Dying is a Delicate Moment Chapter 25: THE RATIO OF FRECKLES TO STARS, a harry potter fanfic

"Dying is a Delicate Moment"

A fanfic by Agara

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

And he kills her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE : THE RATIO OF FRECKLES TO STARS

Song : The Ratio of Freckles to Stars by Halou

04.10.1944 :

She was out of breath after running up the stairs leading to the bleachers. The sun had just set outside and the sky was slowly losing its warm colour to fade into a deep navy blue. Once she arrived at the top of the stairs, she took a second to regain her respiration before stepping outside. Hermione was welcomed by a cool breeze, making her hair gently float around her face.

She only had to turn her head slightly to the left to notice Tom, sitting on the bleachers, apparently focused on the letter he was holding. The latter must have heard her footstep because his head snapped towards where she was.

"Did we do it ?" Hermione pressed as soon as she arrived in front of him.

Tom's face was impassive, something that only infuriated her. He slowly handed her the letter as he kept his eyes stuck on her face. Not being able to be kept in the dark any longer, Hermione snatched it from his hands and skimmed through its content.

"What did you do ?" Tom finally spoke up.

1 month prior

02.09.1944 :

A large crowd was gathered in front of the noticeboard in the Slytherin common room. Most of the students were in their seventh year, but some younger children were all admiring the announcement in envy.

"Finally something useful !" Hermione heard on her left. Edmund was grinning as he re-read the announcement about the soon-to-begin disapparation classes. Hermione snorted at his comment and looked around her. Edgard was standing right behind her, peaking above her shoulder to read the paper.

She knew those classes would begin this year, she knew she ought to take them, and most importantly she knew she would have to be careful. She had disapparated more times than she could count already. She knew exactly all the steps and how to complete them perfectly in order to disapparate without any complication. As she stared at the announcement, she simply told herself she would have to make sure not to succeed too easily.

"Do you think it is really that hard ?" Isodor asked from her right.

"Hard ?" Abraxas scoffed.

"We'll see how you'll do during the first class, Malfoy," Hermione teased the blond. Abraxas opened his mouth to snap back but someone stopped them.

"Do not start again with the incessant banter," Tom intervened.

At the voice, Hermione turned around and saw him walking through the crowd. Tom wasn't even looking forward, he was too focused on pinning correctly his new badge on the front of his robe. He then rose his head, his eyes directly falling on her frame. He had this smirk while looking at her, this bloody smirk printed all over his face as if everything was alright, as if, once more, he was on top of the world.

Of course, he felt on top of the world. She had put him there. They looked at each other, not for too long, only for a few seconds but it was enough to make Hermione turn back around. She couldn't bear to look at him anymore. The background noises slowly turned silent as the beat of her heart grew louder. She had this little voice in her head, almost begging her heart to stop betraying her. Yet, it didn't stop. It gradually became steadier until she couldn't focus on anything else but it.

"Do you want to bet on who, out of the two of us, will manage to disapparate first ?"

She heard Tom gently murmuring in the shell of her ear. He was right behind her. She could almost picture him, slightly bending for his mouth to reach her ear, a boyish grin carved on his lips. Her entire body froze, her eyes focused on a blank spot next to the board and Hermione took a deep breath. She slowly turned around until her eyes met his.

"I'd rather not," she politely answered. Hermione intended to be impassible, almost cold, but something must have betrayed her as Tom's smirk only grew larger. He slightly coked his head to the side, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione turned back around, trying to focus on the paper in front of her eyes. She felt him gradually approaching her until she felt his breath on her neck and smelt the faint scent of his perfume. "Suit yourself," Tom whispered before leaving.

She felt Abraxas' gaze on her. He had not moved since they had both arrived, he was still standing on her right, and he had obviously witnessed the entire situation. Hermione's eyes flickered to him and saw him with a small smile on his face, apparently about to say something mocking.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione huffed before leaving the room.

OoOoOo

06.09.1944 :

Hermione entered the Great Hall and slowly walked to the Slytherin table. She could see from afar the lads gathered at their usual spot, then Tom casually reading the morning newspaper while sipping his usual cup of tea. She then spotted the empty seat right in front of him, the one she was walking towards too. Without a word, she sat down and Tom handed her the Daily Prophet with a knowing look. Her eyes instantly fell on the head title : THE MUGGLE FINALLY ENTERS HIS OFFICE.

They had known, from the moment they had learned about Tuft's desire to put a muggle of the head of the department, that this day would come. Ralph Wigram had finally stepped foot inside the wizarding ministry. Ralph Wigram had finally taken his place at the head of the Department of Transitional Relations and Social Group Cohesion.

Hermione gently put the newspaper down and felt the gaze of the seven lads on her. Maybe they were expecting a comment from her part, but she didn't say anything. She simply took a toast and started buttering it. The silence coming from their section of the table contrasted with the loud chatter coming from the Great Hall. On their right, some purebloods were appalled by the fact Wigram had actually made it. On their left were two Slytherin sixth-year, conversing about another article, one that had not made the front page.

"My father had succeeded in making the goblins finally lower the interest rates, yet the filthy muggle makes the headline," Landon Crabbe complained. Hermione turned her head towards the two boys and intently watched Crabbe son rant. Gringott had finally replaced Gideon Barboter at the head of the committee with Leonard Crabbe. This news had not been as much broadcast as Landon wanted it to be apparently. Hermione could feel Tom's eyes on her, she met his gaze and directly knew he had heard the same bit of conversation. They were both aware Landon was right about something, Leonard Crabbe wasn't getting the recognition he ought to have.

Finally, right behind them, the Ravenclaw table was talking about the only subject that truly mattered. The Wizengamot had been discussing a bill for weeks, one to make all muggle working within the ministry illegal. From the moment the news about Wigram joining the ministry had been made public, Yaxley, head of the Wizengamot, had put as much effort as possible to make this bill happen. And as a matter of fact, so had they.

OoOoOo

06.09.1944 :

"So," Milton began as he spread a large sheet of paper on top of the wooden table. The eight other students bent forward all together, watching intently the fifty pictures of each Wizengamot member. Underneath each picture was written the name and the profession and right next to the paper were three piles of tokens.

Red, blue, and white.

Against, for, blank.

"Here's the full picture," Mulciber kept going. He put one finger on Dumbledore's head, then Longbottom, and finally Tuft. "They're going to vote against the law, that's for sure."

"Same goes for Shackebolt, Pilliwickle, and Ollivander," Dolohov added.

"That's where you're wrong," Milton cut him off, with a confidence Hermione had rarely seen before. "The Ollivanders sure have a spot at the Wizengamot, yet they try to stay neutral in case of important decisions. I've talked to Meribel Downsie, sixth-year Ravenclaw, she has the habit of spending her summers with the Ollivanders and, during one of our common detention, she let this bit of information slip out."

Milton's face was contorted by a superior smile. He was beaming with pride, his eyes glowing at the look of astonishment on each of the others' faces. Hermione was looking at the boy, the one who never had something that important to say, the one who used to live in the shadows, the one always bubbling with toxic envy. Yet, at this moment, he looked so far from this image. Hermione was even surprised to be this captivated by what he had to say.

"Are you entirely sure ?" Tom pressed him. "We cannot rely on small talk during detention with this."

Milton rose his head and looked directly into Tom's eyes. His gaze was fierce, sure, strong. "That is the task you've given me, of course, I am sure." Tom simply nodded at the answer, silently trusting Milton's judgment. Something flickered in the other boy's eyes at the simple gesture, pure contentment.

Milton then kept going, giving everyone every bit of information he had collected over the last year.

This was their first meeting since they had got back to Hogwarts. It was not as if Hermione had had a hard time catching up with what the lads and Tom had discussed during the summer. She could recognize that they had set up a good ground upon which she could work, yet from the moment she had put her mind back into it, things got faster.

They knew the Wizengamot were working towards passing the bill against muggle working for the ministry, they knew when the said bill would have to be voted, they knew which member would vote for it.

However, it wasn't enough. The Wizengamot consisted of 50 members, each one of them having one vote, being obliged by law to vote - blank vote included, and if one member found himself not available to vote, one member of his family would have to do it on his behalf. Yet, with 50 members appeared the possibility of a tie at 25 against 25. This was where the Chief Warlock, here Yaxley, could intervene. In this case, the chief would have two votes at his disposal, hence the ability to tip the scale.

In the last three months, they had gathered 15 votes for sure.

"Dippet's gonna blank vote, too," Isodor pitched in. "He has to. He can't risk voicing his opinion on a subject this delicate. He's the headmaster of Hogwarts after all."

"Good Avery," Tom approved.

At the underlying compliment, Hermione saw Milton's face slightly falling. She knew what he was thinking. This was his moment, he had worked for this, he should be the one receiving all the praise, he shouldn't have to share the spotlight with anyone else. Hermione lounged back in her chair, crossing her arms upon her chest, and silently looked at the scene in front of her eyes. They had had meetings in the last two years, more than she could count, but never like this. Never the lads were all this invested in the subject, never Tom was this silent, carefully listening to each of the lads' words. He was no longer the king taking all the decisions alone, he was the monarch surrounded by his precious advisors. This, happening right in front of her, was something greater than everything they had done in the past.

The room had turned silent. They were staring at the pictures, trying to find out which vote they could change, which one they needed to secure.

"So, we have a month to gain at least 11 votes," Dolohov explained. "Of course, taking into consideration the two neutral votes from Dippet and Ollivander."

"We won't be able to change the minds of 11 people in a month," Hermione finally took part in the conversation. Dolohov's head turned to face her and he pursed his lips. "We haven't succeeded in the last three months, and you think we'll manage it now ? It was hard enough when the bill wasn't public, I guess you understand it's worse now," she almost scoffed. "What we need to do is make some of them realise that it might not be in their own advantage to pronounce themselves on the matter."

Hermione rose and slowly walked away from her seat to settle right in the middle of Abraxas and Thorus. She grabbed the pile of white tokens and leaned above the 50 pictures. She put one token on Diggory's head. "Blank vote." Another one on Lovegood's "Blank vote." Then, Burnstein "Blank vote."

She put her hands flat on the table and looked at Tom. "Do you see the pattern here ?" She cheekily asked. Tom could only smile at her small comment as he knew exactly what she meant. Some lads had secured good relationships with those members' sons, here at Hogwarts.

"Already on it," Abraxas said, obviously referencing Lovegood.

"I guess I'll have to send Paul fucking Diggory a letter, right ?" Antonin mumbled. Hermione smirked.

Hermione then turned her head to Thorus, who had suddenly taken a deep interest in the sleeve of his robes. "Obviously you'll take care of Burnstein, Thorus," Hermione snarled at the boy with disdain. The latter finally met her gaze.

"Yes," he replied.

"You three take care of that," Tom resumed. His eyes skimmed around the lads to finally settle on hers. "Who's next ?"

OoOoOo

07.09.1944 :

Hermione had just put her bag on her bed when Belone appeared at her side. The brunette casually sat on her bed and propped herself on her elbows. She was smiling, apparently waiting for Hermione to say something. When it didn't happen, Belone cleared her throat and began to talk. "So, how was your summer ?"

"Quite good," Hermione lied, an easy smile on her lips.

"Quite good ? You've gone missing for three months and that's all I get ? Quite good ?" Belone laughed. "Not good enough, Hortense."

"I've been quite busy actually, that's why I didn't answer your letters," Hermione tried to apologise for leaving her friends' letters unanswered for the entire summer holidays.

"Oh I understand, I wouldn't have had the time either if I had spent my summer in Italy" Belone then smirked and cocked her head to the side. "With Tom," she added.

"And the lads," Hermione hastened herself to add.

"Are you hiding the ring ?"

"What ?" Hermione's head snapped from where she was putting her books of the day away. Belone was looking at her as if the question she had just asked was perfectly natural.

"Has he proposed ?"

Hermione was entirely taken aback. Her mouth slightly opened and she stared for a few seconds at her friend.

"Wh-what no !" Hermione stuttered. "Why would you even think that ?"

Belone sat straight on the bed and frowned. "Well, you've spent the summer in Italy together, you've been dating for what ? A year ? This idea isn't that far-fetched. But I guess I know where you stand now," Belone giggled. Her laughter slowly died down as the Slytherin intensely watched Hermione's face. "Have you really never thought about it ? Marrying Riddle ?"

Hermione could have sworn this conversation wasn't real. It didn't sound like it. Of course, Hermione had never thought about this. She shouldn't even be there anymore, she should be back home by now. So no, she had never thought about marrying Riddle. And even if she had thought about it, she could never let herself do that.

"No, I haven't," Hermione truthfully answered.

"Is everything alright ?" Belone asked her friend, concern evident in her tone.

"Of course it is," Hermione then lied. "Why do you ask ?"

"I don't know," Belone laid on her back and looked at her friend from below her long eyelashes. "There was something between you two last year, like a fire, a tension, something undeniable. And now…"

"Now what ?" Hermione snapped.

"Now you come back from a summer holiday in Italy with him and you avoid his gaze."

"I'm just tired, you're reading too much into little things."

"Am I now ?" Belone stood and crossed her arms upon her chest. "Last year, you two couldn't spend one minute without looking at each other, with these disgusting smirks on your faces. You were constantly talking, just the two of you, so infatuated by what the other had to say. Then, you would disappear at night to go Merlin knows where and coincidently Tom would do the same. Don't let me start on your secret dates at the library or in little alcoves all around the castle."

Hermione didn't answer, she simply let Belone finish her thoughts.

"Now, it seems like something has shifted, you don't go after him anymore, you divert your gaze when he looks at you." Belone took a small step towards Hermione, almost cautiously. "Has something happened between you two ?"

Hermione's eyes were stuck on Belone gentle features. Only one question ran through her mind at this instant, had she been this obvious last year ? Had she been so caught up in everything that she had not noticed the small signs Belone had seemed to perceive ?

Hermione could have laughed at Belone's question. Had something happened between the two ? The real question should have been what hasn't happened between the two of them ?

"Things change Belone," Hermione finally answered. She busied herself with the books, feeling shy under the stare of her friend.

The dorm had turned really silent, only the sound of the books being sorted in the truck echoed in the room. Hermione then heard Belone sitting back on the bed.

"I've heard Cole's in Argentina," Belone spoke up. Hermione's heart clenched and her entire body froze, the last book still in her hands. She slowly rose her head and saw the pained look on Belone's face.

"I know," Hermione answered in a small voice.

"He was in love with you."

"I know," Hermione said even quieter. "Pollux had let me understand that."

If Belone were shocked at Hermione's talk about Pollux, her face remained steady, calm even. The Slytherin opened her mouth, then rapidly closed it. It seemed that she didn't know how to broach the subject.

"I'm fine," Hermione cut Belone before she could ask.

"I'd understand if you weren't."

How could she understand ? Grief was hard enough on its own without the feeling of guilt being added to it. Hermione wanted to talk about all the emotions she'd been feeling since his death, she wanted to let Belone know how broken she felt, how alone, and how everything was her own fault. But she didn't.

There was only one person Hermione had been craving to talk to, only one person she would allow herself to cry in his arms. Harry. He might not understand what she had done, he might not want to look into her eyes if one day they would see each other again, but Hermione would know. She would know that everything she was planning to do was for him. She would know that she had lost herself to Tom only to find her way back for Harry.

"How was your summer ?" Hermione changed the subject. Belone didn't reply right away, she just kept looking at Hermione, a small frown between her eyebrows. McNair had always been upfront, not restraining herself to say what she was thinking about, yet she must have known this wasn't the right time. As she looked at Hermione, she must have seen the despair, the lies, the pain, the guilt, yet she let go of the subject.

"Well," Belone cleared her throat, "I spent it with Elias."

Hermione's face slowly morphed into something happier, a small smile even drew on her lips. "Elias ?" She asked.

"Elias Bulstrode, my fiancé."

Hermione let go of the book she was still holding and hurried to sit on the bed, next to her friend. "Did you just finally let out the secret identity of your future husband ?"

"You'd have received the wedding announcement soon enough," Belone chuckled, "no need to keep the secret any longer."

Belone was slightly blushing, her eyes were glowing and she had this shy smile illuminating her entire face. Hermione then remembered what Belone had told her back in fifth-year, that she was one of the lucky ones when it came to marriage. This wasn't an arranged marriage built on politics. No, it was built upon love.

"Tell me everything about him then," Hermione smiled at Belone's happiness.

"We didn't want to say it before, the Bulstrodes are actually quite secret. They like to have their privacy." Belone gently put a strand of her hair behind her right ear before continuing. "He just turned twenty-four this summer, we celebrated in their house in Ireland. He's getting more responsibility in the family business, they're the first producers of tin in Europe so they work with cauldron manufacturers mainly, so he's quite busy. But he always takes time for me."

"I bet it must be hard for him, considering you're quite the attention seeker," Hermione teased. Belone amicably slapped her arms and they both burst into a fit of laughter. The door to the dorm opened and the three other girls stepped inside, a questioning look at the sight of the two girls laughing on Hermione's bed.

"What's going on ?" Galbanda asked.

"Oh nothing," Belone smiled, sharing one last look with Hermione.

10.09.1944 :

Out of the courses Tom could have missed during the summer, potions with Professor Slughorn would be on top of the list. The Headboy was sitting next to Malfoy, the latter peering over his cauldron, his brows furrowed and his tongue slightly peeking out of his mouth. Tom could help the man, but he quite enjoyed seeing Abraxas struggle. As for his own concoction, Tom's potion was slowly simmering, at the perfect temperature with the perfect colour. As usual, Tom took the time to look around the room. The students gathered in the dungeons were the same as last year, most of them were from Slytherin or Ravenclaw but two Hufflepuffs and three Gryffindors had managed to get into this potions course.

Finally, Tom looked at Grace. She was still sitting at her own desk, right beside Slughorn's. Tom remembered the first time he had seen her, in this exact same spot, two years before. Tom remembered what he had thought about her, about how she could have been pretty if she had not been this thin. But now, as his eyes roamed around her face, on her pink lips, her chestnut hair, her eyes, he couldn't deny her beauty. Her scars could be a deal-breaker for other men, but for Tom, they were the simple proofs of her power.

Tom had noticed a change in their relation. From the moment he had seen her, sitting at the table back in Italy, he had known. She was there, taking part in all of their plans as she had never left however, something was missing. He could feel it. Tom was wrong at the end of the summer, she had not entirely come back. She had not come back for him.

Tom was no fool. He knew how things worked. He was well aware that Pollux's death would set their relationship back. Nonetheless, he had not thought it would take this much time. But more importantly, Tom had not thought it would be this hard for him. He had got used to the late-nights with her, planning, feeling his brain emulated by her thoughts. He had got used to the feeling of unlimited power when they were planning together.

Tom had found his match. And he was not ready to lose it.

Abraxas getting up from his seat brought Tom back from his thoughts. The Headboy followed the blond's figure as he walked towards Grace's desk. Malfoy put his hands on the wooden table and looked at her potion. He then said something, and Grace huffed and rolled her eyes.

Tom had noticed another change, in the relation between Abraxas and Grace. They had never been friends, and Tom couldn't really say they were now friends. Grace didn't laugh with him like she used to with Pollux or Cole even. She didn't care for him as she did Isodor. Yet, here they were, exchanging snarky comments all day long, bickering at every given opportunity. Tom didn't understand what was happening and he had never liked being in the dark.

"Marvellous !" Slughorn appeared at Tom's side. The large professor was examining his potion and the satisfied look on the latter's face brought Tom pride. "As always," Slughorn added as he kept his round around the room. He looked at other student's preparation, making sure to give feedback to everyone. Slughorn then reached Grace's desk and slowly clapped his hands.

"Jolly good Grace ! You never cease to impress me !"

Two Gryffindors, sitting right behind Tom, began snickering. "Of course the Slytherins take all the praise, as always," Vincent Faye whispered.

"Let them have it, it's the only thing they've got going for them," Nicholas Everett snickered, "well that and blood supremacy."

Nicholas Everett, the infamous Gryffindor quidditch player, was well-known for running his mouth against the Slytherin. Tom had heard Edmund's and Edgard's snarky remarks against the Gryffindor mudblood, following each game.

Abraxas just sat back down and stirred his greenish potion. "Has Slughorn said anything about mine ?" He asked Tom.

"He did not even look at it," Tom answered, his eyes still strained on the professor chatting with Grace.

OoOoOo

10.09.1944 :

"You will find your rounds in each of your common rooms," Tom spoke up in front of all the prefects. "If you need to make any change, do not forget to let me know."

Tom folded the papers in front of him as the students left the prefect room. The Headgirl, some Ravenclaw chick Tom hadn't bothered to learn the name yet, sent him a small look, silently asking if she could leave. Tom nodded and she obeyed.

"What do you want ?" Tom heard coming from his left. He rose his head and saw Orion Black looking at him.

"Pardon ?" Tom asked.

"We both know Thorus was supposed to get the badge, yet here I am. I know you're behind it, whispering in Slughorn's ears. So, my question is : what do you want ?"

Tom let out a small chuckle and sat down in the large wooden chair.

"You do not believe you have been elected prefect for your own merit ?" Tom cheekily asked. Orion pulled the chair next to his and sat. "Cut the bullshit Riddle, what do you want ?"

"I have heard your family was hosting the Christmas party this year," Tom began to explain. Orion burst out laughing at this. "All of that for a simple invitation ?"

"Yes Orion," Tom scooched forwards in his chair and put his elbows on the table. "All of that for a simple invitation."

Black was looking at him, his eyes slightly squinted, obviously trying to discern the reason why Tom needed this invitation. He finally lounged in the chair and smugly smiled.

"Just an invitation then ?" Orion asked.

"For now," Tom smirked. He let a few seconds go by before resuming. "Tell me Orion," Tom said, "what do you think about the current political system ?"

Orion seemed quite taken aback by Tom's question, nonetheless, he shrugged and answered, "the Blacks don't support Tuft, it's public knowledge."

"No, no, Orion," Tom chuckled as he stood up and walked towards the door. "I asked about you, not the Blacks in general."

Tom knew Orion was not expecting that. The Black heir had never been asked this before, he had been asked about his parents' position, his aunts, uncles, but never him directly. This was what Tom gave them, a semblance of importance.

Tom now stood in front of the door the last student had left half-open. Tom took hold of the handle. "Tell me Orion, where do you stand on mudblood policies ?"

Tom silently closed the door.

OoOoOo

15.09.1944 :

Tom had gathered the lads plus Grace for their usual meeting. It was well past the curfew, but as the new Headboy, Tom had secured the round with the right prefects. They wouldn't be bothered. Grace had transfigured a chair into a large blackboard, upon which the fifty pictures were now stuck. They had begun placing the right token next to the names of those they knew for sure. Yet many remained unmarked.

"Don't be stupid, the Rowles won't vote against the bill ! They've always been fierce supporters of the Parkinsons and we know where they stand," Edgard barked at Grace.

"That was before Cassandre became the heir !" She snapped back. "He was supposed to marry the Rowle girl when he was second, but now he has to marry the one one the heir was supposed to."

This was the thing with Grace. Every time Pollux's name ought to be spoken aloud, she always found a way to never say it.

"So now that Cassandre's betrothed to a Selwyn," Grace kept going, "the Rowle won't back them. They will in fact betray them, out of pettiness."

"How can you be so sure ?" Isodor asked.

"Because that's what I'd do."

Grace was standing by the board, her eyes flickering between the pictures and the seven lads. She then took a blue-chip, put it next to Selwyn's name, and did the same with a red one with Rowle's.

She was intensely looking at the board and the seven other lads were all staring at her. Tom, too. He could sense her brain bubbling from where he was sitting at the end of the table. Grace took a small pile of tokens in her hands and let her eyes roam over the fifty names. She took no more than fifteen seconds before beginning.

"Ok," Grace said. "We start from the postulate that the Selwyns will vote for the bill as Cassandre will marry the daughter. This means that the Rowles won't. However," Grace took a blue chip between two of her fingers, "we know, thanks to Milton's intels, that usually the McMillans would vote against the bill. But, Clarence McMillan is out of the country so his son is going to vote. Chester McMillan holds a grudge against the Rowles and that, by principle, would never stand on the same side as them. Thus, The McMillans will vote for." She finally put the chip next to their name. "We have one large question mark on the Hopkins though. We're not closer to knowing where they stand than we were two months prior. For all we know, they're gonna vote against." Grace wasn't even looking at the lads, she was too focused on the board to notice the stares. "What we know about them, however, is that they're influenced by the Travers, whom we have on our side thanks to Edmund marrying their daughter, but they've always followed the Dearborns move."

Grace stopped talking, her eyes stuck on a small spot on the board, apparently deep in thoughts. "We'll start from the premise that they're against us. We cannot allow false hope in this context." She put a red chip next to Hopkins' picture. "Where do we stand on Lovegood, Malfoy ?" She then asked.

This, right there, was what Tom craved for. Her mind was simply magnificent. She had the capacity of putting everything together in half a second, to put everything into perspective, and to think so far ahead.

Grace finally turned around and was welcomed by eight pairs of eyes captivated by her every move. Tom's eyes slowly dragged themselves away from Grace to look at each lad. Tom wasn't surprised by the expression all of them bore in front of her because he wore the same. But as he saw their faces, their admiration in front of her, he couldn't stop but think about the things she had told him that evening on the beach.

"And if someone were to murmur the right thing in their ears, they'll realise it."

There was this part in Tom's mind, that knew she was right that evening. They would listen if she were to murmur the right things in their ears. Maybe not all of them. His eyes fell on Antonin. But the others, they might.

And just as Grace had told them about the Hopkins a minute before, Tom also couldn't rely on false hope regarding something this important. Tom simply couldn't allow it.

"Malfoy ?" Grace repeated, still awaiting an answer. The blond looked at her and sat straighter in his chair.

"I've secured Lovegood son. He's going to talk with his father next week. In theory, it should be good. They should vote blank."

"Dolohov ?" Tom regained control over the meeting.

"Working on it. It isn't that easy anymore now that Paul's gone," Antonin explained. "Let me tell you that the lad is easily influenced. It's gonna take more time than anticipated."

"But you are going to do it, right ?" Tom asked through clenched teeth. Antonin silently gulped then slowly nodded his head.

"Thorus ?"

Nott took a large breath and looked at Tom. "I haven't asked him yet. I haven't spoken to him since last year and as he moved away it's not like I have the opportunity to talk to him face to face. I've sent him a letter just to re-establish contact and I'll ask him soon."

"Do we have the same definition of soon, Thorus ?" Milton asked. "I've talked to Jones and he told me he knew for sure Burnstein would vote against the bill."

"I've told you I'll do it, haven't I ?" Thorus snapped.

Tom cocked his head and internally smiled. Milton had changed for the best. Tom reckoned that the year he had spent in the shadows of the other lads, watching with envy all of them getting recognition from Tom, had weighed more than he thought.

"Milton ?" Tom asked. "Your turn, tell us what you've gathered."

15.09.1944 :

They had been in this meeting for more than three hours. Hermione's head was starting to ache and the smoke coming from all the cigarettes smoked began to violently invade her lungs.

"Let's take five," Tom said. He must have sensed the fatigue coming from the others. He pressed his fingers against his eyes and exhaled. Most of the lads got up, just to stretch their legs. Abraxas went by the window and was quickly joined by Isodor. As for Thorus, he silently got out of the room. Hermione stood up, too, and followed him into the corridor. Thorus hurried into one of the closest rooms.

Hermione approached the room and stood still. She didn't know if she ought to enter. She let herself hesitate a few more seconds before pushing the door open. The room was plunged in darkness, only the white light of the moon illuminating it. Thorus had his back facing her, both of his hands on a desk and his head bent forwards. From the way his body shook, Hermione knew he was crying, or at least fighting against the tears.

Hermione then looked at his right hand and saw the letter he was clutching at.

"Pull yourself together," she said. Thorus startled and turned around.

"Sod off, Grace," he snapped. His eyes were bright red, wet from the tears threatening to fall on his cheeks at any moment. Hermione saw the broken look on his face, the misery showing through even though Thorus tried to appear strong. She had not really talked to him during the summer and even less since they had gotten back to Hogwarts, but there was no doubt on how Thorus Nott felt. She recognized the brokenness of his soul, the same one she had. She recognized the regret in his eyes, the same one she bore. Yet, instead of feeling pity for the shell of the man in front of her, Hermione only felt irritated.

"The meeting resumes in two minutes, we can't have you moping over a letter." She eyed the piece of paper in his hand. "You've brought this onto yourself, Thorus. You chose to do what you've done. So fucking deal with it."

"Oh just like you did ?" Thorus mocked. "Give me a bottle then and I'll drown my sorrows."

Hermione's face fell at this comment. Thorus' eyes dropped onto the letter in his right fist and he let out a shuddering breath. "He'll do it," he said in a small voice. "I know he will. But after everything I've done, how can I ask him for more ?"

"I don't care, Thorus," Hermione bluntly said as she took a step forward. "The only thing that matters is that Burnstein votes blank. Do whatever you need to sleep at night, I couldn't care less. Just ask him already."

Thorus' eyes snapped back to her face. Hermione could read the incomprehension in his expression. "What happened to you, Grace ?" He slowly asked. "What happened to the girl I met at Florish & Blotts two years ago ?"

Hermione kept staring at Thorus, letting the question sink in. She let a bitter smile grow on her lips before replying. "The same thing that happened to the boy I met at Florish & Blotts two years ago." She turned around. "Write the fucking letter, Thorus."

Hermione didn't wait for an answer back that she was already walking out of the room.

20.09.1944 :

Tom just got out of the library, a book under his arm, when he saw Edmund and Edgard walking down the halls. They were drenched in sweat and covered in mud. Tom then remembered that the Quidditch season had started already and that the two boys were training for the upcoming game.

"Heading back to the common room ?" Edmund asked the Headboy as Tom entered into their sight. Tom nodded and they began walking down towards the dungeons. The two Quidditch players had resumed their conversation. Apparently, the Quidditch locker room was the perfect place to learn all about the most recent gossip. Tom had never pictured Lestrange and Rosier as gossipers, but from what he could hear since they had begun walking, the two were.

"So, what are you gonna do about it ?" Edgard asked Tom. The latter frowned and perplexedly looked at the boy.

"About what ?"

"About Nathaniel Young and Grace," Edmund answered.

"Come again ?" Tom pressed. "What about Nathaniel Young and Grace ?"

Edgard and Edmund shared a knowing look before Lestrange explained. "Young asked her on a date."

"What did she say ?" This was the only thing that mattered in the end.

"Dunno," Edmund shrugged.

Tom knew the two lads could feel the anger radiating from his body. He slowly clenched his jaw and made sure of not tearing his eyes away from the common room door coming into view.

"So…" Edgard began, apparently not at ease with the subject, "what's the deal between you two ?"

"None of your fucking business," Tom snapped then entered the common room.

OoOoOo

20.09.1944 :

Tom was impatiently looking at Thorus' empty spot on the right side of the table. He was continuously tapping his fingers against the wooden table. They had been waiting for almost ten minutes for Nott now. The irritation, slowly building in Tom's entire body, would soon reach its peak. Tom could feel it, in the way his breath was becoming more ragged, his jaw hurting from the sheer intensity of the clench on his teeth.

Tom was about to begin the meeting when the door to the fifth-floor room opened and Thorus stumbled in. He didn't apologise, he didn't say a word. He simply took a white token and put it next to Burnstein's name.

"Thanks for showing up, Nott," Tom spat. The other just slid into his seat and didn't meet Tom's gaze.

"Should we begin ?" Grace asked him.

Tom ignored her, didn't even look at her, and directly called out to one lad."Avery ?"

Tom knew Grace had frowned. He didn't have the habit of ignoring her, even less during meetings of this importance. His eyes stayed put on Isodor, not willing to look at her.

"So," Isodor put a newspaper down, "Crouch has just announced he will be voting against the law. So we're one down."

Tom turned his head to Milton. He didn't say anything right away, he just looked at the boy and from the other boy shrank underneath his gaze, Tom knew his anger was visible.

"I have one question, Milton," Tom addressed him in a menacing voice, "why are we not aware of this ?" Milton's eyes were slightly panicked as if he knew he had not done his job correctly. "Weren't you and Peter Crouch detention pals ?" Tom finished.

Milton opened his mouth then closed it. He looked at the other lads as if he was trying to find some support from them. Apparently finding none, Mulciber looked back at Tom.

"He was never much of a talker," Milton finally explained.

A silence settled. The lads seemed uncomfortable with the current atmosphere.

"Hortense ?" Tom then turned his head towards her. "Now is time to have a brilliant idea to get us out of this mess."

Grace frowned, not understanding where this anger came from. Tom felt like she could snap at any moment but she didn't.

"Well, Riddle," she mocked as she stood up to go stand in front of the blackboard. "We can still do something about Bulstrode."

"The Bulstrode don't talk publicly about politics," Abraxas snorted, "they keep that for themselves."

Tom saw a small smile slowly drawing on her face. What usually impressed him, this knowing smile, only infuriated him at this moment.

"Let me handle it," she said.

Tom wanted to erase this fucking smile off her face. "And Woodcroft ?" He asked her. "Can you do that, too ?"

It was a low blow, he knew it, but the way her smile fell was worth it. "We still don't know where they stand. On our side ? Against ?" He kept going. Grace turned around and looked at him, silently. Tom wasn't asking what the position of the Woodcrofts was, none of them knew. He was simply asking her if she was still in contact with Cole.

"I don't know, but I can ask Cole," Grace replied, with the same pettiness that devoured him.

"Fine," Tom snapped, "you do that then."

He knew the lads were all staring at their little altercation but Tom couldn't care less. He kept his eyes locked with hers.

"If you ask," she smiled in the way she knew angered him.

20.09.1944 :

Hermione was only waiting for one thing, for the last lad to leave the room. As soon as Isodor stepped foot outside and closed the door behind him, Hermione slammed her hands on the table and looked at Tom.

"What the fuck was that, Riddle ?" She barked.

Riddle stood up from the end of the table and mirrored her position. Hermione could see the anger in his eyes yet she still couldn't understand where it came from.

"You tell me, Grace," Tom snapped back, "what the fuck was that with Young ?"

Hermione took a step away from the table, her arms falling at her side, and let out a disbelieving laugh. "Un-fucking-believable."

"Answer me."

"I'm not one of your lads," Hermione scoffed, "I don't answer to you."

Tom had withdrawn his hands from the table and had straightened his back. The fire coming from the chimney illuminating something in Tom's eyes and lightened his scar. Hermione couldn't deny it, as much as she wanted to, he was beautiful at this instant. He radiated something, more than just confidence, more than just charisma. It was something else, something she had never experienced before. She understood the lads, she understood the professors, all in awe in front of him. She even understood how she could have lost herself to him.

She closed her eyes tightly and cursed herself.

Tom slowly stepped aside from the table and walked to the other side of it. He mirrored her position once again. His body was dangerously leaning over the table. Hermione's eyes snapped back open and she saw Tom's hair was slightly falling into his eyes. Her gaze then fell onto his hands, large, steady, flat on the table. She then looked at the ring on his finger, the dark stone shining underneath the warm glow of the fire.

"You usually never back away from a fight," he solemnly said. She met his gaze and gulped at the intensity of his stare.

"And you usually never start a fight on such a futile matter," she snapped back.

Tom withdrew himself from the table and took a step backward. He slightly pulled at his hair and huffed. "I do not understand Grace," he said, "we take one step forwards then three backward. I thought that, after Italy, we knew where we stood."

Hermione couldn't help but bitterly laugh at that. She could feel the tension bubbling up in the room. As a way to get away from it, she, too, walked away from the table and leaned against the windowsill.

"Well, you who know everything," she mocked, "tell me. Where do we fucking stand, Tom ?"

He had let go of his hair and took a step forward. "Apparently I have misjudged this entire situation. So tell me Grace, where do we fucking stand ?"

He was slowly walking towards her. Hermione let her fingertips graze against the windowsill. She couldn't move, she couldn't withdraw herself more so she simply gripped it and pushed her frustration in it.

"I don't know !" She let out, exasperated.

"Tell me," he almost growled.

"We stand right where we stood before. Nothing has changed ! This," she gesture between the two of them, "is a simple fucking partnership."

Tom had stopped and he just mirthlessly laughed. "Bullshit. It never was a simple fucking partnership."

Of course, it had never been just a simple partnership. At this moment, Hermione remembered the night on the bleachers, last winter, when she had run to meet him after seeing Dolohov in the infirmary. She remembered their first kiss, the chaste one, like Tom was testing the waters. She remembered what he had said, that she needed to acknowledge what was happening between them just like he had. And then, the second kiss. So far from the first one, it was pure desire, the culmination of months of unspoken feelings. She could almost feel his lips on hers as she deep-dived into her memories. She could almost smell his scent. She could almost experience the tingles in her entire body, the way his hands crawled down from her hair to settle on her hips, the hammering beat of his heart underneath her fingers. She could almost feel everything but the one thing that surpassed all those emotions was the disgust pooling in her guts.

"Is it enough for you ?" He then asked her.

Tom had resumed approaching her. It was slow, deliberate. He was now so close that Hermione could feel the warmth emanating from his body. Her grip on the windowsill only tightened. She didn't know what to answer, so she didn't reply right away. She watched him getting closer and closer until he was there, right in front of her, the two of them only separated by a couple of centimeters. She couldn't think clearly, not when he was this close, not when all her mind could focus on was his eyes, his lips, him.

She knew she wasn't the only one feeling this way. She could see it in his eyes, in the way they were roaming all over her face, and frequently settled, for a couple of seconds, on her mouth. She could see it in the way he craved to get closer.

At her lack of answer, a smirk grew on his lips. So she knew she had to say something.

"Yes it is," she answered through her constricted throat.

This time, Tom grinned, like he had just won.

"You fucking liar," he whispered.

Hermione's eyes closed and her lips slightly opened and she felt him move forwards. Then, there it was, the firm press of his lips against hers.

Hermione had never known how to exactly describe Tom. But now she had. Tom was like the sea, tempting, uncontrollable, destroying everything on his path. As he kissed her, she felt like drowning. She was six feet underwater, with almost no air left in her lungs. She was struggling against the current, lost in a whirlpool, only able to see the tempest from underneath. The waves crashing on the surface, erasing everything, wrecking everyone. She was falling deeper and deeper, until she was only met with darkness. Just like being underwater, she could feel the pressure in her ears, the coldness almost burning her skin.

But just like being underwater, survival kicked in.

Hermione pushed him away.

They simply stared, both catching their breath back. Tom could have been smug at this instant yet he wasn't. He appeared to be in the same state as she was. He looked at her, in silence, in this way, this peculiar way and Hermione didn't know what to make of it. She let go of the windowsill, lowered her gaze and cleared her throat. She walked past him, to reach the door, but Tom said one last thing. "Avery will take care of Woodcroft."

Hermione didn't turn around.

OoOoOo

20.09.1944 :

She was lying in bed, her eyes riveted on the deep green canopy. The dorm was entirely silent. Hermione just laid there, absently trying to think about anything but him, for want of sleep.

She had found one memory. It was calm and reassuring.

It was during her fourth-year, only a few days after Harry, Ron and her had gotten back to Hogwarts. She was sitting on the plush sofa in the Gryffindor common room, Crookshanks on her lap, and her absently carding her finger through its soft fur as she read a book. There was the light crackling of the chimney, the soft sound of the wind against the windows and the gentle ring of Harry's and Ron's laughter as they played wizarding chess. Hermione remembered exactly this night for it was one of the only not tainted by the devastating war happening outside. She closed her eyes and pictured the scene, she almost smiled. She looked down at the cat, serene, asleep, soft. She turned her head to the side and was welcome by the bright light from the chimney and the warmth of the fire. Then, she saw them. They looked up and smiled. It was pure, simple, bright, magnificent.

Yet, something was off. It shouldn't be. This memory shouldn't be off, so why was it ? They were kids back then, they were happy, weren't they ? So why Hermione had this dark feeling bubbling in her chest. Harry and Ron were smiling as they looked at her, they were still the same as she remembered. Harry's green bright eyes, Ron's freckles gently coming from his nose to fall on his cheeks, the same chess set the-

No, Ron's freckles shouldn't only reside on Ron's nose and cheeks. Hermione had spent hours learning the patterns of his freckles, and yet they were wrong in her memory. She couldn't describe how they were but she knew they weren't only on his nose and cheeks. Why couldn't she remember Ron's face ? Why couldn't she remember the pattern she had learned by heart ?

Hermione's eyes snapped open, she felt like her heart could burst out at any moment.

Why couldn't she remember correctly ? Back then, she could map his entire face, freckle by freckle. She had spent hours, in the common room, in the Great Hall looking at them. She remembered the one that looked like the Hercules constellation. She also remembered restraining herself from tracing it with her fingertips.

Two years before, she could draw the constellations in Ron's freckles, but now Ron's face had transformed into a clear night, free of stars.

OoOoOo

23.09.1944 :

Hermione knew Belone was working on her own in the library. She had told her so in the morning. She remembered exactly the words Belone had said because Hermione had been lying on her bed, trying to reconstruct Ron's freckled pattern in her head.

So here she was, walking down the rows of bookshelves until she spotted McNair, next to a window, deep into her transfiguration assignment. Hermione sat down and Belone smiled when she saw who had joined her.

"Hey," Belone began, "I haven't seen you at breakfast this morning."

"Yeah, I wasn't really hungry," Hermione replied in a small voice.

She knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew Belone was concerned about her, about how she felt. And she knew that if she used this voice, this sad, broken voice, Belone would feel empathy. Hermione wasn't above manipulating, she had done it in the past, but it somehow felt wrong when it came to Belone.

"I have a favour to ask you," Hermione used the same tone and from the way Belone put her hand on top of hers she knew it would be easy.

OoOoOo

27.09.1944 :

Hermione had this headache. Actually, since the beginning of the day, it had been there. Every sound, every light was either too bright or too loud. She only wanted one thing, crawling into her bed and hiding from the rest of the world. She descended the stairs in the hope to reach the common room as soon as possible when she bumped into someone.

"Watch out !" She barked at the other person. She rose her head and saw Tom's face with a small frown between his eyebrows. "Are you going to stay here staring at me all day ?" She snapped at him. "Move already."

Tom stepped aside, letting her the way free. She walked past him and Tom followed. He quickly arrived at her level. They didn't talk, they simply approached the common room in silence. He was about to say something but she beat him to it. "I don't want to hear your voice today, Riddle."

Tom simply nodded. The door to the common room opened and Abraxas stepped outside, surprised to see both of them so close to it. Malfoy's eyes directly found hers and took her by the shoulders. He made her step back.

"You don't want to go inside," Malfoy said.

"What th-" she began, not fully understanding but she stopped herself as she heard a voice coming from the common room.

Hermione didn't pay attention to what was being said but she could recognize Cassandre's voice. She closed her eyes and she almost felt as if someone had slapped her. Her hands closed into tight fists and she felt the anger slowly rising in her belly. Hermione just turned around, she stopped herself from running as she couldn't get out of the castle soon enough. She walked past the crowd of students returning to their respective common room. When she set foot outside, she felt like being able to breathe properly again. Hermione then saw it, the large oak tree, on the Black Lake banks. The leaves had begun to turn a light shade of orange, the lake was the same colour as the sly, grey. Her legs moved on their own accord and she quickly reached it.

Hermione put one hand on the trunk, digging her nail in the wood. Her head was bent forward, her eyes were staring at the muddy ground. The headache was even worse now, she closed her eyes and focused on the incessant thump in both of her ears. Hermione then sat down, her back against the tree, her arms encircling her legs, keeping them close to her chest. She didn't know how much time she had spent here, looking at the water, looking at the sky.

Eventually, Hermione looked around her, first on the right where the lake continued for miles. Then, on the left. Abraxas was there. A couple of meters away, both of his hands in his pockets, not looking at her but at the lake. Hermione looked at him until, ultimately, he looked back. He approached her before fetching a cigarette in his inside pocket and handing it to her. Abraxas didn't sit next to her, he stayed standing, at her side, in silence.

"I don't need your pity," Hermione said, her gaze returning to the water.

"You don't deserve it anyway," he replied.

He was right. She didn't deserve it. Yet, Abraxas was the first one to say it out loud. Everyone had been nice to her today, all bearing sympathetic smiles as they looked at her. Even Tom, he hadn't said anything she had snapped at him.

He was right. She didn't deserve any pity on Pollux's birthday.

04.10.1944 :

"We're fucked," Antonin let out. "We shouldn't have relied on fucking blank votes. And guess whose fault it was ?"

Dolohov sent Grace a pointy stare from the other side of the table. They had been sitting at the table for more than an hour, each lad, Tom, and even Grace well aware that they were indeed fucked. The vote was in an hour and they were two votes away from having the majority.

"You all know that if we do not have this bill, nothing is going to work," Tom barked. He was pacing in front of the board. He had taken his robes and tie off. His hair was disheveled from the number of times he had run his hands through it.

Milton got up and stood in front of the blackboard. "What if I go talk to Janice Bones ? Maybe she can do something ?"

"Oh yeah right," Abraxas mocked, "let's rely on a fucking first year to pass this bill ! Any other brilliant idea Milton ?"

Tom shot Grace a glance, but she wasn't looking at him. She had not spoken once in the hour they had been there, she was simply staring at the board. Her eyes were going from one picture to another, an incessant back and forth.

The sound of a cigarette being lightened made Tom's eyes divert from her face. Abraxas took a large drag before letting the smoke out. "I can't believe we're going to lose this bill by only two fucking votes," he said.

Grace's eyes fell from the board to the table. She was absently looking at the wood. "Two fucking votes," she murmured to herself, "two fucking votes, two fucking votes."

Tom knew something was happening inside her brain. "We don't need two fucking votes," Grace said out loud. She finally rose her head and looked directly at him. "We only need a tie. We have Yaxley on our side."

"And if we have a tie, the chief Warlock has two votes," Tom finished her thoughts. "Who ?" He asked her.

It was as if they were alone in this room. As they looked at each other, they didn't need anyone else. Grace broke eye contact when she rapidly got up. She seized a blue token from the table in a hurry, making the entire pile fall on the ground and exchanged a red token on the board with the one she was holding. Tom's eyes fell on the name, then the picture.

"You're out of your mind," Thorus spoke up.

The lads were all staring at the board before they all began to talk at the same time.

"It's never gonna work," one said.

"You can't be serious," another added.

All this chatter died down for Tom when Grace looked at him. He knew the lads were still arguing in the back yet he couldn't hear them anymore. Nothing needed to be said for Tom to know Grace was onto something, she wouldn't have spoken up if she hadn't been sure her plan could actually work.

"What's the plan ?" He asked her.

04.10.1944 :

"Did we do it ?" Hermione pressed as soon as she arrived in front of him.

"What did you do ?" Tom finally spoke up.

"The bill passed, that's all that matters." Hermione leaned against the guardrail. "Tell me exactly what happened."

So, Tom told her.

The only thing Hermione had asked them to do before leaving the fifth-floor in a hurry was to keep Dumbledore busy for the next hour, thus making him incapable of going to the ministry. Tom had quickly found a way to prevent Dumbledore from voting. Tom knew Dippet would go to the ministry long before the vote would even begin. This meant that Dumbledore would be the only figure of authority in the castle at the time. Tom also knew that one of the only things that would make the Deputy Headmaster stay at Hogwarts was if one student was in danger. But Tom didn't stop there. He made sure Dumbledore would stay at all cost by making the danger one of Dumbledore's precious Gryffindor. From this moment on, everything became simple.

Tom had asked Abraxas to fetch Galbanda Greengrass, his soon-to-be wife. Galbanda didn't ask any question when Tom explained the plan, she knew exactly what was happening. As a matter of fact, all of the future wives did. Greengrass then had gone to Dumbledore, crying her eyes out, stuttering over her words. What a great actress she was. She had painted this horrible sexual assault coming from one seventh-year Gryffindor. Tom hadn't chosen Nicholas Everett randomly. Everyone knew the latter had a problem with the Slytherin and more importantly against the big families, the Greengrass for instance.

It was quite easy for Isodor to confuse Everett with a simple spell. After all, he had had training with Barboter. Obviously, when Dumbledore confronted Nicholas about this, the Gryffindor couldn't defend himself.

This entire mess took more than an hour to resolve itself, hence preventing Dumbledore to vote himself. Tom had given Hermione plenty of time to do her part.

Hermione nodded as Tom finished his explanation. She pushed herself from the guardrail and let the letter fall in his lap. "Has there been any whispers about the department's financing already ?" She asked him.

"Pax has done his work."

She turned around, ready to leave when Tom spoke up.

"Don't you want to stay to celebrate ? We have done good."

Hermione looked above her shoulder. "I'll celebrate when we'll get the trial's sentence."

As she walked to reach the stairs, she could only hear Tom's laugh.

The bill was only the opening strategy. It was what followed the first move that mattered.

It was making Tuft fall that mattered.

OoOoOo

04.10.1944 :

Hermione was leaning against the wall, one leg propped against it. Her head was bent backward, her eyes riveted on the ceiling. She knew what was about to happen and she was dreading it.

Hermione then heard the distinct crack that could only belong to an apparition, followed by loud steps becoming increasingly closer until the door burst open and she saw him. He didn't say a thing, he simply flicked the lights on. Hermione took in the room, the chairs, the table. It was odd seeing it this empty. Her eyes then followed him as he poured himself a drink but not one for her.

"Four months," he spat. "Four months without hearing from you, and the first thing you ask from me is that ? You can go, shut the door on your way out. You've got what you wanted. Haven't you, Hermione ?"

She closed her eyes at Aberforth's voice.

"Oh, you want to stay ?" He yelled. Hermione still didn't answer, nor did she open her eyes. "Fucking talk already !" Abe shouted.

"It needed to be done," she finally said.

"Cut the bullshit."

Hermione finally looked at him. He had finished his drink.

"What do you want me to say ?" She snapped as she pushed herself from the wall and took two steps towards the bar, where Abe was standing behind. "It needed to be done."

From the moment Hermione had left the lads and Tom, she had run to Hogsmeade, to the Hogshead.

They needed a tie for Yaxley to tip the scale, they only needed one vote on their side. They couldn't have been able to change someone's mind in an hour. So, Hermione had turned towards the only one who could change the situation. If Dumbledore found himself unable to vote, law obliged one member of his family to vote on his behalf. And who was the only other member of the Dumbledore family ?

She had pleaded with him, almost begged. She couldn't tell him everything, she only required him to understand it needed to be done. He had accepted in the end, against its better judgment.

Abe kept looking at her, apparently at a loss for words. A heavy silence settled as they looked at each other. Hermione could see the disappointment in his eyes, but the hurt, too. She had spent four months avoiding him, not answering one of his letters and the first time she had spoken to him was to ask him that, something she well knew he never wanted to be a part of.

"Time is a loop, Abe," Hermione said. The bartender frowned. "Everything I'm doing now has already been done in the past. Everything I say, every move I make, I've already done it. I know what needs to happen. I knew this bill needed to pass. And you were the only solution."

"So you knew I would be the one to vote on Albus' behalf ?"

"No," she truthfully answered, "I know what needs to happen, I don't know how. I simply have to find a way to make things happen." Hermione tried to take a step back but Abe recoiled. So, she stopped there. "You were the only solution, Abe. There was no one else. I know you didn't want to be a part of this, but this was the only way."

Abe's eyes fell onto his empty glass. He didn't say anything for a second before he looked back at her.

"Fine," he reluctantly said.

The silence came back, even worse than the first time. Hermione could feel the weight on her shoulders, almost crushing her to the ground.

"I know you're not alright," Abe told her. Hermione's heart clenched. "I can see it in your eyes, in the way you stand right now." Abe got around the bar to stand closer to where Hermione was frozen on the spot. "This is not you right there. I don't know what you did. I don't know what you intend to do. I don't know what you're thinking about. But you're fading away Hermione."

Hermione could feel the sting of the tears in her eyes, she could feel her lungs contracting and her hands slightly shaking.

"I know," she replied in a broken voice. She let out a sad laugh and she nodded her head along. "Don't you think I know ? I almost can't even remember the constellations !" Her voice slightly increased. From Abe's face, Hermione was talking nonsense. He didn't understand what she was trying to say yet he didn't stop her from continuing. "It's dark now, there's no light, no stars." Hermione took a large breath. "I know that I am fading away, I can see it every single day, but I still know where I'm going."

"Do you ?" Abe snapped.

"I know where I'm going," she barked.

"You're helping create a world in which hatred will thrive," Abe's frustration was building by the second, "where there will be percussion against innocent people. You're helping create the world your future self will try to destroy. You're only bringing misery to yourself and the people you love."

"I'm doing this for them," she bitterly laughed, "don't you understand ? Time is a fucking loop !"

"You're hiding behind this false pretext, to excuse what you're doing !" Abe shouted. "You could change everything !"

"For what ? What if it gets worse ?" She yelled back. "What would I come back to ?"

"What says you will even come back ?"

Abe's shout stood still in the air. It hurt so deep, Hermione felt the air leaving her lungs. The world started crumbling around her. She no longer felt in the bar she loved, she no longer felt like being in the only place she knew she could be herself. Hermione was in a cold room, dark even though the lights were almost burning her eyes. And Abe's face, she couldn't look at it any longer. She knew what she had done was the right thing to do, actually, she knew it was the only thing to do. Yet, it didn't stop her from feeling sorry, from feeling guilty.

"You're being selfish," he kept going, "you have the possibility to create a better world, to prevent everyone you love from suffering. And yet, you do that ?"

"It needed to be done," she spat through the tears pooling in her eyes.

"For who ?"

Hermione knew exactly for whom she was doing this. It wasn't evident for Abe, of course, she had told him little about the future, so he didn't have the entire map of events. But she did. She knew what she was doing was indeed creating the world she would try to destroy, she would risk her life to change. Wasn't it the plan, after all ? Destroy it ?

"For Harry," she breathed.

Authors' note : we knew we don't answer reviews, it's not for lack of wanting, we read them and love them so much. So thanks a lot. We'll answer them one day, because some of you have some inputs we so want to debate with.

Happy new year everyone, may 2021 be better than 2020.

We know exactly how many chapters we have left to write. We have everything planned, to the last sentence of the epilogue.

We really hope you'll stick for it and will like it.

Lots of love,

DDM's Managers