Disclaimer in chapter one

A/N: I am so sorry for this hiatus. Real life was a hectic mess these last months. Stuff happened, things changed, got a new job and had to move to a new city. You know the drill; writing had to wait. I never forgot this fic, though. And to prove that to you, here's the next chapter :) Ug, this chapter was one of the first scenes I had in mind when I started the story. Now look how long it took me to get here. But yeah, better late than never. There's a lot of Tom/Hermione interaction here. I almost forgot how fun they are to write. We sail a really crazy ship, my friends.

A little reminder: In this fic, Tom hasn't yet created any Horcruxes. He has set plans in motion and is working towards it, but hasn't yet really split his soul. So the Founders' objects are no Horcruxes at this point.

Also, thank you for all your reviews! I love reading them and hearing what you think of this fic. Your words really pulled me out of my writer's block. I'm sorry I didn't reply to everyone. I tried to. but then real life swallowed me whole and then it was so late that I felt ashamed to still reply… I'm an idiot. Instead, take my thanks and this new chapter :)

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Chapter Twenty Eight: Cemeteries That Are Lonely

Hermione appeared at the edge of Hogwarts' warding system with the sharp snap of Apparition. For a moment, she just stood there and allowed her gaze to wander over the castle stretched out in front of her. Hogwarts was majestic. Centuries old, it breathed history. Hermione wondered what those old stones had witnessed in all that time. To this stronghold, her life probably didn't take longer than the blink of an eye. A sad smile touched Hermione's features. She wished Hogwarts knew what it meant to her. It had become her home, the first place in years where she experienced the feeling of safety. To her, that old castle meant hope. Standing at the edge of the wards, Hermione's hands balled into tight fists. It wasn't only the castle that had made her feel so safe here.

She still couldn't believe it.

Tom had lied to her. Everything he had told her about himself had been nothing but lies. He had constructed a picture of himself that had nothing to do with reality. And Hermione had believed him. Everything. Talking with Merope had opened her eyes and the extent of Tom's lies finally hit her. Hermione's stomach roiled. If all of Tom's words had been lies, what about his touches? What about his feelings?

What about her?

Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat. Her eyes tingled, but she felt too empty to cry. She remembered how she'd met him. Hermione had been too caught up in her fears to notice back then, but in that forest in Albania Tom had already been driven by a mad urge. Gathering the Founders' objects had always been his quest. Hermione had never really questioned him. Later, Tom had even ordered her to steal Slytherin's Locket and, like the obedient little servant she was, Hermione had obeyed.

The thought made Hermione's magic storm around her angrily, whirling up a few leaves. Of course Tom had never told her why he needed the locket. No, he had preferred to keep his little pet in the dark. Hermione felt sick. Every step Tom took was to get closer to his goal. The Founders' objects were only part of his plan and all of it led to one thing.

Horcruxes.

Hermione closed her eyes, shutting out the image of Hogwarts' castle. It felt like everything was breaking down around her. An almost painful hollowness grasped her. Icy cold, it took hold of her. With a sigh, Hermione pulled her agitated magic back into her and started her trek back to the castle, no-longer sure what she would find there.

If everything he did led to immortality, maybe Hermione herself was no more than a stepping stone.

Hermione wished she could hate RAB for bursting her bubble. She couldn't, though. Whoever RAB was, they had finally opened her eyes. For that alone, she should be thankful.

"Tom?" Hermione called into the empty Heads' common room.

There was no reply and she stepped further into the room. Curiously, the absence of the Head Girl struck her. She hadn't thought of Lisa Turpin in a while, but now Hermione wondered why the Head Girl preferred the Ravenclaw dorms. What had happened that made her avoid Tom Riddle? After all, Turpin had warned Hermione away from him.

A glum feeling made her shiver slightly as Hermione climbed the stairs to Tom's room. She found the door closed and locked. A deep frown appeared on her brow as she stared at the door handle. Tom had cast very powerful and, now that she thought on it, illegal wards over the door. For anyone to enter uninvited would be inadvisable. Aside from Tom himself, only Hermione could step into his room undisturbed. Previously, she had been elated that he allowed her so close and trusted her to this extent. Now, she wondered why he was so paranoid that he felt the need to ward his room so heavily in the first place.

Hermione opened the door and the wards tickled over her skin as she entered undisturbed. Tom's room was neat and tidy as usual. The bed was made and a Slytherin green quilt thrown over it. The desk was uncluttered. Everything was in its place, from the ink well and the tiny knife to sharpen the quills to the rolls of parchment and a stack of books. Hermione stepped further into the room, painfully feeling like an intruder. Was she even welcome here? Really welcome?

She pursed her lips as she let her eyes wander. Her wand lay in her hand and magic bristled around its tip. She knew it would be here. Hiding things really didn't seem to be Tom's forte. Or maybe he was too arrogant to imagine that anyone would be able to counter his wards.

Hermione brandished her wand in a long arch and let a blanket of her magic fall over the room. She could feel it touching all the surfaces. Here and there a glimmer of magic popped up. Most of it was pooled around the shelf. Many of the books in Tom's possession reeked of Dark Magic. Hermione ignored them, but concentrated on a glow of magic that hovered around one of the slabs of the stone wall. She closer and let her magic brush against it. There was a strong ward woven over the stone. Hermione could feel it pulsing under the tip of her wand. Tom's ward tried to push her away, dutifully defending its secret.

Hermione's magic licked over the stone. It didn't attack the ward full on – that would have only triggered it – but pushed and pulled gently. She didn't even try to undo Tom's magic. After all, Hermione knew what a gifted wizard he was. No, she carefully hoisted the ward out of the way, just a tiny bit, so she could reach underneath. Hermione balanced Tom's ward on the tip of her wand and as it was moved, an illusion melted from the wall and now showed a small crevice where before had been nothing but smooth stone surface. Still, holding Tom's ward carefully, Hermione reached into the crevice with her other hand. She wasn't even slightly surprised as her fingers made contact with something cold, metallic. She pulled back and a golden necklace now dangled from her fingers. A soft sway of her wand and Tom's ward fell back in place, sealing the now empty hiding place.

Hermione looked down at the locket lying on her palm. It felt heavy in her hand and magic angrily swirled around it. As if infuriated by her audacity, it tried to push her away. Hermione gritted her teeth as she stared at Slytherin's heirloom. It was ugly and clunky and oozing the darkest of magic.

It wasn't really a conscious decision on her part. It just felt like something she had to do. Imagining Tom's soul trapped in that flimsy little thing was disgusting. It was wrong and sick.

In a few steps, Hermione had reached the fireplace. It didn't take much to direct her magic into the wood and start a fire. Without hesitating, she threw the golden locket into the fire. It unceremoniously landed on one of the glowing embers, soot now tarnishing the gold. The flames licked at the locket, but were not hot enough to do any damage. Hermione glared at the gold piece and in a flash of anger pushed more magic into the flames. The fire instantly burned higher and turned an unnatural blue colour. She watched on as Slytherin's golden locket was devoured by the magical flames. For a moment it resisted, then the fire's heat, fuelled by Hermione's magic, overcame the protective spells and slowly the locket was bent out of shape. The gold melted and Hermione watched as the pathetic rest of the locket collected in a pool on the dirty stones of the fireplace. The green gems that had formed the elegant 'S' now lay scattered, forever disconnected from Slytherin's name.

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For a long time, Hermione just stood there gazing into the fire. Tom hadn't returned and she was still alone in his room. Slytherin's Locket was gone and the flames had died down. Tom's betrayal, though, still burned. A tight feeling had coiled around Hermione's chest, almost taking her breath away, and anger was slowly consuming her. This wasn't over.

She slid her wand back into her robe pocket, before she left the Heads' chambers behind. It was time to talk with Tom. She was going to make him be honest with her for once. There would be no gently spoken lies to calm her and no half-hearted apologies to soothe her temper. This time, Tom would have to be open with her.

She found him on the ground-floor, right outside the Great Hall. Hogwarts' students slowly meandered into the hall for dinner and Tom, deep in conversation with Dolohov, walked among them. A frown appeared on Hermione's face as she once again noticed how the other students gave the two Slytherins a wide berth. Why were they all so intimidated by Tom?

"Tom," she called him.

Hearing his name, he turned around to her. A smirk curled his lips as he recognized her. Hermione stepped over to him and couldn't help but notice her heart racing in her chest. Furious determination made her press on. She tilted her head up and met Tom's mesmerising blue gaze. Banning all insecurity from her voice, she stated,

"We need to talk."

This declaration made Tom cock a questioning eyebrow while a wide grin stretched over Dolohov's face.

"Uh-oh," the Slytherin jeered. "Someone is in trouble."

Tom's eyes flashed at Dolohov, warning sheen in them. It did shut the other up, but the smirk stayed on Dolohov's face. Tom glared at him and said icily,

"Leave us alone."

However calm his voice was, Hermione couldn't help but notice that it was an order best not disobeyed. Dolohov seemed to have heard it as well. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave you to it."

With that Dolohov left them and slipped into the Great Hall. Tom's attention fell back to Hermione and he eyed her interestedly.

"What can I do for you, Hermione?"

Her name smoothly rolled from his tongue as if he owned it and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. There was no point in trying to ease him into the topic at hand. So she informed him curtly,

"I talked with Merope."

The mild curiosity on Tom's face was instantly replaced by a stormy look. His jaw clenched and he asked, upcoming anger tinting his tone,

"You did what?"

"I visited your mother and we had a talk," Hermione reiterated coldly.

For a moment, Tom didn't reply. He just stared at her, eyes glinting balefully, as he tried to regain his composure. Finally, he pressed out,

"You left for Little Hangleton without telling me? To talk with my mother?"

His indignation might have been funny if she wouldn't have felt his magic painfully tingle over her Dark Mark. Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line and replied stonily,

"What did you think would happen? You can't spring that whole Horcrux idea on me and expect me to do nothing."

Tom sharply sucked in a breath of air and looked around, checking if anyone had heard her. By now all students had filed into the Great Hall and the large double doors had fallen shut. Tom and Hermione were quite alone in the hallway.

"Could we not talk about this where everyone can hear?" Tom hissed.

He grabbed Hermione and pulled her a few steps away from the doors. Quickly, he spun a thick silencing spell around them, so no-one would be able to overhear them. Once again, Hermione was disturbed by his paranoia. How had she never noticed that before?

"You told my mother about my plans?!" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione could still feel his incensed magic licking over her Dark Mark. She pushed it away with her own magic while she angrily wriggled out of his tight grip on her.

"I didn't tell your mother," Hermione clarified sharply. "So you can stop taking your anger out on me."

The furious expression didn't drop from Tom's face, but at least he pulled his magic away from her and took a step back, giving her more space.

"Fine," he snapped. "Then what exactly drove you to visit her?"

Hermione bared her teeth at him in a snarl. "You did! You and your stupid sob story."

"I don't even know what you're talking about, Hermione," Tom returned bitingly.

Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. All the anger and frustration, the feeling of betrayal, burst free and she yelled at him loudly, "You lied to me, Tom! Everything was a lie! Your father never locked you away in a Muggle mental hospital. And your mother never abandoned you." Irately she threw her hands up in the air. "I was a fool to ever believe one word that fell out of your mouth."

Tom's face morphed into an unreadable, smooth mask. Ice frosted over his blue eyes and he whispered, warning edge hidden in his words,

"They did lock me away."

Hermione snorted at him. She couldn't believe he still insisted on his lies. Agitatedly, her magic began to swirl around her and she snapped,

"Yes, they did. And with good reason."

This time Tom didn't reply. He merely continued to glower at her icily. Hermione wasn't intimidated at all. There was way too much anger in her system to even care.

"You killed your grandparents, Tom. You killed them!" She took a step towards him and bored an accusing finger into his chest. "You were seven years old and you killed them. I ask you, if not a mental hospital, where exactly do you think you belonged?"

Not a hint of emotion was displayed on Tom's face. In a frigid voice he inquired, "Is that what my mother told you?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Hermione bit out. "You killed them, didn't you?

His face was still completely free of any emotion, but now a cruel smirk curved Tom's lips. It made Hermione shiver. Silky soft, he pointed out,

"You still haven't told my why you felt the need to discuss old family history with my mother."

Underneath all that silk, Hermione could hear a menacing undercurrent. It didn't escape her notice how he avoided to answer. Balling her hands into tight fists, she snarled heatedly,

"I was angry. Angry with your parents. Because I thought it was all their fault. I thought they had driven you to become…" Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust as she gestured at Tom. "this."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" cruel scorn danced from Tom's tongue.

Hermione locked eyes with him and said clearly, "A murderer."

The smirk worked its way back on Tom's face. He didn't deny anything. On the contrary, he showed a twisted pride at her accusation. Hermione stared at him, not wanting to believe how he could find any form of satisfaction from having murdered people.

"Your grandparents… Neville Longbottom…" she whispered shakily. "What… Tom, what is wrong with you?"

Tom sneered at her, "There is nothing wrong with me."

Hermione could only shake her head, unbalanced by his utter disregard of human life. Her voice was choked as she said,

"I can't believe this…" She glanced at him uneasily. "Does murdering people mean nothing to you? Do you feel nothing?"

Tom arched a mocking eyebrow. Something dangerous lurked in his voice as he replied, "Oh, I do feel something. Right now, for example, I feel quite angry." He flashed his teeth at her in a threatening smile. "Maybe it's better you stop talking."

"No."

Hermione breathed in deeply. She wrapped her magic tightly around herself, drawing confidence from the force. Tom's words unsettled her, but she was not going to give in. Her eyes glinted with her anger as she glared at him.

"Don't you dare threaten me," Hermione snapped at him. "You're the one who's off his rocker. Just look what you did. You don't even care. No remorse at all." Angry magic dancing around her, Hermione grabbed Tom tightly be the arm and shook him. "And now? You want to kill more people to create Horcruxes? Is that it?"

Tom gruffly brushed her hand away from him and bit out, "Yes. That's basically the plan."

"I can't believe this!" Hermione cried. "This is crazy!"

Magic crackling around her, she started to pace to and fro in front of Tom. Her hand shook as she ran her fingers agitatedly through her hair. Tom just continued to watch her outburst, cold and unmovable as ever.

After a moment, Hermione stopped and looked up at him. Dreading the answer, she still had to ask. "Was everything a lie? Everything you told me about you? Are you…?" She hesitated shortly but then pressed on, "You used me, didn't you? To get Slytherin's Locket. Do you even like me, Tom? Or am I just a little cog in the wheel that is your plan to become immortal? What do you see in me? One of your possessions that you can turn into a Horcrux?"

Tom arched an elegant eyebrow. Callously, he brushed her concerns away, "You're being melodramatic, Hermione."

"I'm certainly not," Hermione hissed, anger rushing through her. "You're sick. Merope told me stories about you… How you grew up. There's something wrong. Really wrong."

Tom didn't reply, but there was a contemptuous look on his face that made Hermione's temper boil. Flashing her teeth, she snarled, "You really can't see it, can you? I told you what I think about Horcruxes. They're abhorrent."

Tom shrugged his shoulders, not at all acknowledging her worries. "Why are you blowing this so much out of proportion?"

"You are planning to make a human sacrifice to gain immortal life," Hermione said mordantly. "I'd say that is a big deal! It's plain wrong."

Hearing this, a disturbing glint entered Tom's eyes. "I'm doing something great. This is uncharted land. There is no right or wrong here."

"No!" Hermione snapped heatedly. "No. It is wrong. I'm not going to let you do that."

Tom pursed his lips and gazed at her. His voice was dangerously soft as he inquired, "'Let me'?"

"Yes, let you," Hermione hissed fiercely. "You're not going to pull through with this crazy idea of Horcruxes. I will not let you!"

Tom laughed softly, mockingly. "Darling, don't fool yourself. You'll never be able to stop me."

That was the last straw. Hermione's magic furiously pressed against Tom's and she snarled, "Oh yeah? We'll see about that, won't we?"

The smirk dropped from Tom's face, replaced by a deep frown. Suspicion laced his voice as he inquired, "What do you mean?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile sharply. "There's no way I'll let you turn the Founders' objects into Horcruxes. I'd sooner destroy them."

Tom's jaw was clenched as he fought for composure. Traces of his fury roughed the edges of his voice, "What did you do?"

Hermione glared up at him and repeated stubbornly, "I am going to stop you."

Tom grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer to him. His cold eyes bored into her and his mouth barely moved as he hissed, "Hermione! What did you do?"

Hermione tugged at his hold on her, but he wouldn't let go. She glared up at the fury twisting his handsome face and with grim satisfaction she threw at him the truth,

"I destroyed it. The stupid locket. Slytherin's locket."

As if he had been burned by her, Tom let go of Hermione. He even stumbled a step back. Shock washed over his features. At the same time, his incensed magic collapsed into itself and left behind an almost painful void. For a moment he just stared at her disbelievingly.

"You did not," he breathed shakily.

"Yes, I did," Hermione declared fiercely. "You lied to me. You tricked me into stealing that horrible locket. I broke into Hepzibah's manor. It was me who got almost caught and killed. I got the locket out there. By all rights, it was also my decision to destroy it."

"N- no," Tom whispered.

His voice sounded strangely empty and weak. Hermione brushed it away and said challengingly, "It's gone. Melted it."

She expected Tom's temper to finally snap. She was prepared for pain to erupt in her mark. Her wand still lay in her robe pocket and Hermione would have been ready to pull it and defend herself. Tom didn't try to curse her, though. In fact, he didn't do much of anything. The expected angry snarl didn't appear on his face. Instead, Tom's blue eyes gazed at her, helpless disbelief swimming in them. Even his voice was weak, no more than a whisper, as he stuttered,

"Y- you destroyed…"

His voice died down and he just continued to stare at her with empty eyes. Hermione frowned up at him, surprised by his sudden gloom. His anger had completely disappeared, leaving behind devastation. He seemed to be genuinely distressed. She cocked her head at the distraught wizard. This wasn't the reaction she had expected.

"Tom," Hermione said sternly. "You have to understand. I simply can't let you do that. I know you think you have to do this, but you just can't. And I'm certainly not letting you pull me or anyone else into this as well."

"Five years," Tom whispered in a toneless voice. "Five years…"

Hermione frowned at him. He looked lost, almost broken. It only now dawned on her that Tom Riddle Sr. had been right all along. Tom really was unstable. He needed help.

"You've been lying to me. You really hurt me," Hermione explained in a steady voice. "Just to chase after this illusion of immortality. To be frank, I don't think you're able to objectively assess the situation at all, nor are you able to understand the repercussions your plan will entail. That's why I'm stepping in now. I'm stopping this before you manage to hurt others and yourself."

"I've been working on this for five years," Tom breathed shakily as if he hadn't heard her at all. "It's my life. It's everything." He glanced at her desperately. "Is that it? After all this…? You always wanted to destroy me?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione reprimanded him bitingly. "You know I wouldn't. You are all I have and I protect you."

Tom gazed at her, not replying anything. Then his dull eyes left her and vacantly stared at the floor. There was a look of despair on his face that Hermione had never seen on him before. With his head bent, Tom looked beaten and hopeless. Hermione's heart clenched as she saw him like this. He really was sick. She didn't know if he was delusional or what… She wasn't a psychologist, after all. But it was painfully apparent that Tom's time in the Pinel clinic hadn't been enough.

"Tom," Hermione said in an even tone. "You have to trust me."

She reached for him and skimmed her fingers over his cheek. Tom didn't react at all. Eyes cast down, he stood in front of her and Hermione didn't know how to treat him. She didn't want to yell at him anymore. Clearly, she wouldn't be able to reach him with logic, neither with anger.

"Trust me," Hermione repeated firmly. "I'm doing this because it's best for you, not because I want to hurt you."

She put two fingers under his chin and tilted his head up so he looked at her. Her stomach knotted painfully as she spotted the anguish in his beautiful blue eyes. Maybe she would have to contact Merope. The woman knew the doctors at the Pinel clinic and it might be necessary to get Tom professional help.

"Horcruxes are not the way to go," Hermione explained, keeping her voice strong. "I had to stop you. You mustn't create any Horcruxes. It's going to destroy you. I will not let that happen."

Tom still didn't react but continued to gaze at her, looking quite lost. Hermione sighed and stepped closer to him. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips.

"Tom," she told him softly. "I love you. But I won't let you continue like this."

.

Tom looked down at the girl in front of him. Concern glinted in Hermione's eyes as she scanned him. He clenched his jaw as he was hit by an unbearable wave of emotion. It burned hot through his body and curled into a painful knot in the pit of his stomach.

Slytherin's Locket was gone. Gone. One of the Founders' objects… forever gone. Slytherin's heirloom would have been his first Horcrux. Now Hermione had destroyed it. Tom's hands balled into tight fists as a forceful jolt ran through his magic. He had planned… planned this for so long. He was Slytherin's heir. Slytherin's name was his right. The locket and the sacrifice would have raised him to greatness. Finally, he would have transcended life itself and thwarted death forever.

Tom stared at Hermione. She had ruined it. He had been such a fool. It was bound to culminate in this. The thought infected Tom's magic with a fierce desire to destroy, rip apart. The Mudblood looked at him, a soft, soothing smile on her face. In no way, though, did she look guilty or ashamed of her doings. He should trust her? Tom's irate magic twitched at the thought. He had given the Mudblood everything and now she stabbed him in the back?

"Tom?"

Hermione blinked up at him, fake innocence on her face. The smile still touched her face and Tom wanted nothing more than to cut it out of her flesh.

"I know what you think," she said.

Oh, he doubted that.

"It was the right thing to do," she insisted as if her treachery were something to be proud of. "You can't pull through with your plan. It'll ruin you. I promise, we'll put this right."

Tom gazed at Hermione's small frame and he allowed himself to be washed away with his magic. It wrapped around him, twisting and coiling. The painful knot in his stomach turned into a wrathful flame that burned through him, giving clarity where there had been confusion before.

.

Tom still hadn't said anything and Hermione didn't know what to do anymore. She seriously considered taking him to Merope right now. Hermione just wanted to open her mouth to gingerly suggest this as Tom moved.

His eyes fell shut and he breathed in deeply. As his eyes re-opened they had lost their hazy, empty look. Sharply, his gaze cut into Hermione. Gone was the desperation and she was confronted with cold steel. Tom bent down to her and Hermione stiffened at the abrupt movement. He was so close. Yet, the steely glint still danced in his eyes. Tom barely moved his lips as he whispered to her,

"You think you can destroy me and I wouldn't seek revenge?"

His words were slow, weighed down by the hate wrapped around them, and threatened to smother Hermione. They made no sense to her. Tom's hands had wandered to her arms and suddenly his fingers were painfully biting into her.

"You're going to pay," Tom stated, cold hate twisting his voice.

Suddenly, dark magic poured from the wizard, crashing into Hermione with a brutal force she had not expected. A soft whimper left her as she felt Tom's magic seeping into her Dark Mark, cutting and slicing into her own magic. It was a cruel, cold force that left no room for mercy. Instantly, hot liquid ran down her left forearm and Hermione knew her mark was bleeding, ripped open by Tom's anger. She cried out in pain. This had never happened before and suddenly fear rolled over her, taking her breath away. Feeling shaky, she looked up at Tom. He didn't comment further. Instead, he turned away from her and, one hand still brutally holding her, pulled her with him.

"T- Tom?" Hermione whispered, voice trembling.

Maybe she should have reached for her wand. Maybe she should have fought back more. Something. Anything. Hermione couldn't. Her thoughts raced. She couldn't follow any one and was paralyzed. What she felt were Tom's fingers painfully holding her, his powerful magic in the air and the hot sticky blood running down her arm.

Blindly, she was forced to follow after Tom. He was merciless as he pulled her with him and into the Great Hall. Hermione stumbled and almost tripped. Dimly, she heard the noise of the student body. Forks and knifes clinked, accompanied by chatter and laughter. The noises hushed down as Hermione was wrenched through the hall, many eyes following her and Tom.

Next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the Great Hall. Tom's fingers grasped her arm painfully as they stood right in front of the professor's table. Tom had wrenched her around so she was facing the four house tables. Hermione could see the sea of students staring at her. Tom's unforgiving grip on her and the curious stares of the students and professors made fear bubbling up in Hermione. Timidly, she tried to pull her arm away from Tom. She wanted to slip away from the spotlight she had been forced into.

"Tom?" she breathed shakily. "Let me go…"

As a response, his fingers on her tightened and he shook her. "I don't think so."

"Mr Riddle!" a shocked professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Let go of her this instant!"

Hermione glanced at the woman. McGonagall had sprung up from her chair. Indignation and anger were on her face as she stared at Tom. The other teachers had followed the display, equally shocked by the Head Boy's gruff demeanour. Tom remained to be unaffected by his professors' disapproval. Hermione flinched as she saw the evil smirk curling his lips.

"Oh, I will, professor," he replied, danger hidden in his silky voice. "But before I do, I have to show you something."

It was as she heard the sadistic tint in his tone that Hermione finally understood the danger she was in. Still, her brain was unable to process the implications of Tom's behaviour. She could barely breathe as she stared up at him. Tom gazed back at her and there was hate burning in his eyes. Panic curled around Hermione so tightly, she barely knew who she was anymore. Loudly her blood rushed in her ears and she felt faint with fear.

"T- Tom?" she stuttered anxiously. "What a- are you doing?"

"Yes," Dippet had finally found his voice. "We would all like to know that."

Tom smiled at the Headmaster. It was fake and Hermione could see the cruelty behind his mask. Even his polite reply mercilessly cut into Hermione,

"I apologize for this disturbance, Headmaster. All will be explained shortly."

With that Tom pulled his wand. Hermione watched in horror as he sharply sliced it through the air. It felt as if she had been pushed under an ice-cold waterfall. Tom's powerful magic washed over her, ripping her mask forcefully from her. Hermione cried out as she felt the Polyjuice potion's effect lift from her person. If Tom still hadn't held her by the arm, she would have fallen to the ground. Only numbly, Hermione heard the murmurs of surprise coming from the students and professors as she morphed back into her own body. She trembled heavily as her bushy curls lengthened and her face and body shifted back into their original shape.

"W- what is the meaning of this?" Dippet exclaimed, shocked by Hermione Rookwood's sudden transformation.

"Oh, this isn't all, I'm afraid," Tom said, vile tint to his voice.

By now, tears were streaming down Hermione's cheeks. She felt how his grip on her left arm tightened and with his other hand he reached for her sleeve. Hermione completely tensed up as the reality of the situation hit her. Tom pulled at her sleeve and Hermione started to tremble heavily. Her vision shrouded by tears, she peered up at him.

"No," Hermione begged him brokenly. "No, please. Don't. Not that, please."

Tom was relentless. He gazed into her eyes, cruel and unforgiving, as he slid her sleeve up her arm. Hermione couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She looked down at the ugly Dark Mark that had been branded into her skin. She felt faint. Unprotected, it was laid out in the open.

"N- no…"

Tom wrenched her arm up, clearly displaying her forearm for everyone to see. Hermione was helpless. She cried, sobs wrecking her body. She could feel the students' unforgiving stares on her and hear their disgusted outcries. Her own gaze was directed to the floor. Hermione was unable to look anyone in the eyes.

Tom's grip on her tightened again. Then he forcefully shoved her away. Hermione lost her balance and was thrown to the floor. She cried out in pain and quickly curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. Voices washed over her. Angry, loud and accusing. Disgusted, disgusted, disgusted. Hermione curled up even tighter and squeezed her eyes shut.

What followed, Hermione couldn't remember. Her vision was blurred by tears and she couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears. There were hands grabbing her, pulling her, forcing her away. Her wand was gone.

She was gone, too.

She ended up in a small, cold chamber. Far away from the students' eyes. The stone walls were bare and the room dimly lit. Hermione was mute and could only stare with wide eyes at Dippet and McGonagall as they argued.

"I can't believe it, Minerva," Dippet exclaimed, wringing his hands nervously. "What will the parents say when they hear about it? It's a scandal! We'll never live this down. Horrible. What if the press gets wind of it?! Oh, it's horrible… horrible… Umbridge'll have my head…"

Hermione was huddled on the cold stone floor, her back pressed against the wall, as she observed her… former professors. Dippet nervously paced to and fro, sinking deeper into a panic with each step. Professor McGo- Mistress McGonagall, Hermione corrected herself harshly. McGonagall was standing there with a stony expression as her gaze wandered over Hermione. Dippet's beady eyes also fell on Hermione. Unlike McGonagall's, there was no sadness on the Headmaster's face. He glared angrily at her. Turned to McGonagall, he said in disgust,

"We need to get her out of that uniform as fast as possible."

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard it. Subconsciously her hands fisted around the red-golden lapels of her robe. No. She wanted to stay. Hermione's heart clenched painfully. She couldn't go back to… to being nothing again. Pleadingly, Hermione looked at McGonagall.

Don't do this to me.

As McGonagall gazed back at Hermione, her otherwise so stern countenance wavered. Her eyes were suddenly soft. Sadness and regret were mirrored on her face.

"Headmaster," she said cautiously. "Hermione is an excellent student. She deserves her place at this school. I really thi-"

"Minerva!" Dippet fumed. "Everyone has seen her mark. She's a Mudblood! Clearly she cheated in her classes. There is no way I would allow her to attend this school. The parents'll lynch me."

He threw a furious glare at Hermione who fearfully flinched. Dippet then pulled his wand and waved it erratically. A thin grey tunic popped out of thin air. The Headmaster grabbed the tunic and harshly tossed it at Hermione.

"Get out of the school robes," he ordered her sharply.

Then he again turned to McGonagall and continued his lament. Hermione held the coarse grey fabric in her shaky hands while fear and grief made her throat constrict painfully. McGonagall, seeing tears rolling down Hermione's cheeks, said indignantly,

"Let's at least step outside while the poor girl changes, Headmaster."

Dippet, though, wasn't even listening to her. He again paced to and fro, stomping his feet angrily, while he painted a very dark picture of Hogwarts' future now that Hermione had tainted it. McGonagall threw the Headmaster a sour look. Then she stepped between Dippet and Hermione to grant Hermione as much privacy as was possible.

Hermione's whole body trembled and the tears wouldn't stop to flow from her eyes as she began to undress. Her heart clenched achingly as she slipped out of her Gryffindor robes. Soon her jumper, a black top and her jeans followed. Hermione felt horribly naked as she stood there, in front of her professors, in nothing but bra and knickers. She didn't look up to see whether they were observing her. Nausea mounted up in her as she reached for the grey tunic and with trembling hands slipped into it. The coarse fabric chafed uncomfortably over her skin. It was short-sleeved. Hermione shuddered as her mark was now in the open, for everyone to see.

"I can't believe this could happen," Dipped cried in outrage. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Maybe we should interview Mr Riddle," McGonagall's quiet voice replied. "He should know more. After all, he was quite close to Ms Rookwood."

"No, no," the Headmaster instantly dismissed it. "I already talked with him. He's quite innocent in this. Believe me, he had no idea. He only just found out. Couldn't believe it himself at first."

McGonagall eyed him sceptically and remarked, "Mr Riddle was in a relationship with Hermione. How could he have not known?"

Dippet shook his head, sad expression on his face. "That's the worst of it all, don't you think? Such a betrayal. He was more than a little shaken by this business. Blames himself, of course, the poor chap."

As she was dressed, Hermione swallowed down her tears and stood, with her head bent, in the painfully familiar posture, awaiting any orders. Dippet droned on and on while Hermione was trapped in her own personal hell, unable to do anything. After an eternity Dippet finally left in a huff, throwing one last death glare in Hermione's direction.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," McGonagall said, sadness lacing her voice. "I'll try to talk with the Headmaster."

Hermione smiled faintly at her former professor and whispered hoarsely, "It's fine, Mistress McGonagall."

The other woman winced as she heard that new title. Something pulled at Hermione's chest as she saw it and she decided that it was best not to investigate that painful feeling.

"My name's not 'Hermione'. It's 'Penny'."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

'There are cemeteries that are lonely,

graves full of bones that do not make a sound,

the heart moving through a tunnel,

in it darkness, darkness, darkness,

like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,

as though we were drowning inside our hearts,

as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul.'

- Pablo Neruda

(*1904 † 1973)