TWENTY-EIGHT

Saturday, 23 April 2005

Saturday, just before lunch, Hermione found herself back at Hogwarts for the first time since Riddle had carried her away from it. She and Riddle were seated across from Headmaster Corbin Archibald at his desk in his office. For the most part, she remained silent as Riddle informed him of their needs. Once they were all in agreement that classes would be cancelled that following Friday in favor of getting all staff and students out of the castle. That gave them the week to make arrangements with their families as they would not be returning until weekend after the Summit.

Headmaster Archibald invited them to stay for lunch, but Hermione was quick to decline for the both of them. Once he excused himself, saying they were still welcome to stay as long as they liked, Riddle turned to Hermione and arched a brow.

"I'm not ready," she said before he could ask why.

He hummed in response and walked his fingers across the edge of the Headmaster's desk. "We should be getting back to the Manor as it is. There is quite a bit of-"

"Do we have to?" she interrupted, looking up at him and pleading with her eyes.

"It is not safe anywhere else."

"It is, actually," she insisted. "All your enemies have backed down. They agreed to the Summit and the ceasefire. They've already made their power play and they lost. You showed them what would happen if they try anything else." She took a step forward and placed her hands on his chest. Draco had sent her back to Riddle because she had become his weakness as Draco had become hers. If she could exploit that for a day where she didn't feel trapped in the Manor, she intended to do so. "I'm so bored of the Manor," she added before tilting her head back to look up through her lashes. "Please?"

There was a certain rush in seeing the way he caved so easily. She saw it as he clenched his jaw a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. "I suppose you already have a place in mind?"

"You know me well," she replied as she sought his hands before using her Grey magic to Apparate through the wards around Hogwarts.

Afternoon had started to bleed into evening when Draco finally emerged from his room two days after the attacks. Luna had sent food up to his room for every meal and made sure to charm the plates to continually be in his face until he had eaten at least a quarter of what she had sent. When he wasn't having food shoved into his face, he was standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, practicing what Hermione had showed him about altering his appearance. He was finally at the point where he was confident enough he would be able to hold a solid disguise for a decent length of time. Something he was need to be sure of if he went through with his plan to attend the Summit.

Luna was humming to herself in front of the stove as she twirled her wand to make several dishes bend to her will. He inhaled deeply and his mouth watered at the aroma. "Smells good," he said, grabbing himself something to drink.

"That color makes you look sickly."

"What are you on about?" he asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"Your hair. It's a bit dark."

He went still for a moment before pulling back and moving to stare at him self in the reflection of the window. Sure enough, his hair was the same inky black as it had been for the better part of the afternoon while he had been practicing upstairs. Going on autopilot, he sent his magic up to change it back, forgetting he wasn't alone.

"That's a neat little trick," Luna said, breaking him from his concentration. He turned to see her staring at him; eyes wide with wonder. "I don't suppose you would teach me? I've always wondered what it would be like to have colored hair."

"Not something I can teach," he mumbled as he returned to the fridge.

"It wasn't Transfiguration," she mused as though she were trying to assess it on her own. "And I know for certain the Malfoys are not known to have Metamorphagus genes." He turned around in time to see her tip her head to the side and smiled at him. "Though Nymphadora was your cousin so it stands to reason that-"

"I'm not a Metamorphagus."

Her shoulders rolled casually as she turned back around the to the stove. Draco opened the container of juice and drank straight from it, nearly choking when Luna asked, "Something Hermione taught you then?"

"What?"

"The Dark Lord chose her for a reason," she said in her signature sing-song style.

Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cursing the intuitive witch across the room. She was more accurate than he would have liked her to be. He cleared his throat and set the container down on the counter and moved to stand beside her. Gently, he placed his hand on her forearm and guided her to turn until she was facing him once more. "Can I trust you not to tell anyone?" he asked. "Even Longbottom?"

She didn't hesitate to nod nor did he have any reason to doubt her.

He took a deep breath and asked, "What do you know of Grey magic?"

Hermione had taken Riddle back to Paris where they spent the afternoon at the Louvre. He went along with it; even going so far as to take more interest in the museum than she thought he would. When they left the building, night had fallen upon them. They had gone to a small bistro across the street to grab something to eat and then she managed to convince him to take a stroll around the city just to stay out a bit longer. Their journey had led them to the park near the Eiffel Tower where they were lucky enough to find a bench facing the tower so she could gaze upon it in all its lit-up glory.

In another life, this would have been a perfect date.

Seeing as how it was this life, she just tried to enjoy the normalcy for as long as she was allowed to partake in it. The last time she had felt this way was before she had turned eleven. Before she had received her letter and Professor McGonagall had shown up at her house to deliver it. Before she knew she wasn't a freak; she just wasn't human. Ever since magic had entered her life, it had done nothing but take from her. Something she knew it would continue to do until it took her last breath.

"Of all the places in the world, why a Muggle museum?"

Hermione withdrew from her thoughts and turned to look at Riddle beside her. "Do you know of any wizarding museums?"

He inclined his head after a moment.

"I still don't see why you're so opposed to all things Muggle," she pressed. "Their heritage is as much yours as it is mine."

An argument they had had many times over the years. One that always ended poorly; usually for her.

He tipped his head to the side; the corners of his mouth pulling back into a smirk as he lifted his palm to her. She glanced down to see the faded lines of the mark she had left years ago to make a point. "Yes, I believe we have had this discussion once upon a time."

"And it still makes no sense to me how you can hold the same beliefs you once did," she said, getting to her feet. "It was your witch of a mother who slipped the love potion to your Muggle father. He asked for her attention as much as you asked for a sullied bloodline," she snapped as she turned to walk away.

He was faster; something she was used to, as laid a hand on her arm and moved to stand in front of her. His fingers tightened around her flesh as he tugged her closer to him. "Perhaps we should return to the Manor. It seems the serenity of our time together has run its course."

She yanked her arm from his grasp and shook her head as she stepped back. "You know what, Riddle? I think I've had enough of your gilded cage."

Hermione tugged at her magic to Apparate away; not at all surprised to feel his hand lock onto her wrist. He held on tight until they rematerialized in an alleyway nearby. He shoved her up against the building and wrapped his fingers around her throat; not hard enough to do anything other than provide a warning. Not that it really mattered; it wasn't anything he hadn't done before.

"If you truly felt that way, you would have stayed away when you had the chance," he hissed, his eyes flashing despite the dim light of the alley. He smirked when she grimaced and he moved his hand from her throat up to cup her jaw. "You were there," he said, leaning in. "With Draco; the one thing you claim to desire more than anything in the world." His thumb slipped beneath her jaw to tilt her face up when she tried to look away. "And yet you came back. To me."

She closed her eyes as her entire body trembled. She wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. That it was Draco who told her to go back when she wanted to stay. But, not for the first time, she found herself wondering if she had, how long before she would have come back? How could she stay away from Riddle when he had told her long ago that so long as he lived, she would never be free?

As if sensing her thoughts, Riddle closed the gap; his lips brushing over hers as he murmured, "In the end, Hermione, you will always come back to me."

Her lips parted the moment they met his. His tongue snaked into her mouth as she placed her hands on his chest and fisted the material of his shirt. He dropped his hand from her face in favor of reaching down so he could hoist her up. She grunted from being shoved back against the wall as he settled between her thighs. Whether he used magic to rid himself of his trousers or she had been too lost in his kiss, she wasn't sure. But before she knew it, she was tossing her head back with a moan as he filled her.

She clung to him as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, leaving him free to mark up every bit of skin he could reach. "Do you know why that is?" he all but growled as he tugged her lobe between his teeth.

Her hair stuck to the brick of the walls as the back of her head scraped against it from the ferocity of Riddle's strokes. "I don't care," she bit out as she sank her fingers into his hair. She tugged; giving just the amount of pressure she knew he liked.

She felt him hum against her jugular as he pressed his lips to it. "Because I can give you everything you want whereas he cannot." One of his hands drifted down between them, finding her clit; making her cry out. "Things you are still too afraid to admit you desire, but I see the real you, Hermione," he added; his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "Because you are mine."

Hermione saw white.

She lost all sense of time. Couldn't have remembered the date or where she was if someone had been around to ask her that information. All she knew was that her brain was stuck in a void of pleasure so intense, she wasn't sure she would ever recover.

When her senses did manage to return to her, Riddle seemed to also be coming down from his own high of release. She could feel him twitching inside of her as her inner walls spasmed around her in the aftermath. They panted heavily as they tried to regulate their breathing. As it started to even out, he slipped out of her and lowered her down until her feet were on solid ground once more. He tucked himself back into his pants as she pulled the skirt of her dress back down. At the same time, she used her magic to clean up the mess they made from her thighs.

He leaned in to kiss her again. Just a brief press of his lips atop hers. When he pulled away, she whispered, "You can claim me all you want, Riddle, but that won't make it true." She tipped her chin up in defiance as he pulled back slightly to glower at her. "I belong to no one."

He said nothing as he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. One moment they were staring at each other in an alley in Paris and the next they were back at the Manor. Back to real life. Back to a place where she wasn't quite free, but wasn't exactly a prison either. A place she shared with a man who grew to be less and less the monster she had always thought him to be.

And when he stepped away from her, she was left wondering what exactly that made her.