"Dying is a Delicate Moment"
A fanfic by Agara
"Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."
And he kills her.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR : HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH WINE ?
Song : Have you had enough wine ? by JC Stewart
17.08.1944 :
"Wake the fuck up !"
Hermione slowly blinked and raised her head. Abraxas was standing by the now-opened door, his arms crossed upon his chest. The bright light coming from the corridor warned Hermione that she had slept well past noon. She squinted her eyes at the boy and tried to make her brain connect with her mouth. Hermione let out what was supposed to be a 'fuck off' and laid back down with intending to sleep some more. Abraxas loudly exhaled at the sight and loudly knocked on the wooden door. Hermione made no sound, secretly hoping he would give up and leave. But he didn't. The Malfoy heir approached the bed and tore the quilt away from her.
"What ?" Hermione almost screamed. She regretted it instantly as her head began to throb. She let her eyes shut close and audibly winced. How much had she drunk last night ?
"Tom is here," Abraxas simply said.
" 'thought he only came on Sundays," she drowsily answered.
"It is sunday."
Abraxas left her bedside and rapidly opened the curtains. The violent light blinded Hermione for a second.
"Fuck you !" She cursed as she put the quilt back over her head to shield herself from the blinding light.
"We've already been waiting for you for thirty minutes, Hortense," Abraxas explained.
Hermione sat up and squinted her eyes at the blonde boy. She knew what this comment meant and she knew she would eventually have to get up. She opted not to argue some more.
"Fine," she sassed back.
She slowly sat on the bed and put both of her feet on the soft carpet. She pressed her palms on her eyes and let her body slowly wake up. She turned her head to the side and snatched one cigarette that was lying on the bedside table. Hermione then looked for the lighter, the silver one. She saw it, at the foot of the bed, lying next to her shoes from the night before. Hermione laid on the bed and extended her hand in order to get it. She briefly wondered what sight she gave Abraxas : her, sprawled on the bed, desperately trying to get a hold of a lighter she could have simply picked up if she had walked. Hermione felt a sense of pride as she picked it up and lit the cigarette. Abraxas must have seen the small smile on her face because he frowned at the sight. She inhaled the smoke and slowly let it out. Hermione gently got up and stayed still for a second, trying to get her balance back.
"For fuck sake," Abraxas mumbled as he took her by the arm and helped her to the bathroom. "Five minutes Hortense," he warned her, but Hermione could only laugh. "I'm not joking," he added before leaving her.
Hermione laid against the now closed door of the bathroom and took a long drag. On her right was a small window welcoming the noon sun. She looked through it and let herself be soothed by the waves of the Mediterranean sea crashing against the shore.
Who cared if she took more than five minutes ?
OoOoOo
17.08.1944 :
She had taken thirty minutes in the end. She looked at herself in the mirror for a second. Her curls had lightened up thanks to the southern sun and were well-defined thanks to the sea. Her skin was tanner too and contrasted with her scars. She briefly looked at the one around her neck and just smiled. She had not put any effort into her clothes, she was simply wearing cotton shorts with a light blouse.
As she stumbled down the stairs, still feeling the effect of alcohol in her system, she could hear bits of conversation. She forced her brain not to listen and more importantly not to figure out the topic of today's meeting.
Hermione finally reached the open kitchen to the living room, where the lads were all gathered. The kitchen was in a light shade of blue, perfectly fitting with the sea only a couple of meters away. It had large windows that welcomed the southern sun. Hermione liked this kitchen, she enjoyed looking at the small garden overlooking the sea where large lemon trees were blooming. The sight was magnificent from here, it almost seemed unreal.
Hermione approached one of the counters and briefly looked around. She saw a steaming pot of coffee and then one of tea, freshly made. However, the bright light illuminating the entire room only reminded her that it was already too late for coffee or tea. Without a second of hesitation, she snatched a half-full bottle of gin and poured herself a drink. In the last weeks, Hermione had slowly shifted from gin and tonic to gin neat. It was more efficient.
She finally entered the dining room, slowly walking to reach the chair at the end of the table.
"... well, I saw him last week. Cassand-"
As soon as she heard the name, she loudly sat down. The lads all turned silent and looked at her.
"Oh don't mind me," she slurred a little, "please resume." She took a large sip of her beverage and let the glass down, in a loud noise.
From the corner of her eyes, she could see Abraxas putting his head in his hands, obviously exasperated by her behaviour. She took out another cigarette and lit it.
"Really Hortense ?" Dolohov huffed. "Gin for lunch ?"
"Well," Hermione sat up straight and flickered her cigarette's ashes on the ground, "we were out of champagne for mimosas and it's too early for firewhiskey."
Isodor hid his chuckles and was met with a frown from Thorus.
"Glad you finally showed up," Tom said from the other side of the table. Hermione finally looked at him. He was already looking at her, his piercing black eyes stuck on her figure. In the last three months, Hermione had gotten used to seeing him outside the school. She had gotten used to him being there when she woke up entirely hungover each Sunday morning. She had gotten used to looking at his face and swallowing her anger down, of not showing him any sign of emotion.
Her eyes flickered to the empty spot at his right. No one had taken her seat since the beginning of the summer. It had stayed that way, empty but more importantly constantly mocking Tom. She smiled.
"Well, it's not like I had a choice," Hermione snorted. She could see, from the corner of her eye, Abraxas sending daggers at her. It made her smile harder.
An uncomfortable silence settled before Edgard cleared his throat and resumed the conversation. "We have nothing on him. I got some intel last week and the lad is clean."
"We don't have to find something on this filthy muggle," Dolohov replied on the subject of Wigram, "Rookwood told me that the Wizenmagot is trying to pass a bill to prevent this catastrophe. Even if there are some muggle lovers among them, they're outnumbered. We're gonna get him out of here."
"Can we at lea-" Thorus started but Hermione cut him off by calling the house elf. Thorus looked at her, a puzzled look on his face, apparently not understanding if her behaviour had some underlying message. Hermione didn't pay him any attention and began asking the elf for some scrambled eggs and toasts. She turned back to the conversation as if she had not just interrupted it and looked at Thorus.
"I was saying," he tried again in a tense voice, "I-I, well, yes, if a bill were to pass, we already have eight support plus Yaxley on our side."
The elf had just come back with a steaming plate of food. She nodded at the small creature as a thank you and started eating. The conversation still went on in the back but she didn't listen. She found her meal to be more interesting. Hermione loudly set the silverware on the plate.
"Abraxas," she almost yelled for him to hear her over the chatter. Abraxas's head snapped towards her and slowly exhaled. "Can you hand me the salt please ?" She smiled. He didn't move for two seconds, clearly wondering if she was being serious at this moment. But as the silence that had settled back around the table intensified, he finally gave up and slid the salt across the table. Once more, the conversation resumed.
She could feel Tom's gaze on her.
After finishing her meal, she pushed her chair back and lounged in it. She put out her lighter and began playing with it. She flicked open the zippo and snapped at it repeatedly until Dolohov slammed his hands on the table and turned towards her. "For Merlin's sake !" The boy barked, "would you stop already ?"
Hermione stopped for a second and looked right at him. She allowed him a few seconds of respite before starting again with the lighter. "A problem, Dolohov ?" She asked.
"Well, I don't know," he scoffed, "it's not like it's been three months you get pissed every night, that you don't participate in any of the meetings and tha- will you stop with this fucking lighter ?" He yelled. "Tom, say something !"
Hermione's mouth slowly turned into a smirk as she finally laid her eyes upon Tom. He was, as predicted, already looking at her. She was waiting for him to say something, to reprimand her. But nothing of the sort happened, he just kept staring. Hermione's eyes filled with malice.
"It's no big deal," the small voice of Milton cut the intense tension. "So we were talking about the Wizengamot."
Hermione turned away toward the small boy. He was almost huddled on his chair, obviously not at ease with the current atmosphere. Without taking her eyes away from him, Hermione lit up another cigarette. It seemed as if the entire room had turned its attention to the two of them. It was so silent that only the sound of the fag burning could be heard. Milton had met her gaze. Hermione slowly rose from her seat and casually leaned over the table, putting her left hand right next to Milton's plate. She took one last drag and put out the rest of the cigarette right into Milton's eggs. The small boy frowned, his eyes flickering back and forth between his ruined eggs and Hermione's face. Hermione waited for his eyes to settle back on her face to let out the fog she had been holding. Milton slightly coughed and blinked the smoke out of his eyes.
"If only someone cared about what you had to say," she finally broke the silence. Her voice was cold, patronising, and scornful. She kept looking into Milton's eyes for another few seconds before straightening her back.
As predicted, the entire table was staring at the scene. Not one of the lads knew what to say in front of such behaviour. They simply kept staring at her, some of them baring frowns and others hiding their smiles.
Hermione didn't need to spend one more minute at this meeting, she had shown up, this was the deal. She turned on her heels and seized a bottle of firewhiskey from the kitchen.
"See you next Sunday, Riddle," she said before exiting the room.
OoOoOo
17.08.1944 :
The lads were gathered in front of the chimney, in one of the many living rooms. Just like every Sunday, Tom had left in the late afternoon to go back to London. Hermione didn't exactly know how he had succeeded to show up once a week on the other side of Europe without raising suspicion from the orphanage he was staying at. To be completely honest, she had not put much thought into this. It wasn't her concern.
Hermione entered the room and poured herself a drink. This living room was the warmest in her opinion out of the three others in this house. In a way, it reminded her of the Gryffindor common room thanks to the crimson velvet curtains framing the four huge windows. On the left was a large chimney, enlightening the entire room with a warm golden glow. At the back of it were two massive bookshelves where thousands of old books were gathered. During the first two weeks of her stay, Hermione had wandered around the house, exploring each room individually. When she had found this one, she had spent hours skimming through the mountains of books. She had had the pleasure of losing herself for a couple of hours before reality eventually caught up with her.
Hermione finally noticed the upbeat music playing. She saw, from afar, Isodor by the wizarding radio, trying to find a new station. Then, she felt a presence behind her. Hermione turned around and saw Abraxas, eyeing at the drink in her right hand.
"Don't bother Malfoy," she chuckled. The latter rolled his eyes.
"At least drink a glass of water tonight," he huffed. Hermione laughed and lit up a cigarette. She flickered her ashes in the nearest ashtray.
"Merlin Hortense !" Abraxas reprimanded her as he took the so-called ashtray away from her. "This is a priceless vase, it's been in my family for centuries !"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his distraught face. "Oh Malfoy, your summer house is filled with priceless vases. At least this one turned to be out useful," she mocked.
Abraxas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hermione quite enjoyed riling him this much. Actually, since the beginning of the summer, from the moment she had stepped foot inside the Malfoy house in the south of Italy, annoying Abraxas had been one of her favourite hobbies. The boy finally set the vase down and turned around to leave. Hermione laid against the wall and took a good look around the room. Most of the lads were chatting near one of the large bookshelves at the back of the room. Edgard and Isodor were playing some card game at the coffee table and Thorus was sitting by himself, on the large couch, staring longingly at the fire.
Dolohov was laughing with Edmund and Milton when he looked at her. He rose an eyebrow before muttering something to his friends. Hermione noticed the way the other two laughed out loud and the taunting in Dolohov's eyes.
Hermione had been there for ten weeks. Ten weeks during which she had not done anything. Ten weeks during which she had controlled herself. But at this precise moment, her fingers were twitching and her heart beating faster in her chest. She had behaved during those ten weeks, she had controlled herself, even when her mind was telling her not to. But at this precise moment, she couldn't care less. Hermione briefly wondered if this lack of control was due to the alcohol she had kept drinking during the day but then remembered it wasn't the first time she was in his presence while inebriated. She briefly tried to rely on the small part of logic she still had and tried to convince herself he wasn't talking about her. But she'd been here for ten weeks, logic wasn't strong enough.
"Something to say ?" She called out to him. His smile grew even larger on his face, apparently satisfied she took the bait.
Well, after all, he had also spent ten weeks without doing anything.
"Stop drinking before you embarrass yourself Hortense," he scoffed. Hermione laughed at that. "Well, apparently you're already too drunk," he added. Dolohov opened his mouth to spit something else, but Edmund put his hand on his arm to prevent him. "You know what Tom said," Rosier murmured. This infuriated her even more.
"No go ahead Dolohov, say what you have to say. Tom isn't here," Hermione tightly smiled.
She saw the way Antonin's body tensed, his jaw clenched and his hand closed into fists at the words. Yet, he didn't answer. "Come on !" She taunted him. She couldn't help but feel the anger rising inside her body. Even when Tom wasn't here, he controlled everything. "Oh right, you're scared of him," Hermione mocked Antonin. "Man up for once in your fucking life." Dolohov shrugged out of Edmund's hold and approached her.
"Shut your mouth," he growled. Hermione grinned at his visible anger.
"You are scared of him," she mocked. "Well, me who thought you couldn't be any more pathetic."
"Shut up !" He barked.
Suddenly, Hermione felt someone gently grabbing her arm and saw Abraxas by her side. "Stop playing," he murmured for only her to hear.
"I'm not playing Malfoy," Hermione replied, her gaze not once leaving Dolohov's face. She shrugged out of Malfoy's hold and took a few steps forward. "I'm simply doing the conversation." She opened her arms in a welcoming way, almost spilling the entirety of her drink in the process. She took one sip then resumed. "Tom isn't here, Dolohov can finally prove-"
"I've already proven myself enough," Antonin cut her off.
"Haven't we all ?" She almost yelled. The playful tone she had been using since the beginning of the altercation was entirely gone, replaced by bitterness. "And you're not even the one who gave up the most." Hermione pointed at Edmund. "Rosier killed fourteen people." She then pointed at Isodor and began laughing, "Avery fucking tortured a guy to insanity for weeks. You ? You've just put an end to your lineage." Hermione took one last step and invaded his private space before whispering "Well, good riddance."
In less than a second, Antonin had put his wand underneath her chin. Hermione could feel the wooden artifact slowly sinking against her skin. She slowly rose her head, exposing more of her neck as a sign of provocation.
"Mate stop !" She heard Edgard trying to calm Dolohov down.
"She's fucking asking for it," Antonin snapped back.
"Don't bother Lestrange," Hermione smirked, "he won't do anything. He's too scared." She stopped for a second. She felt the wand pushing harder against her skin. "Scared of Tom ?" She paused and looked at him as he tensed even more. "Or me ?" She taunted.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you," he threatened.
"Antonin !" Edmund tried to get to them but Edgard stopped him from going too close.
"You think you're so intelligent, so smart, so special. But guess what Hortense ? You're just irrelevant," Antonin kept going.
Hermione enjoyed seeing him this way. She liked knowing that his blood was boiling in his veins, that only one little word could make him snap. She loved the way her words could set him off.
"Do something about it, then," she chuckled.
"Dolohov lower your wand," Thorus ordered.
"No, let him," Hermione smirked. "What are you gonna do Dolohov ?"
"Don't Grace," Abraxas barked.
"No no Malfoy. Let him prove himself, for once and for all." Hermione cocked her head to the side, showing more of her neck to taunt him. "For once in your life, maybe you'll finally do something. Do it. I won't even stop you." Dolohov just pushed his wand harder against her skin.
"You're mad," Antonin spat.
"Well you knew it. It's fucking written on my skin. Come on do something. Prove it." She laughed. "Prove you're not worthless." She took a small step towards him. "Do it." She pushed her neck against his wand. "Do it." She was almost begging for it.
Hermione looked inside Antonin's eyes. For a moment she recognized the gaze of an older Dolohov, one in the Department of Mysteries.
"Cru-" he stopped himself, apparently surprised he had almost let the spell out. As for Hermione, she simply smirked.
"Are you fucking insane ?" Edgard intervened.
"Step back," Isodor pressed.
Neither of them dared to approach the two of them. Hermione felt a wave of pride invading her entire body. Antonin was so predictable, so easy to bait. She let a wicked smile draw on her pink lips.
"Even if you had cast it, I wouldn't have felt anything," Hermione said in a taunting voice. Dolohov had still not removed his wand from her neck. "You need to mean it," she continued, "I know you hate me Dolohov but it is not enough. You need more than just hatred towards the other. You need hatred in your core, anger flooding your entire body. It is like a fire within you, you won't ever be able to put it out unless you hurt the other. You can see it in the eyes. The madness of the soul can only be seen through the eyes."
Hermione hadn't known where all of this came from, but she couldn't help but let it all out.
"When it hits you you can't even think," her voice dropped and if the room weren't entirely silent only Dolohov would have been able to hear her. "You're just overwhelmed by the feeling of your bones breaking, your organs being set on fire, your blood boiling in your veins, and your skin being ripped off. You hear screams not even realising that you're the one emitting them. You wish you were dead at this moment." Gradually, Dolohov's face fell. His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. "So go ahead Dolohov. Cast it. Cast it like you really mean it."
Silence. Extreme, deafening silence. With a shaky hand, Dolohov slowly lowered his wand and took a step back.
"Just as predicted," Hermione rolled her eyes. She turned around and poured herself another drink. "Well lads, enjoy your night."
OoOoOo
18.08.1944 :
Once again, her bedroom door loudly opened and Abraxas entered. "Tom's here, Hortense."
"Is it Sunday already ?" She mumbled, her brain still half asleep.
"Are you fucking kidding me ? It's Monday."
Hermione sat up and drowsily blinked at him. "Why are you waking me up, then ?"
"Tom's here and he's staying."
"Fuck me." Hermione let her head fall back onto the pillows.
18.08.1944 :
Tom had finally received the authorization to spend the last week of August away from the orphanage. Abraxas had set a portkey in London for him to join them in Capri for the rest of the holidays. Their weekly meetings weren't enough. Tom needed more.
He had arrived early this morning and had briefly met with the lads. He looked at his watch and noticed it was almost ten in the morning. He set down the newspaper he was reading and let himself imagine the noise of footsteps on the wooden staircase. He had patiently been waiting for her for more than an hour now. Actually, he had spent more than two months waiting for her. Tom had never been known for his patience, yet, for her, he had never been more patient. He had not pushed her, he had not cornered her. No, he had watched her, he had listened to her spiteful remarks during the meetings, he had analysed her. Tom had spent more than two months his mind riveted on her, on her every move, on every report from the lads regarding Grace.
Abraxas entered the room and looked at him. He had this frown between his eyebrows and this exasperated look on his face. Tom looked right into his eyes.
"Don't expect anything from her," he said to Tom. Abraxas suddenly hissed and put his right hand on his forehead. "Damn, she's even giving me a migraine."
"Is she even coming downstairs ?" Tom snapped.
"She'll eventually run out of alcohol," Edgard interrupted as he entered the open kitchen.
"Shut up, Lestrange," Abraxas sneered.
Tom knew exactly what she had been doing for the past two months. He had seen her. Grace had not talked to him, besides disagreeable remarks once in a while. He had not said a word about this, he had not acted on it either. He had simply waited, waited, and waited. Tom had briefly wondered if Grace had simply given up but then, as he thought more about it, how could anybody give up something that big ?
"She'll come," Abraxas' voice brought him out of his thoughts. Tom looked at the blonde boy and frowned. "She always comes, doesn't she ? Every Sunday morning she's here. Drunk, late, sassy sure but she's here. Isn't it what matters ?"
Tom didn't reply right away, he simply let the words sink in. "Did I ask you for your opinion, Malfoy ?"
Abraxas only rolled his eyes and left the room. Tom was once again alone. He lit up a cigarette and lounged back in his chair. He waited some more, and he couldn't help but acknowledge that Abraxas was right because she eventually came. She entered the kitchen and Tom turned his head to look at her through the opening between the dining room and the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks and looked at him too. She didn't move for a couple of seconds before going back to ignoring him.
"Finally awake," he said. She loudly put down her glass on the counter and Tom could see her hands tightly gripping the sink. "I guess you are aware that I am staying," he continued, expecting anything from her yet she didn't give him any. "I am not going to stop trying," he told her. He saw that her grip loosened. "You will talk to me, Grace," Tom added.
She gripped back the sink.
Grace pushed herself away from the counter and went to leave the kitchen but briefly stopped next to a small table at the entry, where a pile of letters was laying. She looked at them then rushed through the door. Tom rose from his seat and approached the said table, he took the letters into his hands and looked at them.
They were all from Cole, addressed directly to her.
None of them were opened.
22.08.1944 :
Hermione had joined them ten minutes ago and she was already bored. Thorus had begun talking about something within the ministry and Hermione had just spaced out. She was looking through the window. The sky was a light shade of blue and the sea looked so calm from up here. Hermione slowly turned her head back to the table and silently watched the lads and Tom speak animatedly. Even though she asked herself not to listen to anything they were saying, there always was this small part of her brain that couldn't cut all of this out.
"We've received that this morning," Abraxas handed a white envelope to Tom. The latter, sitting at the end of the table, took it and opened the seal. He took a few seconds to read its content. A small smile grew on his lips and it got her attention. She straightened on her chair and looked directly at him. Tom silently nodded before passing the letter to Dolohov.
"I believe congratulations are in order," Tom declared. "We have officially infiltrated the British Ministry of Magic."
Hermione looked around the table and saw the large grin every lad bore. She just realised that all those months of work, trying to put someone they controlled at the head of each department, had just worked out. As she looked at each and every one of them, Hermione understood that they had reached the point they had been dreaming of for months. The letter was still circulating among them. She saw Isodor lightly shoving Edmund on his right and beaming at the fact they had succeeded. She saw Milton sharing a knowing smile with Edgard. And she saw Dolohov laugh at the news.
"Boys," Tom added, "we have the power now, we can do whatever the fuck we want." The lads all cheered at this comment.
"How can you be sure they're not going to link everything back to us ?" She asked, bringing back silence around the table. Tom rose his head and looked at her. He had this twinkle in his eyes. It was the first time, since Pollux's death, she had contributed to any of the meetings. Tom simply smiled at her before putting both of his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers.
"Because Grace, the only thing that links us with everything we have done so far is an empty room on the fifth floor of Hogwarts. After all, who would even think about a group of sixteen-years-old coming up with this ? It is simply brilliant."
The letter finally arrived in front of her. She didn't even pick it up, she simply kept staring at Tom as she put out her cigarette right on it.
OoOoOo
22.08.1944 :
Abraxas had proposed the idea of dining out. He must have sensed the tension the presence of Tom had brought. Hermione had not once talked to him, she had simply decided on living her life without a care for what he could think. They were all seated around a large table at a small restaurant Abraxas well knew the owners of. The lads were all talking about what they had done during the day.
At the beginning of the summer, they had tried talking to her. They even included her in their activities however, by dint of sassy remarks and insults, Hermione had all pushed them away. Well, all except one. Her eyes fell onto Abraxas. At first, she had thought him to be keeping an eye on her under Tom's orders yet as the weeks went by Hermione had understood it wasn't the case. Abraxas was looking after her because he was also dealing with the grief. He didn't comfort her, he didn't kindly speak to her, he didn't let her cry against his shoulder. No, he did yell at her, exasperated by her behaviour, he pushed a glass of water in her hands when he knew she had too much to drink, he woke up every morning to make sure she had not drowned herself the night before. He was always there and she wasn't exactly sure if she was mad at him for it or glad that someone seemed to care.
The atmosphere around the restaurant was light. There was no muggle insight and the wizards were all enjoying themselves as they were not in the middle of the war devastating Italy. Hermione briefly looked around her before getting up from her seat and heading towards the bathroom.
22.08.1944 :
Tom watched her leave the table, his eyes trailing as she disappeared at the back of the restaurant.
"My mother had started the preparations already," Edgard huffed. "She wants to do it on next year's summer solstice. What a cliché," Edmund snorted at the comment and he finished his glass of wine.
"When was the last time you saw her ?" Isodor asked.
"Who ?" Edgard frowned.
"Your fucking wife to be," Dolohov laughed.
"Don't even remember," Edgard replied, "Hogwarts Express I guess. I don't spend my time looking for Madeleine Travers. I'll spend enough time with her in the future."
Tom's eyes were flickering between his dish and the back of the restaurant. She still had not come back. He couldn't care less about the conversation the lads were having. Tom heard Abraxas cursing under his breath and he turned his head towards the blonde boy. He was looking at his watch and trying to catch a glimpse of the bathroom door. He finally stood up and walked towards where Grace had headed. Malfoy must not have been gone for more than five seconds that he was already back. He was looking all around him as if he was looking for something. Tom was about to ask him when a loud noise resonated from outside the restaurant. All chatter stopped. Abraxas, without a second of hesitation, ran out of the restaurant. Tom followed in a hurry.
Standing, in the middle of the street, her wand pointing at a man on the floor was Grace. The man was crying on the floor, his nose bleeding, his face wet with tears, and his eyes filled with fear. Grace, on the other hand, had a large smile on her lips, one that reflected the madness of her mind at this instant. Tom looked at the scene, entirely taken aback. He had no clue on what happened for this situation to have happened. The lads, surrounding him, were all silent, looking at the scene. "What are you doing ?" Abraxas snapped at her. Grace slowly turned her head to the side and only let her smile grow larger. Without her eyes leaving Malfoy's, she took a few steps forwards until she arrived right next to the helpless man on the ground. Her eyes briefly flickered towards Tom. She then looked at the man then violently stepped on his hand, breaking every bone in his fingers, to retrieve his wand lying right next to. Tom heard Edmund hiss at the sound of the bones slowly shattering. What had she done ?
"Are you out of your bloody mind ?" Dolohov barked.
"Fuck off, Dolohov," she scoffed. The man let out a small whisper and Grace exhaled, obviously exasperated. She slowly turned her body towards him and without even a second of hesitation, kicked the man right against his temple, plunging him into unconsciousness.
"She fucking lost it," Edmund let out in disbelief.
"No one is going to say something ?" Dolohov growled. None of the lads dared do anything. Antonin then turned towards Tom, waiting for him to do something yet the prefect didn't move a finger. His eyes were still stuck on her face. "Isodor ?" Dolohov asked the young bog. Nothing. "Edgard ?" Still nothing. "Abraxas ? You've spent the entire summer cleaning after her and you have nothing to say now ?" Malfoy only gulped then diverted his gaze. "Milton ?" Dolohov snapped.
At the name, Grace began laughing, almost uncontrollably. "Milton ?" She choked. "You really think Milton has anything relevant to say ?"
"What is your fucking problem ?" Dolohov took a step towards her.
"It's alright, Antonin," Milton said in a shy voice. "Graci-"
"Gracie ?" Grace mocked. She laughed once more.
"What is funny ?" Dolohov roared.
"You want to know what's funny, Dolohov," Grace had begun walking towards Mulciber. "What is funny is that I had never thought I'd be standing in front of our little Milton here. What is funny is that the moment Tom asked me to kill for him, my mind automatically went to Milton." Her devilish grin only kept growing whereas Milton visibly shrunk in front of her. "What is funny is that after everything I have done for the cause," she spat the words, "I was still kept in the dark. And what is funnier, Dolohov, is that because of that, I showed up in this fucking alley, ready to kill him." Grace had cocked her head to the side and was looking right into the small boy's eyes. "And I was okay with this," she finished.
The only sound, following the declaration, was the soft echo of the waves crashing against the beach. Tom could feel the seven pairs of eyes on the side of his face.
"Let's go back to the house," he simply said.
24.08.1944 :
Following the incident, two days before, the atmosphere had entirely shifted. The lads were all weary when she arrived in the room, Milton couldn't look at her in the eyes, not that she minded. She actually enjoyed the freedom this gave her.
She was looking at herself in the mirror then exhaled. She had had the habit of sneaking out of the house every other night. Hermione found drinking more amusing in the company of others. She liked going to the pub, the one near the house, the one where no one knew her, the one where she could enjoy being someone else. She grabbed the glass of wine she had poured herself earlier, the one laying on top of her wardrobe, and downed it in one go. Her eyes settled back onto her reflection. The red of her dress almost burnt her eyes. She let her left hand slowly caress the satin material of it. As she closed her eyes, she saw herself, the night of the ministry party, wearing the exact same one. She saw herself arms in arms with Tom, she saw the two friends looking at her, she saw Cole shyly blushing at her sight but then she saw him, laughing. Her eyes snapped open and she poured herself another drink.
It had worked. Drinking that is. It had worked these past months. The more she drank, the blurry her mind became. At some point, she couldn't think anymore, she simply drowned into unconsciousness. It felt good not feeling anything. It felt good being out of the world for a couple of hours. But every time she woke up, he was there. So, she simply kept drinking.
After finishing her glass, Hermione took her purse in one hand and her heels in the other. She delicately opened her door and made sure none of the boys were out of their rooms before descending the stairs and leaving the house.
As she stepped foot outside, she let the cool breeze of the night envelop her. She let herself breathe in the salty aroma of the sea. She let herself enjoy the pale reflection of the moon onto the calm mediterranean sea. She walked down the small streets of Capri. The city looked ethereal at night. The small houses were graced by a soft blue glow from the night, the lemon trees, adorning the entire town, were softly singing as the wind blew through them. The gentle sound of her heels against the stoned pavement broke the delicate silence of the night. Everything was calm, everything was serene.
From afar, Hermione saw the pub. She could see a couple of people chatting in front of it, either a glass of wine or a cocktail in their hands. They were talking and smiling and laughing. Hermione felt this small ping of jealousy in her heart at the sight. She shoved this feeling deep inside her body and walked through the front door. Hermione was welcomed by loud chatter and glasses clinking. She approached the bar and sat down. She looked around her, she felt like being far away from everything. She felt like not being herself, not needing to be herself. The bartender interrupted her thoughts and she ordered tequila shots.
Every other night, she came into this bar, with one thought in mind : wanting to feel something.
Hermione downed tequila shots after tequila shots, not even feeling the burn in her throat anymore. When she finally sensed the effect of alcohol in her system, she let herself smile. She stood up, enjoying the feeling of not being in complete control of her body, of not being constantly invaded by macabre thoughts all the time. She simply relished in the lack of mindfulness. Hermione slowly approached the middle of the bar, where a few people were dancing to the jazz music the band was playing. She let herself go, moving her body to the soft sound of the music, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy every second of it.
She then felt a presence behind her, she felt a hand on her hip. Out of all the things she could have thought at this moment, the only that went through her mind was Tom's face. She opened her eyes, pushed herself away from the other person, and moved back to the bar. Hermione ordered more drinks. Eventually, they would get rid of him. She had eventually got rid of the green light, well partially. Why not him ?
She had just put the glass down on the bar and was ready to order something else that she heard a smooth voice from beside her. "Tequila immagino." The man whose voice belonged to was looking at her, one arm on the bar the other one on the back of her chair. The shyness of his voice betrayed his cocky posture.
"I don't speak Italian," she simply told him. The man smiled at her answer. He withdrew his hands from her chair and sat in the one next to hers. Hermione took a good look at him. He must not have been more than twenty years old. His skin was a light shade of brown, probably tanned by the southern sun. His eyes were pale blue and reflected some kind of honesty. His hair, gently falling past his ears was light brown and slightly messy. Finally, his smile. It was pure, genuine, devoided of any malice. Something she had not seen in a long time.
"You don't need to be fluent to drink tequila with me," the man replied in a thick Italian accent. He signaled to the bartender and the latter put two shots in front of them. The Italian man pushed one in her direction for her to take, which she did, then they both rose their glasses, not once taking their eyes away from each other. Their glasses clinked and Hermione felt the alcohol slowly flowing down her throat.
"Frederico," he introduced himself as he handed out his right hand.
"Grace," she smiled. The name had gotten out so rapidly, so naturally, that Hermione didn't even realise it. She took his hand and shook it.
For once, time flew. She laughed even. He was endearing, she couldn't say anything else. When she smiled, he shyly blushed and laughed. He told her about the small village he was from and he asked questions about what life in England was like. They joked about the difference in weather, and the beaches. It was simply pure. Hermione basked in this softness and almost felt like being someone else, free of schemes, death, and pain. She was just a girl in a bar and she enjoyed herself.
"When are you going to kiss me ?" She teased him then beamed at the blush on his cheeks. Frederico slowly approached her, gently put a hand on her right cheek, and finally pressed his lips against hers. Hermione closed her eyes.
She had expected something, anything really. She would have been happy with the slightest tingle. Yet, nothing happened. Not a spark, not one shiver. Nothing. As they both leaned back, Hermione forced herself not to cry. She slowly opened her eyes and put on her best fake smile.
OoOoOo
24.08.1944 :
It was well past three in the morning when Hermione tried to sneak back into the house. The large front door let out a small creak as she pushed it open. She winced at the sound and removed her heels. She gently closed the door behind her before laying back against it. She closed her eyes for a minute, trying to regain some control over her body. When she felt her head spinning less, she put one foot forward, then another one. She stopped and put her free hand against the nearest wall, trying to regain her balance back. Strangely, the walk back from the pub had not been this difficult. With her hand against the wall, she began slowly walking forwards. She couldn't help the smile growing on her lips at her own inability to walk properly.
She finally reached the staircase.
"Did you have a fun night ?"
Hermione startled and almost lost her balance as she turned around. Tom was standing a few feet away, at the junction between the hallway and the library. Hermione saw the faint glow of the chimney coming from inside the room and wondered how she had not seen it before.
She snorted at Tom's question and turned back around to head to her room. Tom stopped her by the arm and dragged her back down the stairs.
"Where were you ?" He asked. Hermione just let her heels fall on the floor and crossed her arms upon her chest. Tom closed his eyes, slowly exhaled then looked back at her. As he reopened them, Hermione saw the striking difference. Tom's gaze was cold, irritated.
"I am done with your bullshit," he harshly said. "What you did two nights ago was fucked up Grace. Even for you."
Hermione knew Tom would sooner or later broach the subject. She even had been quite surprised it hadn't come sooner.
"So what ?" Hermione rose an eyebrow and kept looking at him. "Isn't it the goal ?" Tom frowned, not understanding what she meant. "Isn't it the main purpose of having power ? Doing whatever the fuck we want ?"
"Do not twist my words," Tom growled.
She could hear a faint buzzing sound in both of her ears, something small, almost imperceivable. It reminded her of something, yet she couldn't put her finger on what.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I need a fucking drink." She walked past him to reach the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the cellar and approached a drawer to get the bottle opener. Tom had followed her and snatched the bottle right out of her hands. Hermione felt something burning as Tom's hand retrieved the wine, something sharp, stinging against her skin. She recoiled the touch. Tom didn't seem to be aware of it.
"Enough !" He yelled as he threw the bottle on the floor.
The combination of the yelling and the sound of the bottle breaking must have woken up some of the lads because they could hear footsteps coming from the second floor. Hermione put her hands up in surrender and leaned against the fridge. She was looking at him with a smile on her lips as she knew it only infuriated him.
"You are pathetic," he barked.
"See if I care."
Tom took hold of another bottle and threw it against the nearest wall. "For fuck's sake Grace !" He shouted anger evident in his voice. The buzzing sound got louder. Hermione had a hard time focusing on anything else until he took a step towards her. "Don't you see ?" She locked eyes with him and he continued. "We are on top of the fucking world !" His eyes were burning with exasperation. "And you are there, like a shell of yourself, drowning yourself in alcohol. You are pitiful," he spat the words. "We have infiltrated the fucking ministry, we have infiltrated it before being even legally allowed to use magic outside the school, we have infiltrated it and no one can stop us." He had taken another step forward. "So if you think Grace, that I am going to let you fuck it all up, you are goddamn wrong !" If Hermione had not been under the influence, she would have sensed the threat underlying Tom's words. The fire in the living room was intensifying by the second. At each word Tom spat, the flames got a bit higher.
She could hear the buzzing sound in both of her ears becoming increasingly louder. She then felt like smog had invaded her lungs. Hermione struggled to breathe properly. Suddenly, she saw herself in the forest of Dean, with the same buzzing sound in her ears, the same invisible smoke breaching her lungs. Her eyes automatically fell onto his right hand and on the ring he wore. She could feel it, the darkness pouring out of it, accentuated by Tom's anger. Or was it the other way around ?
"Take it off," she almost ordered. Tom's anger blinded him for a second and he didn't understand. "Take it off !" She barked. His eyes followed her gaze towards his hand. "Take the fucking ring off !" Hermione yelled, feeling scared. "Take the fucking horcr-" Tom didn't let her finish the word that he had put his hand above her mouth and pushed her hard against the fridge.
"Enough now !" Tom growled. "You are going too far."
Hermione's eyes were wide open as she felt the ring against her lips, burning her.
"I have waited, Grace," Tom's voice was so low that it sent shivers down her spine. "For months. I have waited for months, Grace. For you to snap out of it, for you to move on, for you to pull yourself together. But enough now ! I cannot afford to wait for you any longer. I have let you live, haven't I ?" He was looking right into her eyes. "I have let you drink yourself to sleep every night. I have let you almost disrespect me in front of the lads. I have had enough, Grace."
Tom withdrew his hands from her mouth and went to leave the room. Yet, Hermione couldn't let him go. She had this small voice in her head begging her to say something. So she did.
"I did have a fun night," she simply said. Tom stopped and stood straight, his back facing her. "I danced, I drank, I even kissed a guy." He slowly turned around. He had this look on his face, one she had never seen before. It was well beyond anger.
"And I liked it," she lied. Tom didn't reply right away but just looked at her for a second. He opened his mouth a couple of times before finally talking.
"Is it what you did all summer ?" Tom's voice was something else. Something she had never heard before. "When I was not here ?" Tom let out a bitter laugh. He was walking now, slowly towards her. "Do you think I care ?" His voice had slightly risen. "Do you think I care if you go whore yourself in pubs ?" Hermione felt the beat of her heart gradually increasing in her chest at every step he took towards her. "Do you think I care if you kiss strangers every night ?" He almost yelled.
Hermione let silence settle to sink in everything he had said. He was only a few feet away, his jaw clenched and his eyes stuck on her.
"Yes," Hermione replied, "I think you care."
"Then why did you do it ?" Tom's face betrayed the fact he knew she was right.
"Because you hurt me and I wanted to hurt you too."
"We are well past that Grace !" Tom snapped. "Why did you do it ?"
"Because I wanted to feel something !" She yelled. Tom looked a little taken aback by the tragic confession.
"Well, have you ?" Tom asked.
"Yes."
"You are lying to yourself," he laughed. "Do you really think they can make you feel something ? They cannot and you know it."
"Because you think you know what I want ?" Hermione scoffed.
"Oh, I do, Grace. You want power, you want control, you want sparks, you want freedom, you want everything I can give you."
"You're so full of yourself," she spat.
"Am I wrong ?"
She didn't answer.
"Am I fucking wrong, Grace ?"
Still, no words came out of her mouth.
"I bet you choose boys that are the perfect opposite of me," Tom smirked. Hermione closed her eyes and could see the blue eyes, contrasting the coal ones, the shy smile contrasting with the cocky grin.
"Shut up," she grunted. She could feel the tiredness seeking deep inside her bones.
"So go ahead, go out in bars, go dance on tables, and kiss irrelevant strangers !" He almost laughed, pettiness dripping from his words. "All of this does not matter, because in the end you and I both know you are mine." Hermione had opened her eyes again and was silently watching his face. "Because in the end, you are off-limits." He finally let out.
Everything clicked in her brain. In half a second, she felt a wave of madness crushing her body and she simply snapped. She let go of the months without talking about it, she let go of the hatred and anger, she let go of the nights she spent crying herself to sleep, she let go of the galleons of alcohol she had drunk to numb all this pain. She let go of everything in one painful scream.
"Pollux was off-limits too !"
Tom's eyes widened.
"You knew ! You fucking knew !" Hermione kept screeching. "I told you, in this same fucking dress, that he was off-limits !" Her body was entirely shaking. Tom started slowly nodding in front of her and it simply infuriated her more. He didn't reply right away, he was staring at the marble central island, on his right. Those few seconds of silence felt like an eternity for Hermione.
The silence was so strong, so heavy, that it almost felt impossible to breathe in. Tom's eyes rose to meet hers and she slowly felt her heart breaking in her chest. She felt tired at this instant, so tired. She wanted to shut everything out, go to bed and stop existing for a moment. But he kept staring at her. Hermione then turned her gaze away, not able to look at him anymore. She looked through the window. The sea was extremely calm and almost looked like concrete from her. The moonlight shed a soft light inside the house and turned everything silver. Tom had taken a step closer.
"Ok," he said. Hermione's head snapped towards him. "Ok," he repeated. The tension that was there a few minutes before had almost disappeared. His voice was low, almost soft. "Grace," he started but she shook her head no and took a step backward. Hermione averted her gaze once more. "Grace," he pressed.
"No," she pleaded.
"What do you want me to do ?" He asked. "What do you want me to do, Grace ?"
"What ?"
"What do you want me to do in order to fix this ?"
"Fix this ?" She repeated in disbelief. "You can't fix this !"
Tom only kept nodding. She knew he was turning things over in his head. She knew him by heart, the way he thought, the way he manipulated. She even knew what he was about to say.
"Don't," she warned him as she walked backward almost frightened.
"Grace-"
"Don't you dare say it," she warned him.
"I am sorry," he still said. Hermione knew tears were falling down her cheeks. How could he say that ? How could he look her in the eyes and let out those three words ? He wasn't sorry for what had happened, she knew that. Maybe he was for the way things turned out between them, or maybe how simply she turned out.
Hermione pushed herself from the fridge and met him in the middle of the room. "Fuck you, Tom," she spat. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking lads, your fucking plans !" She yelled. She then took a step back, then another, and rose her hands in surrender. "I want out !" Tom just frowned, slightly amused. "You can do whatever the fuck you want, I don't care, not anymore." Hermione finished.
Tom was shaking his head no, laughing, like he knew it was the alcohol talking.
"I want out," she repeated.
"You are drunk. You are tired. You are mad at me." Tom was misunderstanding the entire situation. He was taking lightly everything she had just said not fully understanding that she had never been more serious.
"I want out, Tom," Hermione said, a small quiver in her voice.
"Come on Grace, you cannot be serious."
"I want out." She said one last time in defeat.
Hermione saw the shift in Tom's behaviour. All the cockiness disappeared and he frowned. Tom took a step towards her and took her head between her hands. They were warm above her cheeks. His thumbs were gently caressing her cheekbones. "You do not know what you are saying." He whispered. "You are drunk."
"I've never known better what I wanted, Tom. I gave you everything you wanted. I can't give you more. I already gave you all."
Tom was looking right into her eyes. The room had turned so silent that only the sound of their hammering hearts could be heard.
"I cannot let you go, Grace." Tom's voice was soft. "You know that."
"Please," she begged.
"I will not, I do not want to."
Tom wiped the tears away from her cheeks in soothing motions of his thumbs.
"I do not want to," he repeated.
OoOoOo
24.08.1944 :
Hermione woke up the next morning, engulfed by a mountain of pillows. Her head was, once more, throbbing. She blinked an eye open and looked at the clock on the bedside. She slowly frowned at the time. It was well past two in the afternoon, yet Abraxas had not woken her up. She slowly turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. She could feel the acrid taste of tequila in her throat and smell the cold scent of tobacco in her hair. She put her arms on top of her eyes and focused on not throwing up everything she had drunk the night before.
But then, flashes from last night flooded her brain. She saw Tom's backlit figure, she saw bottles breaking on the ground, she heard her cries, she heard Pollux's name.
She threw the quilt off of her body and put her feet on the ground. Hermione lowered her head between her knees and focused on taking long deep breaths.
What had she done ? She recalled herself crying, begging for everything to stop. She had told him she had wanted out. How could have she told him that ? She had said Pollux's name. She had dared to say his name out loud.
It hurt too much. She had no right to say his name out loud. She only deserved the misery and pain that came with it. She began choking on her own breath. She rose and paced the room.
Out of all the memories from last night, one stood out : Tom's jealousy. Even though he hadn't put a name on it, she had known. She let out a strangled cry as she felt the hammering of her heart at the thought. Hermione wanted to shake herself, make all of those feelings go away. She couldn't let herself feel, she couldn't let herself bask in the pride she felt towards its jealousy. She wanted to hate him.
Hermione had always thought to be better than him. She was rightful, honest, and good. She almost laughed at that. Who else could she deserve after what she had done but the pure embodiment of darkness ?
24.08.1944 :
Tom was sitting on the outside steps, leading to the sea, a bunch of papers in his hands. Some of the letters were yet to be opened. From afar, he could see some lads bathing themselves and others chilling on the beach. The sky was a pale shade of blue and the sun was gently warming Tom's skin. The view was magnificent, the water was almost translucent and Tom could see the white sand mixing many colourful pebbles underneath it. He turned his head to the right and looked as the beach went on for miles. It was far from London, far from the dreading heat and the loud noise of the capital. It was peaceful and calm and beautiful. He heard footsteps coming from behind him and Tom put the white envelopes down.
Abraxas gently cleared his throat to get Tom's attention then sat next to him. They didn't talk right away, they simply enjoyed the silence that surrounded them. At one point, Abraxas handed him a beer Tom willingly accepted.
From time to time, Tom could feel Abraxas' gaze on him, he could feel the desire the other boy had to talk about something. Finally, Tom looked back as a silent plea for the Malfoy heir to talk.
"She's a mess," he said. Tom knew the lads had heard their conversation the night before. None of them had dared talk, none had said a word about him not asking Grace to attend the meeting this morning. Tom fetched his cigarettes in his pants' pocket and lit one up. He put his elbows on his thigh and stared at the sea. "She's fucking losing it." Abraxas took a sip of his beer. "She smashed this man's face last week ! For no apparent reason ! And her feud against Milton, that's fucked up too ! She's out of control !"
"I know," Tom replied.
"No Tom, you really don't !" Abraxas's voice had become more exasperated. "You have only seen her one day a week, I've seen her every day for the past two months." Tom had expected the blond to keep talking but he didn't. He turned his head to the left and witnessed Abraxas' gaze stuck on the sea, pensive. Tom knew, from the other lads, that Abraxas had spent quite some time looking after Grace this summer. At first, Tom had put this behaviour on the fact that it was the blond boy's summer house and that he felt responsible for the people in the house. However, as the stories from the lads came into Tom's ears, he realised this wasn't the explanation. He hadn't confronted the boy yet about this.
"She has asked me to obliviate her." Malfoy let out. He let it out in a small exhaled like he wasn't sure he ought to say it out loud.
Tom's mind froze for a minute. He briefly wondered if he had heard right. But by the look on the other boy's face, he knew he had. Tom didn't understand, he frowned at the news, and tried to figure out how this could have happened.
Tom's heart clenched. He wanted to ask Abraxas a million questions. He wanted to get inside his head and see the precise moment she had asked him. He wanted to see the look she had on her face, to know if he had begged for it. He wanted and he could. Abraxas finally looked at him and their eyes met for a brief couple of seconds. It was all he needed. Tom saw it all.
He could feel his ring slowly heating against his fourth finger, he closed his hand in a close fist and focused on getting rid of the anger slowly clouding his mind. Tom went back to looking at the sea and took a few deep breaths.
"I should really stop drinking in the afternoon," Abraxas mumbled next to him, his head in his hands. Tom didn't bother replying, he simply turned the images in his brain over and over again.
"Why didn't you tell me before ?" Tom asked between his clenched teeth.
"Because it wasn't my place to say," Abraxas replied, "but after what happened last night.."
"Why do you care ?" Tom frowned. "You never cared about her, you had never spent her a bit of interest, and now suddenly you care ?"
"I don't," Malfoy sighed, "I understand her." They were now looking at each other. "I had time to process his death, you had told me about it, I wasn't okay with this, but I made peace with it eventually. You didn't give her any of that. You gave her half the information."
Tom didn't reply to that, he only let the sound of the seagulls on the beach make up for the silence that had settled. He had never put any thoughts on the matter actually. He had never found the fact he didn't tell her to be a problem. The only important thing was that, in the end, she had done it. Tom took a sip of the beer and let his eyes fall on Malfoy. The latter seemed lost in thoughts. Tom diverted his gaze and let it fall onto his hands.
"What if she really wants out ?" Tom finally asked, feigning indifference. His eyes were riveted on his burning. He could feel the heat against his skin. Abraxas took the last sip of his beer and exhaled. "You know she'd never leave."
Tom only kept smoking.
OoOoOo
25.08.1944 :
The chair next to him, on his right, was empty. Like it had been for the past three months. Tom tried not to look at it while the lads talked. He tried to keep his gaze steady on something else, on the empty chair in front of him, on the other side of the table. Then, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and then coming closer until they reached the kitchen. Here she was, acting like she was alone like there was no meeting taking place less than ten meters away from where she was.
Tom had asked, once again, Abraxas not to wake up for the meeting. He had decided on giving her more time. What else could Tom do but this, after all ? The lads didn't seem bothered by Grace making tea in the background, they didn't even acknowledge her presence. Tom, on the contrary, couldn't take his eyes away from her.
Tom knew one thing at this exact moment, Abraxas had been right, she would never leave.
Tom's eyes roamed over her figure to finally settle on her face. She was looking through the window, a drink in hand. She seemed pensive, melancholic, almost sad. The bright light coming from the noon sun perfectly illuminated the scar she had on her neck. It shone a pale silver and Tom couldn't help but follow its line with his eyes.
Someone clearing their throat snapped him out of his thoughts and Tom turned his head towards the sound. Abraxas was handing him a letter. Tom noticed that Thorus and Edgard were already opening theirs.
From the seal on the envelope, Tom knew what it was. It was no surprise, he had been waiting for his letter, he knew it would come eventually. He gently tore it open and took the badge in hand. He let his left thumb brush against the "headboy" written in silver. Tom knew she was watching him, he could feel her eyes on his hands, he could feel her burning gaze on him. He slowly looked at her. Tom didn't know what the expression on her face truly meant. There was no surprise from her side, but no pride either. There was something else, something Tom didn't understand. Without taking her eyes away from him, Grace brought her glass to her lips and finished the beverage. The small rictus following the action indicated to Tom it wasn't water she was drinking.
There was chatter around the table. Tom heard Edgard announcing his nomination as Quidditch Captain, something the boy had been dreaming of for the past four years. Tom then recognized the voice of Edmund, congratulating his best friend. Yet, Riddle's eyes never wavered away from the woman standing in the kitchen. As for her, she was looking around the room, her eyes settling on each lad individually. At that very moment, Tom wanted to know what she was thinking about. He hadn't had the luxury of sharing her thoughts in so long that he felt the need, deep inside his bones, to know what was happening inside her mind.
"I am a prefect," Thorus spoke up. At that, Tom's head snapped toward the boy, whose eyes were brightly shining at the sight of the prefect badge. Thorus wore this proud smile on his face, one that only got bigger at each congratulation he received from the other lads.
"You will not accept it," Tom finally intervened.
The seven pairs of eyes all turned towards him. Nott had his brows furrowed, apparently not understanding why he must give up this honour. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Grace approaching the dining room. She casually leaned against the open wall separating the kitchen from the other room. Her eyes were slightly squinted, probably trying to figure out Tom's incentive in not making Thorus a prefect.
"I think it is time to have some Blacks in our ranks, don't you think Thorus ?" Tom asked. From the growing frown on Thorus face, Tom knew the boy hadn't caught the meaning of it all yet. Tom then looked at Grace and witnessed her slowly understanding his true intent. She let out a small exhale with a shake of her head.
"I-I don't understand," Thorus said.
"Orion would make a great prefect, don't you think ?" Tom smirked.
Thorus only put down the prefect badge on the table before pushing it to the center of the table.
27.08.1944 :
The sea was grey. The sky was grey. It was slightly raining and Hermione felt cold. Yet, she stayed seated on the beach, looking as her feet sank into the white sand. Another blow of wind hit her and she put her arms around her knees to shield herself and pulled her legs towards her chest. From here, Italy almost looked like England and it broke something inside of her. At this precise moment, it felt like an ending. Hermione closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the salty smell of the sea, the subtle aroma of citrus that seemed to follow her everywhere in this town, then, the faint scent of smoke. Hermione's eyes snapped open and she froze on the spot.
Tom stood right behind her, she could feel his presence, yet he didn't talk. Hermione made sure of never raising her head, of keeping her eyes on the sea, and not letting any sound out. She finally heard him shuffle and felt him gently draping his vest around her shoulders. Hermione cringed at the way her heart stopped, cringed at the flutter in her chest, and cringed as she silently breathed in his smell. Tom sat right next to her and didn't say anything. How odd must it have looked from afar ? The two of them, sitting side by side, silently looking at a grey sea. Hermione felt his eyes on her face but kept her gaze steady. Finally, Tom took out something from his pocket.
"Is that why you want out ?" He asked. Tom's face was impassive. He had a cigarette on his lips and his fingers were clutching tighter than usual around the small object. Hermione turned her head to face him when she saw a dozen open envelopes being thrown in front of her. She didn't understand at first, she simply looked at the papers. Then, reality drew upon her.
"You went through my mail ?" She first asked in a small voice. "You went through my stuff ?" She repeated, her voice louder and dripping with anger. She rose herself on her knees and took them in her hands. She could recognise the writing, they were all from Cole. "Who gave you the right ?" She barked at him.
"Answer me," he almost ordered.
"Fuck you ! That's my answer."
Hermione gathered the letters in her hands and rose. She let Tom's vest fall at her feet and went to leave but he stopped her. He was grabbing her by the wrist and made her turn around to face him. They were both standing up now, Tom's vest abandoned on the sand, and Hermione clutching at Cole's correspondence.
"Do you think he is going to wait as long as I have waited already ?" Tom seriously asked. Hermione could only widen her eyes and stare at him. She couldn't believe what was happening. She violently withdrew her arm from his grip and took a step backward.
"I have waited for you, for hours, for days, for months !" He began screaming. "I wait-"
"But I have never asked you to wait !" She yelled in disbelief. "What are you even waiting for ?"
"I do not know !" He yelled.
Once again a silence settled between the two. It appeared as if the only constant this entire summer was the silence between Hermione and Tom. They had talked, they had fought, but out of all those arguments, no real conversation had emerged. There had been so many things unsaid, so many underlying comments, but not one genuine talk about what had actually happened. Tom was looking at her in this odd way. Hermione could recognise anger, exasperation but something else was there. Something she couldn't put her finger on. He was pulling at his hair out of frustration. Tom was no longer the figure of calm and composure. He was erratic.
"I am waiting for you to come back to us, to me !" He let out. "We have a deal, a fucking partnership." Tom gulped and looked at her for a second. "I am waiting for you to pull yourself together. I am waiting for you to put your mind back into it. I have laid the world at your feet. I gave you what you were asking for, power." He was looking right into her eyes and she couldn't help but do the same. Tom took a deep breath. "Just come back, Grace."
Hermione's frustration was building by the second. She had had enough of him talking about this, expecting something from her, anything really.
"What if I don't want to come back ?" She shouted at him. "Have you ever thought about this ?" Hermione almost spat. "I'm tired ! I'm tired of it all !" Hermione pushed her palms into her eyes and focused for an instant on her ragging breath. She slowly let her hands fall back to her side and looked at him. "I just want to go back."
"But you cannot !" Tom was entirely fed up. "You need to fucking move on, Grace."
Hermione was shaking her head no but Tom didn't back down. He approached her and repeated the same thing. "You need to acknowledge it, and move on." She frowned, she couldn't let any word out and Tom knew. He kept going. "Say it. Say it so you can move on already."
"You've made me kill Pollux !" She screamed.
There again, the silence.
Hermione had said it twice now. One time in the room of requirement and another time at this moment, after weeks of silence, after weeks of avoiding the subject. Hermione couldn't say it felt good to say it to Tom, but it didn't feel as bad as she anticipated. So, all of the things left unsaid, all the snarky comments without any further explanation, all of this needed to go out. Hermione let them.
"You've kept me in the dark !" She pushed him with all the force she had inside her body. She couldn't yell loud enough, no words were enough for everything she had to tell him. "You're talking about a fucking partnership but you left me in the dark !"
"Finally you are talking !" Tom bitterly laughed as Hermione kept ranting.
"You used me !" Hermione's voice slightly broke at the declaration. "You gave me no choice ! You've presented me with a done deal !"
"Pollux was a fucking problem and you knew !" Tom began yelling at the same time. "He was a wreck for fuck's sakes."
"He would have listened to me !" Hermione screeched. "I would have found another solut-"
"I did not want another solution !" He cut her off.
Hermione didn't answer. No, she let the words sink in. She frowned and took a step backward. What had he just said ? Tom had begun taking steps towards her, but at each step forward he took, Hermione took one backward. Ultimately, he stopped and they stared at each other. The words Tom had just yelled were still weighing heavily around them.
"I did not want another solution," he repeated, calmer this time. "I just wanted him gone."
It was a simple sentence, only five words, yet it meant so much. It was the simple acknowledgment that he knew there were other solutions. It was him telling Hermione that if he had not kept her in the dark, she would have found this solution and he didn't want it. He wanted Pollux gone. Yes, he had said it. He wanted him gone because it would lead her directly to him. Having Pollux gone, letting her get rid of him meant many things : her overflowing with guilt, her not being able to talk to anyone else about it, not Cole, not Abe, no one. No one but him.
She was entirely alone. Alone with him.
"You wanted him gone so I would have no one else but you," Hermione spoke up. The flatness of her voice contrasted with the storm happening inside her head.
"But you do not need anyone else," Tom said. Hermione didn't react to this. It seemed that Tom had entirely mistaken the tone of her voice. She let her eyes fall onto the envelopes. She had almost forgotten about them. Tom was wrong. He was so wrong. She wasn't alone, not if she didn't want to. There was Cole.
Suddenly, Tom's cold hand took her by the chin for her to look into his eyes. "You do not need anyone else," he assured her.
The sun was slowly setting. Hermione felt cold now that the heat of the argument had faded. Tom seemed to get tired too. He didn't look like he regretted telling her the truth but he also didn't seem to fully understand what he had just said meant to her. He wouldn't stand tall and proud if he knew what was going on inside her head.
"He is insignificant," Tom kept going. "He does not know you like I do, he does not understand you like I do. You do not need him."
"What did he write ?" Hermione asked him, trying to figure out why Tom had reacted this way.
"It does not matter." He let his hand fall back to his side and took a step even closer to her.
"What did he write ?" She asked again, her voice getting slightly louder.
"Who cares ?" Tom spat. He put his hands back into his hair and furrowed his eyebrows. "We do not need him !"
"You care !" She yelled. Tom visibly flinched at her answer. There, she had hit the right nerve. "You care because if you didn't you wouldn't be there !" Hermione continued, "you care because if you didn't you wouldn't have thrown me a fit about letters I didn't even open !" Tom stood straight but was slightly frowning, betraying his lack of confidence at this instant. "You're afraid," Hermione stated, as a matter of fact.
Everything in Tom's behaviour in the last weeks screamed fear, but Hermione had been too out of it to properly get it. But now she could see it, she could see the desperation in his actions even though he tried to conceal it. She finally understood why he had never taken sides during any of her arguments with Antonin or Milton. She finally understood the stares from the other side of the table, from him, those she couldn't fathom until now. Hermione felt like something just clicked in her brain. Everything made sense.
"You're afraid I'd leave," Hermione croaked. Tom didn't move an inch. He kept looking at her but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide, slightly panicked. His jaw was clenched and made the scar on the right side of his face stand out even more. She had just put words onto the conflicting emotions he had been feeling since the end of May. She had finally acknowledged out loud one of his fear. And the most magnificent thing out of this was that she was the cause of this fear. Hermione felt her brain slowly waking up from the fog she had been in. She felt her back gradually straightening until she stood tall and proud in front of him.
"You're afraid that if you push me around too much, I won't be there anymore," she kept going. "Look ! I tell you one night that I want out, the next day, I am left alone and you go through my mail !"
Tom looked apprehensive like he didn't know where this conversation could lead to. As for Hermione, she felt like having the upper hand for once in months.
"You think you've laid the world at my feet but I have let the world at yours." She took a step towards him. "You think you have so much power over me but you haven't realised yet that I am the one with the power. You didn't give it to me, I gained it myself." Tom's posture had slightly stiffened. "You wouldn't be there if it wasn't for me, Tom." Hermione pointed her forefinger at herself to emphasise the words. "You wouldn't have infiltrated the ministry if it wasn't for me." She laughed. "You're always the one in need of help and I always am the one to provide. You're nothing without me, Tom."
Tom's eyes were pitch black, flowing with anger. It only made Hermione smile harder. "You're no one. You don't have a name, you have no money." She kept going. "You even fucked up the only title you've ever had. The only semblance of power you have is through the lads. They seem to think that you are the one giving them the power, but you and I both know that it isn't the case. They have the power on their own." The sound of the sea had completely disappeared, it was only the sound of her voice. It was only the two of them on an empty beach. It was only her regaining the power she always had. It was only him witnessing a rebirth.
"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 pushed her finger right against his chest. "You're nothing without us, Tom. Don't you dare forget it."
"Are you threatening me ?" He asked. He was not shouting, no, his voice was much more dangerous than any yell could ever be. It was deep, and bitter, and sharp.
"No," she smiled, "I am simply telling you the truth." Tom laughed at that. She withdrew her finger and took a step back.
"You seem to forget one thing, Grace," Tom's face was distorted by a devilish smile. "If you cross me, I will make sure you go down."
"And if I go down, Tom, you're going down with me."
OoOoOo
27.08.1944 :
Hermione violently shut the door to her room. She kicked the truck that was laying in front of the bed and screamed at it. She had all of this anger within her, all of this hatred. She let a good five minutes pass by before she felt like being able to breathe again. She gently rose her head and took a deep breath. Hermione then remembered the letters she was holding in her hand.
As the pile of letters grew higher and higher during the summer, Abaraxas had had the habit of, twice a month, storing them in the first drawer of her wardrobe. She knew it because she had seen him do it. However, she had never opened it.
Slowly, she approached the drawer and pulled it open. She pushed the letters inside, trying to shove them so far down the drawer she wouldn't be able to find them again. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. There weren't only letters in this drawer, but small packages and one stood out. Not by its form, its colour or its size. This package stood out by the small note stuck on it. This package stood out by the first word written on this small note : 'kiddo'.
She violently shut the drawer close. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her palms became clammy. She took a step back and felt like she could faint at any moment. Her head was spinning and her legs were ready to give up on her. Hermione didn't understand. Why did she have this package ? How did she receive it ?
She felt her eyes sting once more and blinked away the tears. She warily took a step closer to the drawer. She let her fingertips fly above the handle then seized it and opened the drawer. Hermione could see it, the gift. Carefully, she detached the note from the package and read it. It didn't say much. Actually, it was almost pointless.
You've finally made it to thirteen, kiddo.
She let the tears flow out of her eyes. She could read this sentence in his voice and it kept resonating in her head. At last, she let out a wet laugh. Hermione laughed in front of this lame joke.
Happy birthday.
See you tonight.
Hermione was no longer laughing. She was staring in horror at the shortness of the note. She needed more. Three sentences weren't enough. She turned the notes around, hoping to find more, desperately wanting to read just one more word from him. Hermione pulled the drawer towards her until it loudly fell on the ground. She crouched down and picked up every letter, tearing them open, trying to find one with Pollux' handwriting. There were no other. She recognized Belone's, Abe's and Cole's, but no one else's.
She looked at the letters surrounding her, and some words captured her attention, words filled with guilt, with pain. Hermione took one letter and read it, truly read it this time and felt her heart slowly breaking. It was dated from the beginning of the summer, awaiting an answer back, but getting none. She took another one, then another, and another.
Cole had written her three letters per week for the past three months, each time hoping to get an answer back yet never getting one. Cole had written her dozens of letters, letters filled with love and hope. Hermione never had the decency of reading one until now. Cole had waited for her, unconditionally. The letters were diverse, about little things that happened to him during his holidays, small anecdotes he thought she would find funny, questions about her, about how she felt. But all of Cole's letter ended in the same way, with the same three sentences :
Ask me to stay, Grace. Ask me to stay, and I will do it. Please ask me to stay.
Once again, Tom had won. She couldn't talk to Cole, she couldn't ask him for help. Even if she could, she wouldn't. Cole was too good to be mixed with everything. He was too good to even be around her. He needed to go, he needed to go far away from her, far away from all the pain, far away from all the destruction she could cause.
Hermione felt her eyes getting wet, her vision getting blurry. She pressed her hands into her eyes and let herself cry. She didn't know exactly what she was crying for, but it simply felt good.
Tom had won and she couldn't let him win again. He had destroyed everything, and he would do it over again if he could. Hermione had got so into the game that she hadn't even realised what it would eventually lead to. She got lost, she lost control of the entire situation and she couldn't let it happen again.
Hermione pushed the letters from her lap and rose. At this precise moment, she felt awake. After months of feeling asleep, numb. After months of wallowing in self-pity. She finally realised that by doing nothing, she was simply letting him win. She couldn't allow that. She couldn't allow the death of Pollux to be that easy for Tom.
Hermione felt the tingles of magic in her fingertips, she felt the frantic beat of her heart and her mind slowly setting everything in motion. It was time to make the bastard pay.
Hermione smiled as she felt her brain fuzzing with thoughts, something she had not felt for weeks. She almost laughed at her renewed motivation for something greater than anything she had done in the past. Hermione was done stalling time, she was done playing a losing game. She needed to get the control back and use it wisely.
There were two sentences in Hermione's mind at this moment.
One that had been there for a little while now, but numbed by the amount of alcohol she had drunk. From the moment the green light had escaped her wand, it had been there, underlying, seeking deep inside her bones, her mind : revenge should never be rushed.
The second one, however, was new : downfall is greater coming from within.
Hermione needed to do one thing before getting to it. She needed to do one more heartbreaking thing before raising hell. She grabbed a spare piece of parchment and a quill.
I would never ask you to stay.
28.08.1944 :
Tom arrived downstairs and saw the lads gathered in the kitchen. They were all silently staring at something in front of them. Tom joined them and looked too.
Grace was there, sitting at the table. Not the seat at the opposite of his, but her rightful one, right next to his. The table was set with pastries and coffee. There was no alcohol, no cigarette. Everything was perfect. She was buttering a toast, but this time it wasn't to keep her hands busy or to avoid any confrontation. She was in full control.
Grace finally looked up and smiled. The lads took seats around the table, all bearing signs of excitement on their faces. As for Tom, he was leaning against the wall separating the kitchen to the dining room, his arms crossed upon his chest.
Tom didn't know what to make of this situation. The day before, she had been yelling at him, almost threatening to overcome him but now she was sitting with them, apparently waiting for a meeting to start. So yes, Tom didn't know what to make of this situation, but he knew one thing. Grace had always done what was expected of her, and she had always done it spectacularly. Tom had never trusted anyone as much as he trusted. She had proven herself more than enough, more than once.
So Tom simply looked at her.
She came back. She finally came back to him.
"Shall we ?" Grace asked him as she rose from her seat and handed him the morning post.
Authors' notes : Sorry for the delay, this chapter took way more time than anticipated. Actually, it was supposed to be a small one (around 7k-8k) but turned out to be +15k. We cannot control ourselves apparently.
We're glad to announce the come back of Hermione Granger as a badass mf. It's been a long time, we know we know.
Just to let you know, chapter 25 is not coming soon, we have some good brainstorming to do and we prefer to do it face to face rather than by facetime. Unfortunately, France is still in lockdown... we'll work on it as soon as we're able to see each other.
Take you all so much for your reviews, your commitment, just thank you for reading ddm. We love you so much.
Come and say hi on our tumblr : agarariddle-andhernachos
Stay safe.
Lots of love,