Title: Ultima ratio

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter Fifty: I didn't Steal your Magic

As Hermione woke next, the darkness had gone and she was greeted by the white hospital ceiling. A new day had dawned. Hermione felt exhausted. She would have fallen back into unconsciousness if it hadn't been for those horrible memories flooding her mind. Like a knife they mercilessly cut through her. Hermione tried to roll onto her back, but was instantly punished by a sharp pain flashing through her. A soft moan left her lips.

"Oh, you are awake," a kind voice penetrated her misery.

Reluctantly, Hermione turned her head. She found Madam Dulan standing on the other side of the bed, smiling kindly. Hermione only now noticed that she didn't lie alone in the hospital bed. Tom Riddle lay, fast asleep, right beside her. Dulan had her wand in hand and waved it in a complicated pattern over Tom. Hermione watched as a silvery net of magic detached itself from the wand, floated down and disappeared into Tom's chest, leaving behind a faint shimmer.

"You gave us quite the scare as you weren't in your bed," Madam Dulan chided Hermione gently. "Luckily we found you very quickly."

Hermione nodded distractedly, her eyes still fixed on Tom. His face was awfully pale and there was a thick bandage covering his chest.

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked concerned.

"He's been hit by a nasty curse," Dulan explained and Hermione's eyes shot up at her. "Don't worry, deary. Healer Perry managed to break the curse in the wound. Its power is receding ever since."

Hermione looked back at Tom's sleeping face. "Why isn't he waking up?"

"He's still healing," replied Dulan. "But he'll wake up soon."

The nurse put her wand away and then reached for a potion bottle standing on a shelf nearby before she handed it Hermione.

"Drink that," the nurse told her. "It'll help you regain your strength."

Hermione accepted the potion and drank it. As soon as the potion hit her system, her drowsiness disappeared.

"Thank you."

Dulan smiled at her and stepped over to Hermione's side of the bed.

"Do you think you can get up?" she asked cautiously. "I need to have a look at your back."

Hermione nodded and tried to get up in a sitting position. She hissed in pain as her back was bent. Dulan grabbed her upper arm to support her.

"Careful," Dulan warned her gingerly. "You've got quite the nasty cut there."

Still holding Hermione securely, Dulan led her away from Tom's bed. Only shortly Hermione's eyes dared to dart over to the other side of the infirmary. Her chest constricted achingly as her eyes landed on an abandoned hospital bed. Yesterday, that bed had not been empty. Hermione shuddered. Surely that was why his parents had been here. They had wanted to take their son home.

Hermione released a breath of air that sounded more like a whimper. Promptly Madam Dulan threw her a concerned glance. The nurse made Hermione sit down on an examination table before she gently helped her to remove her pyjama shirt. Hermione pressed her arms against her exposed chest while the nurse worked on her back.

"It is a rather unusual wound," Dulan commented while she stood behind Hermione. "How did you get it if I might ask?"

"Hm… it was… it was…" Hermione mumbled timidly. "A Harpy?"

"A Harpy? I didn't know they still existed," cried Dulan in shock. "Dear Merlin. No wonder then…"

"What's no wonder?" Hermione asked cautiously.

The nurse cleared her throat before she said shakily, "This cut is healing extremely slow. Potions don't seem to work on it. I had to resort to Muggle treatment actually."

Hermione stiffened as she heard that. Dulan obviously felt it and quickly tried to soothe her, "Don't worry, dear. It's not a cursed wound. But there are residues of Dark Magic. Nothing untreatable but I'm afraid this will leave behind a considerable scar."

Hermione breathed in deeply. Another scar on her body? Tom was right. She really was collecting them.

"It's fine," Hermione told the nurse. Then she joked weakly, "It's on my back. I won't see it that much."

Dulan stroked a hand over Hermione head affectionately and promised, "I'll do my best to keep it as small as possible."

With that the nurse brandished her wand once again and Hermione felt a bandage being wrapped around her back. Dulan took Hermione's shirt and helped her to slip in while she tried to console Hermione,

"I really don't think Mr Riddle will mind the scar so much. After all he's got a matching one on his chest. Quite the pair you two make."

Involuntarily Hermione tensed up as she heard it. Somehow that innocent comment made her stomach knot painfully. A pair? Tom and her? Before yesterday Hermione would have whole-heartedly agreed. Now she wasn't so sure anymore. Surely, there was a bond that shackled her to Tom, Hermione thought. But to call them a 'pair'…? Wouldn't that suggest they both had equal standing in this union?

Which isn't true, a voice in her head sniggered cruelly. As the bitter thought involuntarily echoed through her head Hermione gritted her teeth and buttoned up her hospital shirt. Then she turned to Dulan and whispered softly,

"Thanks for helping me."

Dulan smiled at her kindly. Hermione noticed a golden band at the nurse's ring finger and raised her eyebrows. Dulan must have noticed Hermione's gaze and a faint blush coloured her cheeks. While she looked lovingly down at the ring on her left hand she said,

"It's from Vallo." Dulan peered sheepishly at Hermione. "Professor McGray."

A smile appeared on Hermione's face. "My congratulations."

"Thank you," Dulan grinned. "He came to me yesterday, all beaten up from that horrible battle, and told me we shouldn't wait any longer. And I… I said 'yes'."

The smile on Hermione's face was disrupted by a jab of guilt. She asked cautiously, "He was not… not hurt yesterday was he?"

"Oh, no." Dulan quickly shook her head. "Nothing serious. Not like you or poor Mr Riddle. Vallo is quite fine."

Hermione felt relieved to hear that. At least someone got something good out of yesterday, she thought as she eyed the smile on Dulan's face.

"I am very happy for you," Hermione told Dulan.

"Thank you," the nurse replied, serene glint in her eyes.

Hermione nodded at her before she stepped over to Tom's bed. He was still fast asleep with a peaceful look on his face. Hesitantly Hermione raised her hand and carefully wiped a strand of Tom's dark silky hair out of his face. He stirred slightly in his sleep. As she studied him, Tom's words from yesterday echoed through her head,

'You are no more than a vessel. Peverell's magic belongs to me. I am its Master.'

His words now cut through Hermione like a sharp blade. A fine pair they made indeed. The power and control lay undeniably on Tom's side. Where did that leave Hermione? Was she nothing more than a servant on his beck and call?

Hermione shuddered as she looked down on Tom. She still gently stroked with her fingers over his head. As her eyes landed on her own hand, she noticed how the silvery colour contrasted sharply with Tom's dark hair. Hermione raised her hand and scanned it. Her cutting hex had sliced her hand off from the base of her thumb over to what had once been the knuckle of her pinkie. Tom's spell had replaced the missing parts and her new hand glowed in a strangely beautiful sheen. Hermione sighed as her eyes fell back to Tom. She was grateful that he had given her the new hand and she was even more grateful that Tom had helped her to escape Grindelwald. Still, as Hermione looked down at him, she felt her gratitude and relief being tainted by an odd numb feeling.

'I won't hurt you again. I swear.'

Tom had given her this promise shortly before she had agreed to be his girlfriend again. He had assured her that he would never hurt her again and in the end Hermione had believed him. She had forgiven all the things he had done to her, all the insults and the abuse. He had apologized and she had dared to love Tom again.

'My dear magical object…' his content voice purred to her in her thoughts and she tensed. She couldn't help but think that Tom broke his promise. Because Hermione was hurting again.

She sighed as she looked at Tom's sleeping face. Dulan's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you to meet him as soon as you feel up to it."

"Where is he?" inquired Hermione.

"He returned just an hour ago from the Minister. I think he's speaking with the Headmaster right now." Dulan's eyes wandered over Hermione's form as she added concerned, "Maybe you should stay here a little longer and rest, dear. I'm sure Dumbledore can wait."

Hermione shook her head and looked back down at Tom. "I'll come back later."

"I'm sure Mr Riddle will appreciate it," came Dulan's kind reply. "You should also seek out Misters Lupin and Weasley. They were so concerned about you; I had to kick them out of here so they could get some rest themselves."

Hermione nodded at the nurse. The prospect of seeing her friends heartened her. She spied a black robe lying on the bed right beside Tom's. She took it and quickly slipped into it, hiding her hospital pyjama. The robe was rather large. It probably belonged to Tom, if those green and silver trimmings were anything to go by.

"Oh, I can get you some clothes," Dulan exclaimed hastily as she saw Hermione's actions.

Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, that's not necessary. Really. I'll just head back to my dorm first."

Seeing the look on Dulan's face, Hermione knew the nurse would have preferred to keep her tucked in bed for the rest of the day. Hermione wanted to avoid that. She had never liked hospitals to begin with. And if she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure she wanted to be here when Tom woke up.

So with a last wave to Madame Dulan, Hermione hurried out of the Hospital Wing. Quickly, she set off towards the Gryffindor tower. Unfortunately that also brought her closer to the part of the castle where most classrooms were situated. To add to her bad luck, classes seemed to be just finished and Hogwarts' hallways started to crowd with students. As Hermione wormed her way through the people, she quickly noticed the many curious stares she received.

Just the thing I need now, Hermione thought sarcastically. She wrapped Tom's robe tighter around herself and lowered her head. Whispers broke out as the other students recognized her. Obviously, Hogwarts' population had heard rumours about the events from the day before. It probably wasn't just Hogwarts, Hermione mused. Doubtlessly the whole wizarding world was in turmoil now that Grindelwald had fallen and had to deal with the ramifications his crusade had left behind. Hermione shouldn't be surprised that people wanted to know how she was connected with the affair.

She hastened down the corridors, never looking up at the staring students. Although she tried to block out the whispered conversations around her, bits and pieces still reached her.

"Really? That's her? DeCerto?"

"Wow. What do you think she had to do with Grindelwald?"

"I hear she's Muggleborn. Maybe that's why she got attacked."

"There are a lot of Muggleborns in Hogwarts. Why her?"

"Maybe she's a dark witch and wanted to actually help Grindelwald. Did you see that crazy glint in her eyes?"

"Yep. Definitely looked a bit mad, that one."

Hermione breathed in deeply to suppress her upcoming annoyance. She, a dark witch? Preposterous. There was a painful lurch in her stomach at that thought, but Hermione shoved it away. It would be crucial to talk with Dumbledore as soon as possible so he could staunch the flood of rumours. There was no way Hermione's involvement with Grindelwald could be revealed. People would surely start to look closer into that persona of 'Hermione DeCerto'. How long until they realised that Hermione DeCerto didn't exist at all? That would lead to a lot of nasty questions. Tom couldn't afford Aurors poking about his not so innocent background either.

A nice pair, aren't you? A voice scoffed at Hermione meanly. It sounded horribly like Grindelwald. Both covered deeply in darkness. So very sticky, isn't it?

Hermione balled her hands into tight fists as she climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Grindelwald's laughter rang in her ears.

'Whether you want to accept it or not, you belong to the original magic.'

That was not true! Hermione thought furiously. Why was there doubt boiling up in her, though? Since she woke up, she hadn't even tried to touch her magic. She could have used a simple spell to transfigure her hospital pyjamas into something more presentable. But she hadn't. She preferred it to run through half the castle to get clothes from her dorm. Why? Because Grindelwald was right? Because her magic was dark? Hermione shook her head frantically. She was not dark!

Why do you deny it? The voice that sounded like Grindelwald sneered. It's an honour.

No, it was a curse. And Hermione could only feel bitter resentment for the one who brought this plaque about. Peverell. He had created Dark Magic. Now he had infected Hermione with his darkness. She hated him for doing this to her.

'Child of the original magic,' Grindelwald had called her lovingly. 'Wonderful magical object,' Tom had called her, equally lovingly.

It scared Hermione. She didn't want to be a magical object. And surely not a dark one. Was that what she had become? Nothing but an object, filled with dark magic and attracting dark wizards.

How could Tom have done this to her?

Hermione let her head hang as she stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She raised one delicate eyebrow and her chubby face turned into a frown as she took in Hermione appearance.

"Why're you wearing a Slytherin robe?" the Fat Lady asked suspiciously.

Hermione just shrugged before she whispered the password, "Horseshoe crab."

The Fat Lady huffed and only reluctantly revealed the entry to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione breathed out in relief as she found the room abandoned. The other Gryffindors probably were on their way to their next class. Hermione quickly walked over the stairs leading up to the dorms. This time though she took the ones leading up to the boys. She had an inkling that her friends were there. They probably hadn't wanted to go to classes today. Hermione cautiously knocked at the door which led to the sixth year boys' dorm.

"Yes?" she heard a voice coming from the room.

She slowly opened the door and stepped into the room behind. Her gaze only briefly wandered over the dorm. She saw the four-poster beds with their Gryffindor red curtains. A small smile flittered over her face as she realized nothing much had changed in all those years. Then her gaze landed on Amarys Lupin, Richard Weasley and, surprisingly, Stella Lovegood. Obviously they had been absorbed in conversation but now had turned to her.

As Hermione saw them she was suddenly hit by a wave of fear. What if her friends blamed her for Marc's death? By all means they should. Because it all was Hermione's fault. Guilt flooded her and she felt unable to take another step into the room. Hermione was bewildered as she saw a smile stretching over Weasley's face.

"Merlin!" Lupin exclaimed, smiling as well. "Hermione. We were just talking about you."

He quickly strode over to her. Hermione's flinched as he smothered her into a bear hug. Weasley quickly joined his friend and wrapped his arms around Hermione. Stella had a serene smile on her face and gently patted Hermione's head.

"Yeah," Weasley said, his voice muffled as his face was buried in Hermione's curly hair. "We wondered how to break into the Infirmary to see you. Dulan didn't want to let us see you."

Upon hearing the word infirmary, Lupin ended his embrace and held Hermione at arm's length.

"How are you? Is it safe for you to leave the Hospital Wing so soon?"

Hermione was still surprised by her friends' behaviour. She had expected them to yell at her. She sent Lupin a shy smile and said,

"Yes, I'm fine. Dulan let me go."

Weasley took her hand. Upon noticing its silvery colour he raised his eyebrows in question.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh," made Hermione.

She had completely forgotten about her artificial hand. It felt exactly like her lost one so it was easy not to think about it. She just shrugged at Weasley and supplied,

"I got hurt. But it's fine now." To prove it she flexed her fingers. "Just looks a bit strange."

Weasley and Lupin eyed the hand, worry clearly visible on both their faces. Meanwhile Stella stepped closer to Hermione and took the silver hand in her own. Her misty eyes slowly wandered over Hermione's artificial hand. Then Stella looked at Hermione, smiled and said serenely,

"It's pretty."

A small smile flittered over Lupin's face as he heard his girlfriend. Weasley just shrugged his shoulders in acceptance and pulled Hermione over to one of the four posters.

"Here, sit down," he said while he pushed her down on the soft bed.

Lupin sank down beside her, followed by Stella. Hermione felt Lupin's hand gently stroking over her forearm and he said softly,

"We were so scared for you. You have no idea how glad I am that nothing happened to you. As you told me to take that Portkey and leave you behind, I thought I would never see you again."

"It's okay, Amarys," Hermione tried to soothe him. "Nothing happened to me. And I'm glad that you got away unscathed."

Lupin just shook his head, self-reproach all over his face. "We knew that Grindelwald was after you. If only I had watched out better. Now it's so clear that Marc was… was… imperiused."

Hermione stared at her friend. She was stunned that he seemed to blame himself. If it was anybody's fault, then it was hers. She didn't know what to say. So she just leaned over to Lupin and placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

"Hermione?" Weasley asked gingerly. "What… Exactly what happened after Amarys left? How did you manage to escape Grindelwald?"

Hermione looked at the three others. They were eyeing her with curiosity. She hesitated a bit as her gaze fell on Stella. It wasn't that Hermione didn't like her, but she didn't know much about the Ravenclaw girl. Seeing Hermione's hesitation, Stella smiled serenely and said frankly,

"Don't worry. I won't reveal anything what you say. Even if I would, no-one would believe me. People seem to think I am a bit odd."

She didn't seem in the least bit bothered by that fact and just shrugged cheerfully. Lupin threw his girlfriend a crooked smile. Hermione looked at her friends nervously. Then she decided to just tell them. So she started to recount in a shaky voice what had happened the day before. She omitted the parts where she had learned about the true nature of her magic or the bond between her and Tom. But Hermione did tell them how Grindelwald attacked her and how she had trouble defending herself.

"That was when Tom showed up," Hermione told her friends. "He helped me to keep Grindelwald at bay long enough for Dumbledore to show up."

Weasley raised his eyebrows as he heard that. "So Riddle really helped you, didn't he? We heard how he yesterday suddenly disappeared from the castle."

Hermione nodded. Talking about Tom made that numb feeling return to her. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Lupin must have seen her dejected reaction as he now grabbed one of her hands and asked gently,

"Is Riddle alright? He didn't get hurt yesterday, did he?"

Hermione raised her eyes at the Gryffindor. "He's okay. Tom's got hit by a curse. But Madame Dulan told me he should be fine soon."

Lupin squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "Well, I never liked Riddle but I am glad you had him with you. I know from DADA classes that he's a strong duellist. It's reassuring to know that he fought for you."

Hermione looked at her friends with large eyes. As she saw the affection in their eyes she couldn't hold back anymore.

"I am so sorry," she whispered hoarsely, tears in her eyes.

Seeing her tears, Weasley wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. Stella soothingly stroked her fingers over Hermione's arm. And Lupin asked gently,

"What are you sorry about?"

She looked at him, her vision blurry, and whispered, "I… I pulled you into this. G- Grindelwald was after me. If it hadn't been for me… M-Marc would still be… still be alive…"

Hermione saw the pain in Lupin's eyes as she mentioned Marc Longbottom. Still, he managed to smile at her encouragingly. Shaking his head he told her softly,

"No, Hermione. You heard Grindelwald. He already had Marc under the Imperius Curse since before you even arrived at Hogwarts. It was Grindelwald who attacked Marc and Grindelwald who targeted you. You are certainly not responsible for any of it."

Hermione nodded tearily.

"There will be a burial," Lupin said, his voice laden with grief.

"We are going," Weasley said, unshed tears swimming in his eyes. "We want to say good-bye."

Hermione nodded. Her chest constricted painfully. "I'll come with you."

After that they sat for a moment in silence. Each lost in their thoughts and memories. A little while later, Hermione excused herself. She still needed to speak with Dumbledore. So she left the boys' dorm and walked over to her own. Luckily her dorm was abandoned. As Hermoine went over to her side of room, she noticed that one of the five beds was vacated. There was no school trunk at the foot of that bed, nor any belongings on the small side table. Hermione frowned as she looked at Diana Potter's empty bed. It was only a second later that she remembered something Lupin had once told her. 'The Potters and the Longbottoms were always close. Diana and Marc practically grew up together.' Hermione stared at Diana's empty bed with a glum feeling. Maybe the girl had gone home, to her family.

Hermione swallowed down some tears. Quickly she pulled some clothes from her trunk. She didn't bother with her school uniform but slipped into a grey skirt and a plain white blouse. She carefully folded Tom's robe and laid it over the back or her chair. Then Hermione turned and left the dorm. She really needed to talk with a certain Transfigurations professor.

_._._._._

It was only a short while later that Hermione was in Dumbledore's office. She sat in a comfortable chair and had a cup of peppermint tea in front of her. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, half-moon spectacles on his nose and looked rather tired. Hermione threw him a small smile before she asked,

"So? Do you like your new wand, sir?"

A sad smile ghosted around Dumbledore's mouth as he looked down at her. "Once I would have given anything, even my soul, to get this wand. Now it is nothing more than a burden."

Hermione nodded. She understood him. Only too well, considering that she had to live with the wand's dark power herself. She reached for her cup of tea and took a sip. Dumbledore considered her for a moment then he asked gently,

"Why was Gellert after you, Hermione?"

Hermione fidgeted in her chair, before she voiced cautiously, "It was still the book I stole from Flamel. Peverell's manuscript."

Dumbledore nodded pensively. "Quite the trouble Peverell caused. Even though he's been dead for so long."

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "You could say that."

She peered at Dumbledore timidly. There was something she really needed to resolve.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

She sat up a bit straighter in her chair before she said in a firm voice, "I don't want anyone to know about mine or Tom's involvement with Grindelwald yesterday. Could you just… I don't know… not mention that we fought against him?"

Dumbledore observed her over his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes piercing her. After a while he said gingerly, "What you did yesterday was a great feat. Without you, Gellert would probably still be at large. Why do you want to deny the world its hero?"

Hermione quickly shook her head. "I am no hero. And it was you who defeated him."

Dumbledore sent her a kind smile. "You are too modest, my dear. I do know how powerful a wizard Gellert truly is. As I duelled him yesterday, there was not much left of that power. He is not easy to weaken but he obviously had to use a lot of his magical reserves to fight against you."

Hermione squirmed in her seat, not feeling comfortable with the compliments.

"I had a lot of help," she said bashfully. "Without Tom, I wouldn't have lasted long."

Dumbledore nodded. Amusement was in his voice as he said, "Yes. Tom. Running off to rescue his girlfriend. Why, just a year ago I would never have thought him capable of even keeping the same girlfriend for longer than a week." His blue eyes glinted at her mischievously as he added, "You seem to bring out the best in him, Hermione."

Or the worst, Hermione thought glumly, sending the professor a forced smile. Dumbledore regarded her for a moment before he suggested,

"I think the Aurors would want to bring the both of you in for a questioning." Seeing the panic in Hermione's eyes Dumbledore added, "I'll talk with them and sort it out so you won't have to give your testimonies."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione gratefully. Then, wanting to change the topic, she asked, "What happened to Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore sighed and tiredly leaned back in his chair. "He's been handed over to the French authorities. Soon he will be moved to Nurmengard where his trial will take place."

Hermione nodded mutely. She already knew that Grindelwald would never leave Nurmengard again. He would remain to be incarcerated in that prison for many years. Much later, Lord Voldemort would pay him a visit and kill him in his search for the Elder Wand.

Hermione stopped in her thoughts, realization making her blood freeze over. Would Voldemort really question Grindelwald about the Elder Wand's whereabouts? Didn't he already know? Hermione swallowed nervously. Why would Lord Voldemort even want to have the Elder Wand when he already had something very similar? The timeline had melted before Hermione's eyes. Things changed and now Voldemort already held the power of the Elder Wand in his hands.

No! Hermione thought. No. Tom is not the Voldemort I know from the future.

Oh, but he is well on his way into the darkness, a voice, sounding so much like Grindelwald, mocked her. You know that. The question is: Do you want to follow him? Your magic already did…

Hermione angrily pushed that voice away and focused on Dumbledore.

"Do you think he was right?" Hermione found herself asking as she stared up at Dumbledore's clear blue eyes. "Grindelwald?"

"About what, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked in his kind voice.

"That Dark Magic is not evil but freedom."

There was a tired smile on Dumbledore's face as he scanned her. As he finally replied, his answer shocked her to the core,

"I don't know."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had expected a lot but not this. Dumbledore cast her a small smile before he went on,

"The distinction between normal magic and dark magic is probably the most difficult object to study. Where to draw the line? How to decide what is evil and what is not. There are as many definitions of 'evil' as there are people on this world."

Hermione felt desperation wash over her. Was everything just messed up?

"So, he was right?" she asked weakly. "Dark Magic is freedom?"

Dumbledore leaned a bit towards her, his hands folded on his desk in front him. His eyes never left her as he said in a serious tone,

"Hermione, whatever Gellert told you, however he tried to convince you, one thing you should know: He never fought for freedom. I assume he told you how he is not a Dark Wizard? How he fights to help people. To show them the way of magic?"

Hermione nodded weakly as she looked at him.

"I once believed him, too," Dumbledore admitted wearily. "Is Dark Magic truly the evil force we assume it to be? I don't know. Dark Magic is certainly more flexible than normal magic. Unfortunately, that also makes it prone to be bend in the wrong direction. But is it really evil…?"

His eyes glistened with an emotion Hermione could not determine.

"Dark Wizard, or fighter for the light?" Dumbledore mused, lost in thought. "In the end, does it really matter how we call him? Whether Gellert fights for his own selfish benefit or for an uncorrupted greater ideal, could anything really justify his actions?"

Hermione stared at him. Dumbledore continued in the same grave voice, "To gain his goal Gellert tends to sacrifice things that are not his to sacrifice. Many people suffered at his hands. I am very sure Marc Longbottom had no intention of dying to further Gellert's ambitions."

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Marc's name. Guilt once again mercilessly burned up in her. The professor might have sensed her despair as he said gently,

"You yourself suffered from Gellert's doings. He cruelly took your friend away from you. I don't know if Dark Magic is a purely evil force or if it really is a pristine power of nature. But I can see nothing pure or pristine in what Grindelwald did."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore for a while, lost in her thoughts. He didn't disturb her but let her think. Finally Hermione asked shakily,

"Do you think Marc could forgive me?"

Sadness crept over Dumbledore's features as he heard her question. His eyes were distant as he replied,

"I don't know if the dead are able to forgive, but I like to think that they can."

The professor's eyes wandered back to her and softness appeared in them. With a small smile on his lips he told her,

"It is very tragic that Marc Longbottom died but you shouldn't blame yourself for it. And I really don't think Marc would do that either. You both were victims."

Hermione breathed in deeply as she heard it. Her hands were tightly clenched around the edge of Dumbledore's desk.

"Thank you," she whispered shakily.

The professor nodded at her, still smiling. As his gaze wandered to Hermione's hands, he interestedly scanned her silvery right hand.

"That is an impressive piece of magic."

Hermione's own eyes dropped to her hand. She self-consciously curled it into a fist to hide the silvery fingers.

"Yes," she whispered. "Tom gave it to me."

"Of course," Dumbledore mused. Then a small grin crossed his face. "Well, I never doubted his magical abilities."

She raised her eyebrows at him but then sighed, "Me neither. Although there are a lot of other things to doubt."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and looked at her over his half-moon glasses.

"Do tell," he prompted her gently.

Hermione averted her eyes and stared down at her artificial hand, her thoughts drifting around her magic that bound her to Tom. She bit her lower lip hard before she whispered,

"He lied to me. Again."

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side as he considered her. "I assume it was something important he lied about?"

"Yes," she replied bitterly. "Yes, you could say that."

"He disappointed you," Dumbledore concluded gently.

As Hermione didn't reply anything the professor said softly, "I've known Tom since he was ten. I was actually the one who introduced him to the magical world."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied. "He told me about it."

Dumbledore nodded his head, his eyes misted over with memories as he looked out of the window. When he looked back at Hermione, she saw a sad streak in his clear blue eyes.

"I always liked visiting Muggleborn students who were about to enter their very first year at Hogwarts," the professor mused. "It is wonderful seeing that happy spark in their eyes when they realize that there is a whole new world hidden behind their own."

"Tom was different, wasn't he?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Dumbledore sighed and removed the half-moon spectacles from his nose. His blue eyes rested on Hermione as he continued gravely, "Yes. 'Different' might describe him rather well. Whatever it was, I left his orphanage feeling a bit unsettled, a bit concerned. It made me decide to have an eye on Tom."

Hermione nodded.

"Sometimes I regret that decision, because otherwise I wouldn't have had to see Tom's career through this school and watched how he immersed himself so deeply into the wrong kind of magic." Sadness and regret laced Dumbledore's voice. "Very quickly he gained a mind-set which is defined by nothing but darkness and cruelty."

Hermione averted her eyes and sadly looked down at her hands in her lap.

"I tried very hard to keep Tom away from all that hate." Dumbledore continued softly. "In the end, I failed. Instead Tom managed to pull other people down with him. I felt guilty for not being able to help Tom but I had to accept my failure."

Cautiously Hermione peered at the professor. His eyes were turned on her and a wan expression was on his face.

"Whatever I tried, he did not want to change. I don't know when exactly it happened, but over the time I had given up on Tom," he admitted softly.

Suddenly a small smile appeared around Dumbledore's mouth. "That was before you turned up, Hermione."

"Me?" she asked surprised.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "He's changed a lot since he has you."

Hermione frowned at him and said unconvinced, "How would you know that? Tom is an extraordinary liar. Maybe he deceived the both of us."

"Hm," made Dumbledore. "You are very harsh with him. I think he never had anyone taking care of him, maybe he needs time to adapt?"

"I know that," Hermione said desperately. "I know growing up in that orphanage wasn't easy for Tom. He's suffered a lot."

She stared out of the window. Frustration slowly turning into fury. Then she hissed, "But I'm tired of making excuses for Tom."

Dumbledore looked at her pensively. Then he gently pointed out, "I don't know what Tom did to you to hurt you so, but you shouldn't forget that he risked a lot yesterday. He risked his life for you, Hermione. And he almost lost it, too."

Hermione shuddered as she heard that. She remembered that horrible green curse rushing towards Tom. The image still made fear tightly curl around her chest.

"Yes." She exhaled sharply before she continued, "I know he feels more for me than the usual cold indifference. But I don't know what it is he feels for me. Maybe he loves me or maybe he just needs me. Or it could be that he wants to possess me. I don't know. He confuses me."

Dumbledore let her talk and listened attentively. Now he whispered, "I felt the same way many years ago with Grindelwald. He was an enigma. I didn't understand him. Maybe that was what drew me in. We were very close, you must know. A deep friendship connected us. At one point it could have even been called love."

"At one point?"

Dumbledore cast her a small smile. "Love, Hermione, is a strange thing. If you truly find it, it can be a powerful, vibrant force. Sadly enough, infatuation and obsession tend to disguise themselves as love."

Hermione looked at the professor with large eyes. She didn't know what she had with Tom. She knew she loved him. But what if that love was one-sided? What if Tom was only capable of a twisted and unnatural form of love?

what if he merely uses me?

"I know that Tom is a special case," Dumbledore's voice penetrated her doubts. "I remember how you told me you wouldn't give Tom another chance."

Hermione nodded at the professor. "Yes, I've given him so many already. Too many perhaps."

"Hm," made Dumbledore pensively, mulling over her words. Then he remarked thoughtfully, "Maybe Tom needs one more. I think before you came, not many people ever gave him one."

Hermione glanced at the professor. A tired smile tugged at her lips as she said, "For someone who gave up on Tom, you surely defend him quite fiercely."

Dumbledore smiled at her, a twinkle burning up in his eyes, "Maybe I'm not doing this for him."

Hermione shortly shook her head as if to clear it off its thoughts. Then she told Dumbledore, smiling faintly, "Tom seems to have taken over my whole life. After all, I came to Hogwarts with a mission in my head. Now it is within my reach and here I am thinking about Tom."

"What sort of a mission is that?" Dumbledore inquired tentatively. He raised his eyebrows and asked innocently, "Are you by any chance trying to collect the Deathly Hallows?"

Hermione blinked at him in shock. Then a small grin crossed her face. Of course Dumbledore would catch up to her doings. So she had no problems to admit,

"Yes. And I even know where exactly they are."

Dumbledore looked at her in surprise. "You do? All three?"

Hermione nodded darkly. The Hallows... her plan. She had ignored it for quite some time. There had been so much to divert her attention and she had forgotten. Forgotten about her plan. Her mission. She needed to unite the Deathly Hallows. Maybe they could overcome what the Elder Wand had done to her and she could travel back to her own time. An icy cold shudder ran down Hermione spine as she looked at Dumbledore.

"Yes," answered his question. "All three."

Hermione shifted in her seat. Her hazel eyes regarded Dumbledore calmly as she explained, "The Elder Wand is now bound to you, professor. So, it is right here in this very room. I stole the Invisibility Cloak from the Potters and Grindelwald stole it from me. Now that he's defeated, I am very sure that you secured the cloak from his stronghold."

She scanned Dumbledore and a smile appeared on her face as she spotted an affirming twinkle in his eyes. Still, as Hermione continued her voice wavered slightly,

"The stone… the Resurrection Stone, is not far away either. I could get it…"

Yes, Hermione would be able to get all three Hallows. Then… Was it possible that she would fly home? This past year would be nothing more than a dream. A dream from a distant past.

"Hm, all three Hallows united," Dumbledore mused pensively. "What would you do with them, Hermione?"

She threw in a sharp breath of air. Yes, what? Hermione worried her bottom lip. Her mission dictated what she should do. But did she want to return to her time? Nothing was there for her. Then again, what held her here?

Looking into Dumbledore's sharp eyes, she stumbled, "I… I would- What I needed to…"

A soft smile appeared on Dumbledore's face as he saw her hesitation. Hermione trembled slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. They shot open again, as she heard the door being torn open. Hermione jumped and turned her head. Her eyes widened as she saw Tom standing in the doorway. His steely grey eyes were fixed on her, his pale face an impenetrable mask. He didn't acknowledge Dumbledore's presence in any way but just strode over to Hermione. Tom stopped standing directly in front of her. She stared up at him, feeling put off balance by his sudden appearance. There still was not even a speck of emotion on Tom's blank face as his cold eyes wandered over her form. Hermione frowned up at him, opened her mouth and said weakly,

"Tom, what ar-"

Before she could finish, Tom abruptly bent down to her and slipped his arms around her. He pressed her tightly against him. Hermione gasped softly as suddenly her magic left her. Completely unconnected with her own feelings, it bristled joyfully and wrapped affectionately around Tom. Her magic's happiness contrasted with that painfully numb feeling inside Hermione.

Indeed, what holds me here?

Hermione could feel the urgency behind Tom's embrace but she was unable to raise her arms and return it. Instead she wondered for how long her magic had already reacted to Tom in this enthusiastic way. Had it even managed to influence her own emotions?

Tom was totally oblivious to the aching stab in Hermione's heart. He unwrapped his arms from her but continued to hold her by her shoulders. His grey eyes swiftly wandered over her, searching for injuries.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

His voice was perfectly composed. Maybe he didn't want to reveal any emotions in front of Dumbledore.

"I see Madam Dulan already discharged you from the Hospital Wing, Tom," Dumbledore's voice said.

Tom slowly turned around to Dumbledore. His hand never left Hermione's shoulder. While there was a kind expression on Dumbledore's face, his blue eyes missed the familiar warmth as they regarded Tom. A polite smile appeared on Tom's face. It was all fake, though. Hermione could tell.

"Yes, professor," Tom replied blandly.

"I hope you are feeling better then," Dumbledore said, now a hint of genuine concern in his tone.

Tom merely narrowed his eyes at the other's worry and replied, clipped, "Yes. Thank you, sir."

Then he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her up from her chair. Dumbledore merely observed how Tom tugged the witch into his side in a possessive gesture. Ignoring the tense silence, the professor claimed cheerfully,

"Look how late it got. I think it is already time for dinner." His eyes twinkled at Hermione as he added, "Madame Dulan would have my head if she knew how I deterred you from a healthy meal."

Hermione smiled at her teacher. Tom, though, just tried to hide his glare behind a polite mask. Taking Dumbledore's words as a dismissal, Tom pulled Hermione towards the exit. Before he could wrench her out of the office, Hermione stopped. She turned around to the professor and said,

"Do you remember the last thing Grindelwald said to you?"

Dumbledore didn't reply but the painful look crossing his face told her that he did. Hermione threw him a small smile and whispered,

"It doesn't change anything."

Then she allowed Tom to finally pull her from the room. After they had walked a distance away from the office, Tom suddenly turned to her and before she could do anything hugged her tightly. He kissed her on the forehead. Then he placed more soft kisses on her face. Despite these gentle actions, Hermione could not spot any emotion on Tom's blank face after he released her again. His eyes were hard as steel as they wandered over her.

"Why did you leave the Hospital Wing?" Tom demanded to know, accusation clear in his tone.

"Dumbledore wanted to speak with me," Hermione replied in a small voice.

Tom huffed at her, "Did you want to give me a heart attack?"

She shrugged at that. Not meeting his angry gaze Hermione mumbled, "I'm alright. You didn't have to worry."

He glared at her, though there was concern glinting in his grey eyes. "Merlin, Hermione, the last thing I remember is you fighting against Grindelwald. And then I wake up in the Hospital Wing. With you no-where to be seen. How did you think that would make me feel?"

"I didn't expect you to wake up this soon," Hermione replied in a colourless voice.

Maybe she should feel contrite but somehow she didn't. Instead she wondered why Tom hadn't used the bond between them to find out where she was. He probably could even force her to apparate to him. Like a master calling his dog, she thought bitterly. In the meantime, Tom had again grabbed her hand and tightly held it as he pulled Hermione down the corridor. The anger had not completely left his voice as he asked cuttingly,

"What happened? How did we get back to Hogwarts?"

"Didn't Madame Dulan tell you?" Hermione asked bewildered.

Tom angrily shook his head. "Are you crazy? As soon as I woke up I went to search for you."

Hermione only now noticed that he wasn't wearing his school uniform, but a grey shirt and black pants. Probably transfigured from a pair of hospital pyjamas.

Tom stared at her expectantly. Hermione sighed and told him, "Well, after you passed out, I couldn't fight Grindelwald any longer. His soldiers turned up and we were trapped."

Tom's eyes widened. "How did we get away?"

Hermione scanned him, coldly taking in his concern. "Dumbledore showed up with a unit of Aurors."

"Dumbledore?" Tom echoed weakly, clearly not happy with this turn of events.

Hermione nodded. "He fought Grindelwald and won. The Aurors overwhelmed his soldiers. And we were being portkeyed back to Hogwarts."

Tom's hand around hers tightened and he pulled her closer to him. Hermione's magic celebrated the close contact. Hermione herself was disturbed.

"I'm glad nothing happened to you," Tom whispered to her and pressed another kiss to her temple.

He didn't say anymore as he then led her through Hogwarts' corridors and hallways towards the Great Hall. He never let go of her hand and made sure she stayed close to him.

Soon they reached the Great Hall. Upon entering, Hermione could feel many eyes falling on her and Tom and murmur broke out in the hall. It made her feel extremely self-conscious. Her eyes cast down, Hermione made to drift over to the Gryffindor table. A sharp tug on her hand stopped her. Brow furrowed in confusion, she looked up at Tom. He whispered decisively,

"You are coming with me."

"What-?"

Tom turned away from her and pulled her with him over to the Slytherin table. Hermione wanted to protest, but she didn't really want to start an argument. The other students already stared at her as it was. So, Hermione allowed Tom to drag her to the Slytherins. She could see them glaring at her disapprovingly, but none of them dared to object. That would have meant to go against Tom, and obviously no Slytherin wanted to risk that. Tom pulled her to a seat right at the middle of the table. Dark look on his face, Tom gestured for Lestrange to clear space for Hermione. Immediately the other Slytherin obeyed. Tom sat down and pulled Hermione so she sat right beside him.

Just as they had sat down, Dippet stepped in front of the teachers' table and let his eyes wander over the students.

"Settle down, settle down," his voice thundered in the hall.

The Headmaster was dressed all in black. A black wizard's robe over black pants and shirt. Appropriate for the occasion. But Hermione didn't like the rather self-important expression on his face. After the students calmed down and the chatter stopped, Dippet said in his pompous voice,

"I am sad to inform you that a tragedy befell our wonderful school. You might have already heard it from your parents, but yesterday Marc Longbottom got attacked by Grindelwald. Sadly Marc did not survive the attack."

Hermione's face was stony as she heard Dippet's speech. Some of the students in the hall gasped as they heard of the death. Some Gryffindors, who had known Marc, even started to cry. Hermione sat at the Slytherin table and couldn't react at all. Her breathing was calm, almost mechanically so. Her gaze dropped from Dippet and to Dumbledore who sat right beside Professor Legifer at the teachers' table. Hermione wished he could have made the speech. Dippet's words were empty of any emotion. He just wanted to get it over with, Hermione could tell. She was pretty sure that until yesterday, the Headmaster hadn't even known who Marc had been.

Regardless of Hermione's thoughts, Dippet continued, sombre mask pasted on his face, "It is a great loss, we have to bemoan. Marc Longbottom will never be forgotten but always remembered as a brave young man. But as painful this loss might be, we've got to look ahead and concentrate on the future."

Easy for you to say, Hermione thought bitterly, her eyes narrowing at Dippet. The pompous air still sickeningly hung around Dippet. An encouraging smile appeared on his sharp face. It looked completely out of place.

"It is with great pleasure that I can announce that the dangerous criminal Gellert Grindelwald could finally get arrested."

The hall erupted in excited chatter. After people had calmed down again, Dippet continued, "In the same confrontation in which Marc so tragically lost his life, our very own Albus Dumbledore managed to overcome Grindelwald. Single-handedly he defeated that dark wizard and brought him to justice. Although we lost Marc to Grindelwald's evil machinations, Professor Dumbledore succeeded in rescuing two other students, Tom Riddle and Hermione DeCerto, who were unfortunately caught up in the events."

Here Dippet gestured at the Slytherin table, making Hermione groan softly. All eyes of the occupants of the Great Hall were directed at her and Tom. There was an imperceptible smirk on Tom's mouth. He didn't seem to mind the attention at all. Hermione on the other hand wanted to just flee from the hall. Did Dippet have to mention them? Hermione looked at Dumbledore. His clear blue eyes had by now left the Headmaster and he gazed back at her. Hermione saw a small, almost apologetic, smile on his face. She threw him a smile of her own and shrugged helplessly with her shoulders. Dumbledore's eyes glinted in amusement. The Headmaster opened his mouth and proclaimed in a voice heavy with meaning,

"While these days are days of mourning, let us not forget to also celebrate the end of a terrible war."

With that he raised his arms and food appeared on the four house tables. Excited chatter once again broke out in the hall as the students started to discuss all the new information. Hermione still stared at Dippet, annoyed with the man's attitude. How could he suggest to celebrate now? Marc was dead. Didn't he care at all?

Probably not, she reasoned with herself. Her eyes left the self-important Headmaster and they dropped to her empty plate. She could feel many curious eyes resting on her and was suddenly glad she sat at the Slytherin table. At least they were too scared to address her as long as Tom sat beside her. As Hermione made no move to get some food, Tom started to load her plate with a bit of the pasta bake. Without raising her head, Hermione reached for her fork and started to nibble at her food.

During the whole meal, Hermione could feel Tom's touch. As if needing to assure himself that she was still there, he continued to initiate contact. As if by accident his hand would lightly brush her knee or softly skim over her arm. Hermione wouldn't say those touches of his were in any way possessive or intrusive. Still, the way her magic sent enthusiastic jolts through her whole body whenever Tom made contact made her feel violated. A mixture of helplessness and anger wrapped tightly around her. Hermione wanted to push Tom away. As her delighted magic rushed through her body, Hermione somehow felt tainted.

Through the corner of her eyes she could see the other Slytherins eyeing her inconspicuously. It made her feel very exposed. Strangely enough Nicolls, who sat only a few seats away, never glanced in Hermione's direction. Hermione was used to Nicolls throwing her death glares while smiling at Tom amorously. Not that Hermione missed Nicolls' hostility but this was odd. As her eyes wandered over the other Slytherins Hermione noticed how Tom's followers were sitting in the seats closest to Tom. They all looked rather glum and subdued. Like Nicolls they obviously tried to not look at Hermione. Not even Lestrange glowered at her.

Strange, Hermione thought. And Avery's missing.

She couldn't wonder long about these oddities as Tom's hand again skimmed over her forearm. Hermione's skin prickled pleasantly where he touched her. Small strands of her magic twirled happily from her skin to Tom's hand.

Hermione bit her lower lip hard and she stared down at her plate. She had barely eaten from her pasta bake and felt no appetite anyway. She just couldn't stop to wonder what would have happened had she not agreed to let Tom perform that dark ritual to bring her magic back. If he had never bound her magic to him, would she have still taken him back as her boyfriend? How much had her bound magic influenced her decision? Now it was very clear how much her magic enjoyed Tom's presence. As she had still been unaware of their bond, maybe she had taken her magic's affection towards Tom for her own.

Had he planned this from the start? Did he enjoy it to enslave her to him? Hermione gritted her teeth. Was she really nothing more than a possession to Tom? Something to own and dominate? Hermione didn't want a relationship where she constantly had to fight against her partner. She wanted honesty and equality just as much as she wanted to be loved.

What did Tom want, though?

Had she been naïve to think he would want the same? Hermione knew he liked to play his little games. He was manipulative, a liar and had little to none moral sense. Now he had forced that bond on her and had pushed her into a submissive position. Maybe that was what Tom wanted in a relationship – a slave and not a partner.

Hermione put her fork down on the table, her appetite completely gone. She could feel Tom's concerned eyes wandering over her but didn't return his gaze. He reached for her hand and held it gently. His touch was warm and reassuring. Hesitantly her own fingers curled around his. Deep down, Hermione knew she still loved Tom. But if their expectations in this relationship differed so fundamentally, was she able to play that role Tom had intended for her?

Dumbledore always preached the incredible strength of the force called love. Was Hermione's love powerful enough to turn her into the submissive servant Tom expected her to be?

Hermione's fingers tightened around his hand.

Deep down, she already knew the answer to that question.

Hermione exhaled softly. Her magic protested and her heart ached, but she pulled her hand free of Tom. She still couldn't look at him. Avoiding his grey eyes, Hermione got up from her seat and quickly stepped away from the Slytherin table. She felt many eyes on her as she hastily walked towards the exit of the Great Hall. There were steps behind her and she knew Tom was following her. Of course he would. Hermione quickened her own steps and exited the hall. Before the doors could fall shut behind her, Tom passed them as well.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" She heard his voice. "Wait!"

She didn't turn around to him. Was that all he had for her? Orders?

Hermione knew her dorm mates were still sitting in the hall. Her dorm should be deserted. It didn't take much – just a small twirl – to rip down Hogwarts' wards. Hermione stepped into the pressure of apparition and left Tom behind.

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

It was the next morning, a Wednesday, that Hermione stood in the bathroom of her dorm and examined her hurt back. She knew she should probably get back to the Hospital Wing. The Harpy had cut her up nicely. Hermione craned her neck to stare at the reflection of her back in the mirror. A deep cut ran diagonally across her whole back. Dark blood had caked over it so that it stood out quite dramatically against her rosy skin.

Whatever you say about Harpies, Hermione thought dryly. They sure know how to use their talons.

A sigh left her. If only she could open a portal to the Harpies' world like Grindelwald did, maybe she could hide away there.

In the darkness…

Since yesterday, Hermione hadn't spoken with Tom. Instead she had preferred it to cowardly hide away in her dorm. It was pathetic but she didn't know how to deal with him at the moment. She felt disappointed and used. It made her want to yell and rage at Tom. It made her want to leave. Leave his dirty web of lies and deceptions behind. But Dumbledore had been right. Tom had risked his life for her. How could she be angry with him?

Was she being petty?

Hermione irately shook her head at her own reflection in the mirror. No. Tom had lied to her and manipulated her so she would agree to undergo that dark ritual. Now, he had finally got what he had always wanted. Her magic… her body was his. He had turned her into an item, a possession. Hermione stared into her reflection's hazel eyes as the truth mercilessly took form in her head.

Voldemort had turned her into one of his trophies.

A new wave of anger washed over her. Then Hermione ripped herself out of her dark thoughts and got dressed into her uniform. She was going to classes today, she decided stubbornly. Not even all the nosy stares from the other students would stop her.

_._._._._

Not much later, Hermione sat in greenhouse number three and regretted her decision. Should have stayed in bed, she thought in frustration. Herbology would have gone swimmingly if it hadn't been for her dorm mates, Lucia and Rose.

The class was occupied with repotting Fanged Geraniums. Tedious work but as they said: 'Someone has to do it.' Hermione wouldn't have minded so much if Rose and Lucia hadn't decided to settle down right beside her. To make matters even worse Isabel Sato, the Herbology professor, didn't mind at all if the students chatted while doing their work. Rose and Lucia were rather thrilled at the prospect of talking with Hermione.

"So," said Rose innocently, obviously trying to break the ice. She gestured at Hermione. "What happened to your hand?"

"Why?" asked Hermione, equally innocent.

"Well, because it's silver," Lucia said, scanning the hand nosily.

Hermione inwardly groaned. She didn't want to talk with them at all.

"It's a spell," she explained reluctantly. "To replace the lost parts."

"Oh my God," made Lucia, visibly shuddering. "What happened? Why did you need replacing?"

"Because the original hand was chopped off?" Hermione said bluntly.

The two girls stared at her, mouths hanging open.

"'Chopped off'?" Rose screeched in horror.

"That's terrible!" Lucia exclaimed. "You really lost the hand?"

Hermione just shrugged and regretted not having used her dragon hide gloves today. Rose laid an understanding hand on Hermione's arm and asked solemnly,

"Did Grindelwald do that to you?"

"Nope," said Hermione, trying to concentrate on her geranium. "I did it myself."

Both girls screeched at that. Even the mild tempered professor Sato turned towards them and sent them a glare.

"Whyever would you do that, Hermione?" asked Rose breathlessly.

"The situation required it."

Rose shook her head and Lucia furrowed her brow, probably wondering what kind of situation that could have been. Hermione just sighed tiredly,

"Don't worry. The hand is gone but the replacement really isn't half bad."

After that Hermione considered this conversation to be over but she didn't have so much luck. A big grin appeared on Lucia's face and she chortled,

"We've seen Riddle, you know."

Rose nodded importantly. "Yeah, as he ran after you. To save you."

"Indeed?" whispered Hermione tartly.

"Oh, he was so scary," Rose continued, glassy-eyed. "Running around like that, wand in hand. Don't know if it was the light but even his eyes glinted dangerously. You should have seen him."

I think I had my fair share of an angry Tom already, thought Hermione dryly.

"But then," Lucia squealed happily. "We heard Riddle only did that for you. So he could save you from Grindelwald. He must have been sooo concerned."

"Mhm." Hermione angrily tugged at her Fanged Geranium, trying to avoid the sharp teeth.

"Oh, I'm so glad he saved you, Hermione," Rose suddenly wailed in her shrill voice. "Imagine, if the same had happened to you that happened to poor Marc."

Lucia looked at Hermione with wide watery eyes. This time, Hermione felt unable to hold that gaze.

"I can't believe he really died," sobbed Lucia dramatically.

Hermione gritted her teeth and stared down at her geranium.

"His parents must be so sad," whispered Rose tearfully.

Lucia nodded and pulled a hanky from her pocket, using it to blow her nose. Then she wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and said,

"I'm so glad Riddle saved you, Hermione. He's so wonderful."

"Yeah," confirmed Rose. "Running off to save his girlfriend." Suddenly her eyes lost their glassy look and she stared at Hermione inquiringly. "Say, Hermione. Is it actually true? Did Riddle propose to you?"

Hermione blinked at Rose stupidly.

"Don't be shy," Lucia tried to coax her into telling the truth. "He did ask you to marry him, didn't he? Aww, how romantic. First saving your life and then he wants to marry you."

"Yes, and rather on time, don't you think?" asked Rose.

To Hermione's horror the girl then scanned her stomach expectantly. It was enough to remind Hermione of that rumour about her supposed pregnancy. This time a frustrated groan left her mouth. She didn't reply to Rose's question but determinedly put her Fanged Geranium into another, larger pot.

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

"Tom, my dear boy, if only I had known." Slughorn looked at Tom indulgently. "I would have never tried to hold you back from rushing to Ms DeCerto's side."

"It's fine, sir," Tom replied blandly.

It cost him quite some work not to drop his polite mask. A pleasant smile played around his lips as he looked at the potions professor. With an inquisitive glint in his beady eyes, Slughorn scanned Tom. Tom had been on his way to his next class as Slughorn had stopped him. Tom only wished he could pull his wand and curse the man into unconsciousness.

"Though I have to say," Slughorn continued merrily. "You gave us quite the scare. Running around the castle like a berserk."

Tom forced a bashful blush on his face and replied, "I'm very sorry about that. But I couldn't waste any time. Hermione needed me."

"Aw, no no, don't worry. I fully understand." said Slughorn. A big grin appeared on his face as he exclaimed, "You wanted to save your little girlfriend. It's such a wonderful thing, young love."

Indeed, Tom thought sardonically.

"Ms DeCerto is really a fine young woman," Slughorn continued. "I'm so glad nothing happened to her. We certainly didn't need another casualty." He patted on Tom's back and said approvingly, "I'm glad you could bring Ms DeCerto back unhurt, m'boy."

"So am I," replied Tom, this time being quite honest.

"See? I always told you, you two belong together." The professor playfully wagged his finger at Tom and said, "You have to take good care of Ms DeCerto, Tom. We don't want her to leave you again."

A small smile curled at Tom's mouth and he replied silkily, "Don't worry professor, I intend to do that."

"Good good," said Slughorn cheerfully.

Tom then excused himself, desperate to be alone. Just a few corridors later, Tom spotted a group of seventh year Hufflepuff girls. As soon as they recognized him, all four girls blushed deeply. One of them, a pretty brunette, even threw him quite the seductive look. Tom cast them a dazzling smile. Instantly the girls broke down in asinine giggles.

Tom almost groaned as he felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his temples. Since those events with Grindelwald and particularly since it had become officially known that Tom had been involved in the whole thing, the girls were even more infatuated with him. It was quite annoying how they now flocked around him. After lunch this day, some poor Ravenclaw first year had been sent to deliver a love letter to Tom.

Of all the things…

If he hadn't been in the Great Hall at that moment, Tom would have cursed the messenger boy. Sadly he had to keep up his reputation as the polite prefect and had been forced to timidly accept the letter. Tom shuddered in disgust. Reluctantly he reached into the pocket of his black robe and produced the letter out of it. Pink, of course. He rolled his eyes. 'To Tom' was written in twirly letters on the envelope. Tom supposed he should thank Merlin that his stupid name didn't involve any 'i's. At least this spared him the customary heart-shaped dots. Knitting his brow in distaste, he looked at the horrible letter in his hand.

Silly girl, he thought annoyed. Like he wanted to waste his time reading some chick's pointless scribbling. Tom angrily closed his hand into a fist, thus completely crumbling the letter. Flames engulfed his fist, though they left his skin untouched. As he opened his hand again, the letter was gone and ashes softly fluttered to the ground. His temper still flared as Tom continued his way towards his next class: Divination. Just perfect, he thought wryly. It was a Hufflepuff/Slytherin class and the other students were almost all girls. Tom groaned inwardly.

How grotesque. Every girl in the castle was chasing after him but the only one he was interested in coldly ignored him. Since dinner the day before, Tom hadn't spoken with Hermione. He had tried to get closer but she had obviously avoided him. Of course Tom could guess why Hermione was angry with him: The bond. She had always been independent, so Tom had known she wouldn't take very well to the fact that he owned her magic. That was the reason he had never told her about the bond. Of course Grindelwald had to go and ruin that for Tom. He knew how stubborn and resentful Hermione could be. Tom had often wondered if her need for independency was a by-product of her coming from the future. In a way he liked her strong-willed and fiery nature but it made dealing with her that much more difficult.

Tom sighed softly. He had hoped for Hermione to be a little bit more affectionate and grateful. After all he had saved her from the evil Dark Wizard. A rather stupid assumption. He rolled his eyes. Then he checked his watch. There was still some time until the next class. Maybe he should go and search Hermione. He really needed to talk to her and convince her that this bond between them was a good thing.

Which it really is, Tom thought, smirking to himself. With time, Hermione would realize that too.

_._._._._

Annoyed Hermione stepped out of the Arithmancy classroom. Gauß was a horrible teacher. On top of that, the whole day she had felt the other student's curious gazes on her. One Hufflepuff fifth year had even asked her if it was true that Tom Riddle had rushed to her rescue and if he had afterwards proposed to her. Hermione had refrained to answer the girl and had preferred it to flee the inquiry. She supposed she had to thank her dorm mates for that new rumour.

Hermione rolled her eyes and hurriedly walked away from the Arithmancy classroom. She still hadn't spoken to Tom. Naturally he had tried to corner her but she had managed to escape him. Hermione knew it was silly to just ignore him but couldn't help it. Her inner debate was cut short by a voice.

"Well well well," that voice said mockingly. "What have we here?"

Hermione looked up and exhaled in irritation. Yaxley was blocking her way. Right beside her stood Melanie Nicolls. To Hermione's surprise Nicolls seemed to be rather uncomfortable with the situation and looked like she wanted to be somewhere else.

Nicolls tugged at Yaxley's sleeve and whispered, "Let's go. It's not worth it."

Yaxley didn't want to listen to her friend. Instead she sneered at Hermione, "What the hell are you thinking, Mudblood? Pulling Tom into your problems."

Without answering Yaxley, Hermione sidestepped the girl, wanting to continue her way.

"Wait!" snapped Yaxley and grabbed Hermione's arm. "Not so fast."

Hermione angrily wrenched her arm away and snapped, "What do you want?"

"Oh, come on, Mudblood," Yaxley scorned. "I'm sure you can guess."

Tiredly Hermione ran a hand over her face, then she peered at the angry Slytherin girl.

"For me to leave Tom alone?"

"Yes," hissed Yaxley. "First you stole Melanie's boyfriend and now you go and pull him into your problems."

Hermione turned her head and peered at Nicolls. "Do you agree with your friend here?"

Hermione was truly surprised as Nicolls shook her head. "No. I don't want To- Riddle back."

"What?" Yaxley turned at her friend. "What are you talking about? That ugly Mudblood took your man. And now she stalks through the whole castle, mocking you."

Indignantly, Hermione said, "I do not stalk around."

"Just shut up, bitch," Yaxley hissed furiously.

Suddenly there were steps echoing in this silent corridor. Hermione turned around and was not really surprised to find an angry Tom walking towards them. Come to think of it, he always appeared out of no-where and helped her in situations like these. Coincidence? Unlikely. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tom. Was he using that bond to monitor her? At that thought Hermione's temper flared up.

"I think you are the one who should shut up," Tom said coldly.

Yaxley seemed to heed that advice and just stared at Tom wide-eyed. He ignored her but turned to Nicolls. Hermione was surprised to see the girl cower away from Tom.

"I didn't think you would cause trouble so soon again," Tom whispered in a silky voice.

Nicolls looked at him and stuttered, "P- please, I didn't m- mean to bother DeCerto."

"Hm," made Tom and a pleasant smile tugged at his lips. "I hope so."

He smiled down at Nicolls indulgently and purred sweetly, "I would hate for you to be on my bad side, Melanie."

With Tom using that saccharine tone of voice on Nicolls, Hermione would have expected the girl to immediately throw herself at him. Wasn't she completely infatuated with Tom? Instead, pure terror warped up Nicolls' pretty face. She blanched and even stumbled a step away from Tom.

"P-please. I d-didn't do-" Nicolls mumbled, her terrified voice quickly dying away.

Hermione was surprised to see the fear shining in Nicolls' eyes. What was happening here? Why was Nicolls so afraid of Tom? Hermione stared at him in confusion. A satisfied smirk was on Tom's face as he regarded the Slytherin girl. He lazily raised a hand and skimmed his fingers over Nicolls' cheek. She seemed to completely freeze over with fear at the contact. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at Tom, obviously caught in horror.

"I think," Tom told Nicolls pleasantly. "It might be a good idea for you to go now. Don't want you to miss your next class."

"Y- yes," Nicolls stammered, frightened.

Hermione could see the girl's hands shaking. Nicolls didn't even dare to look up at Tom anymore. She grabbed Yaxley's hand and pulled her with her, away from Tom.

Suspicious, Hermione thought and eyed Tom. But she didn't want to ask him what this was all about. So Hermione mimicked Nicolls and quickly walked away from Tom. It wasn't long and, to her dismay, he fell in step beside her.

"We should stop meeting like this," Tom joked, obviously trying to break the silence.

Hermione didn't smile. She barely spared him a glance.

The smile dropped from Tom's face and he asked seriously, "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Nothing," she returned briskly.

Tom stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to him. He scanned her intensely before he ordered,

"Tell me what is wrong."

Hermione bristled at the commanding aura he emitted. Angrily she swatted his hand away from her.

"You are avoiding me, Hermione," Tom wanted to know. "Why?"

She couldn't hold back anymore and said flippantly, "Well, what do you think is wrong?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You lied to me again."

Tom raised his eyebrows innocently. "What? I didn't lie. About what?"

Surprise was clear on his face. It made even more anger mount up in the pit of Hermione's stomach. As if he didn't know what she was talking about.

"The bond, Tom," she managed to fume. "I'm speaking about how you stole my magic!"

Surprise and innocent confusion were still pasted all over Tom's face. If Hermione hadn't know him so well, she would have believed this act. He took a step towards her and grabbed her upper arm. She tried to resist him as he pulled her away but while there was innocence on his face Tom's grip was very firm. He opened a door near-by and pushed Hermione in the room behind. It was rather small and stuffy. Tom turned around to Hermione. Indignation dominated his features as he insisted,

"I didn't steal your magic."

Hermione snorted at that before she spat furiously, "Are you kidding me? You said that my magic belongs to you. That you are its master. I don't remember allowing you to become my magic's master. Hence you stole it!"

An irritating smile curled up Tom's mouth and he patted her arm soothingly.

"No, Hermione," he said patronizingly as if talking to a child. "I didn't steal it. I brought it back for you."

His fake sincerity managed to rile Hermione up even more. She ignored his lies and snapped,

"Why did you do it? What made you think this was okay?"

He just looked at her calmly, not at all unsettled by her fury. His friendly façade made Hermione want to punch him in the face.

"I don't know why you are so angry," Tom finally said, unfazed by her upset state. "Your magic was gone. If I hadn't done anything, you would have ended up as a Muggle."

The cockiness he displayed and the condescending smile on his face made Hermione finally snap. She seethed with barely controlled fury.

"Listen, Riddle," Hermione said slowly, her voice icy cold. "I don't like being lied to. Neither do I tolerate getting used. You did both to me."

The frosty and threatening tint in Hermione's voice managed to make the smug look on Tom's face waver for the first time. Unease flared up in his grey eyes as he observed the fury on her face, finally realizing how serious the situation was.

"Just a mere week ago-" Hermione hissed darkly. "-we sat there in the grass a little bit away from Hogsmeade and you promised me to never let me down again."

Hermione took a step towards Tom and stared him in the eyes, then she said, fury twisting her quiet voice into a snarl,

"You know what? I'm feeling very much let down."

Nervousness flittered over Tom's face and he said cautiously, "I- I didn't lie to you, Hermione. I just… just thought you…" He swallowed thickly before he whispered tentatively, "Listen, bonding your magic to me was the only way to get it back. But I… I never planned to use that bond anyway. That's why I never told you about it."

Hermione's nose crinkled in disgust as she heard him. She angrily shook her head and snapped at him, "You are lying again, aren't you?"

Tom quickly shook his head but he averted his eyes from her. As his grey eyes again flashed at her insecurity shimmered in them. "It was the only way to bring your magic back. What should I have done instead? Leave you with no magic at all?"

There was nothing remaining from the cocky look he had sported just moments before. Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin angry line as she glared at him.

"You could have told me what you planned before you took possession of my powers," she snarled at him. "You could have been honest with me instead of tricking me and manipulating me."

Tom clasped Hermione's hand, squeezing it soothingly. She took an angry step away from him and ended the contact. He looked at her, anxiety clear in his eyes, and said imploringly,

"If I had been honest, would you have trusted me?"

Hermione snorted bitterly as she heard that. "Who knows? At least, I would have made my own decision."

Tom threw his hands up in the air frustrated.

"Back then we barely talked, Hermione," he tried to reason. "And at the times I was lucky enough to get you talking with me, it always ended with you yelling at me. How was I supposed to be open with you? Back then you would have never trusted me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes to slits as she hissed aggressively, "And whose fault was it that we broke up in the first place? Huh? Certainly not mine. You lost it after you found out I'm Muggleborn."

"I know!" Tom exclaimed desperately.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Then he said, softer, "I know it was my fault, okay? I told you I'm sorry over how I treated you."

Tom's grey eyes flicked at her and he explained cautiously, "As Grindelwald's men attacked you in the Forbidden Forest and… and almost hit you with the Killing Curse… I just knew I wanted you back. But you told me you would never take me back."

Tom visibly shuddered. Hermione almost congratulated him for his amazing acting skills. He ignored her frosty glare and continued beseechingly,

"I tried everything but you wouldn't even look at me… and then I learned about your lost magic. I thought if only I could give it back to you, you would finally see that you can trust me."

Hermione stared at him. Her voice shook with rage as she whispered, "So you wanted to regain my trust by lying to me?"

Tom winced at her sharp tone of voice. "No. I wasn't lying. Please, believe me I really only wanted to get you your magic back."

"Yes, I do believe you," Hermione replied darkly. "But you didn't do that because you wanted to help me. You wanted to help yourself. Giving me my magic back you hoped to make it back into my good graces. And, of course, turning me into a magical object, didn't that also solve the problem of my dirty blood?"

Tom winced at the words. As his grey eyes flashed at her Hermione could see the guilt there.

"You are still disgusted by my parentage, aren't you?" she accused sharply.

"No," he quickly denied. "We both know that I'm neither fond of Muggles nor Muggleborns, but you do not disgust me in any way. I wouldn't spend time with you otherwise. Look, I wanted you back even before I knew anything about Peverell's magic. Doesn't that prove anything?"

"In fact, that only proves that you quickly adapt to new situations and have no scruples to squeeze profit from them."

Tom just stared at her pleadingly, not replying anything. Hermione growled irately and started to pace. Fury rushed through her. In a fit of violence, she raised her hand and snipped her fingers. A dusty old chair, standing in this abandoned room, exploded into smithereens. Through the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Tom flinching at her actions.

As if he needs to fear my magic, she thought enraged. After all he controls it.

She fixed Tom with a murderous glare before she barked, "How much am I bound to you? Just my magic? Or more?"

"What do you mean?" Tom whispered in a small voice.

Hermione stopped her pacing and faced him again. Then she thundered, "How much can you influence me? My feelings, my decisions? How much of an independent person am I still?"

Tom swallowed as he looked at her with wide eyes. "I swear, it's only your magic that's linked to me. I have no influence on your mind."

Hermione almost growled as she heard it and snapped accusingly, "And how do I know that you are not lying again?"

"I'm not," Tom pointed out, almost timidly.

She just snorted in disbelief as she heard his assurance. Tom ran a hand through his dark hair while he stared down at her.

"Hermione, until yesterday I never used that connection between us," he said beseechingly. "I won't force you into anything."

"You won't force me into anything," Hermione echoed, sharp sarcasm in her tone. "That's bullshit! Do you have any idea how violated I already feel, just knowing that you only have to snap your fingers and I have to obey?"

"I… I… I didn't want you to feel that way," Tom stuttered. His grey eyes were fixed on her as he said honestly, "You know I would never abuse you nor that bond between us."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Hermione whispered bitterly. Before Tom could protest she said cuttingly. "Even if you would never misuse that power over me, what if you were defeated by another wizard? What if Grindelwald had won? God, Tom! I would have had to serve that man."

"He… he didn't win," Tom said cautiously. Then the hesitancy dropped from his voice and he stated with conviction, "No-one will ever defeat me."

"You are arrogant," Hermione replied coldly. "Maybe it was the same arrogance that drove you to think you could own another human being."

She shook her head at him and asked caustically, "I mean, what do you see in me, Tom? Now that my magic belongs to you, do you think I'm just like the Elder Wand? An object you can use as you see fit?"

Tom shook his head vehemently. "No, I don't wa-"

"But that's what you turned me into. A soulless magical object. A thing!"

"I only manipulated your magic. Everything else, that's still you." He cautiously took a step towards her then he said firmly, "I know you're not just an object. And I won't treat you as such."

Hermione just narrowed her eyes angrily at him. "We both know you have quite the short temper. What if we argue again? Don't tell me you were never tempted to use your power over me."

Tom raised a hand and gently put it on her shoulder. Looking deep into her eyes he said, "I wouldn't do that. I know how you would never forgive me something like that. Yes, I admit I did sometimes want to use the bond, but do you really think I would risk losing you again?"

Hermione could not see even a hint of guilt in Tom's eyes. He really didn't understand the problem at all, did he?

"Is this what you want?" Hermione asked bitingly. "Do you want me to be completely yours? Do you need me to be nothing but a servant to you? A slave? What shall I do next? Hm? Do you want me to kneel before you? While I'm at it, maybe it would please you if I kissed the hem of your robe."

Tom stared at her, his eyes widening slightly. He shook his head but didn't say anything. Maybe words had left him. Maybe he just didn't want to admit she was right.

"What?" Hermione scorned mercilessly. "Don't like it how I speak to you? Not enough reverence in my voice? Not enough submissiveness? How do you intend to punish me for my insolence, My Lord? The Voldemort I know wouldn't have hesitated to crucio me."

Tom still only stared at her. As the last words washed over him, though, Hermione saw tiny flecks of red beginning to sprinkle his grey eyes. They persistently burned up in a sea of light grey. As Tom finally replied traces of anger laced his tone,

"That's stupid, Hermione. You shouldn't say things like that. I'm not him."

He never raised his voice but the dark inflection in his tone still made Hermione take a suspicious step back from him. Her first reaction was to wrap her magic protectively around herself. With a stab of insecurity in her stomach she realized that her magic would be no help at all against Tom. Feeling exposed, Hermione glared up at him. By now Tom's angry magic started to crackle around him. Hermione felt helpless and that made her snap at him cruelly,

"But that's who you are, Voldemort. I would have thought you'd be proud of it."

Hearing this, Tom's features turned into a snarl. The red colour in his eyes intensified as he glared at her sinisterly.

"Stop insinuating things!" he commanded, his voice was a fearsome hiss. "I don't think you are a slave, a pet or a mere object. If I thought of you that way, I would have forced that ritual on you. I wouldn't have asked."

Hermione took another nervous step away from the now clearly enraged wizard and snapped, "But you didn't ask me! You never told me a thing about how you would steal my magic!"

His dark magic raged around Tom furiously and he took a threatening step towards Hermione. He was now standing so close, she had to tilt her head back to be able to look him in the face. His malicious magic was thick in the air. Hermione inhaled it with every breath she took. It left behind a strangely metallic taste on her tongue.

"I brought your magic back. Without me you would have nothing," Tom bit out furiously. "Why are you so angry?"

By now Tom's eyes glowed in a deep crimson colour, his lost temper dancing in them. His magic in the air, the intimidating snarl on his face, it somehow made Hermione's previous anger die down. She looked up at the furious wizard and was hit by sadness. It tightly clenched around her heart and unshed tears started to tingle in her eyes.

"I'm not angry," Hermione replied, her voice suddenly a mere whisper. "I'm disappointed because you think I'm nothing but a possession to you."

Tom didn't seem to notice the sadness swimming in Hermione's eyes. Instead his dark magic peaked painfully. Still towering over her, he hissed aggressively,

"Do you really think I would be standing here, discussing this with you, if I thought you were nothing but an item?"

As his magic thundered so furiously around her, Hermione felt painfully vulnerable. Could she raise her own magic to protect herself? Would Tom allow her to do that? A sad smile played around Hermione's lips as she said,

"Honestly, Tom? I don't know what I am to you anymore. If I am anything at all."

Tom's eyes widened in shock as he heard her empty voice. Hermione didn't wait for him to yell something in return. She just turned on her heel and wanted to storm away. She didn't feel at all like talking anymore. Tom would only twist the truth into something that pleased him. Honesty was something he had never held in high esteem.

Before Hermione managed to flee Tom, she felt a hand on her arm. She expected him to twirl her around and continue yelling at her. He didn't do that though. Instead Tom stepped closer to her until Hermione felt his chest against her back. She gasped softly as he gently draped his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer. Tom's aggressive dark magic had stopped to rage around him. The only thing that now surrounded Hermione was his warmth and his pleasant scent. Tom bent his head so that his chin rested on her shoulder and his cheek brushed hers. She could hear him releasing a breath of air. Then he whispered so softly she almost missed it,

"I love you."

Hermione shuddered as she heard him repeat the confession he had given her only once before. The first time he had said those words, Hermione hadn't believed him at all. Now that he said them again, her heart clenched in a painful mixture of joy and sadness. Feeling shaky on her feet, Hermione tentatively turned around in his arms. As she looked up at Tom, she found his beautiful grey eyes observing her cautiously. There was no hint of red left in them. Tom tightened his arms around her, then he leaned down to her. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she felt his soft lips on her own. He was kissing her so tenderly, her head swirled. Hermione automatically parted her lips as she felt his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. Soon his tongue was playing with hers and a wonderful electrifying feeling flittered through Hermione's whole body.

But whose feelings were this? she wondered painfully. Her own, her magic's, or Tom's? Did he force this on her? Was he literally enchanting her?

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. Everything in her screamed to pull Tom even closer but her mind was full of doubts. Raising her hands to his chest, Hermione forcefully pushed Tom away from her. She was surprised to hear him moan painfully as he stumbled a step away from her. Tom leaned against the stone wall and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. His breathing was struggled while he held his chest. Hermione took a tentative step towards him. She could see traces of Madam Dulan's healing magic swirling around Tom's chest. Obviously the cut he had received while fighting Grindelwald was far from healed yet. Hermione raised a hand to grab Tom's arm to support him. But before she made contact with him, she felt unable to touch him. Her arm sank back to her side and she suggested in a distanced tone,

"I think it's best you go to the Hospital Wing."

Tom leaned weakly against the wall. As he heard the cold inflection in her voice he opened his eyes. Hermione almost shuddered as she saw the pain in his grey eyes.

"It's fine," he whispered unsteadily. "I'm okay."

"Doesn't look like it," Hermione replied, her voice lacking emotion. "Madame Dulan should check you over."

Tom stared at her in a rare display of vulnerability. Then he mumbled softly, "Could you accompany me?"

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to agree, her magic reached out for Tom without her consent. It bristled with worry as it wrapped around him tenderly and started to feed the healing charm on his chest. Her previous anger rushed back to Hermione and her voice was quite callous as she answered Tom's question,

"I've still some things to take care of. I'm sure you'll find the way alone."

Tom averted his eyes from her and had them downcast as he nodded. Hermione felt something twitch in her chest as she looked at him. She ignored the feeling and said frostily,

"Look, Tom, let's talk later, okay? I'm not up for it right now."

He again just nodded without looking at her. Hermione sighed softly. He still didn't raise his eyes at her as he whispered almost fearfully,

"But you are still my girlfriend, aren't you?"

Tom looked so much like a lost little boy, Hermione wanted to hug him and comfort him. But she just couldn't. Tom wasn't a little boy; he was a dangerous dark wizard. So instead of soothing him, she replied in a voice that was colder than she had intended,

"Yes. Still."

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

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed but she could find no sleep. Too many thoughts ran through her head. On top of that, her back had started to smart again.

Probably all the turning, Hermione thought annoyed and tried to untangle herself from her blanket. She sighed tiredly and sat up in her bed. Opening the curtains of her four-poster, Hermione found her dorm dived in darkness. Her room mates were already asleep. The sudden urge to get a breath of fresh air made Hermione get up from her bed.

Once again, she didn't want to use her magic. So instead of just apparating to somewhere outside of the castle, she walked through dimly lit corridors in direction of the Entrance Hall. Hermione didn't pay any attention to her surroundings. Thus it wasn't surprising at all as a sharp voice stopped her,

"Stop right there!"

Hermione cursed under her breath, not in the mood to deal with this. Slowly she turned around and found none other than Professor Legifer walking towards her. Like usual the woman was clad in her immaculate clothes and her hair was styled flawlessly. Hermione wondered how the professor had looked after the fight. She couldn't remember at all.

Legifer stopped standing right in front of Hermione. A sharp frown furrowed her brow as she mustered the Gryffindor girl's appearance. Hermione knew she must look awful. Her hair was completely frizzy and she was wearing nothing but her short nighty with Tom's black robe on top of it as she hadn't wanted to search for her own. Glaring down at Hermione, Legifer said curtly,

"Ms DeCerto, wandering the corridors at-" Here the professor checked her tiny silver wristwatch. "-exactly an hour after curfew."

Her sharp eyes snapped back to Hermione and she raised her thin eyebrows. "Do you have an explanation for your behaviour?"

For a second Hermione just stared at her stupidly. Of course she didn't have any excuse for being out of bed out of hours. Aside from her horrible thoughts keeping her awake. In the end Hermione said tiredly,

"No. Not directly."

Legifer harrumphed at her indignantly and drowned Hermione in a withering look. "Will you never cast away your insolence, Ms DeCerto?"

Hermione couldn't help but grin at the woman. "Probably not."

She could almost see the indignation taking a hold of Legifer. Before the professor would lose her temper and yell, Hermione said, her voice suddenly unsure,

"Professor?"

"What now?" Legifer asked impatiently, eyes glistening with anger.

"Er…" made Hermione. She looked down at her shoes as she said awkwardly, "Thank you. For… you know… for helping me… against Grindelwald..."

The anger melted from Legifer's face but the hard glint never left her eyes.

"I only did my job," she replied caustically.

Although her voice had been sharp as a knife, Hermione couldn't help but smile at her slightly.

"I didn't know risking one's life was in the job description of a Hogwarts' professor."

Legifer narrowed her eyes at her and said curtly, "You are as imprudent as ever, I see. Professor Dumbledore asked Professor McGray and me for help."

"Hm," made Hermione. "Anyway, I'm still grateful."

"As you should be," snapped Legifer. "I hope you, for once, showed a little bit of good manners and also thanked Mr Riddle. He got hurt badly for helping you."

As Hermione wasn't very forthcoming with any reply, Legifer continued, asperity lacing her tone,

"I have been against your relationship with Mr Riddle from the start. I could see in class that you lack any form of feminine grace of even the basics of proper behaviour. Mr Riddle is a very bright student and a polite young man. He deserves a young lady who is not likely to embarrass him. And yet-"

Legifer's gaze slowly wandered over Hermione. A crinkle of disgust curled up her nose. Then the professor continued, "Yet, he chose you. Quite frankly, it is a mystery to me. It seems to be such a waste."

Hermione did her best not to be offended by Legifer's words. Still, she scowled right back at her. Legifer ignored it and said cuttingly,

"But, in light of the events in that church, I am now convinced that Mr Riddle is adamant in his choice. He seems to truly care for you, however odd that might be."

The customary sharp frown adorning her features, the professor raised her hand and slightly tugged at the collar of Hermione's robe, straightening it.

"So, now that such a fine young man like Mr Riddle has decided to court you and possibly even wants to marry you," said Legifer, incredulity thick in her voice. "I think it is more important than ever to turn you into a real lady."

Hearing this, Hermione couldn't help it. A groan left her lips. Instantly she was hit by a disapproving stare from Legifer who continued in the same sharp tone,

"I don't want Mr Riddle to end up with… with…"

Words failed Legifer as she gave Hermione a once-over, clearly not liking what she found. She cleared her throat and said,

"With such an unruly, unmanageable girl like yourself. I've seen your obstinacy first hand. It is unbecoming for a young lady to talk to a man like you do to Mr Riddle. He deserves a good wife and I swear I will turn you into one."

Legifer glared at Hermione, probably expecting some kind of refusal. Hermione was too shocked right now and didn't say anything so Legifer continued firmly,

"This school year is as good as over, but I promise you I'll put even more effort into your education next year."

Hermione just stared at Legifer, aghast with this information. She still felt unable to reply anything. Well, one reason more for you to return to the future, Granger, she thought dryly.

"And now, Ms DeCerto," Legifer pronounced sharply. "I expect you to instantly go back to your dorm and not cause any trouble. I will not take any house points from you for now, but the next time I catch you I won't let it slide."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied. "Thank you."

Legifer threw her one last evil glare before she turned and stalked away. Hermione was surprised the dragon-lady hadn't thrown her into another detention. Maybe the old bat had a heart after all. Hermione walked down the corridor in the opposite direction. She had no intention of returning to her dorm.

_._._._._

Not much later, Hermione sat in the soft grass and looked out to the Great Lake. The fingers of her right hand grabbed a fistful of grass. This was exactly the place she had sat with her friends before all had gone down. Marc had still been with them. She still couldn't quite believe that he was really gone.

Hermione released a shaky breath and let her eyes wander over the Great Lake. Its waters were black. Just like the sky above, only interrupted by the full moon shining quite serenely. It was almost midnight.

As she sat there in the grass at the shore of the Great Lake Hermione felt painfully alone. She hadn't talked with her friends again and after their fight she had avoided Tom as well. If only she could talk to Marc. She had never noticed it before but he had always been there for her. Whenever Tom had decided to once again show his dark and unreliable side, Marc had consoled her. He had tried to help her. Always. And now…

Now…

Marc was gone. Hermione had to face it. I shouldn't be that surprised, she thought bitterly. After all sooner or later all her friends died. She sniffed and raised a hand to angrily wipe a few tears away. In the future all her friends were dead. And Hermione had had nothing better to do, than travel into the past and try to ruin other people's lives here as well.

Hermione clenched her teeth. Terrible guilt was eating away from her as one question cruelly swirled around her head: If she hadn't travelled back in time, would Marc still be alive?

Back in the future Hermione had never heard anything of a Marc Longbottom, but that didn't necessarily mean he was dead. She knew Neville Longbottom and had heard from his parents, the Aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom. And of course, Neville had often talked about his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom. Obviously she had been very strict with her grandson. Hermione remembered the Howlers Neville had often received from her. So, that-

Dear God!

Hermione froze in her thoughts. Augusta Longbottom? Could it be? She swallowed nervously. Just a day ago, Hermione had met Marc's parents. They had been devastated by their son's death. The wife… that had to have been Augusta Longbottom. Hermione breathed in shakily. The poor woman. Her older son was dead, her youngest son and his wife would be tortured into insanity and her husband would probably die too. Hermione bit her lower lip hard. Had she brought all this misery on that woman? Back in the future, as they had still hunted after Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, Neville had died. Died because Hermione hadn't been strong enough to protect him. And now… now it was also her fault that Marc was dead. Hermione's stomach knotted with guilt. She pulled her knees against her body and slung her arms around them. Leaning her head against her knees, she tried to breathe steadily.

Hermione didn't know what to do. All those months ago as the Elder Wand had chosen to hurl her fifty-four years into the past, Hermione had appeared completely lost and with a broken arm on an abandoned meadow. Now months later, she still felt painfully lost. And broken, too. So broken in fact, she even managed to mess up the lives of the people around her.

"Hey," a deep voice brought her out of her thoughts.

Hermione slightly turned her head and found Tom standing beside her at the shore of the lake. It was the dead of the night, no-one knew she was here. Still, Hermione was only mildly surprised to see Tom.

"Tom," she acknowledged him, her voice detached.

He sat down beside her on the grass. Hermione stared out to the lake, not paying him any attention. After a while, Tom asked quietly,

"How do you feel?"

Hermione still didn't look at him. For a moment, she considered his question. How did she feel? Shouldn't she be angry with him? Somehow Hermione couldn't muster anger right now. So, she answered Tom's question quite honestly.

"Sad."

Tom didn't reply but he cautiously slid closer to her. A tremble ran through Hermione as he reached for her hand. Furrowing her brow, she turned her head and looked at Tom. He had his head bent a little and stared down at her hand in his. Hermione studied his face. Tom was quite pale even by his standards. Only his eyes gleamed vibrantly as they wandered over her silvery hand. Cautiously, Tom ran his fingers over the artificial part of her hand. As he examined the hand, there was a strange prickling sensation whenever his fingers skimmed over the line where her flesh met the silvery hand.

"How's your back?" Tom asked softly, without looking up from her hand.

"It hurts," said Hermione in a colourless voice.

His grey eyes wandered to her face. Hermione looked back at him, her gaze unwavering. Once again it struck her how beautiful Tom's eyes were. They were the lightest shade of grey Hermione had ever seen, around the pupils they were speckled dark blue.

"You need rest, Hermione," Tom told her tentatively. "Maybe you should return to the castle."

Hermione's face was a blank mask as she continued to take in the incredible colour of his eyes. They truly could draw one in, she thought numbly. Not replying, Hermione turned her head and resumed to scan the lake.

"I'm sorry your friend had to die," Tom said gingerly.

Hermione threw in a shuddered breath. Her hazel eyes flew at Tom. Then she said, unable to ban all bitterness from her voice,

"You never liked him."

"No, I didn't," Tom admitted. "But to be fair, there are not many people I do like."

He raised his hand and gently tugged a curl of her hair behind her ear. Eyeing her intently, he mused,

"Not many…"

Hermione stared up at him. Something inside her shuddered under his gaze. Never breaking eye contact, Tom's hand wandered from her hair to her shoulder. Then he slowly pulled her over to him. Hermione again felt her magic react to his touch. It was delighted to have Tom near. This time though Hermione didn't feel angered by her magic's antics. They were hopelessly overshadowed by the sadness coursing through her. Hermione was still upset with Tom and disappointed but right at this moment, as sorrow threatened to wrench her down, she needed him. She couldn't be alone right now. So, Hermione didn't push him away. Instead she leaned against Tom's side. Her head rested on his chest and he had his arm securely wrapped around her.

They sat like this for a while. Hermione was nestled against Tom while her eyes wandered over the still waters of the Great Lake. She made no move to escape his nearness.

"I am not in the least bit content with that bond between us."

She could feel Tom stiffen at the mention of their bond and her possible anger. Hermione ignored his discomfort and continued resentfully,

"You forced it on me and that does make me doubt the sincerity of your feelings towards me."

Tom shook his head and quickly tried to deny, "Hermione, please, don't think I di-"

Hermione raised a hand to stop his justifications and excuses. She breathed in deeply. "Regardless, I should still… thank you. If you hadn't turned up, I don't know what Grindelwald would have done to me. I'm also sorry that you got hurt. Grindelwald was my problem."

The arm around her tightened and Tom shifted a little bit. As he replied, Hermione heard bewilderment in his voice, just as if he were surprised she even mentioned it.

"You don't have to thank me," Tom stated in his silky voice. "I'll always protect you."

She peered at him. Though there was honesty on his face, Hermione couldn't help but say, "Because you can't have it that your possession gets stolen from you?"

Tom sighed in face of her reproach. He was obviously fighting for words as he stumbled, "I understand why you are upset about the bond. Really. And I should- …although there were a lot of reasons I didn't, I probably should have told you about it. I'm- I'm sorry I didn't."

Hermione sighed softly. "I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that you deceived me. After all, a leopard cannot change its spots."

Tom winced at the hard tint in her voice. Then he said gravely, "Hermione, after all the things we've been through, do you really think I would just go and use you like some replaceable thing? I like that you are powerful but that isn't all. You are too precious to me to ever mistreat you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and asked callously, "What's precious? Me or my magic?"

Tom slightly tilted his head. "That is inseparable. Your magic is a part of you."

She didn't reply but continued to fix him with a hard stare. Tom bit his lip before he whispered in a raw voice,

"Magic or not, you are the only person I ever cared for. Please, I don't want you to run away from me."

Hermione released a deep breath of air. Having Tom looking at her like this turned her emotions into a whirlwind. Even without her magic's conflicting influence it was hard enough to deal with this confusion. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Tom's chest.

"You know you are a manipulative, evil, conceited bastard, don't you?"

Tom's arms encased her in a warm embrace and he whispered tonelessly,

"Yes."

Not looking up, a small smile slid on Hermione's face and her arms around Tom.

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

The next morning, Hermione was late as she sat down at the Gryffindor table to get some breakfast. She just reached for a pot of coffee as she finally noticed the depressed mood hovering over Gryffindor table. Turning her head, she realized that it were not only the Gryffindors that were so gloomy. Hermione gulped. Whatever had happened now?

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked Lupin and Weasley who sat across from her at the table.

Lupin turned towards her. There was a grave expression on his face as he said, "It's Avery."

Hermione wrinkled her brow. Before she could question Lupin further, Rose cut into the conversation.

"Ogg found him," she said, eyes wide.

It did nothing to clear Hermione's confusion. What had Ogg to do with anything? He was the current gamekeeper of Hogwarts. Hermione had never really met the man. Meanwhile Lucia nodded frantically at Rose's explanation.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "In the Forbidden Forest. Merlin, that's so horrible."

"Okay okay," said Hermione, raising her hands. "What exactly happened?"

She turned to Lupin, who was obviously better at explaining things than her dorm mates. The serious look hadn't yet left the Gryffindor as he said,

"Apparently, early this morning Ogg was walking through the Forbidden Forest. That's when he found Avery."

Weasley shuddered at that and said, "Avery was unconscious, so Ogg took him back to the castle. But neither Perry nor Dulan could wake him up."

"That's when they transferred him to St. Mungos," Lupin continued darkly.

Hermione had a bad feeling of foreboding as she listened to her friends. Sure she had never liked Avery but this didn't sound good at all. As Lupin was too shaken to continue, Rose again cut in.

"They say it was a stray Dementor," she told Hermione in her shrill voice.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked confused.

"They assume Avery wandered into the forest," Lupin said quietly. "Somehow he must have come upon a Dementor. Though no-one knows how it could have got here." His eyes dully stared at Hermione as he added, "The Dementor kissed Avery. He will never wake up again."

Hermione stared at her friend with wide eyes. Her blood froze over with shock. Avery was… he was…

Dead?

No. A cold chill ran down her spine. How could a Dementor have wandered to Scotland? That was just too improbable. There was a horrible suspicion mounting up in Hermione. It made her stomach twist and she felt sick. The last time she had seen Avery, he had been his old insufferable self. He had mocked her and forced himself on her, kissing her. The very same day, Hermione had told Tom about it. Another shudder ran through her body. He had been very angry.

Slowly, Hermione turned her head and looked over to the Slytherin table. They all looked rather glum, having just heard about the death of one of their number. Quickly, Hermione's gaze found what she had been searching for. Tom Riddle sat at his usual place. His face was an inscrutable blank mask. He wasn't looking at her but Hermione's eyes widened as she could see an icy cold glint in Tom's grey orbs.

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

Author's note: So, my dear readers, another chapter finished. Now we are very close to the end of this story. I don't know yet whether the next chapter will be the last one or if I'll write another two. If it'll be two more, you'll have one evil cliffhanger in the next chapter. Sorry in advance.

Oh, and I'm also sorry for the delay. This time I can't even blame my muse. Real life just came to bite me in the ass… or more like turned me around and fucked me in the ass (sorry for the language. But it's an M rated story. so…) Anyway, something came along that worried me, disappointed me and made me incredibly angry. I couldn't write at all anymore. Some people are just selfish assholes. I wish Voldemort was real so I could send him after them o.O Just saying…

Gobi-Lo: Sorry couldn't reply to your question. You have your PM funtion disabled. Thanks for the review though. Sure if you wanna translate UR into Russian that would be cool.

Many thanks to you all!

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