It was their seventh year, and seven was the most magical of numbers. Seven, like the number of Horcruxes she knew he would end up making. Seven, like the number of times he'd made her come last night. Seven, like the number of times she'd tried to kill him since her return. Seven, the number of times she'd failed. Seven times he'd lied to her tonight... seven was a powerful number.
Once upon a time, it'd been her lucky number. But as she faced off against Tom tonight across the length of the dueling hall they'd made of an abandoned classroom, seven felt like the number of seconds Hermione was going to last in this fight.
Seven months it'd taken for her to fall for him. Seven days she'd made him wait between saying yes to a date and saying yes to bedding him. Seven minutes it'd taken him to find his way past her occlumency shields and learn her every time-traveling secret. Seven seconds, more than it'd take for him to kill her if he was of a mind.
"You're fixating," he murmured, watching her with that handsome little smile on his face that always made her feel like he knew things she didn't.
"I'm not," she shook her head.
"Seven," he said, and Hermione's heart sank. He'd decimated her mental shields. Now that he knew his way past them, he bypassed them every time.
She sighed. Maybe seven was his lucky number, rather than hers after all. Maybe it always had been. He was graceful when he moved, she noted idly, watching him as he stalked across the distance between them, predatory and beautiful. She didn't bother trying to run. She wouldn't get seven steps even if she tried. Instead, she counted his steps toward her, counting down, waiting for the blow.
Seven. He watched her carefully.
Six. His shoes echoed ominously in the dusty room.
Five. His bone-white wand hung loosely in his grip as he moved.
Four. The number of buttons on his shirt she'd undone before he'd breached her mind.
Three. His eyes glittered with danger in the torchlight.
Two. Just me and you.
One. How she'd felt when they laid together.
"Seven," he murmured, making her flinch when he lifted his hands and cupped her cheeks, guiding her mouth to his. "The number of lifetimes you'll live alongside me... if you choose?"
Hermione bit her lip when he pulled back after kissing her deeply, meeting his gaze steadily.
"If I say no?" She whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders without releasing her. "I'll ask you seven times," he said softly. "And not once more."
Hermione gulped audibly, but the sound was lost when he claimed her lips once more, and she knew the clock was set, ticking now, counting down to her doom.
Seven... six...five...