EIGHTEEN

Monday, 4 April 2005

Draco's anger had to take a backseat so he could deal with the chaos that befell the Resistance after the attack on the gala. It took a few hours to regroup at Devon and even longer to hear from the other safe houses. It was worth it, however, to know that there had been no casualties. Though there were some whose injuries were still questionable at best. Despite the reason for changing plans at the last minute having been a bust, the evening hadn't been a complete waste.

Tonight, they had proven that they could attack the Dark Lord and live to tell the tale.

Originally, he had planned to scope out the lab. That while everyone was busy partying it up at the Ministry, the Resistance would do what they could in Manchester. They had already been running recon missions on it since Granger had come back into his life. They had the schedules of the guards nailed down, who was important, and deliveries and pickups. They had nearly gathered enough intelligence to send in a few people to do a sweep of the place and learn even more.

But the moment Granger hadn't shown up, Draco had lost focus. Manchester was no longer important. All he could think of at night was what was happening to her. Of what Riddle might be doing to her. What he might be making her do to him. He'd seen some horrific things in her mind and after too many nights tossing and turning about in a fit of rage, Draco changed the plans.

He had called in every Resistance member in the area; anyone that could receive a summons and answer it within a day's time. It was time to prove to Granger once and for all that he was done sitting back and letting her risk it all. It was the least he could do considering all that she had sacrificed for him over the years. By the end of the night before the gala, the plans had been set and everyone was ready to strike.

He had seen Riddle get struck with a curse. Had seen the blood spraying everywhere. Had seen the panic and fear in Granger's eyes as she stared down at him a moment before her gaze lifted to Draco's and disapparated with Riddle. He had called for the retreat a few moments later, though most of the guests at the gala were already retreating on their own.

The following day was spent making sure everyone was accounted for and assessing injuries. By the time the sun was nearing its peak in the sky the next day, there were only three whose life hung in the balance. Everyone that had an ounce of Healer training had been sent to their aide as well as their supplies. By the end of the day, they were stable, but not out of the woods. Not yet.

After being up for almost two days straight, he had gone to back to Grimmauld. Instead of rest, he made his way to the liquor cart and picked up the first bottle his fingers came into contact with. He quite liked the feeling of numbness being on such high alert had left him in. He had no intention of letting in wear off. But at a quarter bottle in, the anger started to return as the surrounding silence forced him think.

He had risked everything to get Granger out that night. Had called in the majority of the Resistance and went in wands blazing. Granted, his approach wasn't exactly as he'd planned it, but watching Riddle touch her at every opportunity they had had boiled his blood. The way the Dark Lord looked at her; held her… If he didn't know any better he might think-

He laughed aloud at the thought and drank deeply.

She had all but told him she was being held prisoner. Hell, he had seen her memory of Voldemort carrying her off the battle field nearly eight years ago. She had been a prize then, slung over his shoulder like a spoil of war. Had Draco done more to help her; protected her like he promised her he would have, that never would have happened. She wouldn't have needed to be rescued.

Yet, when being presented with the choice to leave, she had turned and ran right back to Riddle. She had chosen Riddle over Draco. Had used her magic to fend off rogue spells from either side and rescued the Dark Lord from the death Draco had hoped he'd succumb to.

As the alcohol mixed with the exhaustion of his body, pulling him into slumber, the bottle slipped from his fingers and spilled across the floor. For a fleeting moment, he thought he felt something for her again. Those old feelings resurfacing after so many years, but now… He wasn't sure if he had been misreading her signals or if he had never understood them at all. He knew one thing for sure; if she didn't want to be rescued, he wasn't going to try again.

For the rest of that night and the two days that followed, Riddle remained unconscious. Hermione stayed in the room with him, only allowing a few people inside to help her on occasion. She didn't need to, of course. Whatever potions she needed, she could summon with the Grey magic, but it was extremely rewarding to deny Bellatrix access to her precious Dark Lord when she thought he was dying. Only to then turn around and allow Alecto as one of two, the other being Lucius. She had given command to him, telling him to make sure things remained the same in Riddle's absence and to spread the word that he was alive, but needing rest. That everything was to still be brought before her and no decisions made without her say so. It was the only time he agreed with her without hesitation.

For the most part, they left her alone. Alecto did her bidding, bringing up meals that largely went uneaten and running other small errands. Lucius only brought what was absolutely necessary before her which gave Riddle the peace and quiet he needed to rest and her the same to help him do just that.

The only time Hermione saw Lucius on Monday was after dinner. He had come up to tell her the leader of Croatia wished to speak with her about their alliance. She told him to handle it; to do whatever necessary to hold him over until Riddle woke up or she was comfortable enough with his status to deal with it herself. He had lingered for a moment to ask if they should get a Healer from St. Mungo's to which Hermione had assured him she had it covered and closed the door when she retreated into the room.

In truth, she didn't need a Healer. While her magic wasn't nearly strong enough to completely undo the damage, she was able to do enough to stop the bleeding and take him from critical to stable. Combined with the potions she kept making him take, she suspected it would be just another day or two before we woke. For now, she was content with the silence knowing that the moment he opened his eyes he would be beyond angry and go about seeking revenge.

Quietly, Hermione made her way to the bed and flipped down the covers so she could settle in at his side. She laid on hers, propping herself on an elbow so she could stare down at him. She had seen him sleeping before, but this was different. He looked peaceful; almost as if he wasn't the Dark Lord; leader of a regime and controller of Dark magic. At the moment, he was just Tom Riddle. A lost soul who made some wrong choices.

Her other hand came up to trace the scars on his chest. Beneath the fresher wounds sustained barely forty-eight hours prior lay over the ones Draco had given him in 1944. There were others, but not many. She knew each one of them as intimately as he knew hers. Slowly, she let her hand drift over the length of his chest and down his torso until it skimmed the edge of the blankets pulled up to his hips.

She could feel his magic responding to her touch. Could feel it drifting towards the surface as if calling out to her. She concentrated on it until she could almost see the smoke like tendrils flow forth from both of them and clash in the small space beneath her palm. She remembered when the feel of his magic would make her flinch. Would make her cringe and bring tears to her eyes. The amount of times she did that now were few and far between.

Now, all she felt was his magical core. The moment she realized it wasn't just his magic mixing with hers, she gasped aloud and let the magic coil around hers. It felt like static after walking across a carpet with socks on; a kind of magic only Muggles could understand. It thrummed beneath her and made her breath quicken. She had been connected to him twice before. Once when he had invited her in and then again when she had forced a connection and severed a piece of his soul to have with hers.

Back then she could feel the darkness. The sheer amount of Dark magic he had inside of him then after only creating two Horcruxes had been enough to drown her. The first time it actually had while the second time her Grey magic had been advanced enough to keep it from touching her. As it was now, it felt different. There was a lightness inside of him that she hadn't been prepared for.

Gently, she moved her hand up to his face, the connection remaining and moving with her. She brushed a few stray locks of his hair away from his eyes and then traced the outline of his face with her forefinger. Knowing the chances of him waking up were limited, she let her curiosity get the best of her. She cupped his face and angled his face towards her, whispering "Legilimens," under her breath.

She was prepared for the darkness to swallow her whole upon entry. She was not, however, prepared for the lack of darkness in his mind overall. The last time she had been in his mind was right after the heat of battle. It had been a quick look around; a mad dash to erase any and all sightings of Draco. In that moment, she hadn't had time to look around and notice the significant change.

She only let herself worry for a fleeting moment that he wasn't there to greet her before she broke free of the grey room and into the mind of Tom Riddle. She was only mildly surprised to find his mind organized and pristine. Knowing she would probably never get the chance again, she took full advantage of her time there. Being that his magic was still pulsing against hers, she found his mind responsive. Without having a clear idea of where to start, she decided on going from the beginning.

Hermione stood there, watching their younger selves interact for the first time. She still remembered that day as if it were yesterday. She had been so overwhelmed with everything that she hadn't even recognized the significance of the year when Draco had told it to her. The back of her hand tingled as she watched Riddle's lips brush over hers in the memory. It was coupled with the extra beat of her heart as his introduction floated through the air; sealing her fate.

Being in his mind, she could feel the curiosity rolling off of him in waves as he took in the way she reacted to him.

One by one, the other memories of their time in Hogwarts together began to appear, each one faster than the last. She experienced all of his emotions; most of them a mix between intrigue, anger, and lust. A few times there was fear, but once he had figured out her secret, the fear had dissipated.

At least that's what she had thought until the memory of Christmas hit her.

She had looked away at the memory of Draco telling Riddle she was a Mudblood and her subsequent torture. Her arm pulsed with phantom pain, but she ignored it as the memories continued.

On Christmas though, there was a flicker of something. She remembered having seen disappointment in his eyes when she had told him she didn't want his love; just his respect. That if they were to be equals should he win, she demanded to be treated as such. Reliving the memory with his emotions present made it all too clear that it was not a trick of the light that night. That he had been disappointed to hear she wouldn't love him. And coupled with the pure rage and betrayal at the sight of her disappearing through the door with Draco made it that much more apparent.

And then there was the first few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. The months of being put through the tests at the lab and the torture at the hands of Bellatrix at his commands. His anger was present, but there was a sense of justice and pride. It gave her the impression that the more she withstood, the more he admired her resolve. She bristled as that line of thought seemed to continue throughout their years building his regime together.

But somewhere along the way, the punishments that used to make him lust after her; after her pain, became something that hurt him to enact. She could feel the resentment at his own actions every time he did something outside the realm of lust. She could feel the lust he experienced when they played their game of power struggle. Could feel the way his pride for her at the way she handled her position at his side grew to something else. That feeling intensified into one of protectiveness and fear as the most recent attack of the gala came forth. He had been looking for her in the chaos and when he couldn't find her, he had panicked.

Before she could delve into just what that meant, the scene changed.

Riddle was standing in a room she didn't recognize. He was standing before a mirror with his hand stretched towards it. He was focusing on his empty palm. Hermione found herself leaning in as something flickered there. A gasp left her lips, echoing around the space of his mind as a yellow rose appeared in his palm followed by a triumphant smile on his lips.

Startled by the scene, the connection severed and Hermione found herself back in her own mind. She removed her hand from his face as though his skin burned her and stared down at him with wide eyes. Was that Grey magic? Had he figured it out? Was that before or after he'd proposed for the sake of a soul bond?

Most importantly; how was he able to conjure the Grey? Where had all his Dark magic gone? It was as if his soul had been cleansed somewhere along the way. After being split off into seven separate vessels, not counting her necklace, it should have been beyond repair.

She stilled for a moment before sitting up and grasping her necklace lightly between her fingers. Could it be? she wondered. Could the portion of is soul intertwined with hers have cleansed what remained inside of him? Was Grey magic really that powerful? If it was, they needed to act faster than they were.

With a shaky breath, she slid off the bed and threw up more wards than she had ever used her in life. Making sure Riddle wouldn't wake in her absence, she disapparated on the spot.

A/N: Guys, bear with me on this chapter. The next chapter (hopefully) will shed some light on the Dramione path.