Dying is a Delicate Moment

by agarariddle-andhernachos

He felt like meeting her for the first time on this night for she was not a flame as he thought at the beginning but an entire wildfire. And he was basking in her blazing heat. She was standing in front of him in all of her glory and she was magnificent. (Time Travel AU / Badass! Hermione)

26. SLOW DANCING IN A BURNING ROOM

"Dying is a Delicate Moment"

A fanfic by Agara

"Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."

And he kills her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX : SLOW DANCING IN A BURNING ROOM

---

Song : Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by John Mayer

06.10.1944:

She was there. Not even ten meters away from him, yet it seemed like she was miles away. She was not sitting at the same table as she always was. In fact, she had not been sitting at his table in the library for weeks now. It didn't stop him from looking at her though. Even if he tried not to, his eyes automatically fell back on her frame.

She was holding her quill between her fingers. When she was not writing, she was gently playing with it. Her delicate fingers flipping the quill back and forth as her eyes skimmed through the content of her books. At one point, she would always put her hair in a bun. This movement, Tom knew it by heart by now. She would first play with her hair, then, she would become annoyed with it. She would put her quill down, take a satin ribbon from her wrist and tie it up. Tom would stare at this moment, at her hands, at her hair, at her bare neck. Tom would watch her scar, his hands itching to trace the silver tissue, just to softly touch the skin, feel the shivers passing through her body at the contact.

When she was too focused on a subject, she would gently trace her lips with her forefinger. She would delicately follow their lines. Tom knew how they felt, against his own fingers, against his own lips. He knew their softness, their taste, the feeling of her ragged breath against his own after he had kissed her. He couldn't wait to experience it again.

He tried to focus back on his book. He looked at the page in front of him, he even tried to read the first few sentences. Yet, his eyes went back to her and he almost cursed. He couldn't do anything else but to watch her apparently.

But she never looked back. He didn't know if she was even aware of his stare, even if she was, she never acknowledged it. What was she thinking about ? This question had been on Tom's mind for weeks now. She had this glint in her eyes lately, one he had not seen before.

He kept watching her, he couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop. He was mesmerised.

"Let's go !"

Tom snapped out of his trance and looked up. Edgard was oddly looking at him, his head slightly cocked to the right and his left hand gripping at his satchel. "Ready ?" Lestrange added.

It took Tom more than five seconds to realise what the other boy was talking about. It was their first class of apparition this morning. The seventh year hadn't been able to talk about anything else for weeks now.

"Yes, right," Tom cleared his throat. He closed the book in front of his eyes, looking one last time at the title, then put it in his bag. Tom rose, looked at her, then followed the other boy out of the library.

---

06.10.1944:

Hermione had almost finished her essay when Belone, sitting right next to her, stood up. She looked at her friend and immediately understood they had a class to go to. Hermione wrapped up her essay, cleared the table and left with her. They were slowly walking through the hallways when Belone broke the silence.

"Elias told me it was quite hard at first," she said. "Only one person succeeded at his first try in his year."

Since Belone had talked to Hermione about Elias, their friendship had shifted. Belone seemed more open, more cheery when she talked to Hermione. She liked that Belone felt more at ease talking to her about that.

Yet, Hermione didn't reply, she simply kept walking.

"There have been accidents too," Belone kept talking, "do you think someone will get hurt ?"

"I guess," Hermione replied in a flat tone. Hermione felt Belone's eyes on her but she didn't look back.

"By the way," Belone continued, "I've been meaning to ask you, would you be able to help tomorrow night with our transfiguration paper ? I've been struggling with it."

"I can't tomorrow," Hermione answered, "I'm meeting with Nathaniel."

"Young ?"

"Yes, why ?"

Belone smirked at that. "Nothing, does Tom know about this ?"

It didn't surprise Hermione that Belone would bring Tom's name. After all, the other girl was well known for her deep interest in gossip and lately the subject of Tom and she had been on top of Belone's lists.

"Why should Tom know ?" Hermione simply replied.

"I don't know, you tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," she snapped.

"What's up with you ?"

"What do you mean ?" Hermione asked.

Belone didn't reply right away, she first took a good look at Hermione. "You seem… I don't know, off ? You're snappy, you weren't here when I woke up this morning, not at breakfast either, nor for the past few days when I think about it. What's up with that ?"

"I had work to catch up on."

"No, you don't."

Hermione stopped walking and looked at her. "What do you want me to say, Belone ?" She snapped once more.

Mcnair looked quite shocked at the answer. Maybe she had expected Hermione to give her an easy answer, to slip away from the conversation like she always did. Belone looked back and didn't answer.

"That's what I thought," Hermione concluded.

She knew Belone was her friend. She knew she cared about her, but it didn't change anything. She couldn't tell her why she didn't sleep. She couldn't tell her she dreamt of him. She couldn't tell her she felt sick in her stomach all the time.

"What are you waiting for ?" Galatis arrived at their level, apparently eager to start their apparition class. Belone looked one last time at Hermione before following the Carrow girl through the hallway.

When Hermione finally reached the room, everyone was there. At the back of it was a man she didn't know. She guessed he was from the ministry, in charge of teaching them apparition.

"Welcome everyone," the man said, "I'm Benedict Sofkins and I will teach you how to apparate." He took a step forward and looked at the students around him. "I know you're all eager to know how to apparate, but you need to keep in mind that you won't succeed at your first try. Apparition is a complicated learning process."

Hermione looked around her. The Great Hall looked so much wider when it was entirely empty. The large windows, right in front of her, cast a light glow around the entire room. She then looked at the students, gathered in small groups, all of their gazes focused on what Mister Softkins was telling them. Hermione didn't need to listen to him, she already knew what he was about to say. She had had the same speech during her sixth year. Her mind briefly wondered why, in the 1940s, their apparition classes were in their seventh year.

"Apparition can be resumed into three words. The three Ds : Destination, determination and deliberation…"

He kept talking and Hermione spaced out.

---

06.10.1944 :

"Apparition can be resumed into three words. The three Ds : Destination, Determination and Deliberation. It is important to take into consideration the three when apparating."

They had all gathered in the great hall. The room was empty except for dozens of circles dispatched around the room. Mister Sofkins had walked into the middle of the room. Automatically, the students had gathered around him, in a large circle. Tom didn't need to look for Grace, he knew exactly where she was. Every time she walked into a room, he felt like being drawn to her. Tom was focused on their professor for the day, intently listening to every word he had to say. On his right, however, Dolohov couldn't keep his eyes away from her.

After ten minutes of explanation, the students were left to their own device. Tom was quite annoyed about this. He felt like he hadn't been given enough theoretical knowledge on the subject to fully succeed in the task. A couple of students started. They spun on themselves, imagined the circle in their head and tried to apparate in the middle of theirs. None succeeded.

Tom looked around him and felt the pressure slowly sinking in his bones. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds then followed the steps diligently. He felt a pool forming in the middle of his navel, then a sudden pull. When Tom opened his eyes, he just stumbled a few centimetres away from his circle. After gaining back his composure, he quickly looked around, to see if anyone had succeeded. Apparently, no one had.

Dolohov was still standing where Tom had just left. His eyes were still stuck on Grace and his jaw was clenched. Tom briefly wondered what the other boy was thinking about. Then, Dolohov disappeared with a crack and reappeared only a few inches from where he was. Tom could see the anger slowly bubbling inside Antonin. Maybe the lad had imagined succeeding on his first try.

On the second try, someone shouted. The entire room turned around and looked as a Hufflepuff cried on the floor, his shoulder splinched from the apparition. Mr. Sofkins ran towards the boy and ordered a girl to take him to the infirmary.

Tom turned his head slightly to the left, where he knew she was. He simply needed to know if she had succeeded. Grace wasn't in her circle and it pleased him. Tom looked back at Antonin and saw that the other boy still had his eyes stuck on her. It seemed like he was not following the class, too focused on her every move to even try to apparate himself.

"Third try everyone !" The professor called before climbing back up the stage at the back of the room.

Everyone moved around, replacing their circle and bracing themselves for the next round to come.

"What's up with you ?" Tom growled at Dolohov.

"Look at her,'" he replied through gritted teeth, jutting his jaw towards her. "It's too perfect like she knows how to fail."

Tom frowned then looked at her. Grace took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then disappeared. She simply reappeared not far from her circle, stumbling.

"Well, she didn't succeed," Tom said. "She stumbled next to her circle."

"Yes, exactly," Antonin scoffed. "She disapparated, then stumbled. Like she knew she was supposed to."

Dolohov's obsession with Grace had seemed to worsen after the summer they had spent in Italy. The boy had begun questioning every little move she made, trying to find a motive behind her every reasoning. He had this anger within him and it showed every day a little bit more.

"

You're looking too much into it," Tom dismissed him.

"Am I ?"

Tom didn't bother replying. He knew Dolohov and knew he ought not to take part in this debate.

OoOoOo

07.10.1944:

They were in the room, on the fifth floor. She was late. It was not uncommon for some lad to arrive late sometimes, however, they always told him before. She didn't.

They had started the meeting after five minutes of waiting. Edmund was currently talking when the door finally opened. When Grace stepped into the room, it turned silent. She gently closed the door behind her, didn't excuse herself or anything, and went to sit at her usual place. As she arrived behind her chair, she removed her cloak, delicately put it on the back of her seat, and sat. She was acting like no one was watching her, like she had not just interrupted the meeting, like she was not twenty minutes late. She didn't once look at him. Tom had had this pressure against his sternum for a couple of days now, unable to put his finger on what it was, or even why it was there. But as she didn't look at him, he felt like someone had just added another layer upon his chest.

"Care to catch me up on today's subject ?" She then asked.

"Care to tell us where you were ?" Dolohov barked. Grace rose an eyebrow at him, her face impassive, almost bored.

"Not of your fucking business, isn't it ?" She put on her best fake smile. Tom saw in Dolohov's eyes that it only infuriated him more. Oddly, he dropped the subject and lit up a cigarette.

"We were talking about the investigation," Edmund explained. "The daily prophet will release the news tomorrow. Now that the Wizengamot has forbidden any muggle to join the government-

"Should do the same with the mudbloods now," Dolohov mumbled, which made some of the lads snicker.

"Well now," Edmund resumed, "they are questioning where Tuft got the financing from for her department."

"The budget is supposed to be approved by the Wizengamot, however, with her department, it never did. She kept it a secret," Abraxas added.

Grace's face morphed into a pleased expression. Tom knew what she felt, everything that was happening followed their meticulous planning. The meeting resumed shortly after. Tom didn't need to actively participate in today's meeting. He trusted the lads with this matter. After all, they had spent three months secluded in Italy working on it. Grace simply listened too, only sometimes chipping in.

At one point, Tom rose and went by the windowsill. The meeting went on all the same. They were now accustomed to him walking around the room during a meeting or going to the window for a smoke. He leaned against the windowsill, the cigarette dangling from his lips and looked at the table. Abraxas had just picked up a quill and a piece of parchment to start writing the letter they ought to send to Zabini.

Tom's eyes finally landed on her. She was talking to the lads about what they should write in the letter. Then, she glanced at him, a mask of indifference on her face.

Since that day, since that kiss, three weeks ago, something had shifted. She didn't ignore him per se, she would talk to him, but in this monotonous tone. Sometimes Tom felt like she wanted to tell him something, something important, but she would just take a small inhale and walk away. At this moment, he simply needed to deep dive into her head to know what was going on inside it, to fully understand what was happening. Then, other times, she would look at him, but not like she used to, not like she was truly seeing him.

It didn't sit right with him. It irritated him.

Tom didn't realise the meeting had ended before the lads gathered their belongings, heading towards the door. Grace picked up her cloak and put her chair back under the table. Tom took a step away from the windowsill, opened his mouth. Yet, nothing. He didn't speak, he couldn't. Grace simply left the room.

During the summer, Tom had been afraid she'd leave. Not once, he had thought about her staying but being this far away. Was it fear, then ? This feeling sitting inside him ?

Tom was not one to hesitate, to back away, to withdraw. As he was left alone in the room, his eyes stuck on the empty chair she had been sitting at, he thought.

What the fuck is happening to me ?

---

10.10.1944:

Professor Aldritch had just arrived in the room and was preparing for the class to begin. Some students were still arriving as the class was not to start before another five minutes. Hermione looked around her, most of the lads were gathered in the middle of the room, chatting and laughing about something. She then turned her head to the back of the room and saw something unusual. Tom and Belone were standing at the juncture between the door and the hallway, whispering. Hermione slightly frowned at the sight, trying to comprehend what was happening.

A piece of paper being slowly slid on her desk made her snap back to reality. Her eyes fell on the parchment and Hermione directly recognized Zabini's handwriting. She looked up to whom had put the letter here and was met with a smirking Abraxas. She didn't say anything, she simply nodded her head and put the letter in her bag. She didn't know what she was expecting Abraxas to do next, but sitting right next to her was not it. Hermione didn't question Malfoy's action. She had learned, in the last couple of months, not to quiz the new-found relationship that had settled between them. She couldn't put words on it. It wasn't friendship. It wasn't simply related to the cause either.

"What you are doing with Young will lead you nowhere," Abraxas said, not even looking at her. He was taking out his quills and parchment from his bag.

"Still keeping tabs on me ?" Abraxas scoffed at that. "Please do tell me, what am I doing with Young?" Hermione smirked.

He finally looked at her and took in the sight of her smirk on her lips. "This, right there," Abraxas replied in disdain, "you know exactly what you're doing."

"I don't see why it concerns you."

Aldritch called for the student to all sit. Tom and Belone walked into the room and the former loudly dropped his book on his table.

"That's the problem," Abraxas whispered while looking at Tom, "you don't see it."

Hermione didn't know what he meant. She didn't have time to think deeply about it as the class began.

"Good morning everyone," Atticus smiled, "today's class is going slightly different. You are in your seventh year. Next year, you will all find jobs, enter the real world. It is important to broach some… grave subjects."

Atticus turned around, whisked his wand in the air and three words appeared on the blackboard. A small chatter built up in the room. Hermione looked around and saw the students' eyes stuck on the three curses.

"As you can all see, we are going to talk about the three unforgivables today," the professor said. "They are not only called unforgivable because using one of them will put you in Azkaban. They are called unforgivable because you won't be able to forgive yourself for using them."

Hermione knew that if Abraxas could look at her, he would. She could feel him tense next to her. She saw from the corner of her eyes the grip on his quill tightening.

"The consequences on one's soul goes beyond what you can imagine," he kept going. "Some dark wizards in the past have tried to excuse their actions, tried to find some explanation as to why they have used them. There is none. Using an unforgivable is a choice, no one will ever be forced to use one. Remember, there always is another way."

Is there really ?

You wouldn't know, Grace.

The atmosphere within the room had shifted. As Hermione looked around, she knew the students were almost begging to ask questions. Unlike every other student in the room, Hermione didn't feel excited about the subject. On the contrary, the climate around her felt heavy. She gently dropped her quill and put her right and on her thigh. She clenched her fingers, feeling the phantom sensation of the wand in her hand, of his wand in her hand.

"What can you tell me about them ?" Aldritch asked the class. A dozen hands quickly rose towards the ceiling.

Hermione could hear the other students talking, yet it felt like an out of body experience. The others recited facts about the curse they had probably read in books. It reminded her of her fourth year. She had talked about those curses without real knowledge about them. If she were asked to talk about them today, she wouldn't know where to start.

When she thought about it, Hermione realised none of the lads, nor Tom, had participated yet. Were they thinking the same thing as she was ? Were they also aware that their views on the subject were too far from what was expected of them ?

She looked back at her hands on her lap. She watched as her fingers slowly moved against her robes.

"Yes, mister Dolohov ?"

Professor Aldritch's voice made her head snap up. She didn't dare to look at Antonin.

"I've heard some things about the cruciatus curse," Dolohov cleared his throat.

What is he playing at ?

"Do tell us," Atticus encouraged the boy.

"Well, one needs to mean it while casting the curse," Antonin then let out a small laugh, " actually, more than mean it. One needs hatred in their core, anger flooding their entire body. It is like a fire within them, they won't ever be able to put out unless they hurt the other. Apparently, you can see it in the eyes. The madness of the soul can only be seen through the eyes."

A silence settled. Every eye was turned towards Antonin. Except one. Abraxas was looking at her. He remembered too apparently. Those had been her words.

"Where did you hear that ?" Aldritch asked in a concerned voice.

"I can't seem to remember, professor," he lied.

For someone who didn't know Dolohov, it could have seemed a little bit odd. However, Hermione knew him. This, right there, was uncalled for. This, right there, came out from pure anger, hatred. Just simple wrath.

---

10.10.1944:

As soon as they got out of the classroom, Tom took Dolohov by the arm and violently shoved him into the nearest empty classroom.

"Care to explain yourself ?" He almost barked. Dolohov simply shrugged away from his hold and mirthlessly laughed.

"Come on Tom, it was nothing. I simply participated, what is wrong with that ?"

"I can't seem to remember," Tom mocked him. "Really, Dolohov ? I have told you to lay low, is this your definition of laying low ?"

Dolohov didn't reply. He just turned his head and looked through the window. The rain had just started to fall and was gently tapping against the glass.

"Who was it ?" Tom growled. "Avery ? Is he running his mouth again ?"

"What are you gonna do if I told you it was him ?"

"What is necessary."

"So, what if I told you it was Hortense ?" Dolohov then looked at him, defiance written all over his face.

Tom tensed. Dolohov had this wicked grin on his face. Tom didn't know what was the truth. Was it Dolohov's hatred of her that pushed him to say that ? Or was it really her who had told him this ?

"She picked a fight with me. She's the one who's said all of this. She's the one who explicitly urged me to curse her, telling me why I wouldn't be able to do it properly because I didn't mean it enough," Antonin said. In front of the look on Tom's face, the other boy scoffed. "You don't believe me."

Tom saw the rage slowly taking control of Dolohov's mind. He knew, at this precise moment, that if Antonin was telling the truth and had wanted to curse her, he would have succeeded.

"I followed your orders," Antonin sneered, "she was the one who picked the fight. Not me."

On this, Dolohov left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

Tom's mind was bubbling, sensing a warm feeling slowly spreading throughout his entire body. His hands closed into tight fists, he clenched his jaw and briefly closed his eyes. His ring began heating like it always did when anger became the prominent emotion. Suddenly, the vase on the teacher's desk exploded. Tom's eyes snapped open and looked at the shards of glass spread around the room. He cocked his head to the right side, then to the left, his eyes not leaving once the mess he had just made. Abruptly, he took one of the chairs on his right and threw it across the room. He watched it as it collided with a wall and broke into several pieces.

Slowly, the headboy approached a window. Instead of looking through it, he looked at his reflection on it. He watched the scar on his face contorted around the rage of his features. He took out a cigarette, wandlessly lit up and closed his eyes.

OoOoOo

12.06.1944 :

They were all gathered in their dorm, finishing up packing for the summer. The sun was brightly shining outside and went through the Black Lake's water. It cast an odd light inside the room. Tom was waiting for the Blacks to leave. He was sitting on his bed, discreetly watching them. Finally, when the two boys bid their goodbyes and left the room, Tom stood up and faced the lads.

"Abraxas," he said. The other boy's head snapped towards him. "Ask her to come with you this summer."

Abraxas slightly frowned at the request, dropped the book he was holding in his trunk and straightened his back. "Pardon me ?"

Malfoy wasn't the only one perplexed about what Tom had just said. In fact, the other six lads were gazing at him, as if he had just suggested the most insane thing ever.

"Extend her an invitation to come to Italy," Tom explained in a calm voice.

"She won't come," Thorus deadpanned. He wasn't looking at Tom anymore, he had resumed packing up his clothes. "If there's one place she doesn't want to be, it's with us," Nott continued.

Even if Thorus made complete sense at this moment, Tom didn't approve of what he had said. He took a step forward in the room, to impose himself more.

"Then make her," Tom snarled.

Tom had thought longly about this summer, about what might happen and what needed to happen. Grace couldn't be left alone, not after what she had done, not when she was in this mindset, lost, alone, grieving. Tom couldn't let this happen. Tom knew this summer was crucial, it could either be the beginning of something greater than everything they had done in the past, or the dismantling of everything they had worked for. Tom couldn't kid himself, he knew that without Grace by their side, what he had in mind wouldn't come to successful completion.

At the back of the room, Dolohov scoffed and violently closed his trunk. Tom's head snapped toward the boy. Dolohov was about to leave the room. Tom took two large steps and stood right in front of him, to prevent him from leaving.

"No one touches her," he growled, "No one starts a fight with her. You let her grieve."

No one replied.

"You hear me, Dolohov ?" Tom's voice was threatening.

"What if she's the one picking a fight ?"

"Then you let her."

Tom took a step to the side and approached his bed.

"She's a time-bomb just waiting to go off," Isodor stated. Tom turned around and faced the seven lads.

"Don't let her explode then."

---

12.10.1944:

Slughorn's private classes had always been a good time in the last years. However, from the lack of sleep, Hermione found it hard to follow her alchemy lessons. She was now slowly walking back to the common room, her bag feeling heavier at every step she took. The hallways were entirely empty as most of the students were surely already in bed or in their common room. The soft light of the candles illuminated the way toward the common room. Hermione relished in the silence. It was only the gentle snoring of some paintings, her heels against the stoned floor and the muffled thunder slowly approaching the castle. It was peaceful at this time of the night, it was almost enjoyable. It seemed she had not been able to appreciate silence for weeks now.

Her eyelids were dangerously closing as she arrived in front of the common room. She mumbled the password and revelled in seeing the common room deserted. Hermione slowly approached the large couch, dropped her bag to the floor and slouched in it. She put her right arm above her eyes and let the faint warmth of the fire gently heat her face.

She stayed in that position for a little while. Then, Hermione let her arm fall back against the couch and stared at the fire. She felt captivated by the flames. She gently scooched forward then pulled her hands against the couch to lower herself to the floor. She rested her back against the leather and pulled her legs against her chest. Her eyes had not left the flame for a second. She took a deep breath and focused on her environment. She first blocked the green surrounding her and replaced it with a warm crimson red. She then focused on replacing the leathery feeling against her shoulders with soft velvet.

As she looked into the flames, she let herself dive into her memory.

She could see herself. Snow was surrounding her, and some small flakes were falling into her hair. It seemed like she was in a forest. Huge trees were encircling the small meadow she was in. If she focused enough, she could also hear the faint tweets of some birds. Hermione looked once more at her other-self. She was wearing a heavy coat and warm gloves. She then turned around and Hermione felt assaulted by the smile she had on her lips. She had not seen her like this in so long. It broke something inside of her.

Why was this Hermione happy, when she wasn't ? How could she even be ?

Then, she heard laughter. She spun around and saw two other figures coming from afar. She couldn't discern their faces. She waited impatiently for them to come closer, to take a good look at them. Yet, as they approached, the blurriness didn't fade away. Their faces were hazy. Hermione tried to squint to see if she could see them better. Yet, nothing happened. She knew who they were though. There was no doubt about that.

Still, Harry seemed taller and Ron bulkier.

"Finally you came back !" The other Hermione smiled at them. "You took your time !"

"We weren't gone that long !" Ron laughed.

Oh. His laugh. Hermione cherished being able to hear it again.

"Well, it felt like it," the other Hermione overplayed.

Harry put an arm around her shoulders and put her beanie down just to annoy her. At the sight, something warm blew inside her heart. It was a simple gesture yet it felt so soft, so caring.

Hermione realised at this moment that she was jealous of this Hermione. There was one thing she longed for, this intimacy with them.

"You must be freezing !" Ron said as he stood in front of her. "How long have you been standing outside ?"

"Long enough for me to know you were gone that long," she teased him. Ron shot her a bright grin.

"Let's get you inside."

"After the snow had stopped. I love the snow."

"Alright then."

Ron went to stand at the other side and took her hand.

Hermione stood frozen in front of the three of them.

"I don't like snow," she said in a small voice.

"Why did you say it then ?"

She knew he was there. She knew Tom had been there and had witnessed it all. From the beginning, she had known he was inside of her head. She could feel his presence, this darkness slowly scheming its way through her mind. He had gotten better at it, Hermione couldn't deny it.

"That's the thing, Tom," she replied, her eyes not leaving the three people in front of her, "did I really say it ?"

She slowly cocked her head to the side, her eyes never leaving the three figures watching the snow. They had never been this happy, not during their seventh year. They had never watched the snow falling, they had never taken the time to just stop and live.

"How long have you known I was there ?" Tom asked.

"From the beginning."

"Why did you let me in ?"

"Because this," she showed the three, "doesn't mean anything. I'm not sure it's even real."

Harry withdrew his arm from the other Hermione's shoulder and stood in front of her. If she hadn't known it was him, she would have not recognized him. His features were so far off. Harry gently cradled her other self and Hermione felt this ping of jealousy once again.

"It's not real," she acknowledged.

Her voice broke on the last word. She heard Tom's steps against the fresh snow. He was slowly getting closer, yet her eyes never wavered from the heartbreaking scene unfolding before her eyes. She felt it, the back of his hand gently caressing hers. The scene became blurry at the touch, it slowly began to shift. The snow disappeared, the trees began to fade away. Then, Tom took her hand in his and everything changed.

The scene in front of their eyes disappeared and was replaced by rapid flashes of memories. Dozens of hands taking hers, flashing so rapidly she couldn't even discern the people. Suddenly, it stopped and she was faced again with herself.

"I am sorry about your dress."

Hermione's eyes snapped to the left and she saw another Tom. He was leaning against the door frame, watching her. Hermione knew exactly what this memory was. She had begged herself not to think about it so many times, to forget entirely about this night. She still felt Tom's hand in hers. He must remember too what this was about.

She looked back to her other self, to her blood-drenched dress, to herself looking at her reflection in this mirror. She knew she was getting frustrated by the minute, it was almost impossible to wash the blood away with only her hands.

"Let me do it," Tom said in such a soft tone.

She knew what was about to happen next. She witnessed, with Tom by her side, one of the most tender moments she had ever experienced in her lifetime. She had always been fascinated by this memory, maybe this was the reason why she let it unroll for the both of them to see.

With his right hand, the other Tom gently cupped her cheek and with his left, he wet the cloth before tenderly pressing it to her skin. He began with her cheeks, slowly and carefully washing the blood away. Once done, he brushed his lips against the apple of both of her cheeks. Then, he moved up to her forehead, kissed it too, and let his lips follow the bridge of her nose. He then delicately wiped the red from her eyes before grazing his mouth against her eyelids.

It was almost hurting her seeing this. It was so gentle, almost loving. She had this feeling in her chest, warmth, envy, desire. Hermione knew he was feeling it too. She then felt like she was drowning, slowly and hopelessly into a dark sea. She knew he ought to feel everything she was feeling. So she was also aware that when those three feelings gave way to the one of disgust, he sensed it.

"Nothing else mattered at this instant," the real Tom said. "You could have asked me anything, I would not have been able to refuse."

She didn't reply. She didn't believe him.

"It has not changed," he added. This surprised her. She rapidly turned her head to the side and finally looked at him. She had not laid her eyes on him since the beginning. From the moment her eyes met his, the memory disappeared. The atmosphere changed around them. It became dark, almost oppressive.

They found themselves in an alley, the same one crippling her nightmares. She began to panic, she couldn't watch it. She felt her throat constricting, her mind clouding, her vision becoming blurry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her lungs felt like being on fire.

They were there again, only a few feet away, Tom standing behind her, his lips against the shell of her ear. Her, the wand in her right hand, pointing at him on the floor.

She didn't look. She couldn't look.

"Dyi-"

She pushed Tom away from her mind and found herself back in front of the fire. Tom was on the floor as if she had physically pushed him. Hermione stood up, she wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. Her entire body was trembling. She was shaking her head no, not a word escaping her lips. They looked at each other.

"That's the thing, Tom," she said in a shaky voice, "it's the other way around. I'm the one who cannot refuse anything to you."

OoOoOo

12.10.1944 :

She hesitated. She was currently standing in front of the large wooden door and Hermione wasn't sure what she ought to do. Should she just come in and act as if nothing had happened ? Should she retrieve back to the castle ?

She knew one thing though. She just couldn't be alone at this moment. Hermione braced herself and pushed the large door open. She hadn't expected the bar to be empty and was relieved to see some customers sitting at the back of the room. She cautiously approached the counter and sat at her usual stool. Abe wasn't behind the bar and Hermione didn't have the courage to look around for him. So, she simply looked at the multitude of bottles gathered on a shelf.

Hermione then heard footsteps coming closer to the counter and finally saw Abe coming in her peripheral vision. She gingerly looked at him. As if he knew she was watching him, Abe's eyes landed on her and they simply stared for a couple of seconds. Hermione then opened her mouth, ready to apologise for her behaviour the last time they saw each other but Abe cut her off by putting a drink in front of her.

She knew that he wasn't blowing her off by doing so. On the contrary, he was telling her she didn't need to. With a shaky hand, she picked up the glass, put it against her lips and let the warmth of the alcohol fall down her throat.

Abe hadn't moved. He was still standing a few centimeters away, drying a glass with a dishtowel. This scene was almost laughable, he didn't need to do it. He could simply spell the glass dry, however, he had apparently opted on doing it the muggle way.

"I'd like to see you one day entering this place without this look on your face," Abe gently told her. Hermione startled and dropped her gaze to her glass.

"What look ?"

Abe approached her and kindly lifted her chin for her to look at him. "This broken look."

With one simple look, everything was said. The affection in Abe's eyes was almost overwhelming her. She felt a wave of love taking control of her entire body and she let a small smile grow on her lips.

At one point, Abe poured her another drink and leaned against the bar. He began to talk, and Hermione listened. She had always liked his stories about the bar, about the last drunkard who had fallen on the floor, about the last fight he had to stop. Hermione didn't even see time passing, two drinks turned into three and Hermione even laughed.

This, Hermione, this is real.

---

12.10.1944 :

Tom was laying in bed, unable to keep his mind from rushing. He had tried to read to find some sleep but couldn't focus on anything else. So, in the end, he had simply put the book against his chest and had begun staring at the dark canopy.

One word was on his mind: disgust. He couldn't shake the feeling from spreading within his body. It had been so strong. Tom wondered how Grace could have shifted so quickly from feeling envy and desire to disgust. Even the word sounded wrong to Tom.

He then remembered the feeling of drowning. He recalled the feeling of something pressing against his chest to the point of not being able to properly breathe. He had sensed himself getting lost in the middle of a tempest, waves coming from everywhere.

But this wasn't what was stopping him from sleeping. It had been her last memory. It had been the fact that once she had looked at him, the first thing she had thought about was this memory. Was it all she could think of when she looked at him ? Was it the reason why she wouldn't meet his gaze ?

It was irritating him, more than he thought it would. Once more, the ring began to heat against his skin and Tom felt his breath becoming shallower. It irritated him because he couldn't understand her. He couldn't understand her state of mind. This was the reason why he had gone into her head, he needed to know.

He had found her alone in the common room after he had finished his round. When Tom had walked into the room, she hadn't acknowledged his presence. Actually, it hadn't seemed like she had known he was there. Tom had stopped in his tracks and had simply watched her for a couple of minutes. He hadn't been sure what to do. In the end, he had slowly approached until he was only a few feet away. When he had witnessed her not react to any of his movement, he had entered and her mind was so open, it almost felt like an invitation.

OoOoOo

14.10.1944:

From the moment Tom had received his head boy badge, he knew he had to attend the monthly meeting with the teaching body. He hadn't been seated around the table for more than twenty minutes that he was already fed up. He had this small migraine slowly becoming insistent. Maybe it was due to the fact the meeting was during lunch break and that Tom hadn't eaten anything since he had first woken up.

"We cannot go this way anymore," Slughorn said. "There's been so many cases of bullying in the last year. Do you remember the Burnstein boy ?"

Tom's ears perked up at the name and he looked at the large professor.

"He is now home-schooled, unable to go back to any other school following the scandal," Slughorn finished.

"We have already set up new policies against bullying, Horace," Dippet replied.

"What about what happened with Miss. Greengrass and Mister. Everett ?" Professor Wink intervened.

Tom saw, from the corner of his eyes, Dumbledore's gaze on him. It was insistent, almost too much. Tom didn't know what to make of this. He didn't look back though, he simply tried to refrain from smiling.

"As awful as those two events have been, for the students and the school as a whole, I do believe we should consider them as particular cases," Dumbledore finally spoke up.

Tom finally looked at him and cleared his throat.

"With all due respect professor," he began, "those two cases are quite representative of the current atmosphere within Hogwarts. Two of my fellow students have been targeted and bullied. One for his sexual orientation and the other one for the family she was born into."

Dumbledore kept staring at him. At this precise moment, the rest of the people present in the room disappeared. They didn't matter. Only Dumbledore mattered.

"This is what I believe to be quite… unusual. Mister Everett had, never in the past, expressed any resentment against Miss. Greengrass," Dumbledore retorted.

"Apparently professor, you are not fully aware of what is happening among students."

"On the contrary, Tom, I do," the deputy headmaster replied while looking at Tom over his half-moon spectacles.

There was no doubt about what Dumbledore meant with his last sentence. Tom only wondered the extent of Dumbledore's knowledge. Tom felt smug, powerful, because even though Dumbledore knew something, he couldn't prove anything. He couldn't do anything.

The meeting was adjourned a couple of minutes later. Tom picked up his bag from the floor and went to leave the room when he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him. He turned around and was faced with Slughorn, smiling.

"Let me tell you, Tom," the professor said, "I'm quite proud of you. I've always known you'd make an excellent Headboy, whatever Albus might say."

"Thank you, professor," Tom smiled. "It has been an honour."

---

14.10.1944:

For once, Tom wasn't there. Hermione knew a general meeting between the professors and the Headboy and girl was taking place. She quite enjoyed the peace of not having him here. She was picking at the food on her plate, not feeling hungry. The lads were gathered not far from her, all chatting about the upcoming Quidditch game. She didn't care about this.

Belone was sitting in front of her, apparently enjoying her mash potatoes and gravy. She was telling her a story about something that had happened the day before. Hermione hadn't listened to a bit of what she had said. As she realised that, her eyes snapped up to her friend and tried to catch up.

As Mcnair finished her story, she turned towards Walburga.

"Is it official yet ?" Belone asked the Black girl.

"It will be on Christmas. My dear mother apparently enjoys the aesthetic of Christmas to announce by betrothal," Black humourlessly laughed.

Hermione almost felt sad for her. As she looked at Walburga, she saw the tightness of her features, the sadness badly hidden in her eyes. She almost looked miserable. Hermione's head then slowly turned to the left, and her eyes fell on Cassandre. He was never really far from Walburga. From the look on his face, Hermione knew he had heard what had just been said.

Hermione revelled in the broken look on his face. She enjoyed the pathetic pout on his lips and the back and forth his eyes did between his plate and Walburga. But what Hermione appreciated above everything, was the hurt he must have been feeling. If Hermione could have smiled at this miserable scene, she would have. She would have even laughed in front of his misery.

But then, one of his friends whispered something to him and Cassandre burst out laughing.

It was genuine, it was a real laugh, it was a glimpse of happiness. This, Hermione, couldn't stand.

How dare he ?

Go back to your misery, Cassandre.

We don't deserve anything else.

It was her cue to leave. Hermione picked up her bag, slouched it over her shoulders and left the room. She didn't even think about the others around, they must have found this scene quite peculiar.

She didn't know exactly where she was going but she walked. She arrived in front of a flight of stairs, and without thinking about it, she climbed them two by two. Once on top of the astronomy tower, she felt the wind slowly caressing her face. For once, the sun was out and reflected upon the calm surface of the Black Lake. She slowly approached the guardrail and put her hands on it. Hermione began to breathe deeply, to get rid of this anger within her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head backward a bit, for the sun to catch her entire face. It felt good up there.

"Still keeping tabs on me, uh ?" Hermione scoffed as she heard footsteps coming from behind her and the door closing. Abraxas bitterly laughed at that and went to stand right behind her.

"I'm not the one doing that anymore," he finally replied. On this, Hermione turned around and faced him.

She was about to make a remark on his last statement but loud laughs coming their way cut her off. A second later, the door burst open and Belone alongside Galantis entered. The two girls were carrying books. Hermione thought they must have wanted to study in the Astronomy tower. As soon as they saw Abraxas and Hermione in the room, their laughter stopped and Belone frowned. Indeed, the scene must have looked a little peculiar. Abraxas and Hermione were standing only a few centimeters away from each other. Hermione had this look on her face, anger, and Abraxas wore one of exasperation. The two Slytherin girls must also have sensed the tension between the two.

"Get lost," Abraxas growled at them. At this, Galantis opened her mouth to snap back but McNair put a hand on her friend's arm, not once her eyes wavering from the two. Galantis understood the silent request and, with a huff, turned around and left. Belone lingered a few more seconds. From the small frown between her eyebrows, Hermione knew she was trying to figure out the situation between the two. In the end, she also turned around and silently left the tower.

When the two girls were gone, Hermione pushed herself from the guardrail and took a few steps into the room. "What are you doing here ?" She asked him impatiently. "Coming to see me feel sorry for myself ? If you wait long enough, I might even cry !" Hermione hopelessly laughed. "Or maybe you're waiting for me to get angry ? And you know what ? I have every right to be angry !"

"Have you ?" He raised an eyebrow.

She was now standing right in front of him, "Of course I do !" She yelled. "How dare he laugh ? Right there ? In front of everyone ? Have you seen his watch, too ? That's what he wanted, right ? The stupid watch ! How dares he wear it so proudly ? Doesn't he just feel sick wearing it around his wrist ? Doesn't it feel heavy with the weight of what he has done ?" Hermione was almost breathless. "He shouldn't be able to laugh, he shouldn't be able to eat, to sleep, to breathe without the weight pressing against his chest," at that she put a hand right against hers, "he should feel helpless."

Abraxas didn't reply, he was simply looking at her, as if he was analysing her. Hermione couldn't stand this stare.

"What ?" She barked.

"How long are you planning to be this angry ?" He genuinely asked in a calm voice.

Hermione was taken aback. She blinked at him.

"It cannot go on like that," he kept going, "it's too much. Too much for you, too much for me, too much for everyone. So how long do you plan on being this angry ? It needs to stop, you need to stop."

"Easy for you to say," she spat, "the only thing you've done was losing money on a bullshit deal."

"Enough !" He growled. "Stop it already ! You always do this, setting yourself as a martyr. I'm not going to tell you to pull yourself together, to move on, to fucking snap out of it. People have tried in the past and take a look at where it got us !"

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Well, it's not as if I've never asked you to deal with it," she taunted him, "right ?"

Without a second of hesitation, Abraxas pulled out his wand, pushed her against the guardrail and pressed it against her throat.

"Ask me then," he snapped, "ask me and I swear I'll do it this time."

Hermione felt the wand against her skin, slowly sinking into it. Her eyes were wide open, she was looking right into his blue ones. She was slightly panicked. She knew she had put herself in this position, yet she had never thought he would have taken the bait. She was considering it honestly. Why wouldn't she ? It was the easy way out. One word, one charm and all of this, pain, misery, guilt, all of this would be gone. But so would he.

Abraxas slowly withdrew from her personal space and put his wand back into his pocket. "That's what I thought," he mirthlessly laughed. "I should have let you drown that night, it would have saved us some trouble." Abraxas turned around, ready to leave the room but Hermione couldn't let him.

As he walked away from her, her eyes couldn't leave his frame. She was bubbling inside. She had rarely been this angry with him. She wanted to scream at him, slap him, push him. So she did, she took three large steps and pushed him violently against the closed door.

"Why would you fucking do this ?" She barked, "why would you fucking come here in the first place ? Why would you try t-" Hermione stopped. She felt like she had just had an epiphany. It suddenly all made sense. "He put you up to this, hasn't he ?" She took a step back, feeling defeated inside. "Of course he did," Hermione turned around and felt the tears pooling in her eyes.

"What are you talking about ?" Abraxas asked.

"Tom !" She laughed, "who else ? He's always playing games, always trying to get to me, always trying to manipulate me. He's fucking everywhere."

"What the fuck are you on ?" He looked entirely lost.

"Come on, you're not fooling anyone. Why would you even be here if he hadn't told you to do so ?"

For a fraction of a second, Hermione thought she had seen hurt flashing through Malfoy's eyes. She quickly dismissed this idea and began pacing around the room, well aware of Abraxas' eyes on her.

"He needs to stop, stop thinking everything is about him. He needs to stop thinking he has a word in everything. The world doesn't revolve around him !" She kept talking

"It doesn't revolve around you either !" Abraxas shouted. Hermione stopped and looked at him. Abraxas seemed mad, out of himself. "Yet, it always comes back to the both of you. When are you two going to pull your heads out of your arses and realise that what you're doing is affecting all of us ?"

Abraxas' eyes were glazing. Hermione silently watched as the boy slowly approached her. His hands were tightly closed into fists. "Do you think we don't know what's going on ? Your little bleachers' dates ?" He kept yelling. "When you stay back in the room after a meeting ? Don't you think we know when everything went good between the two of you ? When it went bad ? Maybe we're not as bright as you both are, but we are not stupid. What you're doing with Tom has repercussions on all of us. On our future, on the cause."

"What's happening with Tom has nothing to do with this," she tried to defend herself. "The cause is one thing, Tom and I are another. If I want to detach myself from him, it is none of your business."

Abraxas laughed. It was a bitter laugh, filled with exasperation. "That's where you're wrong," he snarled. "If for one second, you think you can detach yourself from him but not the cause, you're mistaken. You don't have a choice anymore, Hortense. You can't have one without the other."

Hermione felt taken aback by what he had just said. What did he know about their relationship ?

"It's not even like that, it's just a partnership" she assured but Abraxas just laughed at this and rolled his eyes.

"It's like you don't even know," he snickered. Hermione frowned, not understanding what he meant. Abraxas cocked his head to the side as if he had just realised something. His eyes slowly widened and his mouth turned into a cocky smirk. "You don't know," he affirmed. "Tell me Hortense, have you realised you're in love with him yet ?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She felt the adrenaline coursing through her entire body. Her eyes quickly wavered from Abraxas, not being able to stand his stare any longer. His last words were resonating inside her skull, on a loop.

She quickly closed her eyes and felt the waves crashing around her. The cold of the water splashing against her skin. The saltiness invading her lungs. Even if she had wanted to say something, she felt incapable of. The simple thought of speaking made her feel sick.

"Nothing to say ?" Abraxas rhetorically asked. At that, Hermione's eyes snapped back open. "Nothing clever to snap back ?" He added. "If only I had known this would shut you up, I'd have told you sooner."

OoOoOo

14.10.1944:

Everything was blurry. She was holding the door handle and internally laughing. Hermione couldn't stand straight, she had drunk too much that night, like every night. She finally pushed the door open and stumbled inside. She tried, to the best of her abilities, to silently close it behind her. She removed her heels and threw them in a corner before advancing into the house. She arrived in the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. As the liquid ran down her throat, Hermione felt good.

As she turned around to head to her room, her elbow caught into a pile of tableware, sitting right beside the sink. The plates fell on the ground and loudly split into pieces. Hermione couldn't help but laugh in front of the scene. She put her right hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. Yet, she must have woken someone up as she heard steps in the staircase.

A few seconds later, she saw Abraxas entering the kitchen. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled, still half asleep. Hermione liked seeing Malfoy this annoyed, she didn't know why, but she enjoyed it. She didn't say anything, she simply looked at him and lit up a cigarette. She opened the window behind her and let the cool breeze of Italy flow over her shoulders.

"Put out your fag and go to sleep, Hortense," he ordered her. Hermione cocked her head to the side, dropped the cigarette on the floor, stepped on it and went towards the backdoor.

"No, no, no" Abraxas loudly whispered, "come back inside."

Hermione didn't listen to him, she simply laughed. She began running, towards the beach, towards the sea. She wanted to deep dive into it, feel the waves around her and smell the saltiness of it. She arrived on the sand, and sank her feet into it. It felt good against her bare skin. Abraxas was still behind her, almost pleading for her to get back inside.

"For Merlin's sake Hortense ! It's 3AM, get back inside ! I'm fucking tired ! I can't deal with this right now."

"I want to swim !" Hermione laughed.

"You're gonna drown," he snapped.

"I'm already drowning," she mumbled to herself.

Suddenly, Hermione felt two arms around her waist, pulling her away from the water. She felt weightless at his moment, so she laughed. She laughed so much she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. But then, as always, these tears turned into ones of sadness. Hermione was now weeping in Abraxas' arms, feeling her lungs slowly shrinking, her throat hoarse. She pulled away from him and took a few steps towards the sea. It was calm out there, only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

"It hurts," she hiccuped, "it hurts so bad. I try to forget, I really try." She turned around and faced him. "Why doesn't it go away ?"

"Come on, it's late," he snapped.

"I don't want to go back inside."

"For fuck's sake Hortense !"

"You don't understand," she slurred, "you couldn't understand. You haven't seen his eyes. You haven'-"

"Don't go there," he warned her.

"Why not ?" She cried, "you haven't seen him !"

"Haven't I ?" He yelled. Hermione's eyes snapped open at this. Abraxas seemed so raw in front of her. "Don't you think it keeps me awake at night, too ? I was there ! I saw everything, I heard him beg."

"Oh yeah right," she scoffed. She couldn't believe him. Abraxas had dared telling her he was almost feeling bad about it. How could he ? "That's why you're there ?" She stumbled to stand, as straight as she could, in front of him. "Sitting straight at every meeting ? Chipping in ?"

Abraxas slightly shook his head, apparently exasperated. "You don't see the whole picture. It's not about me. And hell, it's not even about you."

"What is it about then ?" She desperately asked.

"It's about power."

Hermione turned away from him and put the palm of her hands against her eyes. She couldn't take it. Her mind was blurry, she didn't have the ability to fully understand their conversation.

"It shouldn't always be about power," she replied.

"You don't have a say in it anymore, y-"

"I've never had a say in it at all," she yelled. The silence following her shout was terrifying. Abraxas looked uncomfortable. His eyes were staring at the sea before they settled back on her. He took a deep breath.

"You're right," he said, "but what are you expecting from me, Grace ?" She didn't even realise he used her first name for the first time. "Sadness ? Sympathy ? Pity ?" Malfoy spat. "We've all done things we're not proud of." Malfoy was so composed, he only relied on facts rather than emotion. That was where the cleavage between the two came from. He took a step towards her, "killing Pollux has never been your decision." Abraxas put both of his hands on her shoulders. She couldn't look into his eyes, she scoffed to the best of her abilities, trying to seem detached from the whole conversation, even though her cheeks were wet from the tears. She briefly stumbled back, but Abraxas' hands tightened on her shoulders and kept her from falling backwards. "No Grace," he said, "you need to hear it."

Hermione simply shook her head no.

"Grace," he said one last time, "killing Pollux was never your burden to bear, but ours to share."

She finally looked at him and she saw it. He was hurting, too. And somehow, it made her feel better. He withdrew his hands from her.

"How do you do it ?" She asked in the smallest voice ever. "How do you sleep at night ?"

"I tell myself that he was just a means to an end. That's it. That's what allows me to sleep at night. That's what works for me. That's what keeps me moving."

"But I don't want to keep moving !" Hermione cut him off. "I-I just-I just want to forget."

That was it. She simply needed to forget. She had moved on from so many things already, but this was beyond her strength. She couldn't move on from this.

"Make me forget," she almost pleaded. Abraxas frowned. "Make me forget," she repeated.

"What ?" He asked.

"That's it," she smiled. It must have looked so odd, a genuine smile contrasting with the tears still pooling in her eyes. "Obliviate me."

Abraxas took a step backward, put his hands up in false surrender and shook his head no.

"Let's go back inside, you're drunk," he stated.

"No !" She wiped the tears away from her face. "You can do it !"

He wore this scowl on his face. He was resolute about not doing it, Hermione could see it on his features.

"It would solve everything !" She begged. She was feeling frantic.

"The fuck it won't !" He snapped. "Do you really think forgetting about his death will stop you from hurting ? It won't ! Come on Hortense, you're more clever than that."

"So take away everything," she almost whispered. He didn't understand. "Make me forget all about him. Take away all the memories, take away all the pain. Take him away from me."

Hermione gasped as she woke up. Her entire body was shaking and she felt extremely cold. She felt like being incapable of breathing. She was panicking. The sound of her ragged breath was the only sound that could be heard in the silent dorm room. She put both of her hands against her mouth and tried to regulate her breathing. Somehow, it only made things worse. As she closed her eyes, she felt two large tears falling on her quilt.

It took her a good ten minutes before finding herself capable of thinking clearly again. She couldn't put Abraxas' hurt face out of her mind. As soon as she closed her eyes, it was there. This had happened during the summer, in July, and even five months later she didn't know what to make of what had happened. Furthermore, she knew she didn't recall everything from that night, her memories were still foggy.

Hermione needed to take her mind away from this. So, without even thinking about this, she picked up the first book on her bedside table. She cast a quick lumos with her wand and looked at the title: reflections on time by Octavius Basilton. She remembered where she had gotten this book from, Burjow & Burkes, on the night of the 14th of February. She had started reading it already. She had some comments on this journal. Firstly, it wasn't finished. Octavius must have died before he got to the end of it. Secondly, the journal didn't always make sense. It wasn't only a reflection on time, there were drawings, bits of his personal life, with his wife mostly, some riddles, too. Yet, it didn't stop her from reading it.

Hermione laid down on her bed, opened the book, took a deep breath and begged herself not to think about anything else.

---

14.10.1944:

It was getting quite late, however, Tom couldn't stop. He had found this book about a week ago, and since then, he was captivated. It explained everything he wanted to know, he needed to know.

Tom was now only struggling with the formulation. He needed to find the right words, the perfect words. He couldn't let any loophole interfere, not with this.

He kept reading for an hour or so before his eyes fell on one simple sentence. He read it twice in his head before a small smile grew on his lips. He gently closed the book and let his fingers linger on the title: laws of contractual vows.

---

17.10.1944:

Hermione was sitting on the couch in the common room, her nose buried in the journal. She had a parchment on her lap where she wrote some notes on it. She had this weird deep interest in everything the wizard had written down. She was now trying to make sense of some peculiar things that had caught her interest.

She was about to write down a riddle she had just read when she felt a presence behind her.

"Grace," Tom said, "there has been a situation. We need you on the fifth floor."

At the sound of his voice, Hermione's eyes briefly closed. He didn't need to say anything else, she knew exactly what he meant. Hermione looked around her and saw the students busy with their own activities. She closed the book on her lap and stood up to face him. Tom didn't look panicked so the situation must not be this alarming. She put her belongings in her bag and silently followed Tom out of the common room. It was still early in the evening. They passed by some waves of students and Tom didn't hesitate before putting his hand on her lower back to help her navigate through them. At the familiar touch, she tensed.

They finally arrived in front of the door. Tom opened it and Hermione entered an empty room.

"Where is everyone ?" She asked.

"They are on their way," Tom replied as he sat down.

Hermione waited by the door for a few seconds before approaching the windowsill. She didn't look at him. Actually, she felt incapable of meeting his eyes. She sat against the guardrail and looked around the room.

"So, what's the situation ?" She asked, her voice strained.

"Let's wait for the lads to arrive."

Hermione didn't feel at ease. Since her conversation with Abraxas, she had been avoiding Tom. She couldn't let herself think too much about what had been said, and every time she looked at him she couldn't help but hear Abraxas' voice inside her head.

"You have been avoiding me," Tom stated. Hermione forced herself not to look at him. She kept her eyes strained on the fire within the chimney.

"Not everything is about you, you know ?" She scoffed.

"Then why are you not looking at me ?"

Hermione's fingers slightly began to shake. She took a small inspiration and she finally looked at him. He was casually sitting at the end of the table, his back resting against the back of the chair, both of his arms crossed upon his chest. He wasn't wearing his vest, but only a pristine white shirt. His tie was loose around his collar and he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. At this precise instant, he was expressing confidence, cockiness. He had this smug smile on his face.

Hermione kept looking at him. "As I said, not everything is about you."

At this, Tom laughed as he uncrossed his arms and put his elbows on the table. "Tell me," he started, "what have I done this time ?"

Hermione huffed and pushed herself away from the window. She took a few steps into the room and approached the blazing fire. She put her fingers near the flames and let the heat warm them up. Hermione then looked at her watch. "When did you say the lads were coming ? She asked while frowning.

"I did not."

Hermione turned around and saw him intently looking at her.

"Do you have something better to do ?" Tom cheekily asked. "Something planned with Young maybe ?"

The bait was easy and not at all subtle but Hermione didn't feel like taking it. "Why are we here, Tom ?"

"I have already told you," he said, "we are waiting for the lads to arrive."

Every time Tom said this, she believed in it a little less.

"Did you send for them ?" She kept asking.

"Yes, I did," he frowned.

"Then, where are they ?" She turned around.

"They are coming," he cut short. "Why are you questioning everything I am doing ?"

"Because Tom, there's always an ulterior motive in everything you do."

Tom rose from his seat. He had his hands flat on the table. Hermione could see that all the cheekiness he had a few moments earlier were gone.

"You have been avoiding me. Why ?" He demanded.

"For fuck's sakes," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Is it because of what happened the other night ?"

Hermione looked at him and quickly understood what he meant. Of course, he must be thinking she'd been avoiding him after he had gotten inside her head. But this wasn't it. She wanted to scream at him that it had nothing to do with this. She wanted to yell that it was because Abraxas had seeded ideas in her head. Ideas she never wanted to think about, ideas she never let herself think about. She wanted to shout that for the past three days she hadn't been able to think properly without the voice of the Malfoy's heir resonating on loop.

"No," she quickly dismissed him.

"What is it about then ?" He pushed.

"Can't you just stop ?" She snapped. "I owe you no explanation. If I want to be moody about something, then I'll be moody about it. If I want to avoid you for days, then I will !" Her voice had slightly increased by the end of her sentence. She had pushed herself away from the chimney and had approached the table. She was now facing him, anger slowly coursing through her veins.

"It does not work that way !" He barked. "From the moment you avoid someone, you are expecting a reaction from them. So I am involved in whatever this is. This, right there, is my reaction." He hit the table with his pointing finger. "Apparently it was not the one you wanted, so let me ask you: what do you want ?"

"You wouldn't care !" She yelled.

Tom withdrew from the table and let his arms fall at his side. He furrowed his eyebrows and intensely watched her, trying to figure out what she had just meant. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit one up. He walked towards the window, opened it and looked back at her.

Hermione had figured, in the last months, that every time Tom was trying to figure out something, he always smoked.

"You never care for my opinion ! You don't even ask for it," she continued.

"Pardon me ?" Tom scoffed. "Are you really telling me that I do not consult you ? Nor take your thoughts into consideration while planning everything ?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about the cause," she walked around the table to come closer to him. "I want to have a choice. I want to be able to say no to you. I want you to stop putting me in situations where I feel like I have no say in them. So no, I'm not talking about the cause. I'm talking about this," she gestured with her fingers to the two of them, "this relationship."

Tom took a long drag out of his cigarette and let a smug smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Relationship ?" He repeated, "I thought this was only a fucking partnership."

Hermione's face morphed into something of pure anger.

Bastard.

In front of this sight, Tom handed her the cigarette. She snatched it from his grip.

"You are not allowed to do this, Grace," he calmly said, "you cannot dismiss what we are and then bring it up only when it arranges you."

"You're one to talk," she bitterly laughed. "Isn't it what you always do ? Always arranging the situation to your advantage ? Scheming your way through every goddamn thing. Look where we are now ! We're waiting for a meeting that will never start because you made it up. Because you wanted to talk to me. Because I've been avoiding you ! Because you can never talk to me without manipulating me first !"

Hermione caught back her breath and looked at him. He didn't say a thing, he simply looked at her. It felt like the silence lasted for hours. Then, the door opened and some lads got in. Hermione quickly turned around and watched, gobsmacked, as a meeting was indeed about to begin.

"You always assume the worst of me," Tom said before taking back the cigarette and putting it out.

OoOoOo

19.10.1944:

Slughorn was telling her about the various utilisation of gold in alchemy. Hermione was diligently taking notes when someone entered the classroom. She briefly turned her head to the side and saw Dumbledore slowly walking towards Slughorn.

Hermione watched as he approached them. Since he had brought Flamel last year, Dumbledore's interest in her seemed to have shrunk. He didn't look at her as much as he did before. He didn't try to corner her anymore. On the one hand, Hermione felt relieved by that. But on the other, she had this weird feeling it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore would come back to her.

"Albus," Slughorn smiled. "What can I do for you today ?"

"Miss Asphodela sent me for some calming draught. Do you have some by any chance ?"

Right after apologizing to her, Slughorn stood up from his seat and went to the back of the room, right into the storage closet. Hermione didn't know what to do, she simply put her quill down and looked up. Dumbledore was already looking at her.

"Miss Hortense," he greeted her.

"Professor," she replied.

The deputy headmaster just looked at her for a couple of seconds. Hermione didn't feel at ease. She tried to keep her composure, hold his gaze.

"Tom has a brilliant mind," he simply said, completely out of the blue. Hermione tried not to frown at this. She didn't know where this conversation would go, but she knew it was nothing good. She briefly wondered if he was expecting her to say something but the professor kept going.

"He is an excellent student. He has, undoubtedly, many ambitions and expectations for the future. He probably will have a bright career within the ministry someday, but we both know he is not waiting for someday to happen." Dumbledore took a few more steps into the room and looked around. "He is already working on it right now," he continued, not looking at her. As for her, she couldn't look anywhere else. "The thing though," he carried on, "is that I always thought he would be planning all of this alone. Of course, I know he is well-surrounded but he does not seem like the sharing type. Yet, I have come to realise that it's not the case." Dumbledore's eyes finally settled back on her. There was this gravity within them, this seriousness. "Naturally, at first I thought it was just a young romance, but now I see what it really is."

Hermione felt the atmosphere in the room change. She knew exactly now where he was heading. It didn't make her feel comfortable. Her eyes quickly glanced to the back of the room, silently hoping for Slughorn to promptly return. She tried to stay impassive in front of Dumbledore. She didn't lower her eyes, she even straightened her back. Hermione put on this mask of indifference, of haughtiness, one she had seen Tom used so many times in the past. As she looked right into Dumbledore's eyes, she remembered one last thing: to keep her mind tightly closed.

"And what is it, professor ?" She asked in a tight voice.

"How is Miss Greengrass ?" He dismissed her question. "Is she recovering from the horrendous assault she suffered from ? I believe Mister Malfoy took good care of her."

Hermione knew Dumbledore had a brilliant mind. So it didn't come as a shock when the latter implied his knowledge of the lads, the wives.

"To be completely honest, it was quite unfortunate it fell on the night of the vote." Dumbledore falsely chuckled. "One could say, it's been done on purpose."

His word choice was impeccable. He knew exactly what he was talking about, what he was implying.

Hermione knew he was not expecting any answer from her. Even if he did, she wouldn't be able to say anything. It felt like she had a lump in her throat and her heart was hammering inside her chest.

"It was quite ingenious of you to involve my brother. I'm sure it came at a price, didn't it ?" He rhetorically asked. "But I believe you've taken it into consideration when you've made your choice. Your actions may not have disastrous consequences on you for the moment but bear in mind that one day it will. You may be caught in a situation bigger than yourself and you don't even realise it. You don't even understand it. There is always time to stop, Miss Hortense. Believe me when I say that one day you will be faced with a decision you won't be able to say no to. And you'll regret it."

Hermione's blood fled from her face and she audibly gulped. She felt sick in her stomach. She didn't want anything more than to just flee out of the room.

"Maybe it has already happened," he stated. "It is easy to gravitate around men like Tom. They always make promises about power and greatness. At first, it always seems like the right idea to follow them, but believe me when I say it's not. Life isn't about power, Miss Hortense. It's about making things right."

Dumbledore rapidly squinted his eyes. He seemed dubious about her reaction. Maybe he had expected her to say something, to try to explain herself, to refute everything, to defend herself, Tom. But Hermione did nothing of this. She simply kept looking at him, in this cold way, and it troubled him.

"Maybe I'm reading this wrong," he slowly said, a ghost of realisation glinting in his pale eyes. "Maybe I'm having this conversation with the wrong person. Maybe Tom isn't the one making the promises about power."

A second later, he rose his head towards the backdoor. In an instant, his entire composure changed. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from him. What had he just said ? What had he just implied ? Had he said she was the one calling all the shots ?

"Thank you Horace," he smiled as the other professor re-entered the room. "I'll leave you two to your lessons." The deputy headmaster turned one last time towards her, "Miss Hortense."

"Professor," she replied.

He left the room and Hermione felt like the world had just fallen upon her shoulders.

OoOoOo

19.10.1944:

Hermione had climbed so fast to the seventh floor. She was now pacing in front of the tapestry, anger clouding her entire mind. Then, the door appeared. She stumbled inside the room and was faced with emptiness. The Room of Requirement was devoid of everything. There were only candles on the walls, lightening up the void.

She began pacing around the room. She was fuming inside. How dare Dumbledore imply such things ? Could he be that blind ? Could he not understand she was trying to make things right ? She wasn't the one calling the shots, he was. Like he always did.

Are you sure about that ?

"Shut up," she mumbled to herself.

Her mind was rushing with continuous thoughts. It couldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. Her head was hurting from the time she had spent trying to prevent Dumbledore from getting inside. She pulled at her hair and tightly closed her eyes.

He was wrong, he was so wrong. She was fully aware of everything. She was in full comprehension of the consequences, she had experienced the disastrous consequences of everything. He was the one not seeing the whole picture. He was the blind one in this situation. She knew exactly where she was going, what she was planning to do, what was going to happen. Everything she was doing needed to be done. She had said so to Abe earlier this month.

But are you really doing this for the right reasons, Grace ?

Of course, she was doing this for the right reason. How could everyone be so wrong about everything ? Even her own thoughts sometimes. Abe when he told her she was selfish. She wasn't. On the contrary, everything she was doing was simple proof that she wasn't. Dumbledore when he told her she was the mastermind behind everything. She wasn't. She was simply a pawn to Tom like she always had been. Abraxas when he told her she was in love with Tom. This, right there, wasn't love. It was at best a morbid obsession, a way to destroy herself a little bit more. Because yes, Hermione was slowly destroying herself.

You know there is some truth behind those words.

Hermione's eyes snapped back open and she looked down at her hands. Everything was so loud in her head she felt like being within a crowd. Yet, she was simply standing alone in a silent room. Her eyes began an incessant back and forth between the two palms of her hands.

You are losing yourself, Hermione, just like Abe said. You are losing it.

She couldn't bear it any longer. She couldn't help but stop her thoughts so she decided to keep it busy on something else.

You are the one calling the shots, just like Dumbledore said. You were indeed the one promising Tom power, giving him the absolute reassurance you'd hand it to him, without the need to share it. Maybe you're the monster in the story.

She put her hands deep inside her purse and looked for something, anything, a book, a calming draught, a drink. Anything that could stop everything that was happening inside her mind.

And just like Abraxas said, you ar-

"Shut up !" She yelled. The word echoed in the room and went crashing back into her ears. "Shut up, shut up, shut up !" She kept shouting. At this, she let her purse fall on the ground. Her belongings spread on the floor. She hopelessly watched as everything spilt out in front of her, her books, her potions, her quills, her trinkets. But then, below all the unimportant stuff, a bright, shiny, golden object stood out, slowly spun on itself before it laid flat on the ground.

Now, there was silence. Her eyes couldn't detach themselves from it. It was there, on the floor, the perfect embodiment of her failed attempt to go back home. The galleon was taunting her, reminding her of everything she'd lost.

Without thinking about it, she grabbed it from the floor and threw it to the other side of the room in a painful scream. She saw it as he fell back, meters away, in a clunking noise. The silence was deafening.

"No," she whispered, "no, no, no."

Hermione ran towards where the object was and took it in her palm as if it was the most delicate item ever. She gingerly inspected it, making sure it wasn't broken. Then, she triggered it.

There, her voice.

"Stuck in 1943. Can't go back. Send help. Hermione Granger"

She couldn't move, she stared desperately at the magical artefact. A couple of seconds went by before the second entry came out.

"Entry n°2: Stuck in 1943. Can't go back. Send help. Send help."

It seemed so far-off. Then, a third one. And after this one, dozens spilt out of the galleon.

"Entry n°9: Please help me. I don't know how to go back."

"Entry n°21: I'm alright. I'm just stuck. I need help."

"Entry n°28: If anyone hears this, please go to Nicholas Flamel."

"Entry n°35: I'm stuck in 1944. Can't go back. Send help."

The next ones were all the same, her begging for someone to come and get her, giving indications of where she was, what year, month, day it was. But then, something shifted in her entry.

"Entry n°62: It's never going to work, isn't it ?" Hermione could hear the desperation in her voice.

"Entry n°67: Life here isn't that bad. I'm in Slytherin, can you believe it ?" She bitterly laughed. "I've made some friends."

"Entry n°75: Today Pollux has lost his quidditch game. He was so pissed. Gryffindor won. Can't stop thinking about you. I miss you."

"Entry n°89: I'm trying to find a way to get to you. I swear I will never stop."

"Entry n°91: Draco definitely takes after his grandfather. Two pompous arses."

"Entry n°113: Still stuck in 1944."

"Entry n°121: Pollux said the funniest thing today, you would love him."

There were so many entries about him, about Cole, the lads. Yet, none about Tom.

"Entry n°187: Happy birthday, Ron" This entry must have dated from the beginning of March.

"Entry n°188: Funnily enough, I don't care about grades here. It doesn't matter."

"Entry n°189: "I'm thinking about working at the ministry when I'm done with school.'' After a small moment of silence, her voice came back. "I don't know why I'm still doing this. It's not working. It's never going to work. I think I've lost all hope."

"Entry n°190: I've done something terrible, I've-"

Hermione let go of the galleon the minute she heard this broken voice. She knew exactly what it was all about. Slowly, she dropped to her knees and sat back on her feet. She just stared at the galleon. She didn't know how long passed before she took it back between her fingers.

With a shaky finger, she triggered it and spoke up. "Entry n°191," she said in a small voice, "I'm still in 1944 and I know I'm not going back. I think I've known about it for a little while now. I'm doing everything for you. Please don't hate me."

OoOoOo

22.10.1944:

It was cold outside, but it didn't stop Hermione from sitting still on the bleachers. Her gaze was lost in the clouds above her. The moon was brightly shining and cast silver lighting on the pitch. It was peaceful out there.

She sensed him before she heard him. She slowly turned her head to the side and saw Tow approaching. The wind was blowing through his hair. He had both of his hands in the pockets of his pants. He strutted towards her, exulting confidence. As he arrived at her level, he settled in front of her, against the guardrail. His dark eyes had not left her frame once since he had arrived.

The situation between the two was so familiar yet felt so foreign. Hermione momentarily pondered how many times they had met here in the past year, how many cigarettes they had shared, how many hours they had spent alone, just the two of them.

Tom finally pulled out his hands from his pockets, fetched his pack of cigarettes in his coat and gave her one. Hermione first looked at the small object before extending her fingers and taking it. She was about to light it up when Tom gently bent towards her and did it himself. He then directly straightened his back and took a small inhale.

"Are you ready to talk now ?" He broke the silence.

"Talk about what ?"

"You tell me."

Hermione's eyes flickered from his figure to the pitch. She let the silence surround themselves once more. She took a drag of the cigarette before handing it back to him.

"I'm sick of having the same conversions over and over with you," she finally said.

"So am I," replied, his voice foggy from the smoke he had in his mouth. He exhaled it and continued, "so let's make sure this is the last one we have then." Tom pushed himself from the guardrail and took a small step forward. He extended the cigarette back to her and spoke up. "You have told me you wanted to have a choice, a say in this relationship." Tom's voice was serious like he was taking the problem earnestly.

Hermione looked at him, she was quite puzzled by the beginning of their conversation. She had not expected him to tackle the problem so directly, to come to see her and throw her words back at her. Tom was never this blunt, never this forward. His way was sneaky, devious, sly. He never had the habit of confronting a problem this sincerely.

"And how do you feel about what I've said ?" She asked him. If they were about to have their first honest conversation, Hermione tried to make it right.

"It does not matter what I feel about this," he dismissed her, just like he did for an idea he didn't like during a meeting.

"Actually, it does." Hermione put out the cigarette and stepped on it. She stood up. "Your problem Tom is that you don't realise that a relationship involves two people. It's not you in one corner and me in another. It's the two of us in the middle of a burning room, together."

"Fine," he almost snapped, obviously fed up. "I think this is bullshit. I feel like you have always had a say in our relationship. I feel like you are hiding behind this pretext to put all the blame on me." He took a step towards and towered over her. Hermione looked right into his eyes, she wouldn't even discern his pupils. Then, her eyes moved to its scar, to the silver tissue that shone even brighter underneath the moonlight.

"If we keep talking about what we do not like," Tom continued, "hear me out then. This act, the victim, the innocent Grace forced to do something she did not want to do, is getting on my nerves." Tom's voice was calm, he was not angry, he was simply stating facts. "You are not innocent Grace, you are so far from it. Just like I am." Hermione averted her gaze and was about to take a step back when she felt one of his hands gently draping around her wrist. Her eyes dropped at the touch and she intently looked at his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. "You need to stop hiding," he almost whispered, "you are fucking magnificent."

Hermione shook her hand free of his grip and started to move backward. "Why do you always shy away from the truth ?" Tom asked her. He approached her once more and Hermione stood frozen in front of him.

"Stop fucking hiding," he snapped. "Don't you see ? Don't you see, Grace ?" His stare was bewitching. His eyes bore, for her and only her to see, the truth of his words. "You are the fucking sun."

Something clicked in Hermione's mind and she suddenly felt it again. She recalled the feeling of being submerged by water, the feeling of being lost in a whirlpool, the feeling of being caught in a tempest. She recalled all the powerful emotions she experienced over and over again just by simply looking at him.

"And you're the fucking sea !" she screamed. She let her scream fade away in the darkness of the night before dropping her voice to a shy whisper. "I'm drowning in you," she stated. Tom was there, right in front of her, admiring her. He didn't recoil at her scream, he didn't even frown, he just stayed there, watching her. "I'm too deep in this," Hermione admitted. "You don't even realise. I didn't even realise. It needs to stop."

"Why ?" He genuinely asked. He slowly rose his right hand and was about to gently graze her cheek when Hermione took another step away from him. Tom frowned this time. "Do you really think you are the only one deep into this ?" He then questioned.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied.

"What ? Feelings ? They are burning me," Tom snapped.

"Stop lying for once !" Hermione turned away from him and put her hands in her hair. She began pacing, "stop trying to manipulate me !" She accused him.

"You don't believe me," Tom stated.

Hermione wanted to scoff at this comment but when she turned around, Tom was right there. This time, when he raised his hands, she didn't move. She let him gently cradle her face. Tom then slowly tilted her head backward for her to look right into his eyes. "Look then," he whispered. Hermione knew what he was talking about and she couldn't. "Look," he repeated.

As she looked into his eyes, she saw the open invitation he just offered her. Hermione would have never thought one day he would give her this, his memories, truly showing himself to her. She hesitated one last time before diving deep into his mind.

Hermione first found herself in the ministry. She remembered that night, the Christmas Party from last year. She saw Tom leaning on the stairs' bannister. The one leading to the atrium. After what had happened, the party had surprisingly gone on. It was not as alive as it was before the assault, but people were still talking or sitting around the tables. The music was lower too. Then, she saw herself joining him, leaning right next to him. Her hair was a mess, her dress was ripped at the shoulder, her mascara had run on her cheeks from the tears. Tom lit a cigarette and handed it to her.

They talked but she couldn't focus on what they were saying. There was something greater in her chest, her heart was beating too fast. She had this overwhelming feeling of yearning. Hermione looked at Tom's face and witnessed something she had never seen before. When this scene had happened, the other Hermione had been too deep in her plan, in making Oswald fall. She didn't have the right mind to look at Tom to see what was there. So when she looked at him she saw it all.

Tom was looking at her as if she had just given him the moon. His eyes were roaming around her face, settling on her lips from time to time.

"You have never looked this beautiful, Grace," he said. Hermione knew deep inside her he meant every word. Then, she felt waves of feelings crashing her brain, burning her. She was everything he had ever looked for. She had just destroyed a man's life for him, without questioning him. She had put her life in danger for him. He had never thought her to be this loyal and yet here she was, handing him more than he could ever ask for. She had never been a real part of the lads. No, she was above them. She was above everyone.

Hermione felt choking up from the intensity of what she was feeling, of what he was feeling. It was so raw, so new for him. She should feel scared but she wasn't. Because she was experiencing Tom's feelings not hers and he wasn't. He was far from scared, he was embracing every bit of emotion he felt.

The scene in front of her eyes shifted. It didn't move the way it did in her mind, it was not sudden and unexpected. It was controlled. Tom was finding the right memory to show her next.

She found herself on the bleachers, and for one second she wondered if she had gotten out of his head.

"It's all your fault !" She heard herself. Hermione turned her head to the side and saw another Hermione approaching Tom.

"What have I done ?" Tom asked casually. His tone was casual yet she could feel the panic rising in his guts, in her guts. On the outside, he was the perfect image of composure, but inside of him, he felt worried.

"Everything !"

They began to argue. Hermione remembered that night well. She had almost cursed Antonin in the infirmary room before climbing here. She felt horrified with herself, afraid. But it wasn't what she was feeling now. She felt amazed in front of her other self but frustrated too. She couldn't understand how the other Hermione couldn't see the beauty of what she had done, of what she was.

"I'm fucked up." she heard her voice.

"No, you are not." He meant every word. Then, Hermione felt it. She felt how he needed her as much as she needed him. He was the one to rile her up, to let her embrace her true self. He was the gasoline starting the fire. She was the blazing heat, the smoldering fire. He only wanted to light the match to taste the heat.

She was too much. She had always been too much. She was burning him. He wanted to watch the flames get higher.

Hermione's eyes were incapable of looking away from the scene. Everything she was feeling was too much. Her entire body felt like being set on fire, but it didn't hurt as it should, it felt good, it felt powerful. She felt an urging desire and she knew Tom wasn't able to contain himself any longer. He didn't care about getting burnt, he longed for it. So, he kissed her.

The scene shifted once more.

"I am sorry about your dress."

Of course, he would show her this. He had seen her side of it and now he wanted her to see his.

He just looked at her as she desperately tried to get rid of the blood on her face. She was so vulnerable at this moment and Tom didn't know exactly what to do.

"Let me do it." As the other Hermione gave him her silent blessing, Tom approached her. He took out his handkerchief and wet it underneath the water. Then, for a fraction of a second, he hesitated. Hermione had never thought he had hesitated at this moment. But then, with his right hand, he gently cupped her cheek and with his left, and tenderly pressed the cloth to her skin.

He began with her cheeks, slowly and carefully washing the blood away. Tom felt like if he was too rough on her, she might break and he didn't want her to break. She was slightly shaking underneath his fingers. It felt weird to see her that way, he didn't know if he liked seeing her this way. She seemed so frail, so afraid. So Tom did the only thing he could do to reassure her, he brushed his lips against the apple of both of her cheeks. Then, he moved up to her forehead, kissed it too, and let his lips follow the bridge of her nose. He then delicately wiped the red from her eyes before grazing his mouth against her eyelids. Then, he looked at her lips. He didn't want to force her to do anything, so he simply looked at her and waited for her to give him what he was craving.

Slowly and deliberately, the other Hermione pushed herself on the tip of her toes and leaned. She brushed her lips against his. He lost himself in her touch, and Hermione felt the waves of emotions within her entire body, it was so powerful yet peaceful too. It was inevitable. Nothing else mattered at this instant, it was only her and him. She could have asked him anything at this moment, and she knew Tom wouldn't have been able to say no.

"There was no other way," he whispered to her. They were both slightly moving their heads to feel the caress of their lips against each other. "I only did it for us," he kept murmuring. "For you."

Hermione had always thought he was lying, but he wasn't. It was too much. All of this was too much. She didn't need to see anything else, so she pushed herself away from his mind and stumbled back into the present. She shrugged away from his touch and distanced herself from him.

"Did you see, then ?" He asked her.

"It's fucked up, Tom !" She said in disbelief, still overwhelmed by everything she had seen, felt. "It's so fucked up."

"Who cares ? They are here ! And they are fucking here to stay !"

"Great !" She snapped. "You've just shown me you're capable of having feelings but it doesn't change anything !"

Tom looked confused at this. If Hermione had been in the right state of mind, she might have understood that what Tom had just shown her was the unyielding proof that she was indeed not alone in this. It was even more than that, what Tom was feeling inside was ten times greater than what she could have ever imagined.

But at this moment, she couldn't linger on this fact.

"The problem doesn't lie in this !" She kept ranting, "it lies upon what we did." Hermione felt tears burning at the corner of her eyes. "Our hands are fucking bloodied ! We've crossed a line, Tom," she shouted, "and the problem is that I'm not okay with it but you are. So you don't understand the state I am in right now as I don't understand yours."

Tom slowly nodded. He looked so calm in front of the mess she was.

"How do we make this work then ?" He serenely asked. He had asked this question as if they were both in front of a political problem as if they simply had to put both of their minds into the issue to find a well-drafted solution. But they were not confronted with a political problem, this, right there, was so much messier than anything they had to take care of in the past.

"I don't know," she honestly replied.

"Well, we will have to figure it out. Because I am not letting this go, you go."

Hermione took a step back, trying to create some more space between them.

"We have come so far," he kept going, "We cannot let this go to waste. We have done so many beautiful things. You have done so much, so well."

"That's the thing !" She burst out once more. "I've done things ! I've done so much for this cause, for you ! But you've never done anything for me ! I've proven myself already ! Maybe it is now time for you to prove yourself !"

"I split my soul for this !" He shouted back.

"Come on !" Hermione mirthlessly laughed, "you've never done it for the cause. You've done it for yourself like you always do. It's always about you ! Maybe now is the time you prove yourself to me !"

Something shifted in Tom's eyes. He slowly approached her. "You want me to prove myself to you ?" He growled. "Fine !"

Without a second of hesitation, he pulled his ring out of his finger. In two large strides, he was right in front of her, centimeters away. He took her right hand, flattened out her palm and pressed the ring against it. Hermione first felt the heaviness of the Horcrux, then the heat coming from it.

"There," he said, "that is me proving myself to you Grace. That is me giving you a part of myself."

Hermione wanted to look at him but she couldn't. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the ring. She didn't seem to fully understand what had just happened. She simply, hopelessly, looked at the fragment of Tom' soul she held in her palm.

"I am not planning on doing anything else now", Tom continued. At this, Hermione finally looked up. Tom must have seen the surprise mixed with incomprehension she bore on her face. "It is your entire decision. I am right here, waiting, waiting for you to meet me halfway."

OoOoOo

24.10.1944:

They didn't talk after this. Tom had respected what he had told her. He had not made any move towards her. He simply waited.

When Hermione had gone back to her dorm that night, she had felt the heaviness of the ring in her pocket. When she had entered the room, she had gone directly to her trunk. She had fallen to her knees and for a couple of minutes, she had looked at the ring. It could have been so easy, she could have destroyed it so easily. But she hadn't, she had simply hidden it so far inside her trunk.

Hermione was now in the common room, she was sitting right next to Belone. They were both reading in silence but Hermione couldn't focus because she knew Tom was there, too. She didn't look at him but knew he was looking at her.

Finally, she saw him entering her field of vision. Hermione braced herself and looked up.

"May I speak with you ?" He asked her. She simply nodded and followed him in a corner of the common room. They had not found themselves alone in the past few days. Strangely enough, Hermione didn't feel any awkwardness between them.

"You need to come to the fifth floor tonight," he then told her.

"There's no meeting," she frowned.

They were both looking around, to make sure no one would overhear what they were saying.

"No, there is not."

"Why then ? What are you planning on doing ?"

Tom simply handed her a book. She hadn't even realised he was holding one. Carefully, she took it and she looked at the title: laws of contractual vows. Hermione let her mind think about this for a minute before she finally understood. In a panic, her eyes climbed up to meet his.

"I am not asking you to do it," he rapidly said, "I am just telling you so you know. Will you be there ?"

Hermione didn't even have to consider Tom's request. Of course, she would be there. She looked back one last time at the book before nodding. She still had one question on her mind though.

"Do they know ?" She asked him as she looked right into his eyes.

Tom's eyes playfully glowed and a small smirk grew on his lips. "Not yet."

Hermione was about to say something when Galbanda arrived next to them. The Slytherin girl was visibly feeling awkward, as if she knew she had just interrupted something.

"I'm sorry Grace," she said in a small voice, "but Young is outside the common room, waiting for you."

Hermione acknowledged Greengrass' information then turned back towards Tom. He didn't say a thing, but by the look he had on his face, Hermione knew he was containing himself.

"I'm tutoring him," she explained.

She could have kept the mystery about her relationship with the other boy, just like she had in the last days. But it seemed vain now.

Tom nodded and Hermione left.

OoOoOo

24.10.1944:

They were all here now, sitting around the table. The lads didn't seem to fully understand what they were doing here. Suddenly, Tom rose from his seat at the end of the table and cleared his throat.

"I know I have already asked a lot from you all," he started. "And you have never once disappointed me. We are meant to do great things, we have already done so much and we are about to do so much more."

Tom left the table and began walking around the room, his eyes settling on each lad individually.

"What I am about to ask from you does not come from a lack of faith," he kept going. "On the contrary, it comes from utmost trust in you. We already are bound by our common cause, our actions. Now is the time to be bound by our words, our magic."

Tom then looked at her. "Grace," he simply said. Hermione stood up, went by his side and withdrew her wand from her holster.

"What do you need us to do, Tom ?" Avery asked.

"I want you to vow yourself to the cause."

Hermione had expected some lads to voice concerns, to ask questions. But none of this happened. They simply nodded. She couldn't believe it. They were all about to vow their lives to the cause, to Tom and no one said a thing. Tom was right, it didn't come from lack of faith, but from the blinding trust they all had in him.

Dolohov was the first one to stand up. He approached them and looked into Tom's eyes. Without a second of hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and offered his hand. Tom took it and it began. Hermione cast the spell on the sealed hands and a multitude of silver trends wrapped around them.

"Do you, Antonin Dolohov," Tom said, "vow to always put the cause first ?"

"I do," the other boy replied.

He didn't even think before giving his answer. It naturally came to him. He wasn't thinking about what he was doing. Dolohov was currently vowing his life to the cause, to Tom.

"Do you, Antonin Dolohov, vow to never use the cause for your sole advantage ?"

"I do."

Hermione looked at the other lads. They were all mesmerized by what was happening in front of their eyes. They couldn't tear their gaze away from the scene. It seemed so unreal.

"Do you, Antonin Dolohov, vow to never betray the cause ?"

"I do."

Tom was the cause, he always had been. He was not binding them to a political purpose, he was binding them to himself. Tom was afraid one of them would eventually betray him. Hermione didn't firstly get where this fear came from. After all, the lads had always been devoted to him, entirely. But then, a small flash of memory burst inside her head.

"And if someone were to murmur the right thing in their ears" Hermione was still slowly walking towards him, until she stood right in front of him. "They'll realise it."

She had told him this in Italy. She had spat at his face, that if she wanted, she could turn them around. She hadn't realised at the time, but she had planted a seed in his mind. She was the reason why all of these boys were about to sign their life to Tom.

Hermione snapped back to reality and watched as Dolohov withdrew his hand from Tom's. She followed the movement with her eyes and caught Antonin's pale forearm. There was a long and distinct silver mark. It would always be there, the remainder of what he had done. It was the simple and constant proof of his undying loyalty to Tom.

As Dolohov went back to his chair, Thorus stood up next and rolled up his sleeve.

---

Authors' note:

First of all, we're so sorry about posting this chapter so late. We truly believe every chapter ending in "6" is cursed.

This chapter doesn't hold as much politics as the others did, we really tried to focus on their relationship. To be honest, we sometimes struggle with shipping them while we write, but with this one the ship was quite easy. The ship has sailed.

We're going to celebrate finally posting this chapter because it's been like 5 months. Honestly, at one point we almost considered doing bullets points and moving to the 27th.

We really hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for all of your reviews

Lots of love