Disclaimer: Not mine. But you knew that already.

that is the thing about selfish people. they

gamble entire beings. entire souls their

own. one second they are holding you like the world

in their lap and the next they have

belittled you to a mere picture. a moment.

something of the past.

- Rupi Kaur, Selfish

Abraxas tapped his foot impatiently as he stood in the lobby of the Daily Prophet. The secretary chewed her gum disinterestedly, her wand tapping quietly in time with the quill scratching away at the parchment in front of her. She'd looked up briefly as he'd entered the room but quickly dismissed him and gone back to her work, transparently ignoring him. Finally, he cleared his throat pointedly and waited for her to respond.

After a few more moments of shuffling papers the witch looked up from her desktop and blinked at Abraxas. "Yes?" she asked icily, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Abraxas murmured, "Abraxas Malfoy, here to see the editor."

The girl's eyes went round as she did a double take and seemed to actually see Abraxas for the first time. She took in his platinum hair and grey eyes and then dropped her gaze to absorb his expensively tailored dress robes. Horror flooded her features and her jaw dropped in an 'o' that would have made Abraxas laugh if he wasn't so irritated about having to wait in the first place.

"Mr. Malfoy," she stammered, "I'm ever so sorry for the wait. I'm sure the Editor will see you immediately. Just let me check to see if he's free."

"Tell him if he's not free, he'd better be within the next thirty seconds or I will take my story elsewhere," Abraxas sniffed. The girl flushed red and fumbled with the ancient phone sitting on her desk. She picked up the ear piece and turned the handle of the device a couple of times before clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"Hello Mr. Fawley..." she said, "Yes, I know you said… Yes… I understand… But… I have Mr. Malfoy here to see you." She nodded at something that was said on the other line and then said hurriedly, "Yes, I'll show him in immediately." She hung the phone up with a clatter and looked back up at Abraxas.

"I'll show you right in," she said.

Abraxas sneered at her as she scurried past him and tapped on the door behind her. A low murmur resounded from behind the door that could potentially resemble a deep voice calling "Enter" and the girl flung the door open quickly to admit the Malfoy heir.

"Do I have a story for you, Cadmus," he drawled as he entered the office.

HG*TR

Hermione sucked in a deep breath as she managed to slip past the library without anyone within noticing. She'd been surprised to discover that Tom hadn't locked her into his chambers but wasn't above taking advantage of his negligence. She'd felt her heart leap into her throat for a single instant when the doorknob had turned easily under her hand, the hurt of not being informed of the changes to her plans easing slightly with this small proof that he trusted her on some level. Her resolve hardened a moment later as her logical mind overtook her emotional response.

The only thing this… lapse… proved was the Tom regretted not sharing Dolohov's betrayal with her because he regretted the loss of her confidence in his feelings for her. This could only be a ploy to soften her towards him so he could win her over again. What Tom didn't know was that she was done with the constant battle for dominance the two were constantly engaged in. The emotional rollercoaster she'd ridden since arriving in 1946 had worn her down and she was tired of the conflicting emotions she felt every time she saw him.

So, she was finished with Tom Riddle. But it wasn't that simple. She knew that. Tom had tied her to him too tightly for her to break free from his influence completely. Everything had to appear normal or Tom would employ the full force of his power over her and force her to toe the boundaries he'd set for them. Her breath hitched in her throat remembering the last time he'd reminded her who set the boundaries of their relationship. The panic that crept up on her every time she saw or even thought of her favorite dessert threatened to overwhelm her for an instant before she managed to fight it back.

What she could do though, was remove herself emotionally from the situation. Like she was now. She had to let logic rule her decisions. Tom's attempts to play with her heartstrings couldn't sway her any longer.

*HG*TR*

Orion cringed as Tom stormed into the library. It was obvious the older boy was angry and Orion had been hanging around the manor often enough to know that when Tom was in a bad mood it was best to leave the premises as quickly and quietly as possible. "I want Dolohov," Tom snapped, not looking at anyone in particular but everyone flinched. When no one responded, Tom looked up again, eyes a blazing red. "Now!" he barked.

Orion glanced at Avery and Mulciber as they jumped up from the chairs they'd been lounging in and hastily made their way to the library door. Around the room others were doing the same and Orion moved to follow them.

"Orion, stay," Tom said, just as he reached the door.

Orion stalled by the door, shoulders hunched slightly. He really did not want to be left alone with Tom when he was in this state but disobeying would result in worse consequences.

"Yes, my Lord?" he said as he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

*HG*TR*

Tom smirked as the Black heir straightened his shoulders and turned around to face him. The boy had a spine and didn't back down easily.

"I need your help with our guest," Tom murmured. He knew he should wait for Hermione before he confronted the Celtic man who she claimed was Connla but he wanted to see for himself what this man was offering them.

*HG*TR*

Hermione smiled as her bare feet sank into the mud surrounding the pond beside the glade. She thought she'd managed to slip from the manor unnoticed and the peace of the space eased away most of the tension she'd been carrying since her argument with Tom and Grindelwald's defeat.

She sat on a large boulder at the edge of the pond not particularly caring that the hem of her skirt fell into the water or that Tom would probably be angry at her later for slipping off without telling anyone. Her thoughts faltered for a moment before she reminded herself sternly that she didn't care anymore and that Tom would just have to deal with the fact that she wasn't one of the demure, obedient pureblood girls he'd grown up with. The problem, she thought glumly, was that he'd somehow wormed his way under her skin while she hadn't been looking. It was hard not caring when you'd already cracked the door open.

Her mood ruined, she scowled and stared into the clear water. After a moment, she sighed and stood up. She needed to distract herself before she became maudlin again. She waded into the center of the pond and, with a wave of her hand, sent all the water within it flying around her in a spiral that left her standing on dry ground in the middle of a watery tornado.

*HG*TR*

Cadmus Fawley, Editor in Chief at the Daily Prophet, raised an eyebrow at Abraxas as he finished telling him what had transpired in Germany that morning. "You actually expect me to believe this fairy tale, Abraxas?" he laughed skeptically, "Come on. Tom may be an incredibly talented wizard but I don't believe for a second that he has the skill—"

Abraxas slammed a stack of photographs on top of Fawley's desk. "Believe it," he said. He rolled his eyes as Cadmus picked the photos up and started flipping through them. His eyes widened at what was depicted there and he looked back up at Abraxas incredulously.

Cadmus Fawley had been a couple of years above them in Slytherin and had never truly been in Tom's cabal, although at the time Tom had started gathering followers around him, Cadmus had hung around Tom's peripheral hoping to ride on Tom's coattails. A bit of an idiot and the sort of person that would get close to a person just to benefit from their skills. Tom had quickly passed Cadmus over once he graduated as inconsequential but now Cadmus might prove his worth if he could spin their story just right.

The handsome brown-haired wizard whistled softly as he regarded Abraxas in a new light. "You're telling the truth."

Abraxas rolled his eyes again. "Obviously," he bit out, "But we know the Auror Department is going to try and take credit so we need someone to put the world straight."

Cadmus nodded, his eyes glinting greedily. "And so, you came to me," Cadmus concluded, "because I have influence with the press."

"You are the press," Abraxas sighed, pinching his nose to ward off his building headache.

Cadmus grinned at him. "I am in a way, I suppose," he said. He looked back down at the photos scattered on his desk and back up at Abraxas. "If I help you," he said slowly, "What's in it for me?"

"Exclusive interviews with those involved," Abraxas said, "Tom's gratitude."

Cadmus nodded. "I think we can do business," he said finally, "I have one request though…"

*HG*TR*

Connla smirked as Tom shoved the cell door open in the cellar, gesturing for Orion to follow him. "I was wondering how long it would take you to visit me," he drawled.

Tom scowled. "I want answers," he said as he closed and warded the door behind him. Orion moved to quietly stand in the corner and drew his wand, holding it loosely in one hand.

Connla laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Who doesn't?" he asked, standing up. Tom narrowed his eyes at the stranger. He was big and burly, towering over Tom's 6-foot height by several inches. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Tom's were hard but Connla's crinkled with suppressed amusement. He was having a hard time coming to terms with who Hermione had said this was. As far as they knew, the Morrigan's first victim. Connla looked Celtic but he knew that looks were deceiving better than anyone. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts and turned his mind to the matter at hand – verifying Hermione's information.

"You are going to answer some questions for me."

Another chuckle and Tom bristled. "Whatever you say, my lord." Tom scowled. He was mocking him. His fingers twitched toward the Elder Wand, safely ensconced in a holster but refrained as he saw Connla's eyes light up with mirth at the insignificant gesture.

"Who are you?" Tom demanded. Orion shifted behind him uncomfortably. He'd brought his newest recruit because he'd proven his value and Tom wanted someone else who knew Hermione's history that he could call on to deal with matters – such as this one – when Abraxas or Hermione were busy.

"You know that or you wouldn't be here." Connla straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall. He gestured at Orion. "Does he know?" Orion stared at the Celt in bewilderment. Tom had only told him he might need help restraining the stranger who had taken Hermione earlier that day. He glanced at Tom who shook his head imperceptibly, warning him not to react.

Tom shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not particularly," Connla murmured, watching Orion curiously. Tom's scowl deepened and he made a slight gesture to Orion. Orion swallowed hard and raised his wand causing Connla to laugh. "Oh," he said, "I get it. This is a test of loyalty. He's here to do your dirty work."

Tom glanced at Orion, who had turned white at Connla's observation and nodded imperceptibly. Orion steeled himself for a moment and opened his mouth to utter the incantation to the Cruciatus Curse but was stopped at the last moment by Connla's laughter. "You'll have to be more creative than that, briste anam. That spell will accomplish nothing but hurt your òglach. I am a fianna of the Morrígu – a little pain will not persuade me to spill my secrets."

Tom snarled incoherently but held up a hand to stall Orion. "Why did they send you?"

A shrug. "They disagreed with how their current fianna was manipulating events."

"Why?"

"Because of what you are. What you become. What you've made."

Tom flinched. "I've been informed – vocally – how idiotic that particular idea was," he said drily, "Apparently I was insane to think it in the first place and only spiral further out of control from there."

"Yes, well there is a reason why people have souls and splitting on is never an act to take lightly."

"You think I took the act lightly?" Tom hissed.

"How easy was it?" Connla shot back, "Did you hesitate for a second what the cost of immortality by that route was?"

*HG*TR*

"What have you done?" Harry's voice was hard and accusing and Hermione flinched under the force of his anger as she turned toward him, eyes slowly peeling open. She blinked as she found herself in the colorful garden of a small cottage and inhaled sharply as it came into focus. The garden and cottage were almost unrecognizable in this form – bright, cheerful, neat, with well-kept gardens. It was a sharp contrast to the dark and gloomy building with a bowed caving ceiling that she'd visited with Harry on a fateful Christmas Eve less than six months earlier, but it was obviously the Potter's cottage in Godric's Hollow.

She stared at Harry, completely stricken while his stiff form seemed to radiate fury. "I-I don't know," she whispered, "Harry—"

"What happened to the rules?" Harry hissed, "Do not be seen, do not be heard, make no changes. Bloody hell, Hermione! I thought you were the responsible one! Always parroting on about our rule-breaking and trying to keep us from transgressing too much!"

Hermione felt herself blanch and shook her head helplessly. She hadn't been that girl. Not really. Harry and Ron – hell everyone – had thought she was but she wasn't. She hadn't been above breaking the rules occasionally. Personally, she'd probably broken more than either of her best friends. And if it meant they were safe, she'd tear the world apart with her bare hands. She opened her mouth to say as much but stopped when she saw the anguished expression on Harry's face.

Harry ran a hand through his mussed black hair in agitation and Hermione couldn't help but notice how similar it was to Tom's in color. The two were eerily similar in some ways – they both fussed with their hair when they were upset, and both had short fuses on their tempers. The difference was that Harry's burned out as quickly as it was ignited while Tom's would simmer for days before he sought retribution. "Do you know where we are?" he asked abruptly and Hermione shook herself slightly as she forced her thoughts back to the small garden.

She sucked in a deep breath before she answered. "Godric's Hollow," she said, and felt bolstered by how steady her voice was, "Your parents' cottage."

"Do you know why?" Harry demanded. His voice tore on the last word and Hermione felt something in her break hearing it.

"I would assume that, given Tom defeated Grindelwald earlier today, we're here because I managed to stall the chain of events that led to your parents' deaths," she replied, trying desperately to keep her voice even.

Nemain's cackle cut through the serenity of the garden and for an instant Hermione could see what the cottage had become in her timeline. "Clever girl," Badb purred in her ear. Her long fingers caressed the tops of her shoulders as she flitted around Hermione's stiff posture.

Hermione's eyes flitted to Harry's frozen form and she felt herself relax slightly when she saw his fixed statue-like features. "Go away," she snarled.

Macha tsked from behind her and Hermione spun to face the third aspect of the Morrigan. "Macha," she said stiffly.

"Hermione," Macha greeted her, "You did well."

"That's not what your messenger led me to believe when he kidnapped me earlier today," Hermione spat and was rewarded by Badb's amusement.

"She still has that fire, Macha," Badb hissed.

"Of course, she does," Macha said matter-of-factly, "We do not make mistakes in choosing our Fianna. You know that. That is why she is here."

"Fuck that," Hermione snapped, "If I'm doing so well, why send Connla?"

Nemain laughed again, startling her and she winced at the sound. The grating sound of nails of a chalkboard was slowly wheedling its way into her subconscious and the terror it once invoked was slowly dwindling as she was exposed to Nemain's charms more and more often.

"Because you need motivation," Badb murmured as she continued to circle Hermione.

"Because having a deranged trinity goddess breathing down my neck isn't enough motivation?" Hermione retorted.

"No," Macha snarled, Hermione's slight seeming to tip her over the edge. Hermione bared her teeth at the crone victoriously. "To show you that you are ours. Do not delude yourself child. You are a tool in our hands. Nothing more."

Hermione felt her body still at the admission. She was sure the Morrigu had had no intention of ever telling her that but that Macha had let it slip in a fit of petty rage. The claim of ownership made her bristle but she repressed it. Displaying any reaction to the admission would not benefit her here. If she was a mere tool then she supposed even a tool could cut the hand that wielded it. "You might want to check that temper," she said quietly instead, "You never know when you'll say something you regret."

Macha's lip curled at her and she opened her mouth to respond but Badb intervened, finally stepping away from Hermione and approaching her sister. "Not now, sister," she murmured, "Come. You've said your piece. The rest will slide into place eventually."

Macha seemed to shake herself as she braced herself against Badb. "Yes," she said, eyeing Hermione warily. "Remember your task," she said to Hermione as the triad turned to leave, "You are nowhere near finished yet."

Hermione sagged as the heaviness that had permeated the Potter's Cottage seemed to dissipate with their departure. "Thank god," she whispered and then jolted as Harry's hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Hermione," he snarled and she looked up into his blazing green eyes apprehensively, "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I hope so," she breathed.

*HG*TR*

Hermione jolted awake with a start. Her body felt like it had been crammed into a small box and she ached all over. She groaned as she shifted, realizing as her fingers found purchase against bare earth that she'd fallen asleep in the glade. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes again as she remembered why she'd ended up here on the ground.

Tom didn't trust her – even after everything she'd done and that knowledge hurt. She couldn't believe she could have been so stupid to believe that Tom had changed at all. That he cared for her, that he would trust her. She wiped away a stray tear angrily. No, she thought angrily, she'd been through this already. She and Tom were done.