things for her. All I wanted was to bring the fact that she was not safe here to your attention."

"As far as I am concerned, you and Abbott were the only two imbeciles to go and get involved with the likes of Grindelwald. Unless you are planning on attacking her, I see no reason to be uncertain of her safety. I have been very lenient with you, Orion, because you are my friend. We are, in fact, like brothers." Tom ignored his companion's look of confusion. His words were a stretch, but they were true enough. They had been incredibly close before Granger's arrival, and only drifted due to Orion's obvious obsession with the girl. "I assume that it was your fondness of my witch that led you to that man, and I have forgiven you for your transgression as I have noticed that you're now taking your betrothal and our cause seriously."

"I have seen the error in my ways, and am doing my best to make them right."

He nodded. "So, I am aware of Granger being in danger. Do you have anything more to inform me?"

Orion seemed to stutter, not vocally, but his entire being momentarily froze, as though he'd entered some sort of vow and was unable to say more. Tom willed himself not to grow angry. His Knight was trying; his magic wouldn't exist if he weren't.

"Don't let her walk alone," he stated airily. Tom scowled. In a tone just as flippant as he'd just used, the Knight continued, "The more time you have with her, the better."

.

Thursday, 28 May 1942, 8:10PM

"Have you seen my sister?"

Tom looked up to find Malfoy peering curiously at a 5th year prefect. The witch inhaled sharply, glancing at him before looking down at her shoes. The 7th years looked at each other curiously before focusing on her.

"I saw her leaving the castle about twenty minutes ago, Mister Malfoy."

Tom frowned, setting aside his evening copy of the Prophet. "And you didn't find it necessary to ask her where she was going?"

"She said she needed some air."

"Alone?" Abraxas questioned. Tom felt his skin tingle, recalling Orion's words too quickly.

"Yes." She glanced up at the Head Boy, "I assumed you all had an argument."

Tom resisted raising his eyebrows, but Abraxas didn't. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped around the couch, nearing both his lord and the prefect. "Why on earth would you have assumed that, Selwyn? Is your mother's insanity finally getting to you?"

She looked coldly at Malfoy, turning her nose up and away from him before curtly replying, "And if it is, I can at least manage keep track of my own siblings."

As the witch attempted to slip past Tom and into the Girl's dorm, he grabbed her wrist. "Mathilde," he murmured, looking up at her with a small smirk on his face. He patted the seat beside him, watching as she seemed to fill with both hesitancy and hope.

She sat closer than necessary, her orange blossom scent overtaking his senses. It was only then that he realized the natural curl of her hair: not quite like his witch's spirally tresses, but eerily similar; her eyes were darker than Granger's as well, skin just a shade lighter. Curiously, Tom reached out with his magic to get a better feel for hers. It was nothing like his lady's, but he couldn't help but notice that it was surprisingly light for a Slytherin witch, consequently reminding him of Hermione.

Had she always looked like this? Had he really not noticed her before today?

Glancing at his Knight, he noticed the strange look in his eyes, as though he was also just seeing the girl. Filing the information away, he refocused on her as an anxious feeling filled his chest. The last he'd seen of his witch was an hour ago, after dinner, when he'd dropped her off in the Head's Office so she could study Transfiguration with McGonagall. "She seemed distressed, Miss Selwyn?"

"Pardon?"

"My girlfriend," Tom managed, sure that the term was completely wrong. She was his Lady now, and would be his wife soon enough. Girlfriend felt childish and uncertain. Before he could stop himself, he amended his statement, "Mimi is to be my wife, Miss Selwyn. I'm very concerned with her wellbeing. You mentioned that you assumed we'd had an argument when you saw her leaving the castle, and I assure you we did not." She wouldn't be leaving if they'd had a disagreement. She wouldn't have been able to. "So, I am curious as to why you believed that. Did she seem distressed?"

"She was crying."

"Crying!" Abraxas exclaimed, jumping up from the couch he'd settled on. He looked at Tom with wide, accusing eyes.

"You didn't think it prudent to bring her back to the Common Room?" Tom asked after looking pointedly at the blond, who'd begun to pace the room nervously.

"She was holding her stomach, Mister Riddle, and I did believe some fresh air would be good for the-"

"Merlin, Miss Selwyn, if you finish that statement, it'll be your last!" Abraxas turned on them, drawing too much attention.

Cygnus, who'd been helping some third years revise their Potions work, began ushering their housemates into their dorms before he and Orion stepped over to the trio. As Tom instructed them to head out and look for Granger, Malfoy continued in an uncomfortably calm tone, sitting down on the other side of the witch. "You do realize what you're accusing a fellow Slytherin of, don't you?"

"Mister Malfoy, I'm aware that Mimi Granger is your sister," she started primly, "however, it is not uncommon for illegitimate children to not adhere to the standards of proper society. It's in their blood to go against the grain."

Abraxas blinked, his hands shaking as he stared blankly at Mathilde. Tom stopped himself from laughing, amused by the return of the behavior he'd grown accustomed before Granger had shown up. It had been what made the blond fun: his unstable emotions and ability to blow up over the smallest disturbance, making for both good entertainment and a good Knight.

The spacey look in his friend's eyes alerted him that he'd lose it any moment, and he decided to interfere before Malfoy did something stupid, like strike the girl.

"Miss Selwyn, Miss Malfoy is the daughter of not only one of the oldest family's in England, but the last of multiple old lines throughout Europe on her mother's side. Despite being born out of wedlock, she is proper witch that deserves every respect awarded to the likes of you." Tom looked at her the way he often did his Knights, an empty, condescending look in his eyes, smirking at the way she squirmed closer to the wizard on the other side of her. "Why you would assume anything less of her-"

"It hasn't passed any of us by that you've been carrying around bond books," she said contritely, if a little sassily. Again, Tom resisted laughing, eyes darting between the girl and his Knight. Their shared look of scandal caused them to appear quite familiar with each other. "Logically, we would assume, considering that she is connected to the Malfoy family, she had to break her previous engagement truly because she was carrying your child."

Lestrange, who'd joined them just moments before, coughed in shock, looking between Tom and Abraxas with wide eyes. Sensing the anger and distaste between his Lord and fellow Knight, he chose to smile kindly at the young witch. "Mimi is most definitely not pregnant, Miss Selwyn, and you'd do well to put an end to those rumors. While you should have used your status as Prefect and prohibited her from leaving, we will excuse you for the evening. Although, I do find it necessary to point out that, as of right now, you were the last to see her tonight. If anything was to happen to a lady of her standing, it will not only make Hogwarts look bad, but your own family."

She seemed as though she wanted to argue, but Xavier guided her up to the Girl's dorm, offering his Lord a humored look upon return. "Alphard and Burke have gone to search the castle, my Lord. I'm sure no harm has come to the Lady."

"What on earth would she need air for? There is air in the dungeon. There is air all over the goddamn castle. It makes no sense," Abraxas cried, seemingly near hysterics. His face was red with anger, and Tom found himself feeling relieved by the absence of tears. He got up and stalked out of the Commons, heading up to his dorm, leaving the young Dark wizard with his Knight.

"My Lord," Lestrange started, and he motioned for him to continue, "she isn't with child, is she?"

"I can assure you, she is not."

He sat down, swallowing heavily, relief flooding the space around them. "You don't seem very disturbed by her absence," he continued airily.

Tom squinted, observing the other wizard carefully. He was unaccustomed to being addressed in that tone, especially by his Knights, and felt disgusted by the accusation. "I didn't sell her to Grindelwald, if that's what you're asking."

He had the decency to look sickened by the thought.

"I don't know where she is, but she is safe."

"How can you be certain?"

There was an unspoken statement in his words, and Tom sighed in uncertainty.

Dropping his head on the back of the couch, he closed his eyes and reached through the bond for his witch. Instantly, he could sense her distress. However, she wasn't in danger. Beneath the flesh-like emotion, he felt her sense of security and relief. Wherever she was, she was safe, and that's all he would worry about until he was able to lay his eyes on her. Curiously, he reached out to her. Mimi.

He felt the impact immediately, as though she were in arms reach. His mind fell silent for a second before flooding with an overwhelmingly hot and confining emotion he wasn't accustomed to. Her reply came like a short, breathless gasp he wanted to feel across his skin and hear against his ear: Tom.

And then he was out, as though it never happened, but he could feel her presence over every inch of his body.

"Merlin's pants," Lestrange laughed nervously.

His eyes opened quickly.

"Was that her?" He asked, his voice fill of disbelief. "Did you just communicate with her, Tom? That was powerful. Merlin, Tom."

He looked at his Knight blankly, silently in just as much shock. "She's fine."

"Yeah, no shit," he shook his head. "Let's just hope she isn't collapsed in a ditch somewhere. You're looking a little green yourself, my Lord," his voice tinged with a worry that left Tom feeling sick. But just as quickly as it'd come, he continued on in awe, "That was amazing."

Tom hummed in response, rubbing his temples. Whatever had occurred had been powerful, and he felt as though he'd completely depleted ever store of his magic. As Lestrange continued to calmly rave about whatever had just occurred, he considered where she might have gone in order to distract himself from the weakness he was suddenly feeling.

She didn't exactly have many people to turn to. Logically, the only places she could have been were the Manor and the Montague's. Fleetingly, he toyed with the idea of her feeling safe and secure in Riddle House. It was a horrifying realization, but he found that he wanted to Floo their room and find her there more than he wanted most anything else at the moment.

In what seemed to be the same line of thought, he also wanted to wring her neck. Leaving the castle alone was not only dangerous, but also stupid. It left the pair of them vulnerable to too much, and the thought of him losing her left him more distressed than he cared to admit. He wanted her desperately, in every single way possible, and it wouldn't do to have her roaming around without direction.

His fingers flexed, the thought of her pulse beneath his grasp causing pleasure to run through him. She needed direction and guidance, and to understand that she was his. He'd gladly show her that there was absolutely no place for her to be but by his side.

When she returned, she'd wish she were in a ditch somewhere.

.

Thursday, 28 May 1942, 9:30PM

An hour later found Hermione and Orion sitting atop the Astronomy Tower. After discovering her near the Headmaster's office, and noticing that she was not yet in shape to return to Slytherin, the wizard suggested some fresh air. She found herself thankful for his quiet company, even if she'd been warned against him, as he didn't seem to want anything from her. Like Alphard, who she'd taken to gently pushing away from Tom and his band of misfits, Orion was to content with simply sitting together in personal reflection. There was no tiresome communication or back and forth Knight-and-Lady games. They were just together, and she appreciated that more than anything at the moment.

She wondered what it would take to get him away from Tom as well.

As a cool breeze flowed through the air, he turned to look at her, stretching his legs out before him as he let his head fall back on the wall. Smoke filtered out of his nose in one long stream. "You are not a Malfoy."

Hermione froze. Swallowing, she frowned at him, watching as he inhaled again on his pipe. Brushing her hand over her hair, she considered how the truth could unsettle a person. Her blood felt ice cold in her veins. "Why would you say that?"

He gave her a soft smile, as if to tell her not to be afraid, that her secrets were safe with him. "It's hard to believe that Mrs. Malfoy would be so accepting of you, if your are truly her husband and that woman's daughter."

"What woman?"

"Oh, Merlin, Mimi. You look just like her. You look just like the dead girl."

Her heart skipped. She gasped.

He didn't seem to notice. "I don't know why no one has connected it. Why they've believed these lies, though I suppose the Malfoy family has always gotten what they wanted." His eyes narrowed, considering her. "It's common knowledge that he was in love with Myrine; but what I don't understand is how old Septimus could have fathered you. Massimo loved his wife, and she him."

"Can you stop talking about them?" She questioned, attempting to pull herself together. The truth felt as though it were attempting to smoke out of her. She was suffocating under her own need to expel. Hermione needed to tell someone, and Orion wanted to know. It seemed good and right and the more she thought of telling, the easier it became to lie to herself: Perhaps he is the one who secretly inspired Sirius; maybe he's one of mine in the future; there is a chance he could stop Tom when I no longer can.

He sighed. "Are you his goddaughter, then?"

The truth was on her tongue. Threatening to come out. His eyes shined in a way that compelled her to just spill it.

She looked at the glass pipe he was suddenly offering her, the rank smell of marijuana filling her lungs and reminding the witch that she'd already given in to him once tonight. It would be so easy to do it again. She took a deep breath, taking the sword shaped bowl.

He puckered his lips and puffed smoke circles. With the collar of his robes and shirt open and hair falling slightly into his face, Hermione decided that he was the most handsome of the Black boys. It was upsetting, that someone so beautiful could be so near to and influenced by evil. But, imbalance didn't shine in his eyes the way it did Tom, and she felt even more compelled to simply tell him.

All she had to do was open her mouth, and the words would fall out. He wasn't crazy, he'd understand. It would be jarring, and he would likely hate her. But, she didn't doubt that he would help her. She couldn't doubt that.

The witch opened her mouth, and her ability to speak seemed to evaporate. Instead of the truth, she spat "I am his daughter. His blood. And you'd do well to remember that, Knight."

Orion blinked. She took the opportunity to look over the school grounds, casually inhaling on the pipe. Coughing, just as she had the last few times she'd tried, the witch passed it back to Orion and sighed.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"I'm 'ere now, Orion. I'm here and I'm Tom's and that's that."

"You don't have to be, though," he explained, eyes dancing at he attempted to sway her. "You could go back, Granger. Don't you think of that as home? Do you really feel like this is the right place for you?"

The only thing that stopped Hermione from stunning the wizard and dragging him off to the Malfoy dungeons to be questioned was the fact that she was high, and it was more amusing to her than she could ever consider being afraid or worried of her safety. For the moment, at least.

However, the blissful state of calm she'd found her mind in didn't stop her worry. What was Orion talking about? I could go back?

It was the first time anyone had ever said anything of the sort to her. "Go back where?"

"You know," he shrugged. "Go forth."

She stared at him, suddenly overwhelmingly sober. He couldn't be suggesting time travel. There was no way in hell he could know about that. In order to distract herself, she folded her hands in her lap. He sounded crazy. The truth sounded crazy, even to herself. Denial felt good. Denial kept here and safe, with Tom.

"Orion," Hermione started primly, "I hadn't believed that you were spending time with Grindelwald, but these suggestions are sounding more and more like something he'd believe."

Silence tore through the air, and it hurt. She couldn't truly deny his statements, and it seemed that he couldn't deny hers either. They were both lying schemers. They deserved each other.

"He is far more intelligent than Tom would have you believe."

"Oh, god. Orion, please," she closed her eyes. If he told her, she'd have to either tell him her truth, or tell Tom his. Neither option was attractive.

"I think," he stumbled over his words for a moment, "I think they are more alike than either would care to admit. Grindelwald thought he could handle it. The darkness, I mean, and he started slowly. He had a plan, a partner, and support. And, one by one, everything got ripped away from him, until all he was left with was his intelligence. And his capacity for Dark Magic."

Tears made her eyelids heavy, but she refused to cry.

"It's only recently that it's started to really consume his sanity. Because of you." Orion's eyes were heavy on her.

"How do you know these things, Orion?"

"I joined him, Granger. Fucking Abbott screwed up and in my attempt to fix it, I joined him. But, you're safe. I'm keeping you safe."

She pressed her palms into her eyes. "You're an idiot."

He hummed in acknowledgement of her statement. "I don't know how you do it, Mimi. You've got all of us falling over ourselves for you. You've got powerful, powerful dark wizards out for you. And, you don't care, do you? Is that why you're so sad? Because you're going to leave Tom, too?"

"I don't want to leave Tom."

"But you're going to. You have to." He turned to face her, his voice gentle as he said, "I can help you."

"Shut up, Black. Shut the hell up." Everything seemed to be closing in around her, Myrine's letter filling her mind. Her chest hurt, heart beating painfully and lungs tightening with every breath she took. Her throat felt as though it were threatening to close. Blood was rushing to her brain, but couldn't seem to make it.

Had she really thought she could get through this? Was this really happening now?

You will have the opportunity to go home.

"Please listen to me, my Lady. I can help you."

Do not fear the vessel.

"I need to, alright? You're worth more than what staying here will get you."

Nothing after June 1945 is worth your future.

Everything hurt. Even her hair. Even her magic. Orion was right. He knew. Maybe not all of it, but he knew enough to gather that she belonged in another time. He'd turned to Grindelwald, too. But, why? Why him, and why now?

Seconds turned to minutes as time passed. She could feel him still silently hoping to sway her. "Why do you care?" She asked, still unable to deny his truths.

"The future of my family depends on my serving you, my Lady. I am from a proud and noble house, and I serve you with pride and honor that I shouldn't feel, but I do."

"You'll hate me when you learn the truth."

"You could probably kill my family and I'd still adore you, Mimi."

Her heart slowed dangerously. She felt Tom near, and –damn him- it gave her strength.

"I love him," she whispered.

She felt Orion break apart. "I know."

"I'm scared," she admitted, and it felt like enough.

He magicked the pipe clean and stuffed it back into his pocket. He swallowed loudly, obviously nervous, and cautiously moved to sit next to her on the edge of the tower. "I know," the wizard whispered comfortingly, drawing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. "Everything will work out."

Hermione was proud of herself for not crying.

.

.

Thursday, 28 May 1942, 10:12PM

"Have the two of you gone and lost your mind?"

Orion jolted away from Granger as though he'd been burned, standing and looking at Tom with wide eyes. Black swallowed, scared, and Tom flared with anger over not getting up the tower sooner, when he'd felt her entire the castle.

"How much did you hear?" His witch asked worriedly, still sitting down. All it would take is a gentle push and she'd go tumbling off. His fingers ached to do it.

"Enough."

"Obviously not, because you wouldn't be upset if you had," she turned, standing effortlessly.

Her continued attitude and disrespect pained him. She'd just been admitting her fears to another wizard, one he'd asked her to stay away from, and now treated him as if he'd done wrong. Where was the witch he'd mentally connected with a few hours ago? Why did she –Merlin, it caused the bond to burn hot within him, obviously attempting to sway him to lay off- hate him so suddenly?

"Is that right, dear?" He studied her, the way she stood slightly in front of Orion as though she were protecting him causing his blood to boil. Tom scowled. "Come here, Hermione. Now."

Orion gasped.

She hesitated, and his Knight reached for her discreetly, as though to stop her from moving once she'd decided to. Her lavender scent embraced his senses as she filled the space before him, looking demurely up at him.

"You're scared?" He questioned softly, fingers brushing her check. She leaned into his touch. "Of what, love? Of me?" She nodded. "You have no reason to fear me, my dear. You know that."

"What you can do to me, Tom. That's what I fear."

The revelation hit him: suddenly, painfully, and reassuringly. His anger hit a wall as he peered into her eyes, chilling his mind before redirecting to Orion. Fingers continuing to brush her skin, he offered his witch a soft smirk, "That is quite the fear, love."

"Tom," she breathed, her eyes darting quickly between his.

He looked up to find Orion watching them with intrigue. "Allow me to show you, my sweet girl, why it is such a valid one."

"Tom, please don't. I know."

He ignored her long enough to unsheathe his wand. "On your knees, Knight," he demanded, looking back down at his girl. His fingers grazed her throat, wrapping around the back of her neck as he lowered his lips to hers. "This is your fault, Hermione," he murmured into her mouth.

The young dark lord smirked before pressing his lips against hers again, tongue swiping against her lower edge. His wand hand settled on her hip, pulling her into him. She melted, lost and needy, and he ate up every bit of it.

"He didn't do anything wrong, Tom," she murmured after pulling away for air.

He sighed, "A little tickle charm never killed anyone, Granger."

She stilled, fearful. "What?"

He lifted his wand, pointing at his knight and whispered the charm carelessly. Orion's laughter filled the room instantly, causing the fear in Granger's eyes to turn to humor, if only briefly. "Prolonged exposure," she started, but he stopped her.

"Will remind him that the next time he is given an order, he is to follow through with it. Every time he hears the damned charm," Tom spat. but didn't finish the statement. "What is wrong with you, Hermione? You know better."

"I went home, Tom. I needed some fresh air and to talk to Septimus because-"

"Because, what? I am here for you. I understand you. You look to me for guidance and support. Since day one, witch. You know that." He touched her face gently as Orion fell silent. "Why do you fight it? Why do you turn to them?"

"You don't have to worry about my relationship with them, Tom. I keep my promises."

He frowned, closing the space she'd created between them by wrapping his wand arm around her waist. Her tone unsettled him.

The indisposed wizard gasped, writhing on the floor.

"Are you claiming I don't keep mine, love?"

"No," she smirked up at him. "I just am better at it, is all."

He stopped himself from shoving her into the ground by pressing his mouth to hers, kissing her fiercely and making her pliant. "Do you hear that?" He asked after pulling his mouth from hers. She was breathing roughly, face flushed, and it took a few moments for her to calm enough to hear it.

Orion was crawling at the skin on his stomach, his neck straining in effort not to scream. Mimi gasped just as he began to beg for mercy. "Tom, let him up."

"No, I don't think I will, love." He let her go, watching as she rushed over to his Knight's side. Her hand smoothed his hair, soothing whispers filling the air. The charm intensified as his anger at her blatant disrespect continued. "You don't leave the castle without informing someone," he told her, crouching down beside her. His eyes meet the Knight's casually, unemotionally. "You don't make your opinions against me obvious before the Knights. And you do not share such intimate details about yourself with them, especially not Orion Black. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Tom," she cried. "Please, stop this. You're hurting him."

"Would you prefer an Unforgivable?"

"This is unforgivable!"

He upped the intensity. "You're just making it worse for him, Hermione. I told you. You don't go against me before them. I would never disrespect you in that matter, and all I ask is for the same respect. Is that too much for me to ask of you? Did I overestimate your abilities?"

She looked at him coldly, and he smirked at her anger. The crease between her eyebrows was sweeter than her pitiful care for the Knights. "Don't," she told him, looking away with a fierceness that tugged at something inappropriate within him. Whatever it was, it urged him to claim her, to show her where her care and attentions should be directed, and he found himself both sickened and pleased by the tug of war happening within him.

Orion began to cry, shaking severely, his fingers still clawing at his stomach. She offered him another comforting touch to his hair, and Tom admired her very briefly for it.

"Love," he whispered, lips ghosting over her temple. Despite her obvious anger, she leaned into his touch. "At least tell me what's wrong. I'll fix it. You know I will."

She looked up at him, her large eyes shiny. As she laced her fingers in her lap, he lowered the intensity of the charm on his Knight. "I went home because I'm nervous about my NEWTs, and I miss my family, and I needed a good cry about all of this."

"All of what?" He asked softly, pleased with her honesty.

"You're torturing my friend for offering me comfort," she murmured. "You don't allow me any relationships of my own, with your Knights literally around every corner. Even they interrupt any friendship I attempt to start with anyone else."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"No you're not," she told him sharply.

"You're lack of faith in me is really astounding, you know," he whispered, pulling her to stand up. They moved to stand by the balcony, Tom ensuring they were near to a high railing to stop him from pushing her off. "I make so many allowances for you, love. So many of my decisions are made with you in mind. Don't you see that? All I want it your safety, and your happiness. And you, I suppose," he smirked softly as the small smile that formed on her lips.

She allowed him to tilt her chin up with his thumb, their mouths meeting almost shyly. "Sometimes I fear that you'll realize I'm not worth it."

"Well, as long as you promise not to tear me to pieces, I don't think we'll have anything to worry about." Tom swallowed, glancing at Orion to see that he was gasping for breath, tears pouring down his face as tremors shook his body. He deserved it. More than Mimi did, at least. "I have to punish him. He knew that I wanted you in Slytherin as soon as you returned."

She sighed before leaning into him, her arms wrapping around his waist as her head rested on his chest. "Orion would never hurt me."

"You put too much faith in mortals, Granger."

The witch pulled back, taking in the humored expression in his eyes. "I'm still mortal, you ninny."

He laughed. "Not for much longer, hopefully."

They pulled a part, Tom moving over to his Knight. He kneeled over him, ignoring his witch as she watched on. "You know I hate this, Black," he told him after lifting the charm.

Orion gasped desperately for breath, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach as he sobbed. He was facing the young lord, almost curled around him, and he couldn't help but notice how much damage such an innocent charm had done. How had he never considered using childish magic in such a way? Why did it have to be Granger that pointed it out to him?

He wondered what she would do if she realized she'd been the one to give him such an idea. Her fear and worry filled the air sweetly, reminding him that his girl was good. Too good, even. Because of that, he helped his old friend up and drew his arm around him in support. "Let's get him to the infirmary, Granger. That'll make you feel better, won't it?"

"I'd feel better if you didn't do this at all," she told him, but attempted to help support the Knight nonetheless. "It'd probably be easier if we levitated him."

"We don't need to make it too easy for him, love."

She grumbled something she caused Orion to chuckle, his throat making a bubbling sound that caused his witch to shriek, "Is that blood?"

"No," Black told her too quickly.

Tom groaned as she began to rant about his irresponsibility. However, it quickly became humoring as she stumbled over her words and struggled with her pronunciations. By the time they reached the Hospital Wing, even Orion was laughing, much to her obvious chagrin, and it lessened the anger of the nurse at the trio for their 'rough-housing.'

.

"I didn't mean to anger you, Riddle. I just didn't think she should have gone back to the Common Room when I saw her. She was so sad. She really misses her family," Orion told him after getting checked into his bed.

Granger was sitting on the edge of it, her legs stretched out before her, ankles wrapped around one of Tom's as he sat comfortably in a nearby chair. Sighing, he got up, gently shaking out of her strange hold as he looked at his watch. "I suppose I'd thank you if I wasn't so upset."

"I think you walking me here was enough."

The witch laughed, patting his hand as she stood up. "Rest well, Knight."

A quiet pride rolled off of Tom at the way she'd addressed him. Orion seemed to perk up as well, his eyes following her as she left them. The wizards made eye contact once she was out of sight, her nearness on the fringe of Tom's awareness due to their bond. "You don't have to be upset with her."

"Excuse me?"

"Forgive, my Lord, but I feel as though I'd be doing a disservice by not telling you." Black shrugged, wincing slightly. "She wouldn't betray you. You mean so musch her. Too much, really. Hell, she's helping you with this, despite it obviously going against everything she believes in."

Did it? Tom felt the darkness lingering in her every time they connected. She was good, he understood that, but they were both like moths to flames when it came to each other. She somehow managed to find something good, or at least not evil, inside of him, and she wanted it as much as he wanted that darkness within her to grow and flourish. And she'd welcomed his attentions, hadn't she? She'd submitted to him, she'd handled his Knights, and she'd bonded with him. Her collection of Dark Arts texts rivaled his, and her thirst for knowledge was nearly as potent. Power meant little to her, but she reveled in it when need be, and how could anything they shared go against what she believed in? He wasn't Grindelwald. He was greater than that poor excuse for a Dark wizard.

"I don't think you deserve it," the Knight continued.

"Deserve what? Her tenderness?"

Orion cringed. "Her. If she could hate you, I wouldn't even think you deserve that. She's too good for you. For any of us, or this."

Tom stared blankly at his housemate, a strange awareness tingling as his mind. He couldn't bring himself to reply, unsure of what it meant that he understood what Orion had told him. "Rest well," he murmured before walking away.

Granger was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the cool stones of the wall. She offered him a soft smile as he filled the space before her.

"What's wrong?"

"We're okay, right?" he asked emptily, pulling her off the wall and kissing her forehead before leading her away from the infirmary.

Hermione laced her fingers through his, leaning her head on his arm as they walked. "What do you mean? I don't care about what happened tonight. I understand."

"But you don't agree with it?"

"No, I do not. But, you know that. You know I think a lot of this is pointless," she told him gently.

"How can we support each other if we don't agree with each other?" He looked down at her, genuinely interested in what she had to say. Tom understood that there was a disconnect between he and the rest of the world. If it were anyone other than Hermione that he was sharing his life with, he wouldn't give a damn about what it meant that they didn't agree with one another.

While he often just longed to beat her into submission, he accepted that she would require more from him than other people did. Oddly enough, the wizard felt a willingness to feed her needs. Granger was his, and she would recognize it. In return, he would continue to pick himself apart for her. Somehow, it seemed fair enough.

One person could partially guide and require things of him. He had the world, after all.

Fortunately, she seemed to understand. "You compromise with the person you intend to spend your life with, Tom. You don't ask more of them than their capable of giving, and they will always try to do and be more for you." Sensing his discomfort, she clenched his hand comfortingly. "Don't worry, I know what I'm getting into with you."

"You know that I will never allow you to leave me. This is it."

She smiled at him knowingly. "So long as you're still beautiful, we'll be fine."

Relieved, Tom laughed all the way down the staircase.

.

.

Thursday, 28 May 1942, 11:40PM

The pair walked in quiet content through the castle. Tom lingered on her bad behavior, still unsure as to what caused it. It made sense for her to be nervous about NEWTS, and to miss her family, even if he didn't quiet understand it, and he was pleased that the Malfoy's allowed her at least some level of comfort in England. However, he knew that she hadn't been completely honest with him. While the emptiness between them had been shrinking rapidly –really, he was happy with where they were in their relationship and understood that it wouldn't always be paradise-, he still felt as though there was something missing.

Really, he needed to ensure that she wouldn't go anywhere. With just a few weeks until graduation, he felt an annoying anxiety swelling in chest every time he considered what that meant. He knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to marry her. There wasn't a question about it. She'd stepped into his life and shaken it so completely that it would be uncomfortable and empty if she left. But he feared, with an anger that he often wrongly directed at her, that she would say no. That she would leave him without a second thought.

Her sense of morality was annoying in that way. He didn't doubt that if she thought she were protecting him –them, even-, she'd disappear to America or Australia.

Could he let her walk away? Was he capable of putting her needs and wishes above his own? You compromise with the person you intend to spend the rest of your life.

He'd probably kill her if she said no. He'd give her the goddamn world if she said yes, and take it away if she said no. That was compromise, wasn't it?

He sighed, willing himself to think of something else. Interested in what she thought of the pairing, he said, "I think Abraxas has a thing for the Selwyn girl."

Granger frowned, "Who?"

"Mathilde Selwyn."

She seemed genuinely lost for a few seconds longer than normal, before slow recognition formed on her face. Tom smirked, watching as she twisted a curly tendril around her finger. He drew an arm over her shoulder, thankful that she'd seemed to calm down since dropping Orion off at the infirmary. "The girl with honey hair."

"Yes," he replied carefully, noticing her secretive tone. It was as though she was considering something more than he was telling her.

Distantly, she replied, "Their pairing would mean good things for you. Her brother is still young. Despite being in Ravenclaw, you will still have a hold in the school if they are to marry. Long after we're gone, and the little wizards you've already begun to prime have graduated, he'll still be here." She crept a slender arm around his waist, leaning into him as they walked back to Slytherin.

He glanced down to see that she was smiling at him, her eyes twinkling. Kissing her quickly, he adjusted the arm he'd drawn over her shoulders, allowing his elbow to fall down her back as he grasped at her neck. "I like the way you say that," he murmured.

She hummed. "A Selwyn has been a Minister before. It's a name they trust."

Tom resisted groaning, smirking down at his witch. She was beautiful, she really was. Once they'd made it down to the security of the dungeon, he pressed her against the wall, holding her face in his hands. "I like the way you think, too, little witch," he murmured.

Granger wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into her. Their eyes met instantly, both leaning in for a quick kiss. "I'll push Abraxas toward Mathilde."

He nodded. "It's funny," he murmured, nose drawing over her forehead and into her hair as they lingered. "She uses that shampoo I don't like. Looks like you, too."

"Perhaps if I was truly a Malfoy," she said thoughtfully, pressing her face into his robes.

"What happened to being blood of their blood?" He questioned quietly, feeling himself growing tired of their conversation. The wizard pulled away slightly, tucking her under his arm as they continued to Slytherin.

"Genes aren't in blood, Thomas," she said exasperatedly. "Why are you so obsessed wiz her looking like me, anyway? Planning on killing her, too?"

"Funny, dear," he bit out, guiding her up the stairs to their rooms. He watched her hips as he followed her. "Write a letter to your father asking him about the girl. It's a good match. They'll have a strong son."

Hermione seemed to tense outside of her door, eyes meeting his curiously. He leaned against the wall outside of his dorm. "Did you see that, Tom?" She asked teasingly, as she often did when he made ominous statements. "Abraxas' future little family."

He smirked, licking his lips before an odd flutter filled his chest. He hadn't given a thought to any future Malfoys before he'd said those words, but he'd dreamed about their own children, hadn't he? Discomfort filled him. Had she thought about those things? Perhaps she had, somewhere between planning Abraxas' future and deciding she could tear him apart if she wanted to.

He hated it, but he pushed off the wall and walked over to her, brushing his fingers through some of her stray hair before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her door clicked open with a little help from his magic. Tom smiled at her, watching as her eyes widened and cheeks flushed as she quickly catalogued every inch of his face. Joy seemed to seep from her where they connected, and he pulled his hand away from her, uncomfortable with those emotions. Her own felt different than his, and it was unsettling.

"I've seen ours, Hermione," he murmured, lifting a finger to trail along her jaw and neck. The shock in her eyes left him uneasy, the feeling that she still didn't see herself as belonging to him plagued his chest. As he gently pushed her into the bedroom and closed her door, he leaned against the frame. He'd really have to fix that.

.

.

Friday, 29 May 1942; 5:45PM

"Granger."

Hermione looked up to find Tom standing in her doorway, shoulder pressed heavily into the frame and hands stuffed into his pockets. She smiled at him, regarding the strange emptiness of his eyes before gesturing for him to join her on the couch. He shook his head.

"Let's have a walk, love. It's nearly time for you to meet with Lestrange, is it not?"

"I met with him earlier," she told him as she shooed her cat, Pasha, off her lap and stood, hands gliding over her thighs as she attempted to smooth her trousers. The witch slipped her robes over her shoulders before joining him, making no effort to fasten the hooks. "What's up?" She questioned as he threaded his fingers through hers.

"We need to talk."

The couple made their way down the staircase and out of Slytherin, unnoticed by anyone in their house. Her skin tingled with unsettled emotion, and she found herself unsure if it was her own. As they climbed the stairs out of the dungeon, Hermione peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Are you alright, Tom?"

"Of course, love. Why do you ask?"

"Well," she started, debating honesty. "You're tense."

He looked at her curiously, eyes briefly softening. "You know I don't care for you asking me that question."

"I'm sorry."

He let go of her hand, arm instantly wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her securely into his side. "I'm sorry about the other night."

A group of second year Ravenclaw passed them as they began to climb the main staircase.

Just thinking about what he'd done to Orion made her sick to her stomach. He was still in the infirmary suffering from seizures, after all.

"They don't deserve to be treated that way, Tom, especially not the Blacks. They are sweet boys that absolutely adore you."

"Orion is not sweet. He's trying to take you from me," he bit out before falling silent. He seemed to consider her words. "It doesn't please me to not know where you are, Hermione. I didn't think you were doing anything unbecoming, and I apologize for suggesting that you are anything less than a lady. But, Grindelwald is still a threat, my dear. With Orion being dubious, I am uncomfortable with you spending time with him. I feared you'd been taken."

"And 'arming Orion seemed like a good show of that fear?" She questioned. "He is harmless."

He scowled, and she sensed that he hadn't meant to use that word. "He knew that I was looking for you. He should have first informed me of your arrival. And I told you: he is not sweet or harmless. You don't become a Knight by petting pygmy puffs. Not to mention he's working for Grindelwald."

"Why not just Obliviate him, like you did Abbott, then?"

"Money. Power. I can let go of one, love. But three more? I haven't completely lost my mind, yet. Besides, he can't really doing anything to hurt you, can he?"

Hermione sighed, deciding not to point out that he quite obviously wasn't a threat with that logic. "Oh, Tom," she murmured, lifting her hand to lace her fingers through the hand hanging from her shoulder. "Nothing is going to happen to me."

The wizard hissed in argument, and she wrapped her free arm around his back, rubbing his side comfortingly. "I can protect myself, you know. I did it pretty well before you."

"And your display of that on New Year's day has done quite a bit to prove that, hasn't it?" He questioned sarcastically.

"Well, perhaps if I hadn't been half dead and without a wand I would have been able to defend myself."

He seemed to start at that, his fingers tightening around hers just before he pressed a kiss into her hair. "I just don't want to lose you, alright? You know what that would do to me."

She resisted pointing out that he'd made a horcrux out of her doppelgänger, not her, and that there was nothing to lose without her. It seemed wise not to.

She hadn't realized that they were walking to the Room of Requirement until a familiar door filled her vision. As they walked through it, she was greeted by the comfort of their room at Riddle House. There was a fire blazing, dinner set up on a table before it, and their bed was turned down for the night, as though he'd meant for the pair to sleep there.

As she turned to him, she noticed he was shrugging out of his robes and tossing them over the back of a chair. He reached for hers and cast it in the same direction upon attaining them. She instantly began undressing her hair, barely even considering her actions.

"Are you very hungry? Do you mind if we spoke before eating?"

She shook her head, and he led her over to the bed. They both stood at the foot of it until he sat down, easing off his shoes and undoing a few of the buttons at his neck. She watched, fascinated as he carefully rolled his sleeves up his forearms, attempting to recall earlier moments of them playing house. It was a regular thing for them, chatting in bed as though they'd long been married and were living someplace other than Hogwarts, but it'd always taken place in her rooms.

This was new territory. He was dressing down, for Merlin's sake. She realized, quite suddenly, that he was buttering her up for something. It was the only explanation.

She looked down to see the scar on his arm, attempting to seal off any anxiety.

Realizing that she was still standing, quite stiffly, next to him, he gave her an odd look before pulling the witch between his legs and wrapping his arms around her waist as he tugged her closer. Tom kissed her stomach, his hold loosening only enough for him to place his hands on her hips. He looked up at her, smirking slightly as her curls fell forward and tickled his face.

"You're quite beautiful like this," he told her, and Hermione blushed fiercely.

He chuckled, releasing her and moving up the bed. She kicked off her shoes before crawling up to him. At the last minute, she chose to straddle his lap, rather then sit beside him. Ignoring the look of shock that briefly crossed his features, she drew her fingers against his collar and up his neck before playing in the hair at his nape. He moaned softly, wrapping his arms around her and forcing their mouths together. She felt his touch ghosting over her back and bottom, heating her flesh through her trousers, his magic intimately pressing against her own through the bond.

All at once, he was everywhere. She found herself wondering just how many witches he'd been with, and if he'd just been feeling shy when he'd made her believe he was inexperienced. However, he seemed to pull away just as suddenly, and she groaned miserably. How he constantly managed to deny the both of them left her not only confused, but full of unresolved tension and restlessness.

He chuckled against her neck. "Quite distracting, too, I suppose."

The moment passed as the air around them shifted. Although he didn't let her go, she felt his hold on her changing, and recalled that he'd brought her here because he needed to talk about something. Hermione tugged at one of his wrists until he relented, unwrapping his arm from her waist and allowing her to press his hand between her palms. "What is it that you wanted to discuss?"

He considered her, his eyes filling with unsettling emptiness. "Us."

She blinked. "You and I?" He nodded and she frowned, "Alright, Tom. Is there something bothering you?"

"Yes," he bit out, pulling her forward for another kiss. It settled her nerves more than she cared to admit. "I was helping Slughorn with some paperwork the other day, and to came to my attention that you are no longer Mimi Granger."

"Pardon me?"

"On paper. There was a formal request from the Ministry that all of your records be switched over to your proper name," he sneered and spat, "Mimi Malfoy."

"And that bothers you, Tom? People change their name all the time. Especially witches. I won't even be a Malfoy in a few years time."

He bit back something smart. "My point, Hermion, that whatever magic you and dear old Septimus participated in has to be older than even time itself. It's not everyday that the Ministry not only recognized illegitimate children, but also does so under the bracket of blood rites. Whatever you all did, it overrode even their formalities, therefore I am quite sure it did the same to ours."

She realized that he wanted to renew the oath she'd taken to him when he'd originally connected her to the Malfoy family. Neither of them had realized it'd go quite this far, and she'd used the Montague name in their vow. Combined with the idea she'd presented to him the day before -that she could tear him down if she'd wanted- she imagined he was having a really hard time of it. Hermione resisted laughing at his paranoia. "Tom, you realize that you and I are bound together, right?"

"I'm well aware."

"Then some silly little oath about loyalty means nothing. Regardless of whether or not we end up marrying each other, we are together for the rest of our natural lives." She let go of his hand and ran her fingers through his hair, leaning in to kiss his mouth softly. "Beyond that, too, you know," she told him softly. "There is a reason those bonds are not well known. They do not only bind the body and mind, but the soul as well."

"I haven't got much of that," he told her, eyes still curiously blank.

She smiled at her wizard. "Soul bounds always keep the purest part of the participants stored away. You can't cast that part away anymore than I could ever really relate to another person."

"In this life," he clarified.

"In any life, Tom. You don't get a new soul each go round."

He looked skeptical. "How do you know this?"

"Found a book on bonds in the Love & Marriage part of the Malfoy library. It's rather small, honesty, and would be better named the Serve & Submit section with how barbaric it all is, but it's there."

He considered her for a moment, his almost-smile gracing his lips after an extended silence. "So you really are mine."

"You're mine too, you know."

She felt him resist laughing as he tightened his hold on her and rolled them on to her back. His weight pressed into her briefly, and she realized just how greatly she felt his presence during any given moment of the day, just from the physical feel of him. It was a glorious moment, realizing how much of him she really did have. His cluelessness toward the fact left her buzzing with excitement.

Before she could truly appreciate the moment, he seemed to consume her again, his lips claiming hers and his hips weighing heavy against hers. She was pinned in place as he used one hand to pull her shirt from her pants, ripping the silken fabric from her body to reveal the pale pink of her satin bra. It'd grown too warm for her to bear wearing undershirts any longer, and she watched as he hungrily took in her state of undress. He smirked at her before attacking her neck with his tongue and lips, soft hisses forming in his throat as he responded to her moans of delight.

Her fingers dabbled briefly in his hair, causing him to pull away from her. He sat between her legs and admired her for the briefest of moments before unbuttoning her pants and pulling them off. A growl sounded from the back of his throat as she was bared before him, and he magicked her hands above her head as she attempted to reach for him.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione," he whispered, leaning over her and pressing his mouth to hers chastely. "I don't even know what to do with you, you're so lovely."

He looked at her then, stroking her hip as he offered her a soft smile. Her heart melted at the intimacy of it. She was nervous, as these moments of devotion always heightened his possessive nature and gave way to his bouts of insanity, be it with her or his Knights. But, his attentions soothed parts of her consciousness she hadn't realized existed. They reminded her that she was real, and participating her final year of Hogwarts.

The situation may not have been ideal, but knowing that she'd captured the attention of someone who's intelligence was so great that it consumed him in his later life left her feeling good. As though she'd been able to keep his head above water. It also, disturbingly, allowed images of her being the witch to press him under the water fortify her mind. She didn't want to kill him so much as she wanted to bare witness to his downfall, to play a hand in it just before leaving. Hermione chose not to dwell on such ideas, as she wasn't sure if they were born from his emotional bleed-through, or the fact that she was slowly become well aware of him having the same fantasies of being her undoing. She'd known that he wanted to posses her, played into it even, but his need to increasingly be all that she needed had shown her that he was truly irrational. There was no helping that.

Logically, she knew she was in danger. But, there was a certain thrill to it. It was a game, and while she no longer believed he knew they were playing, the witch did not feel less inclined to stop. For as much as he wanted to be the one to hold every inch of her together, she truly wanted to tear him apart. Their relationship was a sleeping dragon, and she felt herself compelling it to awaken. The day he realized that she could survive without him would be bittersweet, but Hermione was sure that she would revel in it. Tom would attempt to break her a part, and likely succeed before realizing that he needed her. She didn't doubt that he would then be compelled to put her back together, piece by piece, even better than before.

In fact, she looked forward to the day she'd awaken stronger than she'd ever be without him. There was something satisfying in knowing that she'd be the one to build Voldemort as he made up for hurting her, and that he'd never be able to use the knowledge that he'd turned her into such a great witch against her. He'd be too blinded by the fact that she betrayed him. Imagining what it would do to him to see her fighting against him in the future left her humming excitement and filled her with reason.

Hermione smiled up at him.

Tom's eyes danced. He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her wrists from the magical hold they'd been in, pressing the back of her fists into the bed near to her head. "You like your tea black in the morning, and with two sugars at night," he told her. At her frown, he continued softly, "You care able silly things, like equal rights and opportunities, as well as following the rules."

A grin appeared on his face, and if she hadn't been so wrapped up in how beautiful he became when he smiled, she would have realized.

"But you're realistic," he leaned down to kiss her softly, "and you know that while those things matter, they aren't important."

"What are you talking about?"

He ignored her, letting go of her and laying his head on her chest. Minutes passed, his body pressing heavily into hers, and she slowly lifted her hands to rub at his back. The silence of the room wasn't deafening or uncomfortable. Hermione closed her eyes and hummed slightly.

"Your favorite color is orange, of all things. Not that you have too much in that color."

"Did I tell you that?" She questioned curiously.

He sat up. "No. Your ink holder is orange, and all your monograms are, too." Once more, he grabbed one of her hands, kissing the palm. "Three things. I know three things about you. I might know one more, too," he smirked. "You want to know why I know those things, love?"

Unable not to, she smiled at him. "Tell me why."

"Because you belong to me," his lips ghosted over her collarbone.

She grinned. "I'm yours, Tom."

"Tell me you belong to me," he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. His need to hear it shined in his eyes.

"I belong to you."

Her satisfaction was misinterpreted by him, and supplied her with a brief high that distracted her. She wanted to laugh with happiness. Didn't he realize? Couldn't he realize that his need to be reassured by her was sick? That it left him vulnerable?

It was all very sweet, in her opinion. Her fingers dabbled in his hair as her hands moved up and down him back. She wouldn't let him down, nor would she let anyone hurt him. Save herself, of course.

Unable to stop herself, she giggled.

"It's freeing, isn't it?" His tongue darted out against the curve of her breast.

Yes, it is.

In her overconfidence, she'd forgotten that she needed to be afraid of him, that shed been waiting for him to crack…and she paid. Even with her eyes open as he peppered her chest with kisses, she didn't notice him unsheathe his wand.

Friday, 29 May 1942, 9:20PM

Tom pressed his thumb into the soft pocket beneath Granger's left eye, watching with morbid fascination as blood gushed into her vision. She was beyond crying, or even caring. Despite not being amused by her lack of acknowledgment, he continued his actions. He couldn't stop himself, even if he'd wanted to.

Sitting her up against the wall, he sat back on his haunches and watches the shadows of the fires dance across her bloodied and bruised skin, eyes settling on where red seemed to weep slowly from the line he'd carved into the base of her neck. As he raked down her body, he curiously studied where her shoulder sagged away from her, a series of cigar burns trailing along the unnatural curve. The cuts he'd made between her ribs had long dried, crusting over her stomach and staining down her waist to her thighs. Dark blood stained her panties, ruining the fabric and causing it to cling to her hips heavily. Her thighs were covered with fresh blood, so shockingly bright that he couldn't resist dipping his fingers into the hole he'd left behind after biting away a chunk of her flesh.

She was an absolute vision, and he craved her like he did power. He leaned closer to her, inhaling deeply. After the sweet, metallic scent of her blood, he could smell the lavender hanging on, a gentle reminder that his girl was still under all of the macabre. Slowly, he trailed her ichor up her body, smearing it over her cheeks. Her eyes meet his then, dull and lifeless, and he offered her a smile, fingers reaching into another still bleeding wound. He imagined he'd have to get her cleaned up soon, if he didn't want to lose her, but as he painted her mouth with her blood, he quickly forgot about the fact that she was even capable of being claimed by death. She'd bathed in that strange fluid, after all, and she was his queen.

Somewhere between the need to beat her into submission and mark her as his own, he'd realized that. She meant more to him than he even meant to himself. If she somehow managed to override him and rule the world, he wouldn't give a damn. It didn't hurt to know that. It was surprisingly human, and as much as he hated such normalcy, the wizard had also come to realize that his witch meant the world to him. And that was alright. She would still be his, and controlling that type of power would be more than satisfying for him.

"Hermione," he murmured, lips ghosting over her forehead. Tom kissed her mouth gently, licking the blood from her lips. "You're so beautiful."

She stared at him blankly, for so long that he found himself growing worried that she was dead. Panic flooded him, white hot and as heavy as a thousand knives, but a sob tore from her throat and relief flooded him instantly. Her crying shook her body, awakening the crusted over wounds and causing fresh blood to flow from them. Physically unable to hold herself up any longer –he saw the tremor pulse through her and the right side of her body give out- she doubled over, splintered ribs most likely snapping at the impact. Blood smeared the wall where her head had been, heavy and wet with its newness, a few of her locks still clinging to it.

Tom stared in awe as she managed to curl into herself, her body seeming to act on her mind's will, refusing to feel the pain he was sure she was going through. Merlin, he wanted her. He craved her in a way he hadn't realized possible, every bone and ounce of blood in his body screaming for her; his own nerves seemed alive where hers seemed to fail, proving to him that she was in desperate, indescribable pain. The fact that she was alive, whether it be because of the substance Abraxas had created, the bond they shared, or her own magical core, he couldn't help but feel for her.

Her hand reached for him, shaking tremendously, grasping his bloodied shirt firmly. He let her cling to him for a few minutes, stroking her face and hair, before wrapping his fingers around her fist and gently prying it from his clothing. Lacing their fingers, he brought her knuckles to his mouth. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I just need to know you understand how I feel for you. I am not kidding when I tell you that you are tearing me a part. I am strong and I am weak for you. And now you are too. Can't you see?"

She pressed her forehead into his thigh, and he brushed his free hand through her matted curls, gently pulling them from the wall. His fingers came away shiny with blood that he studied curiously.

"We're the same person, Hermione. We really are. Two halves of a whole. You know that, don't you? You wouldn't really do this to me, would you? I couldn't bare it if you did. I'd probably have to kill you."

Tom dropped his hand and brushed his fingers though her hair again, murmuring a spell to untangle and gently cleanse her curls. "You are so strong," he tightened his hold on her hand. "So strong and beautiful," there was a deafening crack in the room, her gasp of pain causing him to moan in pleasure. As her palm lay limp in his hand, bones shattered, he wondered how long it would be before she truly fell apart.

He wanted her sobbing and tormented by how much he meant to her, and she wasn't. Because he couldn't have that, he wanted her sobbing and tormented by what he could do to her. But, she even refused him that satisfaction. Now he couldn't help but simply want her broken. How lovely would she be, before his Knights, her eyes a vacant lot; her magic filling the room with every breath she took, body physically unable to suppress it's power; her only need in life to satisfy him? His Knights would want nothing more than to find their own Hermione, and he would revel in the fact that there was no one quite like his witch.

Even smashed into pieces, she was perfect.

He tilted her head, peering into her eyes. They were still empty and meaningless, no depth left within them. But, there was something there; some secret he knew she continued to hold -some power over him that he simply couldn't reach. It pained him.

His fist tightened in her hair, tugging at her bloodied roots and yanking her to lie flat on the ground. Despite the bond begging him not to, he straddled her waist, forcing pressure onto her fractured hip. She whimpered beneath him, body shaking with trepidation. It was so sweet and endearing that he nearly stopped. But their eyes met again, her chocolaty orbs taunting him mindlessly.

Tom let go of her hair and hand. Both of his palms met the sides of her neck, thumbs sliding gently from her ears down the swell of her throat. He smiled. She opened her mouth and begged, "Tom, please," her voice cracked. "I can't take anymore. Please."

He leaned down, kissing her chin and jaw with feathery touches. "Take the mark, Hermione."

She sobbed, shaking her head. "Please, Tom. Anything but that. I beg of you."

Her voice was barely a whisper. If he had breathed he wouldn't have been able to hear it. But her refusal to accept him was clear. He knew that she would never truly submit to him, and it hurt. He wanted to shake the life from her from doing this to him. It was never meant to happen.

"It could be so simple, love," he told her gently, lips grazing her bruised skin. Her resilience rolled off her in waves, appealing to him. He tightened his told, pressing his thumbs into her windpipe, his mouth hovering over hers as she began to struggle.

Unable to stop himself, Tom kissed her, sucking her tongue into his mouth and biting down on the spongy flesh as her body began to seize, attempting to save itself. Blood filled his mouth and he swallowed it down. As she fell unconscious, he kissed her chastely, grip falling limp. He picked her up gently, laying her in bed before summoning a wet cloth and thoroughly cleaning her. He healed her as best he could, slowly realizing the extent of what he'd done.

She wasn't breathing.

Tom gripped her shoulders, shaking her. He pressed her nose between his fingers, forcing his mouth onto hers as he puffed air into her. Tightness clouded his chest as fear took over his mind. Hermione couldn't die. He reached through the bond, searching for her, but every time he seemed to get close enough, she'd disappear.

He ran his grimy fingers through his hair, looking quickly around the room. Suddenly, he was heavily aware of how much she'd been within him, carefully lingering on the edge of his consciousness, keeping him sane and sure of himself. Now, he felt her presence slipping away from him, and his resolve fading just as quickly. Not only was he a danger to her, but to himself. He'd been stupid not to realize that the thought of losing her was nothing compared to actually going through it. He'd thought he couldn't bear it, but as hysteria seemed to fill every inch of his body, his mind possessed a dangerous calm. It wanted him to kill her.

What would he become if he killed the one thing that mattered to him? What was he to physically do this to her?

Realizing he had nothing left to offer his witch, he did the only thing he could think of.

The young Lord, half out of reasons to even care anymore, summoned Orion.

---

.

.

---

.

.

---

Friday, 29 May 1942, 10:01PM

Orion cursed, feeling his Knights mark flare and burn insistently. Almost instantly, he rolled out of bed and tugged on the nearest pair of trousers, pointedly ignoring the discomfort in his knotted stomach. Not bothering to pull robes over his Slytherin sleep shirt, he grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and slipped his feet into his shoes before following the pull of the burning to the Room of Requirement.

Knocking three times, he waited quietly, silently praying that a teacher wouldn't turn onto the hallway. Riddle discovering his disloyalty was something he could deal with, but he really didn't feel like explaining himself to any school-appointed authority.

The door opened slightly, giving him a view of a sliver of an obviously power drunk wizard.

"My Lord?" Orion questioned nervously.

"Did you come here from the infirmary?"

"No. I was released a little after dinner."

"It's you that's proper with healing magic, is it not?" He questioned emptily.

He cursed himself mentally, unsure of who let that small fact slip. The last thing he wanted was to become Riddle personal medi-wizard. It put them both in too much danger. Still, he replied with a small nod of his head and watched as the door opened enough for him to enter. He did so with caution.

"She's dying," Tom informed, gesturing to the bed. It was only then that Orion noticed the state of the bedroom, and the fact that his lord was covered in blood. Mimi. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Fix her."

Far more quickly than he'd gotten there, he hurried over to the witch, his heart breaking at the sight of her. He pulled out his wand to run some diagnostics. "Oh Merlin Tom, what the fuck did you do?"

Her skin was pale and blooming with bruises. He could see where her jaw had hung dangerously and her neck had been crushed in the way that she struggled to breath. The hand marks against her delicate skin caused his heart to beat painfully fast. She'd been cleaned and clothed and tucked in, the crisp white of her shirt standing out against the darkness of her hair –he hated himself for thinking it so beautiful while she was dying before him- and the black of the sheets.

He knew, without having to consider it too greatly, that this was not the worst of her damage. Tom was covered in her blood, after all; he'd healed her to the best of his abilities, made her presentable, and brought a Knight in to finish it. Did it have to be him though? Black already felt indebted to the pair. He knew Tom was looking for a reason to snuff him out, even without concrete evidence of his deceit.

The room flared with different colors as the tests ran. Orion found himself feeling both honored and unprepared to handle what his lord had tasked him with. If she died…oh, gods, if she dies. Briefly, he closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn't royally screw up. He refocused on the scene before him to see that Tom had climbed onto the bed beside her, his hands hovering near to her hair and shoulder, but never touching her. He couldn't seem to bring himself to.

Good, Orion thought to himself. He shouldn't ever be able to touch her again. "Did you hear me? What did you do? I need to know in order to properly help her."

He ignored him. "Why is that report red? Is that her heartbeat? It's too slow. God, is that red because she needs a transfusion? Should I summon Abraxas?"

"Tom, shut up. You've seemed to stop all external bleeding, but there is some internal bleeding happening in her lungs, which is why she's having trouble breathing," as he waved his wand carefully, swallowing heavy and willing himself not to start shaking, he watched as her blood pressure rose. "Go and fetch a blood replenishing potion."

He made to move off the bed just as the witch began to seize. "Fuck, Black. If I knew you'd only make matters worse, I'd of taking her to that troll in the infirmary."

Orion completed his technique, hoping to have stopped the bleed-though in her lungs and patched up the tears in them, and stared blankly at the wizard across from him, his hands pushing gently at her shoulders to keep her still. "Her lungs are literally filled with saliva and blood because of whatever you've inflicted on her. She's seizing because she's drowning in her own goddamned fluids, not to mention the fact that I'm sure her spine is going to snap if her body strains any more. Now, go and get the damn replenishing potion, and some Skele-gro- and a syringe while you're at it."

As he did as asked, Orion went back to working on the witch, charming her body still and putting her in statis before turning her on her side in attempt to open up her airways.

Tom returned from his bathroom carefully sober, swallowing hard. "Is she going to die, O?"

He glanced up at his lord, taking in the paleness of his skin and his wide-eyed state. He didn't want to admit it, but the man appeared scared, and it made Black sick to his stomach. How he could hurt her so disturbingly and then fear losing her didn't make sense. But, he at least understood the pain he knew the other wizard was feeling. Orion could bear the idea of her dying either. Besides wanting her more desperately than he'd ever wanted anything, Cygnus had really done the Black line in when he swore them to her. If he failed her now…

"No, my Lord. She isn't going to die. Not tonight." He looked back down at her, opening the Skele-gro and filling the syringe with the liquid. It would be unorthodox, but he feared forcing anything down her throat while it was injured. His only option was to inject both potions and hope for the best.

"Good. I don't know what I'd do if she left me." Tom laughed and Orion felt the hair on the back of his neck freeze. "I'd probably…"

Black leaned in, magicking the witch's shirt away and ghosting his fingers over her back. "Hold her hair back," he requested, fingertips touching the soft spot just above her spine. Curiously, and to stop the wizard from shaking so greatly, he asked, "You'd probably what, Tom?"

He hummed, touching the curve of her ear and down her spine as Orion injected the potion. "She's my entire world," he admitted, voice low and distant.

Instantly, Black remembered their time together before Granger arrived. They'd been closer than they should have been, sharing witches and fears and futures, and Riddle's whispered confession reminded him of all of it. He felt bad, and not only because he wasn't certain that she would live. His friend had never experienced what he was experiencing with Granger. Despite all of their familiarity, Orion couldn't offer him the same things she was able to, and he'd been working desperately to take that greatness away from his old friend. He'd continue that work.

She's my entire world.

He studied the pair, watching as Tom's hand glided over her skin and wrapped around her ribcage. The power of her spine healing completely woke her up, her coughing and sputtering causing her body to shake violently. Orion cussed under his breath. "Rub her back. Hopefully now that her spine is healed, she'll be able to cough all of that shit out of her lungs. If not…I don't know, we'll have to pump it, or something."

Granger was crying, her small fists grasping at she sheets, and Orion bent to her level, allowing their eyes to meet. It pained him even more that her left eye was full of blood. It seemed half ready to leak from her socket.

Despite himself, tears filled his eyes. She noticed, through her coughing, and reached a delicately hand for him. He allowed her to touch his face, her fingers brushing away a tear that slipped out. "You're going to be okay, my Lady. Just a little fluid in your lungs."

She smiled at him –smiled!- a he realized he was weak in her presence. For her, because of her, in spite of her –at this point, it didn't matter. He wasn't sure how or why, or even when it happened, but he was weak for a witch that could never be his. She blinked, slowly and painfully, syrupy blood spilling from her slightly opened mouth and soaking unhurriedly into the sheets.

Tom, thankfully, remained absolutely silent, still rubbing the witch's back gently. He seemed to be in silent consideration.

"Thank you," she strained, coughing violently. Her fingers curved over his cheekbone and down his jaw.

Orion reveled in the caress. "It's an honor to serve you," he told her honestly. "I'll do it gratefully until I die."

She was still smiling, soft and knowingly, and he willed her not to say or I do. At this point, it was a toss up between the two of them. Regardless of how much Tom claimed to need her, Orion couldn't shake the feeling that they'd (b)eat each other alive, and Tom seemed to be in the lead.

"I have one more potion for you, but I'm not sure your throat can handle swallowing it tonight." He magicked the syringe clean and sterile before cracking open the blood replenishing potion. Filling the syringe, he gently pushed her onto her back, watching as she and Tom's eyes meet. Orion's stomach to churned as he witnessed the devotion between the pair. It sickened him beyond reason. How she could even bear looking at him escaped him.

"Hi," she croaked at him.

Her wizard smiled softly at her, fingers ghosting her jaw and throat. Black cleared his, shooing Riddle's hand away and placing his fingers on the soft point between her collarbones.

He stood up and looked over the pair, studying the way his lord looked at his lady like she was the only thing that existed, and tasted bile in his throat. "She needs to get to her room, Tom. Anyone can access you all here, and no offense, but you'll be given the kiss if this gets out. She's a Malfoy."

"I know that, alright. I don't know what happened. I couldn't stop myself." At the Knight's disturbed look, the young lord continued, "It won't happen again. I can't lose her." He got up, moving over to her side of the bed and scooping her into his arms.

Granger snuggled into him as he held her close, causing Orion to look away carefully. He couldn't dream of ever harming her that way. She had to know that. To know that she was better than that. It was disgusting to see her so comfortable in his arms. He wanted to hate her for it, but found that he couldn't.

"Disillusion yourself and lets head back to Slytherin," Tom suggested, and the trio was off.

.

Friday, 29 May 1942, 11:15PM

They reached their Common Room uneventfully, the three of them climbing the stairs to the Head's Hall and making their way to Mimi's room. Orion paced about a step and a half behind Riddle, taking in the way the witch's arm curled tiredly and tightly around the back of his neck, and the fact that his lord's head would dip every few minutes, her hum informing the Black that Tom must have been leaving kisses on her hair and forehead. He couldn't hate Mimi, but ill temperament flared within him for the young Dark Lord. He wanted to hurt him, to beat him as badly as he had his witch, but he didn't want to hurt Granger anymore. It didn't take much for him to realize that the two were connected more intimately than he could imagine.

Tom stopped short of the witch's room.

"Oh, Merlin. Not again," her soft voice filled the air, tired and strained. Tom set her down, steadying her carefully before peering into her room. He sighed.

"Grab a dose of Pepper-Up from the sitting room bar cart, Orion." Before brandishing his wand, he gave his witch a soft kiss on the forehead that caused the Knight to want to throw up.

He turned away, not wanting to witness anymore of Tom's disturbing behavior, retrieving a shot glass worth of Pepper-Up before returning to see that his lord had entered the breached room. Granger smiled sadly at him, and Orion found that he had so much to say, but couldn't find the words. Instead, he administered the potion.

"Slowly," he advised. And then, to fill the uncomfortable silence, "Do you not ward your rooms?"

She blushed prettily, the action only tainted by the bruises lingering on her still pale skin. He really hated himself for it, because he wanted someone else to see what their lord had done. He needed the teachers to see what he was truly capable of; against the person he'd spent the entire school year wrapped around, no less. It was disgusting, but he pressed his wand to her flesh and murmured a spell to heal the discoloration, turning them a sickly yellow shade that sometimes bloomed on witch's skin in the early summer months, as they attempted to cover up their sun rashes and burns.

The problem, he realized, was that he didn't want her to see what Riddle had done to her. She'd lived through it. And her eye was enough evidence. As she watched him, gratefulness and dull fear swimming in her expression, he realized that he had to get her away from Tom. She wouldn't leave him, and perhaps she couldn't. But, he could do it. He would do it.

It was strange to consider that Abbott had been right, if only partially, all those months ago. Mimi had torn Tom apart. At eighteen, he was teetering on the edge of insanity, capable of drawing his girlfriend in and out of death's grasp at will, likely able to take out Grindelwald with the amount to dark energy that simply existed around he and his lady. Where had the wizard that wanted to be Minister gone? Had she taken that dream from him? Did she enjoy the beast he was sure to turn into?

Granger was so sweet. He'd meant it when he'd told Riddle that she was much too good for him. But what did it say about her, that she allowed him to touch her after he'd nearly killed her? Could she not remember anything before she awoke?

Or, had Grindelwald truly been right? Did she really already know? Had she resigned herself to this for someone else?

Again, Orion found his mouth heavy with everything he wanted to say to her. Where could he start? He didn't want to die for saving someone that didn't even seem as though they wanted to be. She needed it though. He couldn't allow more Pure blood to be spilled than necessary. He had to get her away from Riddle.

Peering into her bloody eye, his heart breaking at the way it still seemed to want to weep with the vital fluid, Black swore to himself and the witch that he would.

"Not always," she murmured softly. Hesitantly, she reached for his hand, grasping it weakly in both of hers as a tremor shot through her body.

He sensed that she was going to thank him, and he didn't want that. He shouldn't have helped them. He didn't want Mimi to die, but if that was what Tom was capable of…

Orion set his other hand atop hers, dropping to one knee before her.

"Please, get up," she begged, looking down at him. Her hair fell over her shoulders beautifully, seeming to glow in the shadows of the hallway.

He pressed her forehead to their joined hands. I'm going to get you out. I'm going to send you back to safety. I swear it.

Tom stepped out of the room, eyeing them curiously before seeming to shrug them off. Strangely enough, he was holding her cat against his chest, and it made Black uncomfortable to think that it was a normal thing to do. The idea of them sharing a pet felt too innocent after what he'd witnessed in the Room of Requirement.

"Hermion," he spoke softly, as though afraid of hurting her with him voice.

The Knight scowled, his forehead still pressed against her hand, before standing gracefully and stepping away from her. She was watching her wizard patiently, warmness in her eyes, and took the animal as he offered it to her, cuddling it close to her chest.

"We will not alert the staff this time. I will take care of your rooms, and then we will take care of this mess. But, I need you to do something for me first."

"Anything."

Orion groaned, rubbing at his stomach as it became unsettled with revulsion.

Tom stepped closer to his witch, looking down at her with such softness that the Knight had to look away. He studied his lady instead, noting the way she trembled. "She needs rest, my Lord," he advised, but was ignored.

"Your desk is irreparable," he brushed his hand through her hair. She was briefly distressed, her knees wobbling and familiar pressing his face into her neck for comfort. Riddle wrapped am arm around her waist.

Orion felt oddly lightheaded suddenly, leaning on the wall behind him for support. Tom and Mimi were in front of him, silent as they watched each other, but they were also all around him, their magic heavy and loud in the air. They were communicating, he realized with a frown. The only way they'd be able to do that, an outrageously dangerous but logical reason for her to even be conscious and standing right now, would be if they were bonded.

The pressure lifted, and she stepped around her wizard to entire her room, noisily sitting down at her desk to sort through what was missing. Lord and Knight made eye contact, the young dark wizard smirking knowingly. "I don't know why she trusts you."

"You trusted me to save her."

He didn't scowl. In fact, there was no outward sign of recognition at all. "You won't breathe a word of anything that has happened or will happen to anyone, do you hear me? Do you understand me?"

His mark flared to life on his wrist, a seemingly gentle reminder of what it meant to go against his lord's wishes. "Yes."

Riddle turned away, stepping into Granger's bedroom, and Orion followed. He wasn't sure what the other wizard had meant about her desk, as it looked perfectly fine, until he touched it. The capacity to hold magic had been stripped from it, making whatever she hid inside accessible to anyone.

Quiet sniffling filled the air, and he realized she was crying as she went through her things. Tom kneeled next to her, rubbing her thigh soothingly, speaking softly. Her eyes kept lifting, taking in a nearby photo, hands shaking as she slowly put everything back in place, as though it didn't matter anymore.

He stepped a little closer, Riddle's comforting words surrounding and shocking him, but that didn't matter. Mimi had a photo of the Montague daughter resting on her desk, dead, Grindelwald smiling territorially within the frame. There was also a photo of she and Myrine with Abraxas and his father, smiling happily on an island somewhere, and a shot of she and Burke as small children, more like siblings than friends.

Orion's heart beat painfully in his chest. Had he been right? Had her secret been worth knowing? Had Grindelwald truly been right?

His eyes fell a little lower, a sparkling family necklace rested over a birth certificate. He couldn't make out the last name, but he didn't need to. There was the proof, his entire reason for existing, probably: the family crest. Mimi Montague.

"Knight," Tom all but growled, remaining where he was next to his witch.

He felt his chest heaving with his new information. They were all dead. Every single one of them. Except for her. He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus. She'd nearly died tonight. Did Tom not realize what he had? Was he really so stupid?

"Eileen has access to my stores, have her retrieve whatever you believe will keep my Lady responsive for the rest of the evening. And then prepare the sitting for a meeting. We have much to sort out."

"You're a Montague." He hadn't meant to say it.

"Do as asked," she murmured, exasperated, leaning forward and pressing her face into Tom's neck.

Orion couldn't help it, he simply followed her order.

.

.

Saturday, 30 May 1942, 12:03AM

The sound of the Knights coming up the stairs and entering the sitting room filled air, and Orion watched as Mimi slowly pushed herself up on Tom's bed -as though she'd done it plenty of times before-, running her fingers through her hair before braiding it over her shoulder. He watched her, fascinated, in absolute awe by the fact that she truly existed.

"Tom will be through soon."

"Why would you not want people to know you're alive?"

She looked at him then, distastefully, if a little sad. "My family lost all that they have because of what they were. I'm doing what I have to do to stay alive."

Without thinking about it, he reached for her hand, "It's going to come out now. Whoever went through your belongings, I'm sure they made copies. I want you to stay alive, too. My offer still stands."

"You sound as though you've really thought this through."

Her accusation hurt, and he swallowed a few times before saying. "I did. The whole time Eileen was packing up these potions, while we've waited for him to finish up in your rooms. Anyone could know by now. Let me help you, Mimi. Please. I need to."

She studied him briefly. "That's very kind of you, Orion, really. But, my place is by Tom's side. It always has been."

"You just said you wanted to stay alive, Mimi," he whispered harshly. "Tonight is proof enough that you aren't safe with him."

She was quiet. "I will be fine."

"If you let me help you, I'll believe that."

"What could you do, huh? There is nothing you could do to help me. Dumbledore couldn't even help me. He gave up on me."

"I would never do that. I love you."

She ripped her hand away from his. "Why? Because you know my name?"

"No. I don't care about that. I really don't. I loved you enough to understand that Tom made you happier than I ever could. And I love you enough to save you from him."

She watched him, crying, her bloody eye making him feel horrible for even bringing any of this up. The air around her felt empty with defeat. "I knew what I was agreeing to when I hooked up with Tom, Orion. Thank you, but, you have to let me do this. You have to let me live my own life."

The sound of her door shutting filled the room. He understood what she meant, but he didn't agree with it. Her idea of living appeared to be dying. He couldn't let that happen.

"I really wouldn't have it any other way."

.

Saturday, 30 May 1942, 1:34AM

Orion stood quietly with his brethren; his head low in respect, mind reeling over the night's events. He couldn't believe that he'd regained Tom's trust so quickly and easily, but he also couldn't t bring himself to consider the circumstance. Mimi had been half dead when he'd joined them, her life dependent on the advancement of his skills, and he'd been horrified. Even now, he wasn't sure that he'd served her as well as he could have, the feeling as though he'd forgotten something eating away at his mind.

He couldn't believe that after everything she'd been through, she trusted Tom. The gentle look in her eyes every time she regarded him, the tender caresses they'd shared throughout his angry tirade. She'd calmed him, helped him in torturing some of the lower ranking Knights, and even allowed the darkness that swam beneath her carefully crafted surface to fill the room, twining with Tom's and nearly suffocating them with its heady power.

There was no denying his love for the witch, watching her rule so powerfully when she should have been medicated and in bed astounded him. Every now and then, he'd gain the confidence to raise his eyes, and he'd meet hers, ensuring that the glamour on her destroyed orb remained. She'd offer him a private smile that radiated pure bliss through his entire being. It made him feel wanted, needed even, and as though all the actions he'd taken to ensure her safety were not done in vain. That she'd understand, one day, at least, that what he was going to do had to be done. For all of their sakes.

As the meeting drew to a close, he watched as each Knight bowed before where she sat regally before they left, seeking her well wishes and general closeness. Not even knowing that she was the last of so many lines. Not even knowing that those had come so close to ending tonight. It was incredible. He was proud.

Once only Tom's preferred Knight remained in the room, she got up, moving tiredly around the room aimlessly. Orion pushed himself off the wall he'd taken to leaning on, following her over to the bookshelf she'd deposited herself before, her fingers gingerly touching the spines of different texts. Realizing she was trying to get to Riddle's stash of alcohol, he laughed quietly, and made to stop her for fear that it would interrupt the potions at work in her body.

"My Lady."

She turned to him slowly, leaning on the wall for support.

Orion leaned closer to the witch, waiting for their eyes to meet before gently grasping her hand. He kissed her knuckles softly, registering the fact that her eyes didn't shine with recognition as they often did. She looked as though she would pass out at any moment, and he understood, as she should have been in bed rather than at a Knight meeting.

Still, fear continued to grip at him. If Tom could do this to the person he loved –and it was so clear now that he was in love with the witch, even if he showed it in such a poor and disrespectful way that Orion couldn't stand-, he was obviously capable of far worst against someone he had no connection with.

"You're worth more than this, my Lady," he whispered.

The change within her was instant, eyes dancing and fingers tightening around his. Tears swelled, and he glanced around to see if his lord was near before letting her go and pulling her into his chest. His robes muffled the sounds of her sobs, arms wrapping tightly around her as tight as he dared as she cried. She was mumbling something against him, and he dipped his head in attempt to hear her, resisting the urge to drop her and bash Riddle's head in as she cried: "I know. I know. I know. I want to go home, Orion. I know. I just want to go home. I know. I know," she kept saying, her voice cracking and straining.

And then, she just stopped, falling silent and pulling away from him, as though she hadn't meant any of it. She leaned her shoulder into the shelf, and he had to turn slightly to maintain eye contact with her. There was an emptiness in her expression that left him feeling goose bumps on his skin. "My Lady?" He questioned carefully. "Mimi? I'm going to check your vitals again, if that's alright?"

He cast a gentle Lumos, lifting the finger of his free hand. "Keep your eyes on my finger, okay?" He shined the light into her eyes, noting the largeness of her pupils. They hadn't been that way earlier. Carefully, he changed the scan slightly, peering magically into her eyes.

"Fuck," he mumbled, hating himself for not examining her vision sooner. He'd assumed that a few of her vessels had popped from whatever stress Tom had caused her, but it was clear that the problem was much greater than that. Vessels toward the back of her eye had been ruptured, causing bleeding in her brain.

'I'm seeing red,' she'd told them. She'd told them, and Tom had laughed, and he'd thought nothing of it. Because they'd both been seeing red too, hate and distress over the fact that someone had broken the wards around her room again. She'd walked straight into a Knight for Merlin's sake. The poor thing couldn't see, and they'd laughed her off.

"I'm going to be okay, right?" She asked him quietly, oddly solemn.

"Why wouldn't you be?" Abraxas asked, suddenly appearing at her sighed.

The glamour on her eye had been lifted, and he hadn't bothered restoring it due to the fact that they'd been leaving. He resisted pulling her into his chest to hide the injury. She turned to look at her brother slowly, in obvious pain, quietly saying, "Don't freak out."

"What the fuck!" He shouted, looking at Black before glaring angrily at Riddle, who was watching them curiously from the door. Orion hated him for seeming so innocent. He didn't deserve the witch. None of them did, but especially not Riddle. The half-blood scum couldn't even see what he had.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Granger protested weakly, swaying slightly. Orion moved to steady her, but Malfoy took hold her of her too quickly, tugging the sickly witch into his chest too roughly. Her head snapped back just before she went limp in his arms.

The blond looked down at his sister in terror, his arms holding her securely. He glanced quickly, fiercely, between Orion and Tom as Cygnus joined him, staring down at the unconscious witch in awe. Burke followed in silent fury, his face flushed as he neared them. He reached for her hand, fingers pressing into her pulse.

"She was injured during the break in?" Cygnus asked, looking at his cousin. Tom, followed by Greengrass and Lestrange, moved to stand with Orion, hesitantly reaching toward his witch. Abraxas didn't allow him to touch her.

"She was knocked unconscious," their lord replied.

"Her pulse is weak. We need to get her to the infirmary, or to her father. You pick, Tom. I doubt there is much time before she-"

"Lay her on the couch," Orion spoke evenly, tapping his wand against his thigh as he cut Burke off. "She'll be fine. Just a few popped vessels," he told them, carefully meeting his lord's eyes to confirm that it was more than just that. "Combined with all the dark magic that just passed, I'm not surprised she passed out. She shouldn't have even been out of bed. She needs another blood replenishing potion, as well. Cyg, if you'll grab one from that black bag from the door, please."

Cygnus managed to pull himself together and head towards the door.

"The white of her eye is red, O!" Abraxas exclaimed after setting her on the couch. He fell to his knees next to his sister and brushed his hand over her forehead, his care for her seeming to hang heavily in the room. "The whole sodding thing is ruptured. That's not nothing."

He looked around to see genuine concern on everyone's face.

"She just needs rest, perhaps an eye patch-"

"Gnarly," Greengrass supplied casually, unable to stop glancing from Tom to Orion to Granger, and back around again.

"Due to light sensitivity, but she'll be fine."

Burke, who'd still been holding her wrist, scowled and lunged for the eldest Black, knocking him to the ground.

Tom was kneeling near to her as well, his distress only shown by a slight tremor as his hand travelled over her carefully. "Hermione, love," he whispered. Abraxas sat next to him, absolutely still in shock. The brunet knocked his shoulder into his friend, whispering something about a spell and serum, jolting the Knight into action. He enlisted Greengrass and Lestrange's help, forcing them from the sitting room to search Granger's dorm for a book.

Cygnus returned with the potion, automatically pouring it down her throat and massaging the muscles so she'd swallowed. Orion resisted groaning, fearful of the fragile state of her neck

"Get off me, let me help her," he pushed Burke away and neared the couch with legs that felt as though they were full of lead. "She needs some Pepper-Up potion, Cyg. That should be in her bathroom. If not, wake up Eileen."

Again, his cousin disappeared quickly, obviously eager to help his Lady.

"What did you do, Tom?" He questioned, barely a whisper. Burke was taking his anger out on the room behind them.

"I pressed my thumb into her eye. Until she cried blood. Maybe a little longer. I didn't mean it. The eyes are supposed to be strong."

"She's bleeding into her brain."

"No," Tom's head fell into her chest, ear resting on her breast as he brushed his hand over her hair. After a few seconds, he froze. "She's not breathing."

"Move," Orion demanded, recalling the electricity spell she'd used on Abbott all those months ago. Carefully, he waved his wand over her chest, sending a shock to her system. Burke joined them again, calmer, and ran a detailed diagnostic test.

"Do it again," he suggested, eyes dropping down to the hold their lord had on the witch's hand, his fingers constantly pressing into the bracelet on her wrist. He looked back to the diagnostic with a frown, unsure what the band meant to them.

Orion shocked her again, and once more, tears brimming in his eyes. He was shaking, he realized distractedly.

"Again," Burke demanded. Tom was murmuring something, still touching her hair and face with his free hand.

He upped the voltage and shocked her again.

"Fucking Merlin's sodding shit," Burke colorfully shouted, brandishing his own wand and trying the spell himself.

"Stop. You're hurting her. Finals are on Monday," Tom murmured, still brushing his fingers through her hair. He kissed her forehead gently. Orion resisted kicking him.

"Finals?" Burke shrieked, sounding more like Abraxas in one of his temper tantrums than his usually calm demeanor ever allowed. "I'm hurting her?" He laughed, drawing both sets of eyes to him. His were shining with unshed tears: fearful, furious, and pained.

Tom swallowed, looking away as he stood up carefully, his witch in his arms. He sat serenely in the window seat, pulling her chest into his back after positioning her between his legs.

"We're all going to be in Azkaban for murdering a Malfoy, and you're concerned with finals?"

The wizard rubbed her arms comfortingly before summoning a blanket. "She's a little cool. Did you say something about an eye patch, O? I can't say she'll like that very much when she wakes up."

Orion was unsure what to say, but Burke didn't seem to have any problem. He kicked the couch before smashing a table, a deep breath wrecking his body before a calm settled over him again.

"When she wakes up, Tom?" He asked condescendingly.

Tom's face fell into the curve of her shoulder. "Get out. Both of you. Get out before I kill you."

The pair made their way to the door, Burke turning around coldly at the threshold. Orion felt the violent darkness behind his magic swarm in the air. Had he been in love with her, too?

His voice was cold as he informed his lord, "She's dead."

The door slammed shut, Tom's angered cry filling the air. Sobs sounded from the room. They looked at each other in obvious fear and pain, neither able to believe that the indifferent and unforgiving wizard they'd known for years was crying. Sliding down the wall, both wizards silently listened to their lord's anguish.

"Did he do it?"

Orion didn't recognize the voice from Burke, Riddle's second in command. The strawberry blonde was crying as well, his tears silent as they slid down his face. He was working his throat to keep from sobbing, and it hurt to watch. Cygnus returned, climbing the steps in threes before realizing that they'd been put out. He collapsed next to Burke, void of any emotion. Feeling numb to it all, the older Black sighed and rubbed at his eyes. It didn't matter. "Yes."

"I'll fucking kill him myself," Perseus vowed.

Cygnus cleared his throat. "Abe seemed to have a plan."

They all looked down the hall, listening as the other three rummaged through Mimi's things for Merlin knew what. Burke bent his knees, tugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on them. The younger Black rubbed comfortingly at his friend's back as he continued to cry, mumbling about how everything was ruined now. As Orion watched him, he felt his chest and mind buzzing as he considered the situation.

Hermione couldn't be dead. It hadn't been predicted. It wasn't time yet.

But Tom's horrifying lament proved otherwise. Despite all odds, the witch was dead, and he reminded of how young they all were. Their lives would go on, and hers wouldn't. Disturbingly, he couldn't really remember what it was like to not have her around. Had they existed before her? She meant so much to all of them.

The tears finally spilled from his eyes, a sob wrenching from his throat painfully.

In the end, it didn't matter. Her name, her blood, his sudden purpose in life. None of it. His chest felt as though it were going to light on fire.

Mimi was dead. He honestly had no clue what it meant for any of them.

---

Author's Note: Anyone else a little nervous about Orion? You all wanted Tom to kill her, riiiiiiight? *Dodges incoming Avadas*

Thank you for your continued support. It means the world to me