A/N: We are inching ever so close to the end! This took much longer than I intended, but life has a habit of getting in the way sometimes.


THE BONES INSIDE ME ARE SINGING OUT FOR YOU


Harry POV

This was getting utterly ridiculous.

Hermione just can't run off like that...what if...what if...fuck.

Hearing her stating bluntly that she is in love with Voldemort feels like a massive punch to the gut. But a small part of Harry is not surprised. They were too close, those intimate smiles too obvious. Part of Dumbledore's behaviour makes sense now that that small nugget of information has fallen into place.

"Come on dipshit, Hermione won't let you follow she's too smart for that" Draco pushed Harry's shoulder making Harry fold a little into himself because he wasn't expecting it.

"Blonde git" Harry jabbed half-heartedly, without much heat.

"I am positively wounded Potter by that remark", Harry watched Draco make a dramatic display of getting shot in the chest. He didn't understand how the Malfoy heir could be so flippant at letting Hermione run off by herself into god knows what.

"How can you just let her go like that?" Harry let everything show on his face without meaning too; he wasn't someone that could blank their features like most Slytherins. He was someone who wore everything on his sleeve- unfiltered. Perhaps that was too his detriment, allowing people to read him like that- a weakness. He sucked at lying.

Draco scrutinised him, and suddenly he felt self-conscious, which was stupid. He wasn't looking for or needing Malfoy's approval. He just wasn't sure where he stood amongst everything now, that he wasn't required as the saviour anymore. Now there was possibility, which he hadn't had before since he expected to perish in the war. He tried to wipe the expression of his face but probably looked like he had a horrible facial tic if Draco's expression was anything to go by.

"Salazar Potter you Gryffindork's are really bad at hiding any emotion, such bleeding hearts the lot of you. As for your question Potter, Tom would sooner burn civilisation down to the ground than allow someone to harm a hair on her head", Draco turned abruptly to keep this shit show moving down the hallway. Harry reluctantly followed, not knowing what else he was supposed to do. But he did think about the way Draco had looked at Hermione in the forest earlier.

"And you?" He asked after a short awkward silence, startling himself because he didn't mean to verbalise his thoughts. The sharp look Draco gave him made him wish for a split second that he could take them back.

"We are not having this conversation Potter in the same hemisphere as the topic you're trying to needle information out of me" Harry secretly revelled in the fact that he had ruffled Draco's feathers and didn't flinch at the positively homicidal glare the blonde shot him.

Harry aimlessly followed on Draco's heels trying to keep up with the quick pace he was setting, the hallways made no sense, it really was like a maze. He wondered if there was magic that shifted the walls to keep it mind-boggling.

Draco suddenly stopped outside a doorway that was incredibly ornate and gilded, just like everything else was in this house. He had to stick an arm out to stop himself from colliding with Malfoy.

"What the bloody fuck?" he mumbled under his breath he couldn't seem to get his head on straight, and that worried him because it could mean a simple mistake between life and death. He watched Malfoy knock on the door and listened for signs of life behind it.

The door creaked open, revealing a stoic looking Snape, however, what Harry was grappling with was the deep-rooted sadness lurking behind his eyes that were usually well shielded. Not to mention the increasing pale pallor, that makes the bruised purple smudges underneath his eyes stand out like reflectors catching the light.

"Mr Potter, nice of you to come to your senses." Harry had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying something snarky in response. He was unsettled the feeling again stabbing him more acutely - seeing Snape like this was like walking on ground that was breaking apart under his feet. Unfortunately, before he could gain any mental ground, Narcissa Malfoy stepped forward looking prim and proper as any lady of the Manor who was worth their salt should.

"Harry so lovely to have you in our home under...better circumstances." he looks at her outstretched hand, contemplating for a second whether he should take it. A small irritating grunt from Malfoy prompts him to find his manners and prove he is not some backward orphan boy with no class. The skin of her hand is smooth and soft, not rough and calloused like his own, despite the differences he can see the hardness that surrounds her. She is not someone to be trifled with, ever; he thinks that having Lord Voldemort in your home would do that too you or would invariably destroy you.

"Would you care to take a seat and have a refreshment?" Narcissa uses that light hostess voice that borders on fake. Harry stumbles over his own tongue, and he is torn between disbelief and something else that hints at anger. Instead, he answers in a cut-off whine as his eyes come to rest on the back of the room, that looks like any other sitting room of chairs, coffee table and bookshelves- but this- this...is different. A table, a solid hardwood, with legs so thick they would equate to the girth of both his legs, was positioned in all its proud glory in the centre along the back wall, adorned by a meretricious macabre exhibit of splayed human bones. It was something so ghoulish and eerie and not entirely unsurprising. It was something that Harry had learned in his short years exposed to the wizarding world that wizards kept and displayed all sorts of strange things, that regular muggles wouldn't dare too. But he thought even for the Malfoy's this was a little out there. He took unconscious steps closer to the bones, not realising he was doing it until he was poised right above them. The only way he could describe the feeling was like a magnet was pulling him to look- a gentle whisper of encouragement in his ear. His bones were calling out, the molecules singing, to touch to know. He didn't understand it, he could hear the others in the room talking to him but he couldn't make out the words through the ringing in his ears. Watching his hand reach out to the very familiar object placed beside one of the skulls, it was like watching a foreign limb clasp the object, delicately in its fingertips turning it over as recognition dawned. He blinked rapidly, breaths coming in short bursts until he stopped breathing altogether, the heavyweight of information burdening his shoulders, tugging him down- until everything went black.


Snape POV

"Well, that didn't go how I thought it would," Draco said with casual amusement as we all watched as Harry blacked out and crumpled after picking up his father's spectacles. Yes, it wasn't how he thought it would go either but he wasn't going to agree with Draco- over his dead body. To be truthful he didn't know how it would go, he had spun many scenarios in his head but it never quite felt right. This was like reliving Lily's death all over again in a more visceral manner than before- where it had been dulled to a blunt point by time and separation. He could feel his emotional walls crumbling around him- he saw it when looking at Harry, that it was showing externally. He exhaled a tired sigh that affirmed his exhaustion.

"Bartle!" Narcissa called out, the elf popping in with a startling crack. "Bartle, could you please set up a guest bedroom for Mister Potter here. He has had quite a fright so make sure a warm bath is drawn when he wakes up and a pepper up potion too" the elf bowed deeply and left to his duties.

"Should we... you know lift Potter off the floor? Or just leave him there until Bartle returns?" Draco asked, stepping up and kicking Harry's arm as if to double-check that his childhood nemesis was indeed out like a light.

"Draco, the boy has had the shock of a lifetime. Imagine if you were in his shoes? Be a little less crude, would you?" Narcissa is giving him a light scolding.

"Yes, Mother" his tone contrite, but we all knew Draco wouldn't suddenly change his feathers regardless of how many times his mother censured him. He wondered where Lucius was; the man was supposed to get Tom a while ago. Hopefully, he is not steeping his liver in the fine malt whiskey he knows he keeps hidden around the house.

He sat down in the wing-backed chair near the bones resuming his silent vigil; he couldn't leave her bones now after having them dumped in that house in Wales all alone for so long. He closed his eyes but not for long because he knew if he closed them for too long, he wouldn't open them again. He needed to stay awake; he couldn't miss anything this time- he had already missed so much.

He didn't know how much time had passed; all he knew was the shadows and sunlight moving across the window in his periphery. His eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached to them.

A nudge to his shoulder had him blinking lazily, his sluggish response was countered with a waving of a ceramic mug in front of his face. His olfactory senses noted the strong aroma of espresso; he took a deep breath. His eyes flicked up to Lucius's blue-grey eyes

"Thank you" he slowly took the hot mug in both his hands. The last thing he needed was to give himself second-degree burns from the scolding liquid because he failed to get his brain back online. "You didn't spike it with Scotch whiskey, did you?" he asked a beat later before he took a tentative sip. As much as he enjoyed a good nip of alcohol every now and then, it tended to make him sleepy.

"Irish...Don't tell Narcissa, but I cracked open the Teelhill 24year single malt. I figured it was time for a " he paused "celebration of sorts", he watched as Lucius swished and settled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler, then balancing it on his crossed knee. Snape bristled as the words sunk in.

"How could this be a celebration?" He ventured bitterly. How could finding the bones of the woman I still love be a happy occasion?

"That's not how I meant it, old friend. More of a toast to finding lost things and hopefully establish new beginnings" Snape knew what Lucius meant after giving a sly look and a wink. They have had this conversation many times before, but the thought of dating a woman other than Lily was incomprehensible. "If Tom can-" he gripped the handle of the mug tightly, his knuckles turning white under strain. He doesn't need to rehash the differences or similarities between himself and Tom in regards to attracting women (or in Tom's case men as well). He'd rather not have his inadequacies aired, he was well aware of them thank you very much.

A change in topic was required.

"Speaking of the devil...where is Tom?" Judging by the look on Lucius' face, he will acquiesce the change of topic for now. He's sure Lucius will stick Narcissa on him later, oh the joy.

"He went out because he was feeling the need", Lucius scrunched his face up like the very thought of doing something so ordinary was distasteful. Snape hummed, but not agreeing with Lucius. He understood where Tom was coming from, being stuck in this place could drive any sane person mad.

"Narcissa hasn't sent out the article showing Tom's face yet?" he idly asked, not invested in the answer either way- he didn't think he could summon the mental power at the moment to care.

"Not yet. However, she has been using that weird magazine that Hermione suggested to disseminate the proposed policies...what was it called...Quaddle...no Quobble...something run by the loopy Lovegoods."

"Quibbler", Lucius just waved him off like it wasn't all that important.

"That one. Anyway, it has gone better than I thought. It seems to have a strong underground following; our movement of sorts seems to be gaining traction and making noise. The picture of Tom and Hermione together will throw things even more off balance. It was all very domestic looking" Snape watched Lucius scowl into his whiskey, not sure what his thinking was behind that comment. It piqued his interest, a little- only for the sake of Hermione- he told himself.

"Do you not trust Tom, Lucius?" Lucius' head snapped up instantly, hissing slightly at the implication of treachery.

"Sev, don't say something so preposterous! Even in his current state...it could still get us killed- I think. Honestly, I'm not sure- long term that is. I agree with most of his proposals. How can we not worry? When for the last few years, everyone was pulled into a mass delusion revolving around Dumbledore. I think that it would be irresponsible for us not to be concerned in some way. I mean all that is standing between Tom and him becoming the muggle world's most prolific serial killer is his teenage lover", He snorted at Lucius's apt description, while he did share some of Lucius' concern he didn't think that the situation was that dire.

"Need I remind you of his time as Lord Voldemort it wasn't exactly sunshine and prancing kittens. While I concede your point to the mass delusion that encompassed both of us for a short period of temporary insanity, I don't think that Tom will lead us to war again. He's more clear-headed now that he doesn't have any Horcruxes and he seems to hold Miss Granger in high esteem. Between Miss Granger and Narcissa, I think he will have his hands full if he makes the foolish mistake of heading down that path again" Severus sipped his coffee, letting the burn of the hot liquid and the bite of the alcohol scorch his throat. There was a pregnant silence between the two men before Lucius broke it. Snape thought his friend sounded introspective.

"I'm too old for war again Sev, and I don't want Draco's life consumed by constant conflict and death". On that Severus could agree. He wasn't that old, only in his thirties; but he felt like he had aged another twenty years from the stress.

"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting", he murmured more to himself than Lucius, however in the silence he heard it.

"If only" were all he said before Lucius knocked back the remaining liquid in his tumbler.

"If only indeed" he only hoped that Tom had a solid plan on how to deal with Dumbledore without all of them getting killed in the crossfire. It was certainly something to contemplate.


Hermione POV

I ran at full pelt down the hallway away from Harry and Draco, praying that they didn't end up killing each other and hoping I found Tom in time. I was discomforted by the feeling settling in my stomach like unexploded ordnance, just waiting to go off.

I tried to think of how I was going to find Tom, I had briefly entertained the idea of scrying over a map of London, but I didn't have the patience for that right now. So plan B- Essa the elf. I headed towards the front of the house because I had no idea where the kitchen was- well, that was the plan anyway- this house was like a maze. After a few minutes of aimless running down hallways and ducking into rooms I gave up; I was lost.

I was wasting time.

"Essa!"I called out, having no other option. I patted myself down nervously, making sure my wand hadn't fallen out of my pocket. Seconds later the female elf appeared, "Miss Hermione".

"Oh, Essa, I need.." I paused, losing my train of thought momentarily at the sight of her neon orange garment. "Ah. I need help finding Tom. I don't know where he is. I am afraid he is going to get caught up in danger" at the word danger the elf pricked her ears up and starting worrying the edge of her sack? Dress?.

"Yes, yes I will help find Master Tom" she disappeared suddenly, I was at a loss of what was happening although my observations from the last few days have been that the young female elf tended to be more capricious than the others- which reminded me sharply of Dobby.

I stood there staring at the space where Essa had stood, wondering what I could do if she didn't return. My only option aside from going to London and walking around with no plan was owls. In my younger years, I was fascinated by how the owls managed to find you wherever you were- how they just seemed to hone in on you. But, much to my chagrin, I couldn't find anyone that had done any sort of study on the magic of owls. My only issue with that plan was how to follow the owl and at this point, I silently cursed my inability to fly a broom. Thankfully, I didn't have to go down that trail of thought for too long.

"Miss Hermione!" Essa beamed looking very proud of herself, and she was holding a tray filled with chocolate mud cake slices that were close to six inches in height and some lemon bars.

"Essa this is lovely but..." I was confused and irritated. I asked for assistance in finding Tom not an array of baked goods. "I wanted help finding Tom" I couldn't completely reign in my vexation from bleeding through. She blinked up at me, eyes going glassy and her ears flattened out. Guilt flooded me; I didn't want to upset her. "Sorry, I am just confused- why do you have baked goods?" her large eyes flitted across my face, I was unsure if she was searching for a clue as to whether I was sincere in my apology. She was obviously appeased and her distressed look receded turning in to a sly smile- there was more to this elf than meets the eye- no wonder Tom likes her.

"I have found Master Tom, and he is taking tea with that bad man Dumbledore". My jaw hung and I had not been expecting that response, so much so that I couldn't form a coherent response. Instead, it was a garbled litany of noises- which I would deny vehemently if there were any other witnesses. Eventually, I calmed down enough that I could squeak out a word- yes one word- not my finest moment of speechlessness.

"What?" perhaps what I should have asked was where?

"Don't worry, Miss Hermione, don't worry" she gently patted me on the arm, while I was having an out of body experience. There was no way this could end well.


Tom POV

I flattened out the newspaper, pressing down on the crease of the broadsheet as the little bell above the door jingled. In the silence of the café, it was akin to a bullet being fired. While I couldn't control my body's physiological response to the sudden noise, I could outwardly convey an image on nonchalance. After my tea was delivered I put a slight imperious spell on the staff, I couldn't have them interrupting whatever this was going to be. The last thing I needed was to deal with muggle casualties. I made a sweeping gesture towards the person who entered for them to join me. While the face wasn't Dumbledore- probably polyjuice- I knew it was him. When people take polyjuice, they tend to give themselves away because they are still them- their speech patterns, gait and general mannerisms. That is how I knew this was Dumbledore and not some bum off the street that had a love affair with beads.

I flashed him a cocky smile that I knew would get a response.

Sure enough, it did.

"Albus" I mocked, not being able to help it. His eyes flashed with something, and I secretly had hoped it would have given him an aneurysm. One can dream.

Out of my periphery, I saw a shock of neon orange-then a small head poking out. When Albus started the transformation back to himself, I chanced a look, only to find that it was Essa glaring at Dumbledore. It was a look so fierce that if possible could have lit him on fire just from the pure force of it. It warmed the cold cockles of my heart; she had learnt well. Then with a silent click of her fingers, she was gone- at least I had the reassurance that someone knew where I was.

"Tom", then I had the pleasure of staring at the giant prick that has made my life supremely difficult. However, I needed to bite my tongue and not utter a word of vituperation against him.

We were nothing but two players, in a game for our lives.