Chapter Fifty-Four: Dobby's Deadly Daiquiris
A series of increasingly sad goodbyes
"Are you sure you don't want us to stay, my Lord?" Rutherford asked his master. Parkinson and Mulcibur were frowning next to him,
"No," Riddle said, "I've got to make my own way here, boys."
"We can help you," Parkinson said, "You need us."
"I'm sure I do," Riddle lied, internally thinking that if he ever had to rely on such idiots as these he'd be in real trouble, "but I can't possibly keep you here, even if I do need my knights. You have families back there. I don't."
"We're your family," Mulcibur argued, and Riddle twitched. Salazar forbid.
"I must stay here for Hermione," Riddle said instead, "You understand, I'm sure."
The three boys stared at him like they most assuredly did not understand.
"Er, my lord," Parkinson said finally, "she's fucking Phobos Malfoy."
"No," Lestrange corrected, "she's fucking that half Italian Slytherin. Zabini."
"No," Avery argued, "she's fucking both of them, at once." his eyes grew misty with lust, as was his wont.
"She's fucking me," Riddle lied again, his temper rising, "remember? She told you all."
They all nodded, looking impressed all over again that Granger had told them about seeing his penis.
"We'll miss you, my lord," Mulcibur said, his eyes watering.
"What should we do, in your absence?" Parkinson asked.
"Wait," Riddle said after a pause, "wait, and see if I come back. Perhaps I will."
"We'll be ready," Lestrange promised.
The Gryffindor-ish nature of their expedition had turned all his followers mad. That was the only explanation that he had for why they forced a hug on him at once.
He hissed like a cat.
"I don't like hugs," he said. but the boys who had followed him in his time, followed him here, and fought for him, ignored him.
"I hate hugs," he insisted, but it didn't stop.
"I'll kill you all for this," Riddle vowed, but that only made Avery squeeze his ass.
"I think I'm going to stay," Evelyn said to the other Gryffindors as they walked to the forest, back in the uniforms they'd come to this alternate reality in.
As expected, Marlene immediately teared up, and Marion shook her head.
"No," Wyatt said, shaking his own head, "absolutely not."
"I don't want to go back," Evelyn clarified, raising her chin, "no one wants me there. You know that."
"We do," Moody growled, "or are you calling us liars, Sanders?"
"My parents hate me," Evelyn said, flexing her new hand. It seemed magic had advanced in the future. Or perhaps it was this reality alone. "Everyone thinks I'm a criminal. I am a criminal. No one knows me here." Her eyes caught on where Granger and Brigitte were walking with Estelle Black, Phobos Malfoy and her friend Potter. "Most people don't know me, anyway. I can start over."
"You can start over at home," Richard Potter argued, "you belong with us."
"Oui," Philippe said, and Christoph nodded.
A burning started in Evelyn's eyes. She never thought they'd argue for her to come back. Never.
"Thank you," she said finally, "you have no idea how much that means to me. And maybe I'll come back one day. But I need to heal here first. Do some good."
"What if you can't come back?" Marion asked, "what if Phobos Malfoy is wrong, with his theories?"
"Then I'll stay where I'm needed more," Evelyn said, "they need every good magical person here, to help rebuild. I'll miss you all. But I need to make amends."
The Gryffindor's hugged her as tears fell now, but they didn't argue again.
"I'm not going to hug you," Aberforth grunted at him. As always, the faint whiff of goats was surrounding his brother, "it's enough that I buried you like you always wanted."
"Thanks, Ab," Dumbledore said gently. As surly as this older version of his little brother was, he was still about a hundred times friendlier than his actual brother was. The last time he'd tried to speak to Aberforth he'd gotten another broken nose.
"I'm not going to say I'll miss you, either," Aberforth said, "because I haven't."
"I've missed you," Dumbledore said baldly. Next to him, the werewolf headmaster he'd grown rather fond of was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, as the oily man next to him sneered. "How can I make it up to you? The other you, I mean. I'd like for us to be friends now."
"Give it another twenty-five years," Aberforth told him, "and then get a magical painting done of Ariana for him, for his pub. That's how you did it here."
"Could it work sooner?" Dumbledore asked delicately. Aberforth was gruff and embarrassing and smelled of goat, but he was his brother, and at one time, his best friend. Aberforth was the only one left who had ever known the real him, and not the legend.
"No," Aberforth said, "he'll just beak your nose again."
The both twitched like they wanted to hug but didn't. It was the Dumbledore way.
"Well, I'll miss you, sir," Hagrid burbled, and Dumbledore took heart that Hagrid, at least, had ended up relatively happy, about three feet taller, and thirty times hairier.
"There, there, Hagrid,' Dumbledore said, hugging the adult man his other self had clearly loved.
"I know how you can win me over," Aberforth said unexpectedly, watching him hug Hagrid.
"Yes, Ab?" Dumbledore said, a spark of hope in his chest.
"For one, take care of those kids," Ab grunted, "instead of treating them like chess pieces. Second, clear that boy's name. He didn't open the chamber of secrets." He jerked his head at the weeping Hagrid. "Blame it on Riddle, he's not going back anyway. Then let the boy come back to school like he deserves."
Albus pondered the weeping man in front of him. Yes. It was brilliant. Keep the children of this world, these gifted children, close to him, his own personal group of students loyal and bright. And blame Riddle for what he'd done, so he could never come back and be Voldemort in their own world. A little smiled crossed Albus's face.
"You know, Ab," he said, "I think you're right."
"I'm going with them," Sam said to Morag as everyone trailed after the Forty-Alt Heroes.
"No," Morag said at once.
"So am I," Summerby said.
"Absolutely fucking not," Morag repeated, "no."
"I don't have anyone here," Sam said, "my aunt's dead. I buried her last month. Remember?"
"You've got me," Morag argued, "and Summerby, what about your dad?"
"He's coming too," Summerby assured her, "he's coming with both of us. He doesn't want to be here either. He saw my mother die and couldn't do anything. I saw all my mates die in agony, and I couldn't do anything. I want to get out of here."
"You can't just leave," Ernie argued, "Theseus and Wayne forgave you, Sam. And I saw Millicent die, and I'm not leaving." Sam was shaking his head.
Morag looked at Sam, saw the resolve in his face, and felt her throat closing with tears.
"If you change your mind," she said, "come back, okay, guys?"
"We will," Sam promised, looking relieved, "and...I'll miss you, Morag. Thanks for helping us." Summerby nodded, and his dad walked over, carrying a trunk with an extendable charm on it.
"The other world will be better to us, boys," he promised, and Morag saw Sam smile for the first time in ages.
"Ginny," Percy said, openly weeping, "Please. You can't. We can't lose you too."
Fred was ugly crying next to him, but George was deathly pale, past tears, which was almost worse.
"We're all going," Ginny told her brothers, "all of us." she gestured to Parvati Patil, Graham Pritchard, and Lisa Turpin.
"Nott's not going," Percy argued, "why can't you stay, like him?"
"He didn't kill anyone," Ginny said, "we did."
Padma Patil was weeping and arguing with her sister behind them.
"It wasn't your fault!" Percy burst out, "Fred, George, help me!"
"Ginny, please," George said hoarsely, "we've already lost Bill, Charlie...Ron, Mum, Dad. Not you too."
"I won't be gone forever," Ginny promised, but Percy thought she might be lying, "I'll come back. Maybe a week later, who knows? Maybe instantly. That's how Aeternus Lapideus works, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Fred said, "but maybe you won't be able to come back! How about that, huh?"
"Maybe you'll screw up the timeline," Percy pounced, "maybe you'll be killed because someone will freak out about you being a time traveler. You can't risk it, Gin!"
"I'll come back," Ginny said stubbornly, "and then I'll be happy. You want me to be happy, don't you?"
She had her brothers there, and they knew it, so Percy joined Fred in weeping in silence, feeling like his heart was tearing in two.
"I'm sorry," George said, "I'm sorry we couldn't protect you, Ginny."
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect myself," she said, "but I'm going to learn how."
"Well," Estelle said, "can't say it hasn't been enlightening, knowing you Granger," she tried for a sneer, but there were tears brimming in her eyes.
"I'll come visit," Hermione blurted, "I promise."
"No, I'll come visit," Estelle said, her eyes straying to Blaise who stood nearby, a little smile playing on his lips as he looked at the Malfoy twins before disappearing. "maybe your third boyfriend can show me what's what," she murmured, "It doesn't count, snogging, if it's in an alternate dimension, right?"
"Non," Brigitte said, arching an eyebrow, "right, 'Ermione?"
Estelle cackled.
"Both of you can bite me," Hermione grumbled.
"Still with those odd phrases, Granger," Estelle said, hugging her.
"It's a normal phrase here," Hermione argued. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Phobos hovering.
"Well don't expect me to hug you, Granger," Ethelinda Higgs sniffed from behind them, but Hermione hugged her anyway while she wailed in horror.
"Thanks,' Hermione said, looking at Patrick Black, "to both of you. You didn't have to come. It was noble of you."
"We know," Ethelinda sniffed. Patrick nodded.
"Listen, can you do me a favor?" Hermione asked.
"Haven't we done enough for you?" Ethelinda asked.
"Just one more," Hermione promised.
"Sure," Patrick said, smiling.
"Promise to be nice to your sons?" She said, thinking of Sirius and Regulus.
Hermione knew everyone was watching her and Phobos Malfoy surreptitiously, to see what they'd do to say goodbye. But the joke was on them. They'd said goodbye an hour earlier, in an empty classroom. The goodbye had involved one kiss, and that kiss had turned into several, because Phobos had claimed he needed a proper goodbye to feel enough closure to be able to leave, and Hermione desperately needed him to leave. Or so she told herself. Several kisses had turned into heavy snogging, and heavy snogging had turned into groping, and groping had turned into Hermione straddling her second Slytherin in six days, right down to the detail of Harry catching them and shrieking. This time, at least, they'd both been fully dressed.
"I'm going to have to tell Blaise," Harry told her regretfully.
"I'll tell him myself," Hermione said, licking her puffy lips, feeling shame and regret. She was so used to these feelings, the reckless lewd behavior she kept exhibiting in a desperate attempt to fill the gaping, terrifying hole yawning inside her, that it barely registered. Maybe this was what it was like to be as awful as Riddle.
"I can tell him," Phobos said, smirking.
"No!" Hermione and Harry snapped in unison.
Harry had kept shaking his head at her as they left Phobos.
"I've got to get him to leave," Hermione had said through her teeth, "don't I?"
"Giving him a boner is making him leave?" Harry said bluntly, and Hermione shuddered. She had never wanted to hear the word "boner" come out of Harry Potter's mouth in her life, and now she had to live in a world where it had happened.
"Yes," Hermione said, "he insisted that I needed to give him a proper goodbye or else he'd stay. And don't say 'boner' ever again, Harry."
"I won't," Harry promised, "as long as I stop catching you giving them to every Slytherin in sight. Am I going to find you giving Riddle a woody next?"
"Oh god!" Hermione shrieked.
"Well, you have before," Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
"Not that," Hermione yelped, "woody is even worse, Harry Potter!"
"Fine," Harry said, grinning, "if you give Riddle a pulsating member, make sure I never see it, okay?"
Hermione covered her ears, wailing, as Harry cackled, and for some reason, that empty dead space inside of her felt a little less empty.
"Well goodbye, Granger," Dougal said. He'd lost a lot of weight, and his hair had grown out to the point where he looked more like Igneus than ever. He was standing next to the box that Hermione knew carried the preserved dead body of the Ravenclaw Head Boy and Hermione felt that empty place tear open again. Never again would Igneus shame his family by doing the right thing. Never again would he theatrically fall to one knee to flirt with a girl for laughs.
"Tell Audrey I'm sorry," Hermione said through a tight throat.
"It wasn't your fault," Phobos said shortly. The tiny little smirk he'd been throwing at her was gone.
"Yeah," Dougal said, but it was less convincing. "It was his." Her jerked his head in the direction of where Riddle was, his minions sobbing on his shoulders, Avery grabbing his arse for some reason.
"So you couldn't talk him into going, eh?" Phobos said, shoving his hand into his pockets.
"I tried," Hermione said with a sigh.
"Well, good," Dougal said bluntly, "I never want to see that bastard again."
"Not fair," Estelle chided, "I believe his parents were married. Say, 'evil monster' instead, yes?"
"Whatever," Dougal scowled. He'd picked up 90's slang more than any of the Forty-Alt Heroes in the last three months.
"I'll tell Audrey," Phobos said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and shifting from foot to foot. Hermione had a feeling he was fighting the urge to hug her in front of everyone.
Marion Hinsley was patting Neville on the back as he sobbed on her shoulder, looking bewildered, as she held the Aeternus Lapideus.
"Come along, everyone!" she called, "it's time to go!"
The last hugs were delivered.
"Goodbye, Granger," Dougal said, holding out a hand, and Hermione shook it.
"Thanks for everything, Dougal," she said.
"Yeah, sure," said the boy who grew up in her world to be an Auror and died young fighting evil.
"Well, goodbye," Phobos said uncomfortably, putting his hands under his armpits now as everyone else gathered around Marion.
Blaise was standing a few feet away with Harry, trying to pretend he wasn't watching them. Riddle was openly staring at them as Lestrange clung to him like a weeping barnacle.
"Oh, bollocks to this, "Hermione hissed, and she lurched forward, hugging Phobos, who wrapped his arms around her tightly.
"Thanks, Phobos," she said, "for saving me."
"I'll come back," he said, "I promise. After we bury Igneus, I'll come back." But he was lying.
"I know," Hermione sighed, but she didn't stop hugging him. The empty pit yawned, hungry.
"Do you think, if we'd actually met, we'd...you know." Phobos said into her hair uncomfortably.
"No," Hermione said cheekily, "I think you're about seventy, and you live in Tahiti. Remember?"
"You know what I mean," Phobos sighed, "if you were born in my time. Or I yours. Do you think…?"
"We'll never know," Hermione forced herself to say, even though she really wanted to say "Yes."
"Tick tock, Malfoy!" Sergon Avery shouted, ever the loyal minion.
"Well, see you," Phobos said, breaking apart from her.
Hermione looked around. Everyone was weeping, even Harry.
"Take care of Ginny," she said, "would you?"
"Sure," Phobos said, "I will."
And he smiled at her, a smile nothing like a smile that had ever crossed Draco Malfoy's face, and Hermione wanted to cry, she really did, it wasn't just Phobos, or the death of Dorcas and Igneus, It was Ginny and Padma and Estelle, Marlene and Marion and Moody and everyone. She'd even miss Avery, even though he mostly spent his time staring at her tits. But she was broken inside, and the tears wouldn't come.
Hermione hugged each of them in turn, clutched Marion's shoulder, who had become such a good friend, begged her to find Dorcas and bury her with honor, said 'constant vigilance' in unison with Moody, apologized to a bewildered Wyatt for that time she'd obliviated him, kissed Philippe and Christoph on the cheeks, handed Hortense a present, a locket to match her and Brigitte's that made her eyes well with tears, hugged Estelle twice, thanked Dumbledore, who whispered in her ear that he knew how to make sure Riddle never returned and got power, then winked at her. She wanted them to leave so she could start forgetting her horrible adventure to the past, and she wanted them to stay, so she could forget her even more horrible present, but everything had to come to an end eventually.
The Forty-Alt Heroes, minus Brigitte and Evelyn and Riddle, but with a few additions, waved at the cheering 90's citizens, then held hands, glowed gold in the circle of candles, Belinda hissing from the magical box they'd shoved her in, and then disappeared.
"Another daiquiri, miss?" Dobby squeaked at her.
"Yes, thank you Dobby," Hermione said, her wide brimmed white hat shading her head from the sun as she laid on the yellow sunchair on the veranda of the mansion in Aruba Blaise had bought on a whim. He had insisted on bringing hired help, and Hermione had insisted just as vehemently against using a house elf, until Dobby had overheard as he cleaned Gryffindor common room and begged to be allowed to join them. He'd always wanted to see the beach, he'd told them, and Blaise had offered to triple his wages as Dobby shouted at the increase in protest, and then Hermione was forced to agree when Harry had pointed out that it was Dobby's choice as a working free elf.
"Well, as long as when you get back you tell the other elves how much you loved the freedom of travel and extra wages," Hermione had agreed, surly.
Dobby had happily agreed, and Lupin had unexpectedly insisted on them taking a vacation in the middle of January, citing that Hermione deserved a vacation and was sure to ace her exams even if she took the next six months off. Even her father had told her to leave and go swimming for him.
Most unexpectedly, Blaise hadn't rescinded the offer of a vacation when Hermione had confessed the snogging and groping with Phobos, like she expected. He hadn't even yelled.
"Did it help you feel better?" was all he'd asked her after she told him.
"Telling you the truth?" Hermione said, "well...I suppose…"
"No," Blaise said, "snogging him. Did it make you feel better?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione said uneasily, "I feel fine."
Blaise had looked at her patiently. "Do you?"
"No," Hermione wilted at once, like the weakling she had become.
"So did it make you feel better?" Blaise asked.
"No," Hermione said again, "I still feel…"
"Yes?" Blaise prompted. But Hermione didn't know what to say. Blaise hadn't killed anyone. Blaise hadn't compromised all his morals. Blaise wasn't a changeable little harlot. Blaise didn't feel a gaping pit of nothingness where his soul should be. Blaise hadn't totally lost who he was.
"I don't feel okay," Hermione said lamely.
"Well," Blaise said, "I promised a trip to help you get away and feel better. Didn't I?"
"You don't have to take me," Hermione said miserably, "I've been awful to you."
"When's the last time you snogged Riddle?" Blaise asked her, and Hermine cast her mind back.
"I'm...not sure," she said hesitantly.
"In the last few months?" Blaise asked.
"No," Hermione said at once, "No, it was in the other universe."
"Well, that's alright then," Blaise said, "that Malfoy bloke...once you get past him looking like dear old Draco, he wasn't so bad." From Blaise, this was high praise indeed.
"He punched you in the face," Hermione reminded him.
"Yeah, well...I might've punched him too, if our situations were reversed," Blaise said, smiling, "just...you're done, right? Snogging other blokes?"
"Yes," Hermione said at once, but of course, she wasn't sure of anything. She didn't trust herself at all. It seemed she had a destructive streak the size of Mars. "But I don't know if I want to snog you either," she forced herself to say. "I don't think that's fair to you."
"Okay," Blaise agreed, "we'll get a place with multiple rooms. No problem. I can wait for a girl like you, Granger."
Hermione wondered if that would have made her blush, if he'd said it to her a year ago, but she forced a smile.
"That's nice," Hermione said, "but I mean it, you know. I don't want to toy with you."
"I've gone into this with open eyes," Blaise said, "You know that, Granger."
"Oh yes," Hermione said, feeling like the parasite of emotion that she was, the useless user who was drying up the life force of every decent person in her destructive wake.
"Then let's go," Blaise said, "I plan on giving you a time you won't ever forget."
Hermione watched Blaise swimming in the crystal-clear waters like a dolphin, sipping the last remnants of her daiquiri.
"Her you go, Miss," Dobby said, the second her first drink was out, handing her a fresh one.
"Thanks Dobby," Hermione said, "want to join me?"
"Oh no, Miss," Dobby squeaked, "Dobby needs to unpack!"
"Well, don't forget to have fun, too," Hermione said, but Dobby looked so distressed at her insistence on him lounging next to her and drinking a little elf sized daiquiri she
gave up, defeated.
"Come on, Hermione!" Blaise shouted from the water, "it feels great!"
Hermione waved a hand, her head spinning, "I'm still jet leagged," she called out.
"What?" Blaise said blankly.
"Err, Portkey- lagged?" she tried instead, dropping her head back as the Earth spun. Three daiquiris had maybe been pushing it. But Dobby had made them so well! And a different flavor, every time! Her eyes closed briefly, until a drop of water hit her bare leg.
Blaise loomed over her like a Greek god, his dark hair wet, his dark bronze skin shining in the sun.
"Nice outfit," he said, gesturing at her tiny navy and white striped bikini.
"It's a swimming costume," Hermione said, slurring her words not at all. At least she thought.
"Well, I don't see you swimming," Blaise grinned, then he flopped down next to her in another lounge chair.
Hermione saw in total clarity what was going to happen in the next few hours. She was going to get drunk, maybe get Blaise drunk as well, they'd walk down to the quaint little beach town nearby and go to the most expensive restaurant, Blaise holding her hand afterwards as they watched the sunset on the beach, dancing around each other all the while, go to bed in their separate bedrooms that Dobby was currently setting up for them, and then in the dead of night Hermione would be awake, feeling that gnawing pit of emptiness terrifying her as usual, and she'd sneak to Blaise's room, wake him up, and fuck him to feel something.
"Let's skip all that and do it now," Hermione said out loud.
"Err, what?" Blaise said, squinting at her in the sun.
"How much of that did I say out loud?" Hermione asked, sucking up the last of her daiquiri, this one mango flavored.
"I said, 'well I don't see you swimming' and you replied "let's skip all that and do it now,'" Blaise said, stretching and Hermione stared at the bronze ab muscles on display,
"Care to say the part in the middle? I think you left something out."
"Sure," Hermione said, "get drunk with me and then let's fuck on the beach."
Whatever Blaise thought she was going to say, it was certainly not that. He choked on nothing, coughing for a solid minute.
"What?" he said, but Hermione, drunk as she was, didn't miss the way his eyes drifted to her body in the tiny bikini she'd had Katie help her pick out.
"You heard me," Hermione said brazenly, "I know you want to."
"Well, yeah," Blaise said, "but I'd prefer you sober."
"No," Hermione said.
"Yes," Blaise argued.
"This isn't cause I'm drunk," Hermione insisted.
"Prove it," Blaise said, and Hermione bristled. Did she have to prove forever that she was really a Gryffindor, not a misplaced Ravenclaw?
"Dobby?" Hermione said, and the house elf appeared with a crack.
"Yes Miss?" he squeaked, "Dobby was about to try a daiquiri like Miss suggested!"
"Good idea," Hermione said, never taking her eyes off of Blaise and his wet body. Yes. This was what she needed. Wasn't it? "Can you bring me a sober-up potion first? And then, you can take the rest of the night off."
"Yes of course, Miss Hermione!" Dobby beamed and he returned at once with a bottle in one hand and a coconut filled with a frozen daiquiri in the other. "Dobby will be drinking this, now!" he said shrilly, then disappeared with another crack.
Blaise's slanted dark blue eyes were on Hermione as she uncorked the bottle, threw its contents into her mouth, and chugged, her eyes on his. Just like the night long ago with Phobos Malfoy in Gryffindor tower she was sober all at once, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her.
"Feeling like yourself again?" Blaise said, "we can go get dressed for dinner. I've got this great little seafood place in mind-" he stopped talking at once when Hermione climbed on top of him and he made another choking sound instead.
"No," Hermione said, "I think I clearly stated what I wanted to do."
"Gurk," Blaise said, as she ran her hands over his chest.
"Gurk?" Hermione said, rising an eyebrow, but then she bent forward, her breasts brushing Blaise's chest, kissing up his neck.
"Nrrrgaaahh," he said.
"That's not a word," Hermione said. The gnawing cold inside her was retreating at last. Yes. Yes.
"Mrraagh?" Blaise said as her hands drifted downward, encountering his swim shorts and untying them, feeling inside.
"Urk!" Blaise said.
Unbidden, Hermione saw Harry Potter's face in her mind, his ridiculous hair sticking up in all directions, winking his green eyes at her behind those owl round glasses. "Boner," he mouthed, "woody."
"Oh no," Hermione moaned.
"No?" Blaise finally got out a coherent word, and that word was strained, and incredibly disappointed. His hands, which had been hovering at her sides, about to land on her skin, retreated.
"Nothing," Hermione said hastily, grabbing Blaise's hands, forcing them on her waist, reaching inside his trunks to grab him again like in the snow. "Touch me."
"Hnnnnghh," Blaise said as she touched him firmly.
"Pulsating member," phantom Harry swam into her brain again, winking thrice, whispering, "throbbing tumescence. Man-wood. Rock hard co-"
"Fucking hell," Hermione hissed, her eyes flying open, but as Blaise had just taken that moment to reach under her bikini top seconds before he misinterpreted her outburst. Blaise squeezed, and Hermione kept her eyes open and looked at his face. If she didn't close her eyes, maybe Harry wouldn't show up to wink spastically and say 'stiffy.'
Blaise reached around, untying the back of her bikini, and baring her to him with a groan.
Even the Hermione of less than a year ago, the one who'd seen her own mother die, helped kill Rabastan Lestrange, and slept with Blaise Zabini as a demented plan to turn Voldemort non evil would've blushed at being topless in the direct sunlight on top of Zabini, his eyes all over her. They'd done it, sure, but in the dark of the Slytherin dorms. But this Hermione was not the same. This Hermione needed to feel something. Anything.
"You're so beautiful," Blaise sighed, reaching up to touch her again.
"So are you," Hermione said honestly. In all truth, Blaise was far more beautiful than she was. Too beautiful for her, really. Too good of a boy, even if she was the one in Gryffindor, the best friend of Harry Potter, the heroine of two realities, and he was the quiet loner Slytherin. Far too good for her. She silenced that sobering thought by leaning forward to kiss Blaise, her hand twisting behind her inside his swimming trunks, his hands roaming to her bare back and down to her lower back, squeezing her arse.
"Twig and berries," phantom Harry whispered, winking for thirty seconds straight.
"Touch me," Hermione said again, more urgently.
"I am," Blaise said breathlessly, "oh god, I am. I never thought I'd get to again. I thought you'd be dead. Hermione. Hermione." He shuddered as her hand moved between them.
"Yes," Hermione said, "more," and then Blaise shoved her bikini bottoms halfway off her legs with another groan.
"Stop," Blaise breathed, "stop touching me. I can't…"
"Okay," Hermione said, letting go, although part of her wanted to watch Blaise fall apart in her hands, but then instead of seeing Harry winking at her in her mind, she saw
Tom Riddle, gasping, his pale cheeks bright red, losing control in a hidden stairwell at Hogwarts to her hands.
That settled it. She shifted, pushing down at Blaise's swim trunks and he got the hint, shoving them off, as Hermione took the opportunity to shove her own bikini off into the sand.
They stared at each other in admiration for a moment. Blaise was still sparkling with sea water, Hermione sweating from the sun.
"Are you sure?" Blaise said, his hands going to her waist again.
"Shut up, Zabini," Hermione said, an echo of that time she'd propositioned in the owlery.
Half of Zabini's mouth drew up, remembering.
"Well," he smirked, running his hands up her sides to grasp at her breasts again, "that sounds familiar, doesn't it Gra-" he broke off to a high pitched yelping sound as Hermione grasped him again, finally doing what she'd literally dreamed about for months, and tried to do in the Forbidden Forest until Harry had caught them.
"Oh fuck," Blaise moaned, as Hermione moved down on him, "Oh god. This is even better then I remembered." he caught Hermione's eye as she moved her hips hesitantly.
It had been a few months for Blaise, but for her, it had been a year, and only that one night. She had had no idea if she'd even been any good.
"Sorry," he said at once, "You said to shut up." Hermione moved again, forward and back, slowly, "I'm shutting up," he choked, "sorry. Sorry."
"No," Hermione said, "don't shut up." If he shut up, phantom Harry might reappear to say "quivering phallus" or phantom Riddle would glare at her, his eyes red.
"Okay," Blaise choked, "okay, but that's a mixed message Granger—fucking hell!"
"I see you've gotten a tan," Riddle said from behind her.
Hermione clenched her teeth, turning around. She'd been back five minutes and already wished to flee with Zabini again back to Aruba, the mansion on the water, Dobby's deadly daiquiris, their favorite little beach cove, the seafood restaurant with the best crab cakes, and of course, the shagging. The blissfully, mind-numbing, shagging. After the first three times, phantom Harry had even stopped showing up in her brain to wink at her with terrible penis euphemisms.
Riddle was standing there with his stupid sleeves rolled up, his tie half undone, a dark strand of hair in his left eye. He still, alas, was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen.
"Barely," Hermione said at last, when the silence spiraled.
"And I see you've gotten laid," Riddle said, and Hermione's eyes almost fell out of her head. Riddle had deliberately been refusing to learn or speak in 90's slang, unlike Dougal, even though Hermione had told him it would help his chances to fit in and gain power.
"What?" Hermione said, and then laughed nervously.
She and Blaise had agreed to keep the details of their liaison secret for the moment so Riddle wouldn't murder either of them in their sleep. They'd figure out how to deal with him later. How had he known?
"What?" Riddle said back, looking confused, then he gestured at her neck. "Leid."
"Oh," Hermione said, relief flooding her as she grabbed at the flowers around her neck, "Yes, a lei. I forgot I was wearing this."
Riddle's eyes narrowed.
"What did you think I was talking about?" he asked.
"Well they don't call them leis in Aruba," Hermione said weakly.
"I thought you went to Hawaii?" Riddle glowered, "with your rich boyfriend, since I know money is so important to you. Where is darling Blaise, anyway?"
"We were going to go to Hawaii," Hermione lied, "but we changed our minds at the last moment. Aruba was warmer." And not where we told you where we were going, her mind whispered, which had been the entire point. She didn't fancy Riddle crashing their vacation, and that was even before she'd planned on banging Blaise's brains out. "As for me valuing money, you know that's not true."
"Isn't it?" Riddle demanded, "then why are you with him, and not me?"
Hermione closed her eyes. Five minutes of peace. That's all she'd gotten.
"Where do I begin?" Hermione asked rhetorically. There was no point in denying her relationship had restarted with Blaise, this time for real. None at all. She didn't even know why she'd considered bothering.
"It's because he's rich, isn't it?" Riddle demanded, "just say it."
"No," Hermione snapped, "don't be ridiculous. If that's all that mattered, I would date Harry."
"Harry's rich, too?" Riddle said, looking irritated, "I thought he was an orphan."
"Trying to bond with him over that?" Hermione snorted, "too bad you killed his parents. Kind of puts a damper on things."
"I didn't," Riddle said through his teeth, "you know I didn't."
"You did," Hermione corrected.
"How could I possibly have done that, when I'm from an alternate reality?" Riddle scoffed, "explain to me, Hermione. Use tiny words, since you think I'm so stupid. And Harry and I have been getting along fine, I'll have you know."
"I doubt that," Hermione scoffed back, "he tolerates you."
"And why is that?" Riddle demanded, "could it because I helped save the world?"
"You hardly saved the world," Hermione said, toying with her lei.
It was stupid of her not to take it off right away, but she'd wanted to cling to the sun and the shagging a little more. It had been all too tempting to take up Blaise's offer for them to stay there, to live out their lives on the water, becoming school dropouts and pretending they were Muggles. It had been so tempting, in fact, that Hermione had said yes at first. Then she'd had a nightmare that night like she'd never had before, waking up screaming, trying to claw off her own skin as Blaise soothed her, and she knew Hermione Granger couldn't run from her troubles. It wasn't her nature.
"How do you figure that?" riddle asked, "I killed your snake creature, didn't I? Don't try to give credit of that to Potter as well!"
"So you killed one evil wizard," Hermione said, "who, by the way, was yourself."
"He's not-"
"So how do you figure you saved the world?" Hermione said scornfully.
"That was his plan," Riddle said, "to take over the world, one area at a time. I stopped him in the first place he tried. You're welcome."
"And how did you know his plan?" Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips, as Riddle batted that one stupid strand of sexy hair, "because...I dunno...spit balling here...he's you?"
"He's not me!" Riddle shouted, his pale face red.
They were alone on the third floor, outside of the classroom where the Defense against the Dark Arts teachers had cycled through over the years, or else Hermione was sure Riddle wouldn't be caught dead yelling at her. Not when he was trying so hard to fool everyone else about what he was really like.
"When are you going to learn that, Hermione? What else do I have to do?"
"Just curious," Hermione said, "have you spotted Myrtle lately? Visited your parent's graves?"
They stared at each other in angry silence, the red retreating to Riddle's cheeks only.
"I told you," he said at last, his voice sullen, "Myrtle was an accident. A terrible accident. I regret it."
"How was it an accident?" Hermione asked, "You set loose a monster that preyed on Muggleborns into a castle full of Muggleborns. It almost killed me, my second year, you know."
"I know," Riddle said, his jaw clenched, "I saw, remember? In your mind. That's what made me decide to come here."
"Just that?" Hermione asked.
"No," Riddle said, but he didn't elaborate.
"And what about your father?" Hermione said after a long pause," and your grandparents?"
"They were going to throw me into jail," Riddle said at once, "they were threatening me."
"That's funny," Hermione said, "I was under the impression you didn't speak to them at all before you murdered them in cold blood."
"I didn't say anything," Riddle said, "they were screaming at me. And don't act like I should feel sorry for them, Hermione. Don't act like you feel sorry for them. What kind of bastards leave a baby in an orphanage when they are rich? Huh?"
"They weren't nice people," Hermione said, "but they didn't deserve-"
"How do you know!" Riddle shouted again, "how do you know what it was like, being raised in that cold, awful place? Knowing the only mother figure you have fears you, detests you, is desperate to be rid of you? Finding out your actual mother let herself die because she didn't care about you? Discovering your father let you rot, even knowing you were there?"
"Maybe he didn't know," Hermione said.
"He knew," Riddle said at once, "I broke into my records after my first year. I'd figured out a way to do it without triggering any underage magic spells. He'd come looking for me. Or, his father did. My grandfather. He told Mrs. Cole I was a bastard born of evil intent, and he had no intention of ever seeing me again. He just wanted to see if it was true, that I was there. Well, the jokes on him. He saw me again."
"I got bullied for years," Hermione said evenly, "at this school. At my Muggle schools. By other students. By teachers, even. Did I do anything even a fraction as bad to them?"
"I dunno," Riddle said, "I saw you knock out the snob squad in about six seconds flat, you'll recall. You wiped Wyatt Corsington's memory, because he was in your way, didn't you?"
"That wasn't why-" Hermione started to argue.
"You helped me cover up murder," Riddle said, "in Hogsmeade, remember? And what's more, you killed more than one of Grindelwald's followers, Hermione."
"I didn't," Hermione said at once.
"Quite gruesomely, too," Riddle needled, "one of them splattered. You didn't see?"
"I hit trees," Hermione said weakly, "and they were trying to kill us! Kids!"
"Well my grandparents and father would've tried to kill me if they could've," Riddle said, "and really, Hermione, you mistake me. Don't get all worked up, now. I'm pointing out how we are the same."
"We're not the same!" and suddenly Hermione was the one shouting.
"Close enough," Riddle said, his voice getting calmer in contrast the angrier Hermione got, "closer than you and Blaise, for instance."
"That's not true," Hermione said, but of course, it was true. She couldn't even tell how many people she'd killed. Blaise hadn't killed anyone, and never would. Maybe he couldn't.
"It's alright," Riddle said, "use him for sex again, Hermione, like you did before."
Hermione felt herself go white faced so rapidly she staggered.
"What?"
Riddle laughed shortly.
"You would think I wouldn't know?" he sneered "I know you fucked him, of course, Pomfrey told me, and your whorish behavior in the hospital wing when you were dreaming of him."
"My—my-whorish-"
"But of course, I was operating under the assumption that you thought yourself in love with him. I've since come to find out the truth," Riddle smiled, his little half smile that she loved and hated that she loved, "you fucked him for me. Well, as some sort of training for me. Really, Hermione, you could've taken out the middleman and just gone straight to fucking me. I wouldn't have objected."
"No shite," Hermione said, her voice faint. She didn't know what else to say. Should she deny it? Should she ask how Riddle knew? Should she tell Riddle she was back to fucking Blaise for fun? Should she run in the other direction, shrieking?
"You want to know how I know," Riddle said, guessing her thoughts again, "well, that's my little secret, I suppose. You've had so many against me I'm sure you'll forgive me for having some of my own, won't you Hermione?"
Hermione mouthed soundlessly.
"Did you fuck him while you were gone?" Riddle asked, "is that what 'leid' meant to you? You seemed so horrified when I said it."
Hermione's feet shuffled, about to flee, but she was a Gryffindor, dammit. A poor excuse for one recently, but still a Gryffindor.
"It's slang," she said at last, "getting laid. It means having sex. You should really learn. I told you. Its important if you want to fit in, for people to like you."
She expected Riddle to go ballistic. She expected him to scream and rage, to threaten to kill Blaise, to threaten to kill Hermione, to actually kill Hermione, but he kept smiling that sexy little half smile at her like he hadn't understood.
"I fucked him while I was gone," Hermione said, "in case that wasn't clear."
"Oh, it was clear," Riddle smirked.
"It didn't seem like you got it," Hermione said, needling recklessly. What the fuck was wrong with her now? Was she pushing for euthanization by murder?
"I got it,' Riddle said, "it was obvious, as soon as I heard you were leaving with him, mid school year, terribly lax standards at this school in your time, by the way, and you didn't even have the guts to tell me. You just left like a thief in the night."
"It's none of your business," Hermione said coldly.
"I agree," Riddle said, "just like it's none of your business what I was up to while you were gone."
Hermione felt a stab of fear.
"What does that mean?" she asked, had he started making more Horcruxes, here? And come to think of it, what had happened to his Horcruxes in his own timeline? She looked at his hands. The ring was gone.
"Oh, nothing," Riddle smiled "only, so many young ladies have been dying to thank me for my heroic service."
Hermione didn't get it for a moment.
"They were quite vocal in their thanks," Riddle continued, smirking, "rather...desperate, to thank me."
Hermione blinked. "Recruiting screaming Tarts?" she asked, blankly.
Riddle laughed, his white teeth flashing. It wasn't his horrible Voldemort laugh, but his impish teenage boy laugh. Somehow, that was worse.
"Hermione are you really not understanding?" he asked, delighted "I've been a busy boy while you were gone. Very busy, indeed. Or did you think you were the only one ah...getting laid?"
Hermione felt cold. She should feel relieved This idiot was bragging about having sex when she had been worried about him trying to become immortal here, as well. But, absurdly, she felt nauseous instead.
"Who?" she asked, and then before Riddle could reply, "I don't believe you. You're a liar."
"Oh, what kind of man would I be if I kissed and told?" Riddle said, grinning now, "or well, fucked and told?"
"An honest one," Hermione said. A part of her was screaming to leave, screaming to laugh at Riddle, tell him she didn't care, tell him she'd fucked Blaise so many times over the last two weeks she wasn't even able to keep count of how many times it had been, but instead she was staring at him like he'd betrayed her.
"I'm a gentleman," Riddle gloated, "all you have to know is that it happened. Many times. With rather many girls."
"Liar," Hermione said. Her voice was trembling. Why was her voice trembling?
"One was blonde," Riddle needled, "just like I told you, Hermione. You'd try to move on to some weak little boy to forget me and right when you realized your mistake you'd fine me with-"
"You bloody liar!" Hermione shouted, "you're a virgin, stop lying!"
"Am I?" Riddle said, "and more importantly, Hermione...why do you care?"
"I don't," Hermione said at once, "I'm scared for whatever girl you've fooled, is all."
"But I thought you didn't believe me?" Riddle laughed.
"I don't," Hermione repeated. Sure, Riddle looked smug, but Riddle always looked smug when he was riling her up.
"I can produce the girls in question," Riddle said, "to assuage your concerns."
"I thought you didn't kiss and tell?" Hermione retorted, her ears ringing for some reason.
"Well, I don't," Riddle said, "turns out, girls in your time are rather…hmmm…adventurous. Rather…deviant. Not particularly er…ladylike."
"And we know how you like that," Hermione said, suddenly her mind full of images of her touching Riddle and him touching her, and all the times she'd scandalize him with her brash and forward behavior, her blunt way of speaking. Of course, most of those things that scandalized Riddle in 1942 were not exactly unusual forms of behavior in 1997. It was more than once that Hermione had been accused of being an uptight bore, after all. So perhaps Riddle no longer felt the sway of Hermione Granger's fresh and unusual ways, when they weren't so fresh and unusual. That should make her happy. It shouldn't make her feel like she'd just swallowed a cockroach cluster by accident.
"I knew it," Riddle said gleefully, "you're jealous!"
"I'm not," Hermione said pitifully, "why would I be?"
"You wanted to be my first," Riddle gloated, "admit it."
Hermione wanted to mock Riddle for finally admitting that he had been a virgin, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. OfF all the twisted feelings she'd experienced for Riddle, for all the guilt she'd felt toward Phobos and Blaise, this was the worst. Was she actually jealous?
"Well, I would've trained you correctly," Hermione heard herself say, like an alien had possessed her brain, lungs, and vocal cords.
Riddle laughed uproariously, and Hermione shrunk. What the bloody fuck was wrong with her? Was she lashing out because she had been expecting, every day, to hear that the Alt-Forty-Heroes had returned? That Phobos was back to live with Narcissa during the holidays, that Estelle had grown bored and wanted to visit for more sex ed, that Ginny and Sam and the others had realized their mistake and returned home? And every day she hadn't received an owl in Aruba, even when she'd given in and spoken to Harry through their two-way mirrors and directly asked him, something inside her had stabbed her heart. Why hadn't Phobos come back, like he'd promised?
"I had no complaints," Riddle finally said, still chortling.
"Poor girls didn't know any better," Hermione sneered. Something inside her hardened. She was a fool for being upset at this. She was a fool for being hurt that Phobos hadn't returned. Of course he wouldn't return. He had a whole life to live, and Hermione was a broken, sad little creature that hurt everyone around her. Why would he come back for her, when she'd begged him not to? She was a fool for feeling like Riddle had failed a test of some sort. Of course Riddle didn't love her, just like her brain had always told her, no matter what he said, no matter what he had done. If he loved her, would he have done this? No, Riddle wanted to possess her like a shiny toy, and he would've grown bored right after sleeping with her, moving on. Riddle wanted to stay here for power, just like he'd told her. She should've believed him.
"Well, I would offer to give you a demonstration," Riddle said, "but alas, I fear you've been giving your own demonstrations to Mr. Zabini and I don't take another man's leavings."
Hermione slapped him so hard he fell over, every ounce of her body feeling alive, like she hadn't felt in months.
"Screw you, you absolute pig," she hissed, "I thought you loved me? Remember, Riddle? All that moping." She put on a mocking, whining tone, "oh, who will love me, Hermione, no one loves me, I think I love you, what more can I do to prove myself to you Hermione," she laughed angrily, a crazy, harsh sound.
Riddle was still on the ground, his long fingers clutched at his bright red left cheek, his eyes wide.
"Oh, spare me, Riddle!" Hermione shouted, "fucking spare me your fainting violet act! You bloody liar! You bloody liar!" she reached out with her foot to kick him, but he jerked away and her foot swung on air, she overbalanced, stumbling, almost falling over. No. She couldn't fall on top of Riddle. Knowing him, he'd try to snog her, maybe chew on her neck again, making sure Blaise saw. She wasn't going to make that mistake again. This smug little arsehole in front of her wasn't going to get anything from her, ever again. She'd gotten what she wanted from him. He had killed Voldemort. She didn't need anything else. She had her father, and Hagrid, and the Weasleys, and Katie, and Harry, and Blaise. She didn't need Tom Riddle, now or ever.
"Thanks for showing me the truth," Hermione said, exhilarated, feeling free, her blood pumping, "thanks for bringing me to my senses," she turned around, feeling light headed with rage, and glee, and relief, and disappointment, and excitement, and alive, alive alive.
"Hermione!" Riddle said to her back, "get back here, we weren't done talking!"
A crazy grin broke on her face. If anyone could see her, they would think Hermione Granger had finally lost her mind. And perhaps she had.
"Hermione, I do care about you!" Riddle yelled, "Hermione, you know I do! I came here for you, I'm the only one who has sacrificed for you like—get back here, Hermione!"
She heard him getting to his feet, but she was far away now.
Hermione started laughing, her eyes bulging like a lunatic. Screw Riddle. He thought he had gotten under her skin? Never. She would skip off into the sunset with Blaise, and she would make herself good enough for him. She would repent for the things she'd done. She would be fine without Tom Riddle in her life.
"Hermione!" Riddle was shouting now, "you're right, I lied! I was trying to make you jealous! I want it to be you! I dreamed about it being you! I was jealous so I lied! Hermione!"
Something twisted, but it was okay, Riddle was a liar, and she had someone real, who wasn't a liar, who could make her happy. She would be more than fine.
"Hermione!" Riddle yelled, but he his voice was growing ever more distant, "I love you, don't you care that I love you?"
She would be fine.
A/N: This is for two of you who were mad at me all those years before for not including the Blaise/Hermione sex scene lol. And yes, Hermione is a MESS right now. I hope you forgive her, she's rather traumatized poor girl.
