A/N: I'd just like to thank every single one of you for reading and reviewing. This story is very dear to me and to see it's dear to so many of you really means a lot. So, just so you know I read every single comment and they truly motivate me to continue. Thank you!

The quiet of Regulus' room was deafening compared to the cacophony outside. Rapid spellfire ignited the halls of Grimmauld Place. Clambering survivors fought each other for ancient tomes. A library was torn to shreds. The bodies were neatly pushed to corners of rooms so the duelling could continue in an orderly fashion.

Too many people in close quarters made anyone antsy; this was why weddings, funerals, and birthday parties tended to have an outside element to them.

This many people in one house was madness.

A madness that Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Granger vowed to avoid completely.

''We cannot back out.'' Abraxas said. It pained him to do this, truly it did. This was a decision that thrilled a side of him that still remembered the betrayal and agony of those seventeen years. That part of him would never forget. Another part, buried deep within his squelching, squealing heart thought that he could never stop loving Tom. A battle was waged within his heart, tearing each thought apart as Abraxas tried to understand what could not be understood, no matter how much he tried.

Hermione was staring upward at the ceiling and she whispered, her voice slow and hitching: ''No, I suppose we've got to do what's right.''

''What is the right thing to do? That which we have obligation towards?'' Abraxas allowed himself to think of a life he could have had with Tom were their circumstances different, but ultimately he decided that it was not worth dwelling on. Only ruined men without a future to look forward to ruminate over the past and blame others for his own undoing.

''I promised -'' Hermione was Harry's friend. Her mentor killed his parents. It would be logical whose side she would be on. There ought to be no hesitation. ''I mean,'' she asked: ''what even can we do?''

''There is no backing out, my dear,'' Abraxas repeated. ''We have made our choices and now we must go through with them.''

Hermione nodded, dread had festered in her lungs and she breathed, afraid of what was to come. ''He did so many unforgivable things.'' Of course he did. He was lord Voldemort, a Dark lord.

But even with that in mind, ''I can't kill him,'' Abraxas dared to announce.

Hermione hummed at that. She understood. ''But does he deserve our forgiveness and loyalty?''

''No'' Abraxas said instantly, ''not unless he begs me for it.''

Hermone closed her eyes. She saw her mentor, who'd been like a father to her these past few months. How could she betray him like this? ''He trusted me and I ratted him out, Mr. Abraxas.''

''You did nothing wrong'' Abraxas would rather see Tom hunted than see Hermione so torn up. One was capable of taking care of himself and one was a girl that had only recently graduated and entered the real, unstructured world. ''He is a war criminal, Hermione.''

''I can't see it.'' Hermione remembered the dancing fiendfyre. She had been so mesmerized by it then, but upon retrospect it was a show full of sadness and anger and unconditional hurt. The peacock it had taken the form of was next to her now, equally as sad and angry and hurt.

Wordlessly, a sob escaped Hermione, and Abraxas drew her into his embrace, whispering: ''Sweet thing, hush now. There is no need for tears. Do not waste your emotions on people like him.'' He rocked her, or at least tried to. It was done so awkwardly, but Hermione appreciated the gesture. Abraxas did not make it a point to rock anybody. Lucius least of all. So, if asked, he would explain that he was making an exception with this young child that had captured his heart and held onto it.

At first, he'd been amused by her because she was like Tom. Someone that wanted to learn everything there was to learn was rare to come by. It took Abraxas only a couple of conversations to differentiate between Hermione and Tom. Tom had loved knowledge to the degree of self-destruction and self-mutilation - Hermione had not yet gone that far. Hopefully, with Abraxas' continued guidance she would never go that far.

Abraxas remembered a conversation he'd had with Albus, before any of this had begun. He'd yelled at the then alive man and told him off for his behaviour towards Tom, but Albus had been right. Abraxas had enabled Tom's obsession with immortality. Abraxas had been incapable and, a bit unwilling to stop him from splitting his own soul. He was afraid that if he'd tried that Tom would leave. There were too many IFs crawling through Abraxas' brain. He tried to clear his thoughts.

Hermione apologized, but she did not know to whom: Abraxas, Mr. Goldsmith, or herself. Her voice was so weak. It was nothing to how Abraxas remembered Hermione, his young and stark powerhouse of knowledge.

''It is all right. Nobody expected anything else. You did the only thing you could in such a situation, my dear girl.''

''Mr. Abraxas?''

''Yes?''

''Can I tell you something that I've never really told anyone.''

''Did he hurt you?'' Abraxas would never forgive him. Rage sparked through him, so potent and visible in the sparks that cascaded through his hair. He turned towards Hermione and she blinked, owlishly at the sudden reaction. Until it seemed that she caught onto which He Abraxas was alluding to. Then she waved her hands no.

''No!'' For good measure she shouted. ''No, no - he was always very kind to me. He even took care of me when I got smashed with absinthe in Munich.'' He'd done a lot more to Hermione, too, but this was the one that always stuck out the most. How easily he'd been to help her, not mock her, and even jokingly offer to be her parent. Hermione's insides churned at how bloody happy that had made her.

''Then what is it?'' Abraxas smiled at Hermione. That smile was probably meant to be comforting, but Hermione felt very unnerved by it and the silver eyes that somewhat even glowed in the dark and muted mausoleum which was Regulus Black's childhood room.

''Could you go back and stare at the ceiling, it's a lot easier to talk when I don't have to make eye contact with people. This is very hard for me.''

Abraxas' smile slid off, just as quickly as it had formed. He obliged her, however. But then he began to tap his fingers against each other in anticipation.

''My parents are distant.'' Hermione finally said that which had been eating at her for years. She'd chalked it up as normal. Or to be more precise; she'd chalked it up as her normal. But Montgomery had shown interest in her and her studies and promised to always make time for her. Another sob wretched itself painfully from her, how an inexperienced dentist squared off against a stubborn tooth. Abraxas didn't hush this sob, letting it run its course.

Hermione controlled herself and calmed her voice enough to continue: ''They've always made time for me before Hogwarts. I didn't have any friends before Harry and Ron, you know.'' Abraxas encouraged her to go on. ''But then when they saw that they couldn't keep up with my magical world, they – it's like they decided to let me go completely.''

''You did… live with them right?'' Abraxas glued his eyes to the ceiling.

''Oh no, yes. I did. They didn't kick me out or anything so drastic.''

''Right.'' Abraxas was concerned. ''Carry on.''

''It all happened so very slowly. At first, I mean. I could describe it like boiling a frog. I only truly noticed it this year after I'd gone and had more space. They would book every possible seminar, go to these book signings abroad, too. We spent time together during the holidays, but when they noticed I read more than I spoke to them they… they began… I started spending time at the Weasleys. I remember when I asked them if I could go over to a friend. Mr. Abraxas, they were so relieved. A part of me even thought that if I didn't go I would burden them…'' Hermione sighed. ''They were just… you know.'' She had no idea. ''It's like they didn't want to be my parents anymore. They never mistreated me. I saw Harry's family life and I thought that I was living ideally compared to that.''

''Just because it isn't outright abuse doesn't make it all right.''

''Yes, well.''Hermione was uncomfortable to call this abuse. Nobody wanted to think that their parents could be abusive. Even if it wasn't as dangerous as people read about. Hermione had never been hit. Her parents just preferred when she was... away.

Abraxas didn't say anything to that, specifically. ''What else?''

''And then I went to Malfoy Manor when Draco invited me. You asked me these things that I don't think any adult before you has bothered.'' Hermione admitted. ''Maybe, when I look at the bigger picture, that's because you had Mr. Goldsmith with you for so long.''

''Mr. What now?''

''Goldsmith.'' Hermione remembered that Abraxas probably hadn't heard what Lord Voldemort had gone about calling himself in his own exile. ''Montgomery Goldsmith.''

''That is a wretched name.''

''I did think it was a bit too odd, personally. But you're named Abraxas, so.''

''Fair enough. Go on.''

''For the first time outside of school I was asked genuinely challenging questions. You sent me those tomes to read and didn't mind, at all, that I disagreed with you. I could see when people minded that. I wasn't stupid. It hurt every time I'd catch a professor sighing when they caught my hand up. But I wouldn't stifle myself for their comfort.''

''No, of course not.''

The ceiling was definitely old and rotted. It needed renovators.

Hermione shifted on the bed, clasping her hands together and placing them over her chest. ''Mr. Weasley always asked me things about my muggle life. You asked me smart, magical questions. Not just about how the bloody post office worked. I latched onto you pretty badly then, I fear.'' An awkward, sheepish chuckle filled the room. It came as a welcome gift to the usually sombre conversation.

Abraxas hummed. ''You really did. I found it endearing, though.''

''Most people would have minded.'' Hermione grumbled.

Abraxas laughed it off. ''Do you really think I am most people, dear girl? I am in the Guiness book of world records. That is not most people.'' He could have said that he was not most people because most people hadn't had a very intense relationship with a ruddy Dark Lord, but that would have just set Hermione off even harder.

''God yes, I forgot about that. Nigel nearly ate my hair once.''

''Tom was so good with the birds. They liked him. It was one of the things I loved about him.'' But Abraxas never said he was a man who knew self-control. So, in the end, he did mention him.

''Do you still love him?'' Hermione wondered.

''I do not know, Hermione.''

''It isn't normal, is it?''

''What?''

''Latching onto people like this? First I did it with the Weasleys and then you and Narcissa and then Zorka and Mr. Goldsmith. Something's severely wrong with me.''

Abraxas couldn't help it. He understood that she was very young, but it still surprised him that Hermione was like Draco: so terribly, terribly stupid about some things. He laughed very hard at Hermione.

The way she self-consciously tried to cover her face with her hair at hearing him laugh set him off even harder. Abraxas needed to work on his reactions, he really did.

''There is nothing wrong with you, dear girl. It is good that you want to have people who care about you in your life. It is normal. Though, what even is normal?'' that was too long a conversation to have. ''Hermione, dear girl, never be ashamed of this. Sometimes the parents we're born with disappoint us and that's sad, too. It's the first betrayal we ever go through. But that's also something that happens and as much as we would like for it to never happen – it's something … just… that we have to accept.'' He was a mathematician damn it. Words did not serve him well.

Hermione, ever observant, put two and two together. ''Who'd you latch onto?''

''Well, my father died when I was fifteen. He was brutally murdered in front of my very eyes, I really should stop telling people he'd died. That makes it sound like a natural death. Which it isn't.'' Abraxas spat out. Though, to actually speak of it openly was a new opportunity for him.

''I'm so … sorry?'' Hermione did not expect their talk to lead this way.

''Don't apologize. My Head of House became a father figure to me then. You sadly never met him. His name is Horace Slughorn and I would do anything for him. I'd like to think that he would do anything for me, but with the way students move through that school I'm not arrogant enough to think I'm special out of all of them.'' He shook his head and fanned what he'd said away with his hand. ''Tom thought so. But he never entertained the notion of family. You could really see he cared about what Slughorn and Merrythought thought, however. Goodness, we all Tom had a crush on Merrythought with the way he tried inserting himself in every discussion. We were wrong, of course, because he turned out to just be projecting all of his motherly problems onto Merrythought.''

''He still does that. I actually met Professor Merrythought. She's so cool and I heard she called him son once and he choked.''

Abraxas guffawed at the mental image. Hermione laughed with him. They drowned out the noise from outside. Together, they'd warded the door to make sure nobody thought about entering it. If anyone tried they would be convinced that it was actually the Library they wanted to go to, instead.

Once their laughter died down, Hermione asked quietly: ''Do you think my parents would be like this if I wasn't a witch?''

''You are ot to blame at all for something like this, Hermione.'' it was odd to be having this conversation during a bloodbath waging outside. Abraxas continued, determined to help Hermione through this. He wasn't a good man, nor did he think of himself as one (it had seemed too arrogant) but he would do this one thing for this child, even if it killed him. ''People are, forgive my French, connards. What few people truly care for you, keep them close. It's a rarity to find someone like that.''

''I just feel so inadequate sometimes.''

''You're preaching to Flitwick's choir.'' Abraxas drawled. ''I've felt inadequate a good ⅔ of my life.''

''Does it ever stop?'' Hermione dared to ask. She was a Gryffindor, after all. A bold and brave girl like her could ask even the toughest questions.

''Yes.'' Abraxas answered. ''It does stop.''

Hermione nodded. It was enough to know this much for now. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her eyes levelled on the door. With an uncoordinated grunt she tried to climb over Abraxas towards the door and therefore towards reality. Too much of her time Hermione had spent wallowing and overthinking. Her steps were wobbly. One of her hands wrapped around the doorknob. She glanced back towards Abraxas. ''Want to rejoin society?''

Lots of screaming sounded outside.

''I'd personally rather not.'' Abraxas confessed.

''But I was having a moment just now, showing how I had grown as a person and was ready to face whatever waited for me out there.'' Hermione tried to turn the doorknob, but because Abraxas wasn't moving from the bed, stopped. With a terrible, knowing sigh, Hermione inquired: ''It's your tun, Mr. Abraxas. Have you got anything that's been bothering you?''

''I can't kill him, Hermione.'' Abraxas remembered Tom and how he was always gentle with his birds. It was the biggest damn turn on Abraxas had ever experienced with another living being. ''I'm still in love with him.''

Hermione sighed as she dragged herself back to the bed.

Meanwhile. Death was rather enjoying the Battle of Grimmauld Place because it was an opportune moment for her to catch up on some much needed work. These past seventeen years she'd been very sloppy. Watching and plotting Montgomery Goldsmith's death was too consuming an activity.

Most of the people she'd meant to collect were still very much alive. There were too many that were alive. Ugh. Death stood in a corner and scanned the room. She would do some work today, but there really were too many for her to do all at once.

This could be another thing that Death could and would blame on Tom Riddle: obstruction of metaphysical work. Well. All in due time. He and she would face off soon. It was going to be glorious.

Sirius looked at Severus and sneered: ''Well, if it isn't fucking Snivelus come out to play. Moody was right about you! I don't know what any of us thought! You were never going to be fighting on our side. You have always been on their side, begging them to take you in because you never belonged anywhere else.''

The words hit much too close for comfort. Severus sent a hex, dark and painful, towards Sirius. He managed to avoid it. The Black's movements were graceful and deadly. The next thing he did was to send a jet of magenta-tinged spellfire flying at Severus. It hit Severus in the knee and he screamed through gritted teeth.

Remus called them both off, or at least he made a good attempt to do so: ''Sirius! Snape! There is no need for this, please.'' He spoke wisely, but it was a shame that they did not heed his words. There was too much history between Sirius and Snape for them to listen to good advice.

Severus swished his wand imperiously through the air: ''And yet you still continue to be a hound that obeys orders, Black. Never one to think for yourself. You are a follower and a madman. At least I never went to Azkaban for loyalty to a bullying swine.''

Sirius' temper was short. It was shortest when it came to insulting his best friend in the whole world: James Potter.

They continued to fight. Remus tried to block the worst of their spells, and sometimes he succeeded. But sometimes he didn't. Sirius shouted a raw, animalistic snarl when Severus had hit his shoulder with a muscle cutting spell. It was through the delirium pain brought Sirius that he said: ''James saved your fucking life, remember. I think you owe him way more respect than you know it. If it wasn't for him you'd be dead!''

Remus then interjected: ''And so would I be.''

Sirius faltered, blanche-faced. ''No, come on, Remus.''

Severus laughed. It was cold. ''Didn't think that one through did you, Black? You think Lupin had enough connections to avoid Azkaban for murder charges? But no, you never think about anything other than yourself, do you?''

Around this time Sirius decided that having a brain and being an adult about things wasn't something he wanted to do: ''You fucking deserved it.''

Never keen to be reminded of a harrowing and traumatic experience, Snape yelled: ''Sectumsempra!''

Remus rushed to block the spell with a potent protego shield. Again, he begged them to stop fighting, telling them that nothing good would come of this. ''Severus,'' and Remus was the only Marauder ever to attempt to apologise and try to be an adult after Hogwarts, ''you were on our side for so long. Tell us what happened to make you go back. If they have something on you we can help-''

Any professional dueller would be able to tell you that these conditions were less than ideal. Grimmauld Place had expanded, but duels still interwove like cross-stitching.

Avery Jr. attacked Remus. ''Two on one isn't fair!'' He'd seen Snape outnumbered and rushed to aid him. Unwillingly, reluctantly, but without any other choice, Remus pushed himself into a duel with Avery.

Sirius and Severus were both blinded by intense hatred and, yet again, they did not listen to Remus. Sirius casted like mad, going the extra mile to think of worse spellfire to attack Severus with. In retaliation, Severus realised that there would be no reasoning with his childhood enemy. He lunged into the offensive, harder and faster and with a lot more anger than he had ever figured was possible for him. Rage danced in front of his eyes. He thought of Lily, for a brief moment, and thought of what a different life he would have had there been no Sirius and James to bully and humiliate him. Years of torment flickered through his mind. Years of terror and anger and humiliation draped themselves on Severus like a layer of second skin.

Severus dodged a bone-sawing spell and breathed in. He'd been forced to be civil to a man (barely a man, a dog, a terrible, hideous, too loyal dog) that had never done a single nice thing to him. He'd tried to kill him, using his lover without a care. How Remus could have ever forgiven him for that, Severus would never be able to understand.

Sirius had never apologized. A Black did not apologize. As much as Sirius hated to be compared to his mother he was more like her than any other black. Dumbledore had forced Severus to be civil. Whereas the Dark Lord had always nurtured Severus' darker thoughts and told him that revenge was sustenance and strength. That it was all right to have such thoughts. That those who hurt him deserved pain. Dumbledore was no more there to tug at his leash. Severus steadied his hand and glared into the unrepentant eyes of Sirius Black.

There was nothing else to do. He shot. With all of his might as a wizard.

A curse he'd cast many times in the war was so quick to conjure up again, if only one had the thoughts and feelings powerful enough. Green light burst jaggedly, ravenously charging towards Sirius. It hit him. Severus didn't see where. All he did see was the powerfully cut figure of Sirius Black falling to the ground with a resounding, final thud.

Severus shook and moved to take shelter. An emptiness stretched to envelop him whole. He'd thought that this would have brought him closure, but it didn't. Slowly he moved, numbly he looked around. Someone said something, he could faintly make out that the words belonged to Bellatrix, but he didn't understand them.

Something hot and painful smashed into his back and he fell forwards, hitting his head on the hardwood floor.

Death hopped from her corner to the scene. There was work to be done.

Not far away Bellatrix was focusing on Augusta. She had warned Severus, but he had not heard her. Sweat broke across her brow now. Augusta did not seem to be letting up. She was out for blood. Bellatrix could not blame her.

''General,'' a voice said. Bellatrix didn't dare to underestimate Augusta after this showing. Her curse had hit Severus and she looked unaffected (this could just be a rouse not to show her true, wavering hand, but Bellatrix would not put anything to chance anymore). Bellatirx refused to look away from the aged lioness. Yet she was thankful for the man the voice belonged to. She felt his presence next to her and managed to scoff out an endearing laugh. Finally, her lips quirked up in a mirthless smile: ''Junior.''

Together they would go against this woman and they promised to be victorious.

''Lady Longbottom,'' Bellatrix commanded, ''Yield.''

''Not even in your wildest dreams, you utter cunt.''

One more chapter of this bloodbath left, dear friends, and then we're going back to the never-ending trainwreck which is Tom Riddle. Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought or if you've got any theories as to what's going to happen next :D