Aftermath
27 December 1942
Hermione sat in Dumbledore's office, her braided hair piled in high top bun on her hair, a cup of tea primly held between two fingers. She observed the knick-knacks splattering the desk.
"Thank you for accepting my invitation, Hermione."
She smiled and turned her gaze to the phoenix that was watching her just closely as its master. Its feathers were the most vibrant red she had ever seen, with flamboyant colours towards the tail.
"May I present to you Fumseck, my familiar. He has the same effect on everyone" he chuckled.
She ignored the bird and turned her attention to the bookcase behind the professors. Countless tomes were sitting behind various gadgets and contraptions. She tried to decipher each of the titles. Some appeared blurrier than they should at that distance.
"I haven't congratulated you on your prefect post yet. There's no doubt in my mind that Professor Slughorn couldn't have chosen a better student for the job."
She thanked him quietly and looked down at her cup of tea, suddenly fascinated by the wedge of lemon floating in the yellowish liquid.
"I should probably offer you my condolences as well, though I wasn't sure how close you were to Remy, may he rest in peace."
She looked up at that and cursed herself. The minute she met his blue eyes, the image of the grisly blood writing on the bathroom wall flashed in her head. She quickly averted her eyes to the window. She should have let Tom train her, or rather train on her, perhaps she'd stand a chance with Dumbledore.
"I have actually called you here today to discuss your potential career choices."
Fixing her eyes on the magenta hat sitting on top of slightly greying auburn hair, she answered politely.
"I thought our head of house was supposed to do that."
"Oh we will, of course, schedule appointments with our students during the term. But I've always felt a special connection to the students I introduce to the magical world. To be completely honest it is my favourite part of my job. Seeing the wonder children feel at things we take for granted always reminds me how lucky we are to have this gift."
She had to stop herself from snorting and looked at the books again.
"Well I haven't thought about my career yet. Since, as you can imagine, I know very little about our world, I will wait for the brochures Professors Slughorn will give us."
"Of course. If you need any additional help, I would be happy to provide."
"I will keep that in mind, thank you."
She took a sip of tea, and picked up a biscuit to have something to look at. The blurry titles behind Dumbledore were starting to give her a headache.
"Forgive my forwardness, Hermione, but I couldn't help but notice the rift between Tom and you. It would sadden me to see such close friends as you two drift away from each other so soon."
Her cuticles always grew wrong when she picked at them, but she couldn't help herself. And she had looked at literally everything there was to look at.
"Tom and I are fine, we always are."
"Of that I have no doubt. Such are family, we forgive them everything."
She smiled and nodded, still utterly fascinated by her fingers.
"May I offer you some advice that I wish someone had given when I was younger?" he continued without waiting for her answer, "just because you are master's favourite slave, doesn't make you any freer."
Her smiled turned to a grimace, and she set the cup down on the desk before sitting on her hands to stop them from shaking.
"Hermione?"
She looked up, meeting his eyes and concentrating on image of the yellowish tea.
"Is there anything you would like to tell me?"
Yellowish tea sitting in an understated white china cup and its matching saucer, the saucer had watercolour flowers painted near the edges.
"No, sir."
He let out a heavy sigh, and smoothed his beard down his chest.
"Thank you for indulging an old man, company becomes scarce as we age. You will see soon enough, I hope. Have a nice afternoon, Hermione."
She walked out of the office faster than a kneazle lapping chain lightning. She ran down the flight of stair and didn't stop until she got to the great hall. There, she put her back to the wall and breathed in deeply, trying to get her heartbeat down. She was seething. The man who had first thrown her into an orphanage, then into the magical world without so much a simple explanation of the social context really thought he was her friend. And he had dared using that phrase against her. Advice. He was either oblivious to the point of ridiculousness, or he knew exactly what he was saying and wanted to get a rise out of her. She hoped he'd seen nothing on her mind, then reminded herself that whatever he saw would never be accepted in the Wizengamot as it was obtained illegally. It did little to ease her worries.
She looked around her and set off to the entrance of the castle towards the lake. Tom was either at the library or the common room, her two favourite places in the Hogwarts, and she wasn't exactly partial to him at the moment. So that left her the outer grounds. Sure she had protected him, because she wasn't a snitch, and because Dumbledore was right, he was family. The only family she had. But she was still pissed at him. The minute she saw the black clad figure sitting under the oak tree she liked, she cursed under her breath. He heard, because of course he did, and turned to her while he folded the top corner of the page he'd been reading and stood up to meet her.
"I knew you'd make your way here, it's your third favourite place in the castle." He smiled at her.
"I forgot something in the dorms" she said and turned on her heels but his hand on her arm stopped her.
"I'm not done talking to you."
She shook her arm free and turned to scowl at him.
"And I'm not done being mad, so if you'll excuse me."
"No. Enough with this childish temper tantrum of yours, you didn't even like Lestrange, what are you mad at me for?"
Hermione turned to face him fully at that.
"You think I'm mad he's gone?" she put up a silencing spell before continuing, "good fucking riddance, the world is better without him. And yet you chose that dickhead to confide in instead of me. I had to discover you're the heir of Slytherin by snooping around like a rat."
He laughed at her and she almost slapped him.
"So that's it? Hermione, I didn't confide in him. They were insurance, Malfoy and him. I knew they'd protect me tooth and nail if they were incriminated with me."
She narrowed her eyes at him. It wasn't entirely nonsense. It didn't appease her either.
"I'm still your family, I deserve better."
"You are my family; you should trust me when I say time and time again that I would never do anything to hurt you."
He stepped closer to her, and her breath hitched in her throat. When had he gotten so tall? And when had she started to notice things like the shape of his lips, or the flecks of black in the dark brown of his eyes. He seemed to have been doing the same thing because his gaze was on her lips and he was getting closer still. She stopped his with a hand on his chest, and he raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her.
"I do trust you, but I need you to trust me too."
He smiled and got closer, pushing against her hand, his own flying to her waist.
"Do you really need an answer? It's us or them, Hermione. Always."
She moved her hand to his back. And when he kissed her, she briefly wondered why they had waited so long to do that before every thought fled her brain. All she was left with was the softness of his lips on her, the warmth of his hand on her cheek, then her neck, then rubbing at the baby hair at the base of her head. His other hand rubbing maddening patterns on her side. Her hand clutching at the back of his robes. Her hand threading in his soft hair. Her front pressed on his chest. Her knees weakening. She might have momentarily forgotten how to breathe. She didn't really care, or she cared about was doing more of this.
In the north of Ireland, in Nott manor, sat Theo in the balcony of his room watching the grounds below him, ignoring the tears that had frozen on his cheeks. The plan was flawless, and he was sure Riddle had understood him. Modify Lestrange's memory, make him believe hit was his idea of a prank to scare his fellow students, and the whole ordeal would have simply been a bad memory. Instead it had turned into his personal nightmare, one that he relived every time he closed his eyes. The blood splattered on the floor, Riddle's hands supposedly trying to stop the blood flow, Riddle's desperate eyes that had turned cold the second they met his, Slughorn offering them his condolences and praise at their strength. Theo got up and ran to the sink where he threw up for the third time since Yule break started.
31 December 1942
At the annual New Year's Eve party held at Malfoy Manor, Abraxas dragged his best friend by the arm, smiling and nodding at his guests as he passed them. He didn't stop until they were in the gardens, away from prying ears.
"Theo, I'm going to give you the same advice you gave me, which was the smartest thing I've ever heard you say by the way. Feel your feelings, then move the fuck on."
"He's dead…" he said, swaying on his feet, a glass of firewhiskey sloshing in his hand.
"So what, you never even liked the bloke? Hell I didn't even like him."
"But…"
"No, I am not going to watch you destroy yourself. Tonight, drink your fill, tomorrow we'll start training again. I believe we have a chance at the cup this year, and I need you at your top game."
Theo looked him up and down, and flopped down on a bench.
"Is that who we are now? We just watch people die and move on?"
Abraxas sighed and sat down next to him.
"That's what all the living do, Theo. We move on and try to make some good come out of it."
I'm really inspired these days so here I am again. I credit this to playlist on youtube by oliviaalee called "there is only power and those too weak to seek it; a tom riddle playlist" I have been playing it on repeat for the past week.
As always, thank you for reading, thank you for the support, and I'll see yo next chapter!