Dying is a Delicate Moment

by agarariddle-andhernachos

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

27. LET'S FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT

"Dying is a Delicate Moment"

A fanfic by Agara

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

And he kills her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN : LET'S FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT

---

Song : Let's Fall in Love for the Night by Finneas

27.10.1944:

He felt quite weird sitting at the far right. Tom did not have the habit of sitting at the end of their group and it didn't sit right with him. He looked around him, first at the lads, at Thorus sitting in the middle. Then he looked to the left, at her, where she was currently talking with the girls, a few seats down the Slytherin table. Unconsciously, he put his right thumb on his middle finger, expecting to feel the heat of the ring, yet Tom was only met with bare skin. He still didn't feel accustomed to not wearing it. His eyes fell on his finger then on hers. She wasn't wearing it.

Tom was conflicted about this. He knew she would not wear it at first, but he had still expected her to put it on nonetheless.

A loud laugh coming from Edmund made Tom startle. He looked at the lads and saw the seven of them enjoying themselves, something he had not seen in months. They looked almost carefree at this instant. Tom forced himself to get into the conversation and started listening. Right in front of Dolohov was Orion Black, talking endlessly about his impressive chocolate frog card collection. For once, Tom was confronted with the reality of the people their age, their concerns, their hobbies, what they thought was important. He felt the gap separating them. Still, he participated in the conversation.

Tom felt her eyes on him. Without turning his head, his eyes met hers. Tom bore the ghost of a smile on his lips and she cocked an eyebrow at this.

Grace seemed dull, almost ordinary from where Tom was. She was in the middle of the wives and it looked wrong. She wasn't sitting where she rightfully should, she knew it, he knew it. Hell, everyone knew it.

Then, Tom simply nodded, as she did. They both went back to their conversation.

"You really managed to get Monpelius Disgrad's card ?" Tom asked Orion. Just hearing the words coming out of his mouth made his skin crawl.

What wouldn't he do for her ?

---

27.10.1944:

They all entered the room on the fifth floor at the same time. As soon as Isodor reached his chair, he yanked his tie away from his collar and loudly sighed. "Is it really necessary ?" He asked.

"We've already talked about this," Abraxas huffed, "it is."

"I'm with Avery on this one," Dolohov added as he sat down, "Orion's such a tool."

Hermione didn't feel the need to chip in on the conversation, she simply took her seat and untied her bun to let her hair fall on her shoulders.

"Tom, did you really feel the need to ask more questions about his stupid cards ?" Edmund huffed. "For Merlin's sake, he's even in this stupid card collection club."

"Enough now !"

The lads all went silent and looked at Tom, at the end of the table.

"As Malfoy rightfully said, we have already talked about this," Tom began, "we have gotten too deep into the cause and have failed to notice one thing : our behaviour can only raise suspicions."

Tom began walking around the room. "We are seventeen, we should focus on the next Quidditch game," he looked at Edmund and Edgard, "we should be stressed about the upcoming Newts, we should worry about a Hogsmeade date." Tom was now leaning against the window. "We all know what we do is above what is expected of us, we are doing something bigger, greater, yet we have to keep up appearances."

Hermione had not expected the lads to react this way. On the contrary, she had thought a tad of normality would bring comfort to them. Were they already too far gone ?

At this moment, Edgard rolled up his sleeves and Hermione caught a glimpse of the silvery scar. They all bore it. They were careful not to show it to anyone, they only rolled up their sleeves when they were in this room, shielded from curious eyes.

"Shouldn't we get back to it ?" Hermione finally spoke up. "I believe we have more important matters to talk about."

Tom looked at her, a small smile gradually drawing on his face. "Thorus," he said without averting his gaze, "you're up."

Nott stood up and Tom went back to his seat. The atmosphere around the room changed instantly.

"Let's sum up," Nott began. He had the two first buttons of his collar opened and the tie loosely draped around his collar. As he took place in the middle of the room, the gaze of the nine other people present stuck on his every move, Thorus radiated pride. Unlike Tom, for whom pride automatically went in pairs with haughtiness, Thorus' one was more hidden. Yet, Hermione could see it, the way he beamed at being the one in charge at this particular moment.

"At the beginning of the month," Thorus resumed, "the Wizengamot passed a bill to prevent any muggle from working for the ministry. It forced Tuft to find someone to fill in for the filthy muggle. Yet, the department still stands. That is why the Wizengamot looked into the financing of the department. As you all know, for the Minister of Magic to create a new department, she needs the approval of the budget from the Wizengamot, something Mrs. Tuft didn't do. One might think she didn't do it because if she had done, it would have not been approved, right ? But what if Tuft had something bigger to hide ?"

Some of the lads snorted.

"Fortunately for us, Mister Goyle, at the head of the board of Gringotts, has contacted the Head of the Law Enforcement, Mister Balthazar Zabini, about shady financing regarding this department. Apparently, some of the books don't add up. That is why Law Enforcement has opened an investigation." Thorus' smile was wicked and matched perfectly the ones the lads bore.

Hermione had put both of her elbows on the table and was intently watching Thorus. She briefly looked to her right and saw Tom in a similar position. He seemed absorbed by Nott's little recap. His features were calm, he looked serene. Absently, he was running his thumb above his middle finger, surely feeling the ghost of his ring.

"And do pray tell us Thorus," Edgard smiled, "how's the investigation going ?"

"Great question Edgard," the other smirked, "it's not going well for her. They have found large amounts of money coming from several big cities in Europe, coinciding with Gridelwald's gathering places. Do you see the pattern here ?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at this. Everything was perfectly fitting together. They only had to make sure the others were on the right track too.

"Do they have enough proof to press charges already ?" She asked.

"We need to ask Zabini," Dolohov replied. "Shall I send him a letter, Tom ?"

"I will do it."

At this, Hermione's head snapped towards the Headboy. Tom had always made sure not to write any letter. She knew why. If one day, everything should come crumbling down, Tom would be safe, no proof against him, nothing. Yet, this time he would be writing one, on a subject as delicate as this one. It seemed that the lads were quite shocked as well. In front of the frowns coming from his fellow students, Tom explained himself. "I believe it is time he knows who he is working for."

The meeting went on, they went over everything. They made sure everything was perfectly planned, that all of the lads knew what they ought to do in the future. They couldn't mess up, because if one thing went wrong, they could be the ones on trial.

Just before the lads were to leave the room, Tom spoke up. "Milton !" The small boy turned around and looked at him. "Tomorrow is your turn to sit in the middle." Mulciber nodded and closed the door behind him.

Once more, they were alone. Hermione had seen Abraxas' look when the latter had noticed they would stay behind. Actually, she had seen all of their looks. Since Malfoy had told her, she had finally realised they all knew exactly what was going on between the two of them.

Tom rose and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his inside pocket. He opened it and took out two, one for her and one for him. For a second, she looked at the two items and took one with a small huff. He laughed. They both reached the window. Tom first lit hers, muggle way. He slowly approached the lighter and Hermione closed both of her hands around the small flame. He then withdrew his hands and lit his own. She looked at him, at his profile, at the hollow of his cheeks once he inhaled the smoke.

They were silently watching the Black Lake when Hermione spoke up.

"Are you sure it is a good idea to sign your name on the letter ?" She asked.

"Why ? Scared for me ?" He joked and looked at her, she felt her cheeks slightly heating up. He had this glint of amusement in his eyes. "Shall I use a pen name ?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and her eyes fell back on the outside. "I still think it's a bad idea."

"He needs to know who he is in debt to," Tom simply replied.

"Don't you think he already knows ?"

"A reminder will not hurt him."

Hermione finished her cigarette and walked back to the table. She put her hands in her hair and began massaging her skull, hurting from the hair ties she wore all day.

"You do not need to do that, you know ?" He said. Hermione rose her head and saw him leaning against the window, his legs crossed at the ankles. He was looking at her hair, then his eyes fell on her face.

"Need to do what ?"

"The hair, the perfect uniform, the polite smile you wear all day long, the quietness. You are not like them."

"Who ? The girls ?"

"The wives," he corrected.

Hermione scoffed, "you know it's just an act."

"Dumbledore is no fool, what you wear, the way you act, he knows. He has even told you. This will not change his mind."

"You're right Tom, Dumbledore already knows. But all of this isn't for him. It's to avoid anyone finding out, too." Hermione walked towards him. "So if I have to play the perfect lady, wear my hair up, my uniform perfectly, be plain and shut my mouth. I will do it."

Tom let out a real laugh at that, one that reached his eyes. "Oh Grace, you were never one to stay quiet." He then looked at his pocket watch and frowned. "I have rounds to make. As the perfect lady you are, do you need me to escort you back to the common room ?" He taunted her.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "shut up, Tom."

---

27.10.1944:

Tom was wandering the hallways near the library. He had seen her before, all the way through his seven years at Hogwarts. But at the time he didn't know who she was. However, Tom had recently gotten interested in the founders of Hogwarts, particularly in their heirlooms. Suddenly, she was no longer a ghost he ran into sometimes, she was someone he longed to talk to.

But, the moment Tom felt the need to talk to her, she disappeared. As if, the moment she caught his attention, he learned her identity, she vanished.

So here was Tom, walking down the hallways, like he had done for the past weeks, in the hope of crossing her path once more. He looked down at his watch and briefly wondered if he should go back to the dungeons. Tom was about to turn around, give up for the night when he caught a glimpse of a floor-length cloak and dark silvery hair. He froze in his path and let the ghost turn around the corner. Without even thinking about it, he began running and caught up with her.

She turned around.

She was tall. He supposed that she was beautiful but she also looked haughty and proud. She carried herself in a serene manner.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed ?" She asked him. Even her voice was calm and peaceful. Her eyes fell onto his tie and she then seized him up. "You are quite far from the dungeons," she added, "should I alert the teaching staff ?"

"Thank you for your concern though this will not be necessary," Tom smiled. "I am the Headboy, I am simply doing my rounds."

The ghost slowly approached him, gently floating above the ground. "Isn't the moon too high up for you to still do your rounds ?"

Tom softly chuckled, "I take the students' safety quite seriously, I like to make sure everything is in order before I go to sleep."

"This is quite kind of you, Mister ?"

"Riddle," he took a step towards her, "Tom Riddle." He extended his hand for her to shake before feigning embarrassment. "Do forgive me," he let out a small laugh, briefly looked at his feet in a sign of discomfort then back to her. "Your presence troubles me," he then said. "Not in a bad way, on the contrary," he stumbled on his words as if he had not rehearsed the conversation many times in his head in the last weeks. She laughed, it was beautiful.

"No need to apologise, Mister Riddle."

"Please call me Tom."

"Call me Helena, then."

OoOoOo

28.10.1944:

"Silence, silence, silence," Mister Wink clapped his hands. The student body quieted. The professor put his bag on the large wooden desk then turned around. He sat on his desk, and let his eyes roam among the students. His dark skin glowed underneath the light of the candles.

Tom felt his eyes heavy with sleep and found it hard to focus on what the professor was explaining.

"Where were you last night ?" Isodor whispered from the seat next to his. Tom slowly blinked and looked at the blond boy. The latter was looking suspiciously at Grace. Tom understood what Avery might be thinking. After all, the lads had left them alone the night before.

"I had rounds to make."

"Since when do your rounds finish that late ?"

This time, Tom straightened. "None of your fucking business, Avery."

Apparently, the conversation caught the interest of the other lads, sitting right in front of them. Edgard turned around, put one of his arms on the back of his chair and smirked. "Yeah Avery, none of your fucking business if Tom has decided to tangle with our dear Grace." At this, Abraxas choked on his laughter and tried to cover it with some coughs.

"Wow Lestrange, your humour does match your Quidditch skills," Tom mocked. "How mature of you."

"What ?" Isodor snorted. "Isn't it what we're supposed to do ? Act like seventeen-years-old ?"

"It is n-" Tom began but he felt the imposing presence of the professor right in front of him. The lads all went quiet.

"Am I bothering you, Mister Riddle ?" Professor Wink rhetorically asked.

"I apologise, professor, I was just trying to explain to my friends, today's class."

"Please share your knowledge of the course with the entire class, Mister Riddle."

Without hesitating, Tom stood up, looked around him, catching the gaze of each student before his eyes finally falling on her. She was, as expected, sitting right next to Galatis Carrow, at the centre of the room. She was amused, the phantom of a smile on her pink lips, playfulness dancing in her eyes.

"We will perform friendly duels, picked randomly, we can only use charms. The only restriction is to cast them wordlessly," Tom explained.

"That's it, Mister Riddle," the professor said as he walked back to the front of the room. "Please bear in mind that this exercise will be graded. I will take into consideration two characteristics into the grading, the wordless skill and if you fight well."

Wink turned around to face the class and added one last sentence, "remember I like creativity and with charms you can always think outside the box." His dark eyes then settled on Edgard and he tilted his head towards the boy. "Lestrange, you seemed chatty, let's see how you manage without your voice. You're up."

Lestrange was put against Galatis. The fight was honest, quite entertaining to watch.

"Where were you last night ?" Dolohov whispered. The lad had settled right next to Tom when the professor had arranged the class for the duels.

"Just like I said to Avery, it does not concern you, Antonin," Tom calmly replied, his eyes stuck on another duel beginning.

"Fine," Dolohov scoffed, "if we're on the subject of things that don't concern us, care to explain why the fuck we're acting like seventeen-years old boys ?"

"Please remind me your age."

Antonin just huffed and crossed his arms upon his chest, just like a petulant child would.

"Once again, it has everything to do with her, am I wrong ?" Dolohov kept pressing. Tom briefly closed his eyes, feeling the exasperation of having the same conversation once more with him raising in his guts.

"So what if it is the case ?" Tom looked at him.

Dolohov didn't reply. His eyes fell back on the duels and he kept quiet. Tom was quite distracted by the conversation he just had with Antonin. But once Grace's name was called by the professor, he became fully alert.

"Miss Hortense," Professor Wink kindly said, "if you will."

Grace elegantly moved towards the duelling area and waited for her opponent to be picked. The professor called next Barrington Kaysley, who confidently approached Grace. He was proudly wearing his red tie. He had slicked-back hair and dark glasses. They shook hands and went to stand five feet away from each other.

A grey mist escaped from Grace's wand and hit Barrington right in the chest as soon as it began. Tom expected the boy to stumble back or at least retaliate, but the Gryffindor simply dropped his wand to the ground and kept looking at her as if waiting for something to happen. The room turned silent as no one really understood what had just happened. Then, Professor Wink began laughing.

"Too easy Miss Hortense," he said, "but quite clever."

Grace had a large smile on her face. "You said you were waiting for something creative professor," she cheekily replied.

"I will award Slytherin 15 points for your ingenuity, however, I will ask you to counter-spell Mister Kaysley and resume the duel."

Grace cast a spell, wordlessly once more, and Barrington seemed to wake up out of his trance.

"You see," the professor explained to the students, "Miss Hortense cast a false-memory charm on Mister Kaysley. Do you care to explain the idea you planted in his head ?"

"I simply implemented the memory that I already won," Grace beamed.

Tom looked at her in disbelief. The idea hadn't even crossed his mind. It was simple, efficient. It was just brilliant.

Barrington shot the first spell, a red light escaped his wand which Grace quickly ducked. She let him cast another one, then another, as if she was playing with him. She always did that. She always felt superior to her opponents in class, she always played with them, letting them think for a moment that they could get the upper hand. Tom wondered what would happen the day she would face someone stronger, cleverer, someone like him. Would she still wear this proud smile ? Would she still stand proud ? Or would she be scared ?

Finally, the Gryffindor cast an orange spell and this time Grace cast a protego. She slowly approached him, her wand at the ready. She cocked her head to the side and simply flicked her wand. The dark green spell hit the floor at the other boy's feet and burst a hole in the ground. It made Barrington stumbled back, giving Grace enough time to cast what Tom imagined to be a blasting spell by the loud noise resonating in the room, breaking Kaysley's glasses. Rapidly, Tom saw a blue spell coming Barrington's way, which he shielded himself from.

In return, Barrington shot her with another blasting spell. Grace jumped to the right to avoid it and cast a reparo on the other's glasses. Barrington was surprised by the gesture and lost focus for an instant. It was all she needed to cast a light blue spell, quickly followed by a purple one, Tom recognised to be an Arresto Momentum. He witnessed the Gryffindor falling backwards in slow motion, giving Grace all the time in the world to accio his wand.

In the end, Barrington Kaysley fell on the ground in a muffled sound, and Grace stood proudly with two wands in her hands.

"Well done !" Professor Wink said, "to the both of you, it was a great duel."

If Tom had been in Grace's shoes, he would have taken the compliment and walked back to his seat. However, she did not. She extended a hand to the boy on the ground, helped him get up, shared with him a couple of words, all of that with a kind smile on her face.

---

30.10.1944:

Hermione had just freshened up when Galbanda had taken her by the arm and dragged her out of the common room for dinner. In the last days, Hermione had enjoyed the company of Galbanda. She was interesting. They were walking down the hallways, gently zigzagging among the groups of students. During that time of the day, the corridors were always packed with students pushing against others. However, as Hermione and Galbanda were to turn right, they saw something unusual. Some fourth-years had just pushed one of their classmates against the wall.

"You filthy mudblood," she heard one of the bullies spit.

Hermione became alert at the sight. The boy seemed scared. Lately, Hermione had seen a shift in Hogwarts regarding blood purity. She tried to let go of Galbanda's arm but the girl only tightened her grip.

"Don't," Greengrass whispered, "let them. He only gets what he deserves."

Hermione looked at the girl and saw the knowing look in the other's eyes. It lasted only for a fraction of a second before the blond smiled. "I'm starving," she said chirpily, "let's go eat."

Hermione felt Galbanda pull on her arms and they resumed walking towards the Great Hall. She didn't know what to make of what had just happened. She shouldn't be surprised, yet she still was. Something was not sitting well with her. Just before entering the dining hall, she bumped into Thorus, his eyes focused on a letter he had in his hand.

"Sorry," the boy quickly apologised. Hermione crouched on the floor to help him gather his belongings when she caught sight of the writing on some of the letters. She recognised it, she had seen it in the past, while she was working on her Runes essays last year. She didn't utter a word about this, she simply rose and walked inside the room. Galatis was already waiting for them, her plate filled with green beans and fish.

"Where's Belone ?" Galatis asked. "I thought she was with you."

"She had something to do apparently," Galbanda answered as she filled her own plate.

Hermione looked around the room, the lads were already chatting all together. Tom was missing though. She turned her head to the large doors. Here he was, walking into the room, Belone at his side, deep in conversation.

It was not the first time she had seen them together. They were friends, one might say, they always had classes together for the last seven years. However, in the last weeks, they seemed more private.

Hermione didn't know how she felt about this, yet she sensed a heavy weight on her chest at the sight. She quickly averted her eyes as Tom looked up.

She didn't care. Yes, she did not.

---

03.11.1944:

Tom was on one of the couches, Thorus at his side, reading the latest Daily Prophet. Milton and Avery had settled around one of the chess sets on the coffee table. Dolohov was taking an entire couch for himself, openly mocking Edgard and Edmund making up Quidditch strategies. As for Grace, she was sitting on the floor, next to Abraxas legs, her back resting against the third couch, a book in hands. Her hair was gently falling onto her shoulders, she had the peaceful face that always came when she was focused on a book.

From time to time, Abraxas would nudge her with his foot and she would complain. It simply made the blond snicker and encouraged him to keep doing it. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon.

Tom heard someone clearing his throat, right behind him. He looked upon his shoulder and saw a small second-year, envelopes his hands, looking intimidated.

"Excuse-me, Tom," he said in a shy voice, "Professor Slughorn has asked me to give you these."

With shaky hands, the second-year gave him one before handing the others to the lads. Tom nodded at the boy as a thank you and the boy quickly left.

"What's that ?" Grace asked, a frown between her eyebrows. Tom opened it and took out a white paper.

Dear Tom,

I have the pleasure to invite you to my annual seventh-year dinner, on the night of the 23rd of November.

This small gathering between gentlemen will be a perfect opportunity to discuss your future and for you to meet some interesting people.

I look forward to hosting this dinner.

Sincerely,

H. Slughorn

From the corner of his eye, Tom saw Grace snatch Abraxas' letter out of his hands and read the content of it. He witnessed the blood draining from her face, her lips slowly pursing. She pushed the letter back into Malfoy's hands and stood up.

"Quite nice of him to invite you to a nice dinner with what I supposed will be your parents," Grace's voice was dripping with sarcasm. She picked up her bag from the ground.

"Come on Grace you don't need to leave," Edmund chuckled.

"I'm not leaving because of this."

"Yeah, right," Abraxas mumbled. Isodor and Milton laughed at that. Grace only flushed red and didn't hesitate before slapping Malfoy's head with the book in her hand.

"Where are you going then ?" Thorus chipped in.

"I have a meeting with Young."

Tom knew the lads were looking at him, yet he followed Grace with his eyes as she left the common room. He knew they were all waiting for a reaction from him.

"What ?" He said.

None of the lads said anything else.

---

03.11.1944:

Nathaniel was already sitting at their table in the library. Hermione dropped her bags next to the table and quickly sat down.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she smiled.

"I was late too," he laughed. "I just arrived actually."

Hermione smiled and they began. Nathaniel Young had come to her earlier this year with a problem. His parents had forced him to take potions this year, and thanks to the good relationship they had with Professor Slughorn, he had been taken in. However, he didn't have the level.

Hermione didn't know him well at first, she had only passed by him sometime during meals time or Quidditch games.

Nathaniel Young had great chestnut-brown hair, shoulder-length. His eyes were a pale shade of brown, always glancing with mischief. He was kind of cocky, well aware of his good looks and his good Quidditch skills. However, he had not hesitated before asking for help on a subject he didn't master.

Today, they focused on the draught of the living death, something that was usual to get during the Newts. He asked her questions about the theory of the potions.

"It's well explained in your theory book," she kindly said. Nathaniel looked for it on the table before sighting.

"I have forgotten it," he said. He was about to stand to go fetch it but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't worry I'll get a copy. In the meantime, try to write down what you remember. It has always helped me, to write that is." The boy nodded and Hermione went to the back of the library.

She quickly arrived in the potion section, which always seemed to be deserted from any students. The books were perfectly organised, by date, author, subject. No wonder Hermione liked this part of the library the best. She began looking for the theory book, her eyes roaming over the hundreds of different covers, her eyes sometimes stopping on a title that caught her interest.

Hermione finally arrived in front of where the book should be and stopped in her tracks when she saw it missing. She frowned.

"Looking for this ?"

Hermione refrained from smiling before turning around. Tom was leaning against the other bookshelf, the said book in his right hand. One strand of his hair was gently falling on his forehead, right above where his scar began. His eyes were warm, perfectly matching the cocky smile on his lips.

"Young must be quite dense if he needs this book in his seventh year," he mocked.

"Be nice," she nicely chastised him as she approached. She didn't go for the book, well aware he would not give it to her. She just crossed her arms upon her chest and cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Tom ?"

"You see, I need to work on some potion essays," he smirked.

"And you need this book ?" She teased. "You must be quite dense." At that, he smiled. He put a hand on his heart, feigning being hurt. "Be nice," he whispered, bringing his lips close to her ear.

Hermione took a step back and mirrored his position against the other bookshelf. They just looked at each other for a moment. Her eyes roamed around his face, his eyes were directly looking into hers, slightly crinkled by the easy smile he bore on his lips. He looked almost boyish, and Hermione wondered why they couldn't always be this way.

"I am going to talk to Slughorn, I-" he began but she cut him off.

"I don't need an invitation, I don't want one."

"Of course you do. So I will talk to him, see if I can get a plus one."

Hermione quickly averted her eyes, she didn't reply. Tom pushed himself from the bookshelf and stood right in front of her. He gave her the book. "Go and elevate Young's brain. He surely needs it."

"Not jealous anymore I see," she taunted him.

"You are tutoring him, why would I be jealous ?" He shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes and retrieved back to her table. She put the book on top of it and took a look at what Nathaniel had written down.

"That's it ?" She asked him.

"Well, yeah," he sheepishly replied, trying to hide the two lines he wrote down with his right hand.

Hermione laughed, "remind me again how you managed to score an internship at Gringotts last summer ?" She gently teased him. At that Nathaniel smiled.

"You don't need any potions skills to work in finance. Do you really think that if you needed to master potions to work at Gringotts, goblins would still look like this ?"

Hermione burst out laughing, not expecting this joke. She quickly tried to muffle her laughter.

OoOoOo

05.11.1944:

They were all tidying up their belongings as a meeting had just finished. The fire in the chimney had just begun to dim, letting the candles floating near the ceiling as the only source of light. The wind, blasting against the windows, were barely covered by the conversations some lads were having.

Then, Edmund, Milton and Thorus began laughing. Loudly.

"Something to say ?" Tom asked.

"Nothing," Abraxas grumbled. "They're just being stupid."

"Yeah, we are begin stupid," Thorus snickered.

Tom shot her a confused look, silently asking her if she knew what they were on about. She didn't.

"Come on guys," Avery said, wanting to be in on the joke.

"Ask Abraxas," Edmund smiled, "he's the one who knows best."

"Hey," Milton frowned. "I was the only one there actually."

"Abraxas, tell us," Tom ordered.

The blond stopped packing up his stuff and sighed. The slight frown between his eyebrows was the only sign Hermione needed to know he had no desire to explain to Tom. "It's nothing," Malfoy mutters, "just something Galbanda told me this morning, something that happened during her divination class."

"What happened ?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

Abraxas looked around the room, annoyance written all over his face. "No one believes in divination here, what's the point ?"

"Milton then," Tom snapped.

"Well," the boy began, "Mildred Swaner, Ravenclaw, had a premonition this morning and Galbanda is sure it concerns us."

"What did she say ?" Hermione pressed.

She knew for sure divination was no bullshit sometimes. Abraxas handed Tom a small bit of parchment. Hermione recognised Galbanda's writing.

"She wrote it down," Malfoy explained, "but don't take it too seriously."

Hermione stood up and went right behind Tom's chair, reading upon his shoulder out loud.

"For the lost souls crawling the earth, beware the grey mist.

No finger can catch what cannot be held down.

Reckless the ones playing with fire without the fear of being burnt.

As the darkness creeps its way to the top, the lightning will strike one last time."

The lads laughed at that. Only Tom and herself were silent. She took a small step back and tried to regain any composure she had left. Her hands were twitching, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She sat back down, gently put her hands flat on the table, focusing on the feeling of wood underneath her fingertips.

"Bunch of bullshit that is," Antonin laughed.

"For once, I agree with Dolohov," she said.

"Told you," Abraxas huffed.

Hermione felt Tom's eyes on the side of her face, she didn't look at him.

OoOoOo

08.11.1944:

It was not that Hermione didn't like spending time with the girls, it was just that she had spent too much time with them lately.

Even in her own timeline, she had not had that much interest in spending time with other girls, she seemed to find them dull most of the time, at least Lavender Brown. That was why she enjoyed Ginny that much.

She quickly glanced to the side, where the lads were all gathered. They weren't talking much on this rainy morning. Most of them were focused on their meal while the others were hiding their yawns. Then, Hermione saw Edmund scratching his left forearm. Her eyes fell automatically on where she knew the scar was.

"What do you think ?" Galatis then asked her.

"Sorry ?" Hermione blinked, having no idea what they were talking about.

"The floral arrangement," Walburga almost snapped, "for the wedding."

"Oh yes, it seems nice."

Black squinted and huffed in annoyance, "you've said that four times already Grace."

"Well, all of your ideas are nice," Hermione tried to smile.

Thankfully, the well-known sound of the owls rang out in the Great Hall. Everyone rose their eyes to the fake sky, waiting for the morning post to be delivered. Hermione noticed Kaulitz flying her way. The bird gently landed right next to her plate, a letter in his beak and the Daily Prophet tied to its right leg. She took it, fed the animal a small piece of sausage and it went away.

She first unrolled the morning post.

The headline was more than Hermione had even expected. Here, right in front of her eyes, in bold letters, what they had been working for.

TUFT COLLUDING WITH GRINDELWALD ? THE FINANCING DOES NOT LIE !

Minister of Magic Wilhemina Tuft charged with corruption and forgery

Hermione read the article. Twice. She felt the looks of the wives on her frame, they knew it had something to do with them, the cause. Hermione felt powerful, on the top of the world even. She had never felt something like this. This right there, under her fingertips, writing in black, was her doing, their doing. It was the result of months of planning, endless meetings. Hermione knew it was wrong, knew it was lies, but it was theirs and it was sublime.

She folded the newspaper and looked at the baffled looks the girls wore. "Belone, will you pass me the juice please ?" She simply asked.

"Sure," the other replied in a small voice.

Hermione suddenly felt a hand on the small of her back, she briefly startled before recognising his scent. She felt his lips ghosting over her ear. "Page nineteen," Tom simply whispered before joining the lads. Hermione reopened the Daily Prophet and hurried to find the said page. It was a small article, only a couple of lines. Something she could have easily overlooked if not for Tom.

Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widened and her blood almost froze in her veins.

BORGIN & BURKES' BREAKING & ENTERING CASE : INSURANCE FRAUD

Hamely's Insurance reopens the case after Mr. Borgin's new statement

The insurance company accuses Mr. Borgin, sole owner of Knockturn Alley' shop Borgin & Burkes, to have forged his inventory. Further to the breaking and entering ending in the manslaughter of Caractacus Burkes last February, Borgin's claimed large thievery.

Hamely's Insurance will launch its own inventory of the shop.

Hermione gently dropped the newspaper on the table and slowly turned her head to look at Tom. He was already staring back. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off by shaking his head no. Hermione knew, only by looking into his eyes, that he had not expected that either. If she didn't know him that well, she could have thought he looked entirely normal, yet she knew him, she could see the small panic in his eyes. She just nodded, well aware they would talk about it later tonight, just the two of them.

Hermione stood up, she needed some fresh air, but Galbanda gently grabbed her by the wrist.

"You've forgotten that," Greengrass handed her the letter she had yet to open. She took it and recognised the handwriting, the same one she had seen a couple of days before in Thorus' hands. Without a word, she sat back down and opened it. It was short, precise, heartbreaking.

What a little shit.

She put the journal in her bag but kept the letter in her hand as she left her seat to approach the lads. She looked at them and noticed that Thorus wasn't with them.

"Boys," she greeted, "where's Thorus ?"

Her voice was too sweet for it not to raise suspicion. Abraxas crossed his arms on his chest and frowned.

"What's going on ?" He asked her.

"No need to worry," she fake-smiled, "where is he ?"

"Common room I think," Milton replied with his mouth full of hashbrowns.

"Thank you."

She turned on her heels, left the Great Hall, the voice of Abraxas following her. He finally reached her as she was about to take the stairs leading to the dungeons.

"Hortense !" He said one last time. Malfoy finally took a hold of her arm and stopped her in her tracks. "What are you doing ?" She didn't reply but only tightened the grip she had on the letter. This caught Abraxas' attention. "What's that ?" He asked.

"Nothing."

"Have you been stealing his letters ?" He accused her, alarmed.

Hermione looked at him. Abraxas knew the handwriting, he apparently also knew about the correspondence between Silas and Thorus. "Their business has nothing to do with you, Hortense. Stay out of it."

Hermione let out a loud laugh at this. "Oh Malfoy, that's where you're wrong. Silas wrote me this letter, so yes now it is my business. So now, get the fuck out of the way."

"Don't do it," he simply said, "he doesn't need that."

"Since when do we care what others need ?" Hermione scoffed, "you didn't care about Silas when you took those pictures, didn't you ?"

Abraxas put both his hands up in surrender and took a step back. "You know what ? Wreck everything that's left, you're good at that."

The blond didn't leave her the time to reply that he was already walking back to the Great Hall to finish his breakfast. Hermione stumbled down the stairs, entered the empty common room and directly went to the boys' dorm. She didn't even knock on the door, she simply pushed it opened and stepped in. Thorus was sitting crisscrossed on his bed, quill in his right hand and parchment on his lap.

"Oh, writing a letter, are you ?" She mocked him. "Care to write another one after ?"

"What are you doing here ?" Thorus asked, putting his half-finish letter away. He looked around the dorm, a little alarmed, not understanding what she was doing here.

Hermione approached his bed and threw the letter at his face. Wearily, he took it and read it. The blood drained from his face for a quick moment, before he regained his composure.

"So what ?" He said in a stone-cold voice.

"So what ?" She repeated, taken aback. "That's all you have to say ?"

"There's nothing else to say." Thorus stood from his bed and walked past her to reach the door. Hermione turned around to follow him with her eyes. As he reached for the handle she spoke up, "you have too much pride."

Nott spun on his heels. "Too much pride ?" He rose his voice. "Not answering his letters after destroying his life, is that what you call pride ?"

"He's only asking how you are !" Hermione felt the anger slowly rising in her guts.

"And whose fault is that ?" Thorus almost yelled.

Hermione frowned at his outburst, not fully understanding.

"I would've never contacted him again if it wasn't for you and Tom. Who asked me to contact Burnstein for the vote last month ? You did !" He slowly approached her, anger dancing in his eyes. "It was your sadistic way of punishing me, wasn't it ?" He spat. "So don't you dare come in here, accusing me of having too much pride when the only thing I'm trying to do is avoid more casualties."

Hermione first just looked at him, taking in what had just been said and then slowly nodded her head. Gradually, a devious smile grew on her lips. "How Thorus of you," she chuckled, "putting the blame on someone else." She began slowly walking towards him. At every step she took, Thorus took one backwards. "One day, there will be no one to blame but you. You will be alone, the sole person at fault."

Thorus simply kept looking at her, anger evident in his green eyes. He opened his mouth to speak up but Hermione didn't let him, she simply opened the door and left him behind.

Hermione's mind was still rushing with the argument she just had. She arrived in the common room and bumped into Belone. The other girl smiled but Hermione didn't return it. On top of the interaction she just had with Thorus, she still had a weird feeling about McNair.

"I-I was looking for you," Belone explained.

"I don't have time," Hermione snapped. Belone frowned at the shortness and opened her mouth to talk more. Hermione just walked past the girl and exited the common room.

OoOoOo

08.11.1944:

She was pacing on the bleachers, unable to stand still. She had arrived early this evening and had been chain-smoking ever since. From the moment she had read the article about Borgin and Burkes, she had not been able to think about anything else. She had thought this story to be behind them. She had not heard about it for months. The last thing she had read about it was back in March when the authorities had closed the case. But this, right there, might as well reopen it.

Hermione heard him approach. She looked at him and without a second of hesitation, she was right in front of him, pushing him on the chest. Tom looked quite startled but she kept pushing him. He put his hands in the air and let her, not even flinching. In the end, Hermione shoved the newspaper against his chest. "Well Tom," she spat, "what do we do now ?"

"Calm down," he gently asked her, almost surprised by her outburst. "This is nothing, just a minor step back." Tom took hold of the newspaper and delicately put it down.

"Minor ?" Hermione laughed in disbelief. "This is all your fault !" She accused him. Tom finally managed to put his hands on her shoulders. Hermione tried to get away from his hold, but he tightened his grip on her. "All your fault !" She repeated.

"It's only an inventory."

Hermione huffed, "yeah right. It starts with an inventory and it ends up with the murder case being reopened." She shrugged out of his hold, took a step back and began pacing once more. "I knew it," she burst out, "I knew shit like that would happen eventually."

"Grace, calm down. We are out of reach."

"How would you know ?" Hermione almost shouted.

"Because no one knows we were out of the castle that night !" He yelled.

Here, Tom's yell was only proof he wasn't feeling great about this either. However, Hermione knew deep inside of her he couldn't let panic invade his brain as she did. One of them needed to stay calm.

She looked at him and burst out laughing, a laugh filled with dread.

"No one ?" She mocked. "Tell that to Zabini and his girlfriend then !"

"You know they will never talk."

"Do I ?" She puffed. "Everyone can talk for the right price."

Tom didn't reply, he just sat down and put his forearms on his thighs, silently looking at her. He followed her every move as she kept pacing in front of him.

"Why the fuck are you so calm ? This is all your fucking fault !" Hermione stopped in front of him and kept going. "You were the one wanting to go there, you were the one asking me to go with you, you were the one who killed the fucking man !"

Hermione was feeling frantic, even more now that Tom was here. He was looking at her, not angry by her outburst, but almost concerned.

Finally, he cut her. "And you were the one helping me get out." He rose from his seat and settled in front of her, towering over her. He gently put his hands on her cheeks to keep her eyes stuck on his. "Nothing links us to this. I promise you, Grace, this will not be our downfall."

"We can't be sure," her voice was strained, "you know what they will find during the inventory."

"Then, we will deal with that once it comes to it."

Hermione almost believed him but she still took a step back. She quickly looked at the Quidditch pitch before her eyes met back with his.

"Do we tell the lads ?" She asked him.

"No, we keep that between us."

They didn't talk after this, they simply kept looking at each other. It was only the two of them, nothing else mattered. Hermione and Tom and the silence of the night enveloping them.

There was a silent promise, Tom was promising her that everything would be fine. He told her that with his eyes, and she accepted it. The voices in her head, the ones that had been loud in the last weeks, were slowly quieting down. The voices, begging her to open her eyes, to listen to her head, were not as persistent as they were before.

As Hermione looked at Tom, underneath the clear night sky, she let herself drown a little bit more.

OoOoOo

14.11.1944:

"I need some help with that," Milton explained. "I've been able to bond with some during detention and it worked well. However, I'm not in the same posture with the good students. With my grades and detention record, I'm not taken seriously even if I'm in my seventh year."

Mulciber had been giving them all updates on the recruitment. Just as last year, Milton had been put in charge of talking to the younger generation, shaping young minds. It simply was propaganda. There were no other words for that. Milton was making sure the seed was planted deep in the minds of the next generation.

Controlling the ministry was more than good, but it wasn't a finality. Controlling the ministry could only work if they secured at the same time the future electorate.

The current landscape, with Grindelwald, was only helping them. People were scared, they didn't know what to expect of the future. They were lost, especially the younger ones. And here Milton arrived, giving them a false sense of security, telling them that they weren't alone, that they would always be there for them, that if they needed help they would get it. And when they were ripped, Milton would give the coup de grâce, he would give them a purpose.

Hermione wondered if he knew that Tom had done the exact same thing to him, to every one of them. And sometimes, she even wondered if he had done that to her, too.

"What do you suggest, then ?" Tom asked Milton.

"We involve Orion Black."

Tom frowned at this, not understanding.

"You remember when he told us he was in the card collection club ?" Milton asked. "Well, this club gathers quite a number of students, from good families. After all, Orion Black would never hang out with filthy mudbloods."

"Does he still owe you ?" Antonin asked Tom. "With the prefect title ?"

"He does not but I am not worried about him refusing to help. We share the same views. However, I do not think we should rely entirely on him."

There was a silence before Tom looked at Antonin Dolohov.

"Antonin," he said, "how do you feel about joining a new club ?"

Dolohov almost rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake, Tom. I don't even have cards."

"You buy some then." Hermione pitched in. He sent her a deadly glare before sighing loudly.

Tom stood from his seat, put a cigarette between his lips and went by the window. "During the next Hogsmeade trip, you will buy some at Zonko's Antonin. Make sure you take the good ones."

"Oh !" Edgard added, "buy some fading ink too. We're almost out of it."

OoOoOo

16.11.1944:

Like every Thursday, Hermione was sitting at her usual stool. Abe was cleaning the tables after the last customer had left. She had this feeling in her guts that something wasn't right. It wasn't that Abe wasn't friendly or anything, but she felt a shift between them. She knew it wasn't because of the vote. They had talked it through. So, she wondered what this was about.

She patiently waited for him to come back to the bar. He finally did, took a glass from below it and poured himself a firewhiskey. He took a small look at the state of her drink and topped her too. Hermione kept looking at him.

"Albus came by the other day," Abe said. Hermione froze. "We had a little chat." He let out a sad laugh before continuing. "Twenty years without a word and suddenly he wants to talk."

Hermione's eyes fell onto her drink, not able to sustain the visual contact with Abe. She knew it had something to do with her, and she felt bad to involve Abe in her schemes once more.

"He asked me if I knew you were manipulating me," he said. At that, Hermione's head snapped towards him. Her heart was beating dangerously in her chest. She didn't want Abe to think it was the case. Her mind directly went back to the night of the vote, to the look Abe had, the harsh words that had been said. As she looked at him, she saw that he was weary. "Sometimes I wonder the same thing," he concluded.

Hermione closed her eyes in pain at this. Even if she wanted to tell him she wasn't manipulating him, she had proven the contrary in the past.

"I made a mistake that night," Hermione spoke up in a small voice.

"Do you really consider it a mistake ? Would you do it differently if you could ? Would you still ask me ?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

"I know I can't understand everything and to be entirely honest I'm not sure I want to know everything," he kept going. "But sometimes, I can't help but think that you use that. The fact that I won't ask questions."

Hermione knew this wasn't the extent of what he wanted to say. It seemed like he was omitting something. She looked at him, at his closed expression, at the almost mistrust in his eyes.

The silence was becoming heavier by the second.

"I should get going," she finally said as she got up. "It's getting quite late." Abe nodded.

Hermione put on her cloak, ready to leave the bar when he spoke up. "Will I see you next week ?"

He never had the habit of asking if she would come on Thursday, he usually knew she would. But as a matter of fact, she wouldn't be there. She only had to make sure he knew it wasn't because of what had just happened. "I will have a party to attend next week." She shot him a small smile before leaving.

OoOoOo

23.11.1944:

Hermione was carefully going down the stairs to the common room, making sure not to step on her floor-length dress. It was a pale shade of blue, fitted around the waist, but flowy on her legs. The soft material was ornamented with blue buttons going from the low-cutting neckline to slit on the high of her right thigh. She had put her hair in a low bun, letting some tendrils gently fall on the sides of her head.

Tom was waiting for her downstairs. As she came into his field of vision, his lips slightly quirked up. Hermione took in the sight of him. He was wearing a well-fitted tuxedo, with a black bow. He looked more than good. As she arrived at his level, he gently took her right hand and let his lips brush against her skin. Hermione felt the shivers passing through her entire body. Tom, surely aware of the effect he had on her, looked directly into her eyes, his lips still touching her hand. He smirked at her reaction then stood straight. He offered her his arm, "shall we ?"

They exited the common room.

"Are you sure it's going to work ?" She whispered to him. "I hope I didn't spend an hour preparing myself for nothing."

Tom just looked at her and smiled. "I took care of it. Plus, since when does Slughorn refuse me anything ?"

Slughorn's party was only a few minutes away from the common room. The lads had already gone and as they arrived in the right corridor, they saw them from afar shaking hands with the potions professor.

Tom stopped walking and turned towards her. "Just give me a minute, I will talk to Slughorn and ask him if I can ask my-" he cut himself short then resume, "plus one."

Hermione just nodded, feeling a small ping to her heart. Tom was about to leave when he turned back towards her. He simply looked at her for a minute.

"When we dance later, please remind me to tell you that you look absolutely lovely tonight," he told her just before he left.

Hermione followed him with her eyes, her heart still hammering in her chest.

He arrived at Slughorn's level. Hermione could imagine the smile he bore, the compliment he surely said to the professor and the firm handshake he shared with him. They talked for a couple of seconds, Slughorn even laughed. Then, Tom shot her a quick glance. Hermione stood straight, expecting him to invite her in. Yet, this wasn't what happened. Slughorn put a hand on Tom's shoulder, to welcome him inside the room. Tom looked at her and shook his head no. Then, he disappeared inside.

Hermione froze in her spot. She stood, dumbfounded, at where Tom had just been, at this empty spot taunting her. She frowned, opened her mouth, but stayed silent. She didn't know what to think, what to do, what to make of what had just happened. She felt almost humiliated, stupid in her dress, foolish with her heels and make-up. She lowered her gaze and looked at the ground.

She should have known better. She didn't know who she was mad at. At herself for trusting Tom, at Tom for making her believe he had taken care of it, or at Slughorn for not even inviting her in the first place.

She spun on her heels and left the hallway.

She needed a fucking drink.

---

23.11.1944:

Tom had followed Slughorn inside. The room was already packed with Ministry officials, professional Quidditch players and some other eminent men. Tom felt his professor's hand gently removing itself from his shoulder. From afar, he saw the lads. They were all looking at him, frowning. They had expected Grace to be at his side, just like he had.

He had talked to Slughorn after receiving the invitation. The professor had told him it was a gentleman's evening, that they didn't need to involve the ladies. However, Tom was sure he wouldn't refuse him anything. Yet, he did.

Tom went over the look Grace had on her face a few moments earlier when she had realised she wouldn't go in.

Tom shook his head, to snap back to reality. He walked towards the lads, snatching a glass of firewhiskey on his way to them.

"Where's Grace ?" Edmund asked. Tom looked around him, then downed the glass in one go. The other lads didn't push further, well aware he was pissed about her not being here.

Finally, Slughorn stood in the middle of the room, a flute of champagne in hand and a big smile on his face. He welcomed everyone and began a small speech. Tom tuned him out, not willing to listen to what he had to say.

"What do we do then ?" Dolohov whispered.

"We do as planned," Tom snapped. They all nodded and dispersed in the room. Only Antonin was at his side, also looking around the room.

Tom was watching the guests, to fully understand the extent of what they had to do. He saw some figures he knew he ought to talk to during the night but now he was also obliged to look for the people Grace was supposed to talk to. She was good at this, mingling at parties, yet she wasn't here.

"We'll manage without her," Antonin said.

"I know we will," Tom replied without looking at the boy. He saw a waiter coming their way and snatched another drink. "She will be mad."

Dolohov huffed at this and it caught Tom's attention. "I'm sure she'll find something else to do."

"What do you mean ?"

"Don't you know ?" Dolohov smirked. "She didn't tell you ?"

Tom had now turned fully towards the other boy, his grip tightening on his drink. "Told me what ?"

Antonin laughed.

---

23.11.1944:

She had cast a warming charm on herself. She hadn't even thought about coming back to the common room to fetch her cloak, she just wanted to get away from the castle. She had gotten out of the passageway and stepped foot inside of Hogsmeade. The streets were deserted and only the sound of her heels on the pavement resonated. Hermione could see the mist escaping from her lips at every exhale.

She saw from afar Abe's bar. She didn't even think before coming down there. Even if her relationship with Abe was quite strained at the moment, she still knew she could come down here.

Hermione put her hand on the handle and opened the door. The tables at the back were packed with groups of wizards, some of which were singing out of drunkenness. She knew she stood out. She was still wearing this dress, but she couldn't care less. She removed the warming charm from herself as she advanced towards the bar, hearing Abe's laugh in the background. Hermione put the wand back into her purse but froze as she heard another laugh coming from the bar. Her hand froze on her bag and she slowly rose her head.

Abe was looking at her in distress, apparently not expecting her to be there. He seemed uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't move. She just stared in disbelief.

Abe's eyes went back to the man in front of him. Hermione felt her heart beating against her ribs. She waited for him to turn around, to look at her, to say something. Slowly, his eyes left Abe and he turned his head towards her.

Their eyes met, only for a fraction of a second, but Hermione felt like it lasted for hours.

"You told me she wouldn't be here !" He said as he faced Abe once more.

Hermione scoffed, feeling the ghost of tears in her eyes. She rolled them and let out a bitter laugh.

"Well, it's good to see you too, Cole."

---

23.11.1944:

"The fuck is he doing in town ?" Tom snapped. "Is he not in Brazil or something ?"

"Argentina actually," Dolohov snickered.

Tom shot him a deadly glare. He didn't know what to think. Why didn't Grace tell him ? He couldn't help but think about this, why could have been her reason not to tell him. His eyes were roaming around the room, unable to focus on anything. Tom was about to ask Dolohov more information about this when something caught Tom's attention.

At the front of the room, next to the door, appeared Haurus Parkinson. In itself, this wasn't surprising. However, the smaller figure at his side was. Cassandre was standing by his father, seeming uncomfortable in his suit. Tom frowned at the sight. Slughorn had expressly said this party only gathered seventh-year. So what was Cassandre Parkinson, sixth-year, doing there ?

Slughorn had approached father and son, a large grin on his face. He shook hands with both before welcoming them inside.

"What is he doing here ?" Someone asked. Tom turned towards the voice and saw Edgard Lestrange. Tom didn't bother answering, he just left the two boys behind and walked towards the young Parkinson. Cassandre was on the left of his father, who was deep in conversation with Slughorn. Tom slowly approached and went to stand by his side.

"Cassandre," Tom greeted him, in a low voice. Cassandre lifted his chin and looked at him.

"Good evening," he replied.

"I was not aware you were invited"

"I wasn't," he admitted. Cassandre then looked at his father. Tom was about to ask him how he got there, even if he had a small idea in his head, but Slughorn talked.

"Haurus, do you remember Tom Riddle ?" The large professor asked. "You must have seen him at some of my parties."

Actually, the last time Tom had seen Haurus had been during his son's burial.

Haurus Parkinson turned to face Tom and extended his hand. Tom shook it and straightened his back.

"Pleasure to see you again, sir," he said.

"Tom is now Headboy," Slughorn proudly added. "Quite the brilliant man."

"Hopefully, my son will follow in your step," Haurus laughed as he put a firm hand on Cassandre's shoulder. Tom saw Cassandre freezing at the touch, he stopped himself from frowning and smiled at the man instead.

As Tom tried to find out the nature of the relationship between father and son, Slughorn kept talking in the background.

"By the way," the professor said, "I'm sure Armando had thanked you enough, but I'd like to do it myself for your gracious donation". Tom wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"It was nothing," Haurus replied, "I've always thought Hogwarts had to renew its painting collection one day. After all, there wasn't enough Slytherin on the walls."

---

23.11.1944:

Hermione walked towards the bar. "I guess this is why you asked me if I was coming tonight last week," she said to Abe. She grabbed Cole's drink, downed it and loudly put the glass down on the bar. "Well, I won't bother you further," she spat, "have a good night."

She turned around and left the bar. Once outside, she shivered from the cold. She looked through her purse for her wand when she heard Cole's voice behind her.

"Grace," he said. Hermione didn't turn around, she just tensed. She dismissed the idea of casting a warming charm and began walking away from him.

"Grace !"

She could hear him following her, but she had no desire to turn around. Hermione just kept walking when Cole took her by the arm to stop her.

"What ?" She snapped as she turned around to face him.

She looked at him. He was tanner than the last time she had seen him, and his hair was a little bit blonder. She guessed this was due to the sun in Argentina. As she looked at him, she wondered if he had always been this tall or if she had just forgotten. He looked good, he looked older even though they hadn't seen each other in just a few months.

"You look nice," he shyly told her.

"Nice ?" She scoffed. "Is that it ? I look nice ? Is that all you have to say to me ?"

Cole didn't reply, he just kept looking at her. His eyes were roaming around her face. Hermione felt the lump in her throat becoming increasingly suffocating.

"I am happy to know I mean enough for you to tell me you're back," she sadly laughed. She looked at him one last time before turning around to leave. She walked a couple of meters when she heard his voice once more.

"Fuck you, Grace."

At this, Hermione spun on her heels to look at him. Cole had not moved, he was still standing in the same spot as a second before. He didn't try to move towards her or anything. He simply stood there, looking at her in disbelief.

"You don't get to say that to me," he kept going. "After the letter you sent me in August, well if I can call that a letter," Cole bitterly laughed, "I don't owe you anything. So yes Grace, fuck you."

Hermione looked at him for a minute, not able to say anything, not out loud anyway. Cole wouldn't be able to understand the reasoning behind what she had done. He couldn't understand that she wanted him far away from her so he could be safe. Everything she touched, everything she held dear ultimately ended broken. She couldn't do that to him. So, Hermione just looked one last time at him and turned around. She began walking away from him when she heard a small laugh, filled with pain.

"As always," Cole said, "as always you run away."

At this, Hermione spun around.

"You wanted to leave !" She cried. "What was I supposed to do ? Beg you to stay with me so we could be miserable together ?"

"I was just waiting for you to reply to me ! Just once !" Cole had tears in his eyes, too.

"And what would I have said ?" Her voice was strained, on the verge of breaking.

"Anything ! I would have taken even the smallest thing. I just needed to know I wasn't alone, Grace !"

"And what if I needed to be alone ?" She yelled.

Cole rolled his eyes, unable to contain the sour expression out of his face.

"Spending the entire summer with the lads, that's what you call being alone ?"

"At least, they weren't mourning, they weren't grieving, they weren't drowning in sadness !"

"I know that's not it. Come on Grace, I know when you're not telling the truth."

Hermione only shook her head no.

"Come on ! Tell me !" Cole kept pushing. He had taken a few steps towards her. She could see in frantic eyes skimming through her entire face. She could sense his need for an answer yet she didn't feel like she could give him one. "Simply tell me you didn't want to spend the summer with me !"

At every word coming out of Cole's mouth, a new tear rolled down her face. She was almost flinching at the sharpness of his voice, at the sadness in his eyes, at the desperation of his entire body. He kept pushing and pushing until she felt like being pinned against a wall, with nothing else to do but shout out the truth.

"I was feeling guilty !"

It came from so deep within her it felt like the scream tore her apart. She felt her vocal cords hurting from the strength of it and her heart breaking at the agonising truth.

Cole's entire face morphed at the shout and his mouth dropped. He looked at her. He really looked at her. Cole saw the bags under her eyes, the weight she had lost in the past months, the way she stood, almost frail and fragile. Cole looked at her and only saw the pain, the same one he bore. As Cole looked at her, he truly understood that she had never meant to hurt him. She was simply hurting herself.

As for Hermione, she felt miserable underneath his gaze. She saw a realisation passing through his eyes, and she knew he was misunderstanding what had just been said. He had told her the same thing that night, on the bridge. Cole, too, was feeling guilty for not having been there for his best friend. She would take it. This small misunderstanding, she would gladly take it rather than telling her truth.

Without a word being said, they arrived at the same conclusion. What they were doing was pointless, only hurtful. They only had each other. They shouldn't be fighting, they shouldn't be yelling at each other. They should just embrace being together. They should smile and laugh and revel in the fact of being in each other's company.

Then, Cole slowly approached her and she kept looking at him. He arrived at her level, took off his coat and gently draped it upon her shoulders. She almost choked on her tears as she smelled Cole's cologne. It had been months since she had, and she had not realised how much she had missed it.

She felt his arms around her waist and she let her head fall on his shoulder. It felt good.

"I missed you," she told him.

"I missed you, too," he replied as he kissed the crown of her head.

---

23.11.1944:

Tom knew he would eventually be bored. Without Grace by his side, this party would eventually turn dull. He had talked with more people than he could count. He now found himself with Abraxas and Lovegood son, talking about what they expected of the future.

Tom was quite shocked to learn that Aleksander Lovegood was not planning on following his father's career in journalism. Tom briefly looked at Malfoy and saw him quite shocked too.

"What would you like to do, then ?" Tom smiled at the Ravenclaw.

"I'm thinking about going pro."

Aleksander had been the Ravenclaw keeper for three years now and had built himself a small reputation of being excellent at it. It didn't surprise Tom that the boy would like to follow this career, however, it bothered him he did.

"Well, good luck with that," Tom replied.

"And you Tom ? What would you like to do ? Work at the ministry ?"

Riddle could feel the amusement in Abraxas' eyes at the question.

"I have never been fond of politics," Tom replied. Abraxas choked on his drink and tried not to laugh at what had been said. "Maybe teaching, that would be nice."

Tom didn't follow the rest of the conversation, he absently looked around him, for a better conversation to have with someone new. He was about to go by Edgard's side, currently talking with some of his father's friends, when someone caught his eyes. Tom brought his glass to his lips, took a small sip of his firewhiskey and smiled.

"Would you excuse me, I have someone I need to greet," he said before walking through the room.

He left his empty glass on a tray and made sure his bowtie was perfectly knotted around his neck before stepping in.

"Mister Zabini," he smiled, "Tom Riddle, nice to finally meet you."

The Head of Law Enforcement's eyes widened at the name. A small smile grew on his lips and shook Tom's hand. "I have received your letter. I believe we have a few things to talk about."

---

23.11.1944:

Abe had closed the bar. It was just the three of them, over a bottle of firewhiskey, the tame light of the chimney illuminating the room. Cole had told her everything about Argentina, and Hermione had welcomed every one of his anecdotes with joy. It was soft, it was good, it was real.

She was laughing, too, like she had not laughed in months. She felt a certain lightness in her chest. It was an almost out of body experience. How long had it been since she had felt this way ? This joy bubbling in her heart, her cheeks almost hurting from her smile.

"Well kids," Abe cleared his throat, "I'm knackered, but you stay here. You know how to close the bar behind you."

"Oh no Abe !" Hermione smiled, "please stay !"

"You're not old enough to leave us mid-bottle Abe," Cole joined in.

"You know I can't follow the distance with you two," Abe laughed.

Cole and Hermione watched as he went upstairs, leaving them alone. Cole poured them another drink and then looked at her, a small smile on his lips. Hermione laughed.

"What ?" She asked.

"Nothing," Cole shrugged, "I just missed this. Honestly, it's been a while since I've been feeling like that."

Hermione smiled at this, she was feeling the exact same thing. It was like a break she didn't know she needed. And god, she needed it.

"So," Cole resumed, "I've been talking about myself all night long. I need to hear about you now."

"Well, nothing's different."

"You can't tell me nothing has changed in the last six months ! Come on Grace !"

"I have apparition classes now, and let me tell you that I'm doing better than you did," she teased him.

"Do you now ?" Cole laughed, "if I remember correctly Pollux was the one struggling with apparition, I was shit at patronuses."

Hermione saw the falter in Cole's smile at the mention of Pollux. He sensed the shift in the atmosphere, too. Hermione opened her mouth but he cut her short by standing up and pulling her to her feet.

With his left hand, he snatched the bottle of firewhiskey and with his right he took her by the arm.

"What are you doing ?" Hermione laughed.

"We're going outside !"

Hermione didn't have the time to protest that Cole was pulling her out of the bar. As she set foot outside, she tightened Cole's vest on her shoulders and walked to join him in the middle of the street.

Cole took a large swing of alcohol before giving it to her. She mirrored what he had just done and he laughed at the face she made. Then, out of nowhere, she saw a small snowflake settling right at the top of Cole's nose. They both looked up to the night sky and saw hundreds of snowflakes falling down their way.

Hermione remembered telling herself she didn't like the snow, but as she looked back at Cole and saw him already looking back, she didn't feel the same. He extended a hand, "care to dance ?" He asked.

Silently, she put her hand in his and felt his other arm encircling her waist. They were gently swaying in the middle of a deserted street, the snow falling on their intertwined bodies when Cole whispered in her ear, "you look beautiful."

It was a kind compliment and she felt touched by it. Yet, something was wrong. She had the word lovely on loop in her mind.

"I finally got to dance with you," Cole kept saying.

"I hope I won't disappoint," she softly laughed in the crook of his neck and felt him shiver at it.

Then, Cole made her spin around and around, making her laugh out loud. When she stopped, they looked at each other. Time went still, there was no other sound than the beat of their heart. There was nothing but the two of them and the snow surrounding them. They looked at each other, completely lost in the moment. Then, Cole put one hand on her cheek, letting his thumb gently graze the skin there. He then put his other hand on the opposite cheek. Hermione felt like he had just stolen her breath away in one simple motion. Her eyes flickered to his lips and she saw he did the same.

Hermione slowly rose herself on her toes and gently leaned. She closed the gap between them and their lips finally met.

They looked into each other's eyes after. They didn't say a word, they didn't move. They were right before, they only had each other, but it wasn't enough, was it ?

Cole saw something in her eyes and he begged himself not to ask any questions, not to protest. He knew. He simply knew. This kiss wasn't the beginning, it simply was the end.

So they looked at each other as if they had all the time in the world.

They stared and pledged their silent goodbyes as they both knew this was it.

OoOoOo

24.11.1944:

It was well past midnight when Hermione found herself standing in front of the common room door. She felt calm. The form of calmness that only came with sadness. She stood still in front of the door for another moment, just to bathe in this quietness.

Finally, she whispered the password and got in. She wasn't alone.

He was there, sitting on the couch facing the chimney. He was still wearing his tuxedo, the bow around his neck untied though. There was a book on the seat next to him. There was no other sound than the crackling fire. Hermione knew he heard her. Silently and without taking his eyes away from the fire, he moved the book into his lap to read it, silently inviting her to join him.

Hermione took a large inspiration before slowly walking towards the couch. She sat down in silence, joining him in watching the fire.

"Were you waiting for me ?" She eventually asked him in a soft voice.

Tom simply hummed.

They fell back into silence. They still hadn't looked at each other. Hermione could hear Tom turning the page of his book now and then.

She asked another question. "Did you have a pleasant night ?"

Tom didn't even acknowledge what she had asked him, he simply stayed silent, his eyes riveted on his book. Hermione didn't quite understand what was going on inside his mind. She didn't know if she ought to ask another question. In the end, she braced herself and spoke up once more.

"I was with Cole."

Hermione didn't know why she had the urge to tell him that. She maybe had expected a certain reaction from him, something more than just him tensing at her side and keeping reading. She turned her head towards Tom and looked at him. She first looked at the side of his face, at his clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrow. Then, her eyes went down to his hands, tightly gripping the side of the book. Something felt wrong though, Tom didn't seem surprised.

"Nothing ?" She was confused. "Are you not angry ? Jealous ?" Tom always had his bit to say, yet he didn't that night.

"You were with him, but you are here now. Isn't it what matters in the end ?" He replied, still not looking at her. He casually turned the page of his book and resumed his reading.

"I kissed him."

This made him look at her. His head snapped towards her, and Hermione could see the tension in his entire face. He was restraining himself from saying anything, from reacting. His eyes then went up to her hair, where some snowflakes were still in it. Hermione remembered telling him she didn't like the snow and she briefly wondered if he did too.

"Why are you telling me this ? What are you expecting of me, Grace ?" He asked, confused. "Are you expecting me to get angry ?" His eyebrows were still furrowed and he couldn't stop the anger in his voice from dripping away. "To yell ? To break his nose ? To beg ?" Tom spat.

"I don't know." This was the honest truth. She had no clue what she expected of him.

"Are you asking for my permission to be with him ? Is that why you are telling me this ?" Tom then let out a bitter laugh. "As if you needed it."

Tom looked back to the fire and he let the silence surround them once more. The tension between them was becoming suffocating. She knew he was mad, angry. As for her, she was entirely lost.

His eyes finally left her face and he stared back at the fire. Hermione didn't know what to do, what to say to him, so in the end, she just let the silence fall back around them. She kept looking at him though, the anger he had on his face a moment earlier was gone now. He looked lost, confused, dazed.

"Why did you kiss him ?" He finally asked. Hermione could easily mistake the genuinity in his voice for hurt. She closed her eyes at the painful question.

"Because I could," she confessed in a small voice.

"Then, why don't you kiss me ?" Tom looked back at her and Hermione felt her heart skipping a beat. Underneath the light of the chimney, Tom looked almost ethereal.

"Because I shouldn't," she whispered.

Tom heard the last silent part of this answer. He knew she wanted to, he knew she craved to get closer, to touch him, to feel her lips against him. Hermione felt a pull at her chest, something out of this world drawing her to him. Her eyes roamed around his face, first to his eyes, then his scar to finally settle on his lips. They were right there, so close, so inviting. Without even realising, Hermione slowly leaned towards him. Tom didn't move to meet her, he just waited, like he had told her he would.

Softly, she put her right hand above his heart and felt the hammering beat of it. Hermione also heard the sharp inhale Tom just took. Lazily, her hand went up to the side of his neck to finally settle to the back of it. She could feel the soft hair contrasting with the heat of his skin. Finally, their noses touched. Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drown in the smell of him. Tom gently brushed his nose with hers and Hermione felt the thousands of shivers passing through her body. Instinctively, she slightly opened her mouth and felt the phantom touch of his on it. Hermione tenderly pressed her lips against his and finally basked in the feeling of completeness.

OoOoOo

24.11.1944 :

As Grace finally kissed him, Tom felt like she had just given him the oxygen he was missing. He indulged in the sweetness of her lips, in the smell of her skin. It was her, just her and it was all he needed. He pressed his palms against her skin, feeling the soft cloth underneath his fingertips. He let his finger follow her spine and relished in the sharp intake a breath she took. Tom seized this small moment of their mouths not touching to trail his lips along her jaw to finally reach her neck. Grace bent her head backwards, giving him a silent invitation to taste her skin.

Tom felt her hand sliding underneath his collar. It almost felt like she was burning him and he couldn't wait but to burst into flames. He finally detached his lips from her neck, from the need to feel her mouth on his once more. As their lips met, Grace's left hand pressed against his torso, gently grazing her nails against the white of his shit. Tom almost groaned at this. Then, she began unbuttoning his shirt, slowly and deliberately, like she knew how crazy it drove him. She finally undid all of the buttons and pushed the shirt off of him. Grace pressed her palms against his bare shoulders as if she needed to feel more of him.

Their kiss was no longer sweet nor tender, but the only result of hunger, burning desire, craving. Tom felt like a dying man, ready to succumb at any moment if she stopped kissing him. He was at her mercy.

One of his hands finally stopped where the zip of her dress began. He grabbed it between his fingers and gently pulled it down. At every patch of skin he revealed, Tom felt her eagerness intensifying. Ultimately nothing stopped him from removing the long dress from her body, but still, he didn't. He slowly withdrew his lips from her mouth. Tom could finally see her face and it was magnificent. She had her eyes closed and her lips swollen. Finally, she slowly opened her eyes to look at him, too. He didn't have to say anything, Grace understood the silent question. Without taking her eyes away from his, she removed her hands from his chest, put them on her shoulders, hooking her fingers around each strap and stood up.

Tom couldn't take his eyes away from her, from her gloriousness. Slowly, Grace pushed them off her shoulders, letting the dress gently fall down her body and pool at her feet. Tom felt like she had taken away his ability to form coherent thoughts. In front of his reaction, Grace's eyes flared with envy. She approached him, her stare almost lighting him on fire. She put one knee on the couch, then another one and gently bent above him. Without their eyes leaving each other, she took the time to fully push his shirt off his body. Tom felt like in a trance, unable to mouth any word, unable to even move. Her face rested a few centimetres from his, her lips almost brushing against his own.

Then, Tom felt Grace taking one of his hands. It was a soft gesture, a gentle invitation as she put it on her lower back. Her skin was burning hot. He pushed his hand further against her skin and welcomed her onto his lap. Her hands went back to his neck and she finally gave him the kiss he was craving.

He needed more. Tom traced the column of her neck with his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the scar there. He felt her entire body shuddering underneath his touch and let himself smile on her neck. He kept going lower until his lips brushed with the scar tissue on her chest and Grace arched at the touch.

Tom remembered that night on the bleachers last year. When she had pushed him inside her memories. He remembered the feeling of the spell against his own chest and as he had looked at her later, he had felt the need to touch it. Finally, he did and he couldn't help but pepper the scar with small kisses. Tom felt her hands coming to his hair and tightening their hold at each new kiss.

He couldn't get enough of her, he felt intoxicated by her scent, by her warmth. He needed to get closer, they both needed it. Grace's hand went to his belt and blindly fumbled with the buckle. Gently, he pushed her until her back rested on the leather couch and got rid of his trousers. He pressed his entire body against hers, their lips reconnecting.

Tom removed the last pieces of clothes that separated them.

He felt like the world had stopped around them, nothing else mattered than her, her skin, her lips, her, just her. Slowly, they discovered each other's body, with their hands, their lips. They savoured every inch of the other and indulged in the taste of their skins.

For a moment, they just looked at each other as they shared the same breath. Tom wanted to tell her so many things at this instant but he simply said one thing. "You look absolutely lovely," he whispered against her lips.

Grace's right hand delicately settled on his lower back and she gently pushed him against her. Tom understood the silent plea and felt the same urge. One of his hands went to her hair, near her temple and he let his thumb brush against the apple of her cheek. He knew Grace could see the adoration in his eyes at this moment.

Finally, their bodies met.

She gave him the last thing she could.

In one celestial moment, his body ended where hers began.

---

24.11.1944 :

The fire of the chimney had dimmed and they both basked in the remaining soft glow. Hermione's head rested against his chest. She let herself be soothed by the steady beat of his heart as Tom carded his hand through her hair. He had a cigarette on his lips and he gently offered it to her.

They were comfortable with the silence that surrounded them. But then, she felt him softly laugh underneath her. Slowly, she rested her chin on his chest and looked at him. Tom looked so young, so carefree. His eyes met hers and Hermione relished at the look of adoration they held. She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain what he found funny.

"I was just thinking..." he murmured, a smile on his lips, "I simply hope no one heard us." Hermione's eyes widened and she briefly cursed herself for not having even thought about this. She quickly began to rise up only for Tom's arms to tighten around her. He began to laugh and it was beautiful.

"I am kidding," he whispered against her temple, "I put a silencing charm before you arrived."

Hermione frowned for an instant before softly smiling. "How presumptuous of you, Tom."

"Actually, I was more thinking you would yell at me for not getting into the party," he laughed and she joined him.

Hermione's eyes went to the window next to the staircases leading to the dorms and witnessed some rays of sunshine passing through the Black Lake's water.

"It's getting quite late," she murmured against his skin. Tom just hummed. They didn't act on it. They just laid there, enjoying the silence and the press of their bodies. She didn't want to move at the risk of bursting the perfect bubble they were in.

Tom's fingers let go of her hands and delicately went down her bare back. Hermione felt him chuckle as he surely saw the goosebumps it procured her. His left arm was lying still right next to her. Gingerly, she brushed her fingers against his forearm. She began tracing random forms on it.

A thought came into her mind, how his left forearm was bare contrasting with the lads', all adorning the same pale scar. It was logical he didn't have one after all. He had never vowed anything. They all had pledged their lives to the cause, to him. Yet, nothing held him back. He was free of commitment. So was she.

Absently, she traced what could have been his own.

OoOoOo

24.11.1944 :

She was now walking down the hallway to reach the Great Hall for breakfast. She felt a certain lightness in every step she took. Finally, she arrived at her destination and entered. As soon as her eyes fell on the Slytherin table she saw him. As if he knew she had just arrived, he rose his head and looked at her.

He badly hid his smirk and Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight. She walked forward and remembered how they said goodbye a few hours earlier. At one point, they had gotten up. They had stood at the bottom of the stairs. Tom had carefully taken her face between his face before chastely kissing her.

She arrived at the wives' level and stopped. She greeted them and sat next to Galatis. She looked at Tom one last time before her eyes fell on the person next to him. Abraxas was already staring at her, a small frown between his eyebrows.

"So, how was the party last night ?" Galbanda asked. Hermione refrained from smiling and casually answered. "Everything went fine."

This day became as any other day would, as if nothing had changed. Yet, everything was different.

OoOoOo

27.11.1943:

They had just wrapped up their meeting. The lads were ready to leave. Hermione grabbed Abraxas' arm and waited for everyone but Tom to have exited the room before she spoke up.

"Can you go fetch Cassandre, please ?" She simply asked him. Malfoy seemed confused at the request and briefly shared a look with Tom. In the end, he simply nodded and went to go get the boy.

Hermione went by the window and Tom joined her. Instinctively, he handed her a cigarette and lighted it.

"May I ask why you need Cassandre ?" He asked her. Hermione didn't reply right away, she took a long drag of the fag, gave it to him and turned towards Tom.

"I thought about what the lads did," she began to explain. Tom didn't say anything, he let her continue. "I think it's time I do it, too."

Tom's eyes widened in surprise. He had never expected her to follow in the steps of the lads, especially with something this important.

"Why now ?" He asked. "Why Cassandre ?"

Hermione turned towards the window and looked outside. "I believe it's time I fully commit myself to the cause." She purposely didn't answer his question about Cassandre and Tom didn't push further.

A dozen minutes later, the door to the fifth-floor room opened and Cassandre stepped in. He looked confused, almost weary. He briefly looked around him, not having set foot inside this room in the past. Parkinson didn't fully comprehend the meaning of this room, what it represented.

Hermione pushed herself from the windowsill and walked fully inside the room.

"Cassandre," she said in a stone-cold voice, "you wanted to be a part of this, right ?" The boy didn't know what to say nor do. He simply frowned and his eyes flickered to Tom. "Well, you'll be a part of it," she concluded. "Do you know how to cast an unbreakable vow ?"

Parkinson's eyes widened and they went back to Tom, in panic. The Headboy had joined her in the middle of the room. "Answer her," he just told him.

"I-I do," the boy stuttered before straightening his back, trying to regain some composure.

Hermione simply turned her entire body towards Tom, extended her left arm, just like the lads had done weeks before. Tom didn't hesitate before wrapping his hand around her forearm. Cassandre had settled next to them, wand at the ready, and cast the charm.

"Do you, Grace Hortense," Tom said, "vow to always put the cause first ?"

"I do," she lied.

Hermione's eyes went to their intertwined arms and watched, almost amazed, as silver filaments wrapped around them.

"Do you, Grace Hortense, vow to never use the cause for your sole advantage ?"

"I do," she lied.

Hermione felt the soft skin of Tom brushing against hers. She saw the small glee he had in his eyes.

"Do you, Grace Hortense, vow to never betray the cause ?"

"I do," she lied.

Tom was about to withdraw his hand from his arm when Hermione tightened her grip. She had just bound her life to his. However, unlike the lads, this wasn't a one-way street for her. Tom frowned, not fully understanding why she wouldn't let him let go.

"One day I will retaliate for Pollux Parkinson's death," she said, not taking her eyes away from him. Her gaze was no longer warm, but cold. She saw, from the corner of her eyes, Cassandre tensing up. The boy must have finally realised why she had chosen him to do the spell. She needed him to know.

Tom just frowned, but he should have known. He should have expected her to do something like this. She was just like him, demanding what was due, what he owed her. And he owed her that much.

"Do you, Tom Riddle, vow to let me do it ?" She asked. Tom froze for a second before wrapping his hands around her arm again.

Tom didn't have to think about this answer. She had just vowed herself to never betray him, she had vowed her life on it. So, he could give her that if she wanted.

"I do," he replied.

Slowly, they withdrew their hands. Hermione's eyes discovered the matching silvery scar they both bore.

---

Authors' note:

Hi there ! Happy 14th of July to every french folk out there!

For once we didn't take that much time to update. Let us tell you that we are no smut queens. We won't be able to write anything explicit. Tbh, we are two writing this ff and our friendship evolved when we wrote their first time. We had a small "walk of shame" this morning.

We hope you enjoyed it.

Lots of love