ELEVEN

Wednesday, 31 October 1945

It wasn't the early morning chill of fall that made Hermione shiver the moment she Apparated; it was the cold and desolate feeling of Little Hangleton itself. Dark magic hung in the air, pressing down atop her skin. Her own magic reacted to it, keeping it at bay. But she couldn't help the jolt it sent through her body. The one she hadn't felt since the last time she was in Riddle's presence on Christmas night.

Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself forward, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders in the hopes of keeping away the chill.

The last time she had been here had been in Riddle's memories. Most of them were fleeting, like a movie reel that skipped, but each time she saw something familiar, it stole her breath. Without having seen the outside of the Guant House, Hermione knew it the moment she laid eyes on it. She could feel the horrors she'd witnessed there. Each step she took towards it set off warnings inside her mind, but she pressed forward knowing this was where she would find answers.

The inside of the house was just as decrepit as the outside. The foul stench of death and decay made her stomach roll as she pushed the door open. She recoiled, nearly falling to her knees, but managed to keep herself upright. After several gulps of fresh, cold air, she righted herself and forced her feet over the threshold.

Just as in the scene she had witnessed in Riddle's memories, the man he'd pulled the ring from was still sitting in a chair. Hermione swayed on her feet at the state of decay his body was in. There was very little skin left, exposing black and grey muscles that had not only deteriorated with time, but had been eaten at by animals and insects alike.

Hermione was used to fresh death. The longest she had been around a dead body was however long it took someone to drag it away. To be up close and personal with it now was making her rethink everything about her plan. But to walk away now would mean leaving a loose end forever. To get answers now, she would be one step ahead of Riddle.

It was that thought alone that had her moving forward.

"Mudbloods are not welcome in my home!"

Hermione whirled around at the screeching voice only to find herself presented with an ethereal version of the decaying body on the chair.

"It's not your home if you're dead," she quipped, refusing to cower. There was nothing this man could say that would break her. Not after dealing with Riddle for so long.

There was nothing but pure hate in the dark sockets of his eyes; the mist of his ghost form turning almost black instead of the usual silver-blue. Hermione swallowed hard as she realized Riddle had never looked at her like that. Not even when Draco had outed her blood status too him.

The relief she felt in that realization left her feeling odd.

"Get out, Mudblood!" The way he lashed out reminded Hermione so much of Riddle that she had to bite back a smirk. She didn't even so much as flinch as the air around her began to hum with magic. Furniture moved an inch from where it originally sat. Paintings and other remaining items of decor toppled over or fell from the walls that shook.

When it was clear she wasn't going to budge, he scowled at her. "What do you want, Mudblood?" he asked, spitting into the air as if he still produced saliva.

"The Resurrection Stone."

Surprise flooded his wispy features. He clearly had not been prepared for anyone outside of his family to know his ties to the legend of the Deathly Hallows. Much less a Mudblood such as herself. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Hermione stood there and endured his scrutiny, not bothered by it in the least.

"What do you know of it?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Everything," she replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. "I know about the Deathly Hallows. I know they aren't just a children's story. I've seen the destructive power of the Elder Wand and I've been shroud in complete invisibility from the cloak. The only one I haven't seen with my own eyes is the stone, but all my research led me here."

"What would a Mudblood like you want with the Deathly Hallows?" he asked, his lips pulling back into a sneer as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you crave power like that of a Pureblood?"

It took every fiber of her being not to prove to him that she already had more power than anyone he had ever known. More than he would think her worthy of. Instead, she took a different approach, one that had always been effective when dealing with Riddle.

"You take pride in your lineage, Mister Gaunt," she said, her voice as level as could be. "How would you feel about having it restored?"

Mudblood or not, the promise of being returned to life and having access to power again had spiked his interest. But only for a moment. A look of pain crossed over his face as he hunched his shoulders. "The stone isn't here," he said after a moment. "It was stolen the night I was murdered."

Confusion knit her brows together as she replayed the bits of Riddle's memories she had witnessed. He had only taken the ring. Had someone come in after he left and robbed other goods or…

The realization of what happened turned her blood to ice and knocked the breath from her lungs. Her eyes went wide as she stared at Morfin. "The ring," she breathed. "The stone was in the ring."

Had it been there this whole time? Had Dumbledore known when he'd found it? Had Harry known?

The questions began to rise one after the other, causing her to lose focus.

"What's in it for you?" he asked, bringing her back to the present.

She took a deep breath and gave a small shrug. "Nothing," she whispered, feeling her magic rise to the surface. "The same as what you'll be getting."

Before he could argue, she lashed out, splitting his ghost form into shreds, making sure that the world had truly seen the last of Morfin Gaunt. When his screams of pain and anger had disappeared from the air, she reigned her magic in with a deep breath. Now the only person to know of the Resurrection Stone's location and existence was Hermione herself.

The only thing left to do was face Riddle himself. After all this time, she finally accepted that it was time. With that, she took her leave of the Gaunt home so she could go back to her flat and wash the stench of decay from her skin.

She had a party to attend, after all.

Going back to Malfoy Manor was never on Hermione's to-do list. Yet, there she was, walking through the front gates as if she belonged there.

She had heard of the Halloween party being hosted by Abraxas Malfoy and knew that it wasn't just to celebrate the holiday. A short investigation as to the guests allowed her to know what this was really for. It was the same tactics he had used during his reign. Host a party as a guise to meet new followers and conduct deals with your guests.

Confronting Riddle was something she knew she had to endure at some point. However, she had no intention of letting him know that she would be there. She just had to keep her magic masked enough that he wouldn't detect her. She just needed to find out where he was staying so she could plan her move to go after the ring. If he did end up finding out she was there, all she had to do was Apparate and try again some other time.

What she didn't account for was how hard it would be to keep herself in check the moment she stepped into the Manor again. Both parts of her past from a future that no longer existed slammed into her, threatening to take her down with only one step past the threshold. Frozen, she was helpless as her own screams began to echo off the walls. But the screams were quick to turn into passionate moans that made her shiver as the ghost of Riddle's touch appeared on her skin.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

The question came from another guest, one that stared at her with concern. She swallowed hard and nodded, collecting her thoughts and scrambling to shove them deep into her mental library. She knew Riddle was there; could feel his magic in the air as if searching for hers. She couldn't risk her moment of weakness to be a beacon for him.

"Yes, thank you," she said, pushing herself forward towards the ballroom where the majority of the party guests were gathered. She paused briefly at a mirror before the ballroom to ensure that her disguise was still in place. She used the moment to touch up her lipstick while lightening her hair a shade or two and playing up the blue of her eyes.

When she made her way into the ballroom, she grabbed a flute of champagne from the nearest floating tray and let her gaze wander around the room. She clutched at her glass, remembering the last time she had seen the room so full of people. Her throat began to close as she recalled her surprise at seeing him drop down on one knee and reach up to slide a ring onto her finger. Without thinking, she began to rub her left hand where that ring once sat.

As she tossed back the champagne, she realized the depth of her mistake. She should have found another way to track Riddle's whereabouts. She should have never stepped foot inside the manor like she'd originally planned. Being here was too much. Her resolve slipped and she knew the moment Riddle picked up on her presence. Her eyes landed on him from across the room, but before he was able to do the same, she set her flute down on the nearest surface and bolted.

It wasn't until she found herself in an empty room that she realized it was the worst possible place to be. She looked around, tears clouding her vision as silver, lifeless eyes greeted her psyche. But just before she could fall to her knees and mourn the moment she'd watched Draco die, the door to the drawing room opened behind her, making her freeze. She worked hard to close herself off, ignoring the way his presence poked and prodded at hers, demanding entrance.

Riddle came to stand before her, staring at her as if trying to figure her out. She could see the doubt that darkened his gaze. Had she not been in her own personal hell, she might have tried to gloat that she'd finally been able to keep him out of her head.

"Hello, Hermione."

It took everything she had not to shiver at the sound of his voice. At the familiar rush of feelings that hearing him say her name caused. She had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from clenching her thighs together from the uncomfortable amount of heat that lingered. Knowing that if she opened her mouth to speak, to tell him he was mistaken, she would falter and he would know for sure. So instead, she kept her silence.

But in doing so provided enough confirmation for him anyway. Sure he was right, he pushed with more force than she had ever encountered from him before. But he wasn't the only one who was stronger than the last time they had faced off. And in this time line, it put them on an equal playing ground. So she dropped her disguise, noticing the way his eyes widened and then darkened as he realized he was right.

The last time they had engaged in a battle of magic such as this one, she had been able to escape back to the past and change the future. She tried to channel both of their magics into whatever part of herself that had allowed that kind of travel, but nothing worked. In the end, all it did was weaken her when she realized it wasn't going to work and forced her to her knees.

"Stop!" she cried, the sob tearing from her throat as she withdrew her magic from his. "Please...just stop."

Everything began to blur together as his presence slammed into her mind. The grief and guilt allowed him access to everything, but she couldn't tell what it was he was looking at. Time stretched on while he perused her memories, but it was only a few seconds before he pulled away, leaving her cold and shivering on her knees before him.

It was only when he reached down, his fingers pressing under her chin to tilt her face up that she met his gaze. The look in his eye was a mixture of fascination, horror, sorrow, and anger. He had questions only she could answer, but as his lips parted to ask, the door the drawing room opened once more. Without a second thought she pulled upon her magic to Apparate, leaving him in a stunned silence behind.

But as she appeared in the bedroom of her flat, her back against the door, she knew that he wouldn't be able to let any of this go for long. That if she held answers, it wouldn't be long before he came to get them.

He just had to find her first.