Hermione trudged along the pathless forest floor. Her boots, after learning her lesson the first time, were charmed to remain heavy on impact against assailants, yet weightless for her feet and soundless on any terrain.
Apart from the birdsongs of the Lithuanian forest, she and her companion were as silent as wraiths. Without moving her head, she let her eyes travel to her right towards said companion. Keeping pace with her at a respectable distance, not too far in order to quickly aid the other yet not near enough to provide each other their space, was none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy.
If someone had told her back then that she would one day be working together with him, relying on each other to watch the other's back for more than a month, she would've called them mad with no hope for recovery.
Yet here she was, standing with the very prat who bullied her throughout her school years. His boots were also imbued by her spellwork.
She watched on as he rechecked everything in his pack. It had been four years since Harry died and Voldemort claimed complete victory. They were both twenty-two, still young and at their prime, yet the fallout of the war had aged and tired them significantly in all mind, body, and spirit. She honestly didn't recognize Draco at first when they literally bumped into each other. Both of them were running away from Snatchers, and in that single minute, an armistice was signed.
"I have everything," Draco announced, pack secured once more on his back. Gone was the sophistication in his aristocratic features; a five o'clock shadow now decorated his face, his skin sallower than pale from lack of nutrition, and bags weighed heavy under his eyes from paranoia and lack of sleep.
The boy who once had house elves at his beck and call, who catered to his every whim, born with a golden spoon in his mouth, someone who didn't need to lift a single finger in his life, was reduced to a fugitive forever on the run.
Not that she was faring any better. At least back when they were searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes, she still felt secure, knowing that she had Harry and Ron watching over her while she slept. Now she bolts up like a frightened cat at the faintest hint of footsteps that wasn't hers.
As both a muggleborn and the last surviving closest person to Harry Potter, the bounty on her head would secure any wizarding family's life for a lifetime.
"Good," she replied.
She's heard, of course. Before she went to Australia and returned to Europe, how the Malfoys had fallen out of the Dark Lord's favor and were branded as blood traitors. How every coin in their coffers now belonged in Voldemort's pockets. No amount of history and wealth could sway Lord Voldemort, and at his behest, the Malfoys had been reduced to the same level as muggleborns they happily despised.
With large targets on their backs, England was no longer safe for any of them. So what else was there to do but run? For Hermione, it was to jump from one wizarding community to another, no matter how big or small. Returning to the muggle world was out of the question, and she'd be damned if she didn't learn everything she can about an area before it could reach Voldemort's dark grasp. This included their magic, the ins and outs of their cultures, and even the shady underground channels.
As for the Malfoys, they have dug as deep as they could of their roots and found hope in Lithuania. Unfortunately, they had been ambushed on their way and Draco had gotten separated. Fortunately for him, Hermione was also heading towards the same direction.
"Here," Hermione held out her hand holding a journal between her fingers.
"What is it?" Draco narrowed his eyes at it in suspicion.
She sighed in exasperation but nonetheless understood. Just because they have formed a temporary truce during the time they traveled together, did not mean the previous years and transgressions were so easily forgotten.
"Just take it," she insisted, "Consider it a gift."
He looked into her eyes for a long moment before eventually accepting the journal, but not before leafing through the pages. It was a thin notebook, and it didn't contain much, but the contents should be more than enough. Draco thought so too, because his scowl had morphed into surprise.
"You're seriously giving me this?"
"It's just a copy," she shrugged. Besides, it's not as if she put everything she knew in there. The defensive and protection spells, as well as runic wards, should be enough for them. Because despite her envy, her hardening heart still couldn't allow her to let Draco experience what if felt like to lose one's parents.
A scowl was fixed on his face again, though it wasn't as bad as before. Nevertheless, their conditions have been met and there was no point in staying together any longer. While the Malfoys would be content to go into hiding, Hermione would rather remain on the move. Just as she was about to bid him farewell, Draco did the unexpected and took out something from his pack.
Her eyes opened as wide as saucers.
"It's Snape's," he said, pointing his chin on the much thicker journal in his hand, "A compilation of all the material he left me when he died."
Ah yes, she nearly forgot he was their late professor's godson.
"Why would you give them to me?"
This time, Draco actually rolled his eyes and Hermione once more saw the haughty boy untainted by the war, "Please, Granger, as if I'll allow you to have me owe you anything."
Her lips parted, intending to refute and stand by her genuine intentions, but then she remembered what was willingly being offered to her. No matter how unfavorable Professor Snape had been to them, not even she would deny the man's talent. And Hermione Granger always had a voracious appetite for knowledge.
Carefully, she accepted his counter-gift. He also looked nonplussed when she skimmed through the pages.
"Thank you," she said genuinely. Her arms brought it over her chest, as if afraid he would take it back. The gesture and treasured knowledge bound in her arms made the journal feel heavier than it should. Was the protection magic she shared him with to use with his family truly as valuable as the Potion Master's works?
He huffed as he mimicked her shrug, "It's just a copy. In case something happens to the original."
That said, Draco readjusted his pack and turned on his heel. Seeing as if that was the end of their exchange.
Hermione didn't expect a goodbye. Their truce was one forged from a temporary common goal. It did not instantly mean they had become friends. Furthermore, she understood that her former classmate still had that stubborn pureblood pride in his system. She should at least give him that.
Not to mention… it was nice seeing a familiar face again.
"Granger," she stopped mid-step and looked over her shoulder. They were a couple of yards apart now.
"Yes?"
He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, as if gathering his strength. With those weary shoulders, she wouldn't doubt it, "You watch yourself out there."
There was still reluctance and haughtiness in his voice. It did not have the warmth she longed for, but it was a comfort still with the shred of sincerity she had picked up among them.
"You too, Malfoy. Your mother's probably waiting for you right now."
Though it was only wishful thinking, she really hoped for it to be true. Draco had no way of communication whatsoever with his mother and was only holding onto their promise to meet at their destination in Lithuania. Nevertheless, Draco accepted it with a nod of his head.
"Oh, and you better not help out any more people! In these times, it will break that bloody bleeding heart of yours," he said with finality as he walked away in the opposite direction.
Those were the last words he'd ever spoken to her and the last time she'll ever of see him. She genuinely hoped that he would reunite with his mother.
Hermione stared at his retreating back until he finally disappeared between the trees. In her mind's eye, she saw her brother lying in her arms as a promise was made between them, the snake made of fire swallowing the Burrow and all of its residents inside, her parents' eyes reflecting the acrid green of the Avada in their Australian home, and her Crookshanks lying in a grave she dug herself in the Forest of Dean.
A wry, bitter smile twisted Hermione's lip.
"Already broken."
.
Ahh a door inside her memory palace had opened by itself again.
Though she supposed it couldn't be helped with the man standing before her.
She had been too blind with rage during her rescue of her son to look at him properly, but now that she had sobered, it felt like seeing a ghost.
Abraxas Malfoy. Although he did not have the same uncanny resemblance with his grandson as Tom had with Alduin, his platinum blonde hair and some facial features had undoubtedly passed down the generations.
That alone was enough to pry the lock.
In her stupor, she vaguely recalled returning the other family's greetings in an almost robotic manner. Especially when their scion had introduced himself, whom she couldn't help stare at. It was… strange, for lack of a better term, to see Lucius Malfoy giving her such practiced courtesy befitting an heir in training. She had no other memory of the man who would one day sire her childhood bully other than his unsavory remarks about her blood status and parents. He was always looking down on her, but now she was looking down at him. Literally. The Lucius before her was just a little boy no older than her own son. It was almost laughable.
Come to think of it… whatever happened to him after his family fell out of the Dark Lord's favor? During her travel with Draco, though he barely talked unless out of necessity, he had only ever mentioned his mother. Did… he not survive?
"Wonderful," Abraxas' clap prompted her to blink back to reality, "Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, Lucius, why don't you and Alduin get to know one another? He's your age so I'm sure you have plenty to talk about."
"A grand idea, Abraxas," Tom added, "It is best for children to be amongst their peers. In the meantime, why don't you join me for a quick cigar? I remember you mentioning you've gotten a new brand."
Something with the way the two men worded that conversation didn't sit right with her. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but Riddle only met her with an aloof expression.
"Then, if you'll excuse us for a moment, ladies," Abraxas inclined his head to his wife and, surprisingly, to her as well, albeit with a level of wariness and disdain, before following after Riddle.
'Poor man,' she lamented minutely. He was obviously cautious around her because of the stunt she pulled in his mansion (Though she was hardly apologetic for it), but he can't even fully express it. The most probable reason being that Riddle had roped him into this 'family' act of his. Especially in such a public setting. It wouldn't paint a pretty picture if the Malfoy head showed any untowardness to Riddle's 'family', and it certainly wouldn't do well for him if he displeased his master.
Not that it mattered to her anyway. She had no real quarrel with the man apart from him being a dog of Riddle's and by proxy, a man possessing dark qualities. Furthermore, she had no real obligation to connect with these people. However, for civility's sake, she'll at least allow this veiled cordiality of his.
She let her gaze trail after their retreating backs, focusing more so with Ridddle's, as a random thought niggled her curiosity.
'Voldemort smokes?' she mused, not knowing what to do with that little fact. He did mention cigars, but she thought he'd be more like the type who smoke two cigarette sticks at a time.
"So how are you enjoying the circus so far, Lucius?" her attention turned back to Alduin. Ever the polite boy that he was, he initiated conversation with the Malfoy scion with a pleasant smile with his hands behind his back.
The blonde boy blinked owlishly. He looked up to his mother as if seeking permission, and when she nodded at him, he cleared his throat, "Yes, well, it's a lot more festive than I realized."
"Ah is this your first time in a circus?" Lucius nodded, making Alduin beam, "Mine as well! Have you played any of the games yet here? Or tried the food?"
The blonde boy's brows furrowed, clearly not liking her son's tirade of questions. He looked so stiff in his straight posture and the way he had his nose up as if to look down at the other boy. Unfortunately for him, Alduin wasn't the least bit fazed and just continued to smile at him.
"Yes, I have. There's this candy that changes between two flavors every time you bite into it," he shared, albeit with great reluctance, "but I haven't tried any of the games yet. Though I was hoping I could play some before the show starts."
At this, he looked back up at his mother again.
"Is that so? Well, I've played quite a few of them myself already. I'd be happy to accompany you to play. Is there a particular type of game you like? That is, of course, if Mrs. Malfoy is alright with it?"
It was Alduin's turn to look at the Malfoy matriarch, seeking her quiet permission on her son's behalf. The other woman had been silent all this time, choosing to nod her head at appropriate moments behind her fan.
"Hmm, I suppose that is fine. So long as Mrs. Riddle thinks so too," Mrs. Malfoy answered, her French accent still discernable, as she smiled politely at her.
A vein throbbed heavily at Hermione's temple at the name the other woman addressed her with. Part of her wanted to correct her immediately. Just what is it with these people instantly assuming her relationship with Riddle?
"I don't mind it either. Just come back before the show starts, alright?"
There was a gleam in her son's eyes at her acquiescence, and she had a feeling that his teasing grin was because of what Mrs. Malfoy had called her.
So her son was at the age where he could tease his own parent? She didn't mind Alduin's free spirit, but really, where did he get it from? She certainly never teased her parents except for the littlest, most trivial things. She wasn't that cheeky.
'I blame Riddle,' she accused with much conviction.
"Alright, mother. Come, Lucius, most of the games are set up over here."
After politely excusing themselves, the boys scampered off.
Hermione's connection with her son gave her the confidence to let him do what he wants. Even if he'll be with the company of a Death Eater's child, Lucius was hardly a threat to any of them at this point. What's the harm of letting him spend time with other children his age? It wouldn't be the first time, and it would be strange if she'd deny the request of two children just wanting to have fun. Besides- though this may be stemming from her pride as his mother- she highly doubted the Malfoy heir could hold a candle against her son's wit alone. So long as the blonde boy doesn't say anything untoward her son, she wouldn't openly antagonize a ten-year-old.
At that train of thought, a wave of dread suddenly hit Hermione as the image of her Alduin and Lucius overlapped with Tom and Abraxas.
She mentally shook that thought away with ferocity. No. Her son may be cunning but he'd never treat another living being as cruelly and lesser as Riddle does to his followers.
Really, the uncanny likeness between her son and Riddle is troublesome sometimes.
Once composed, Hermione straightened herself and turned back to her last audience. Even as the other witch hid part of her face behind her fan, Hermione could instantly see the familiar quizzical look in her eyes. In her previous life, her travels brought her to all sorts of magical communities and not one was ever the same. From shady places with dubious residents to the gated communities exclusive for the rich, she had spent time in all of them in her hiding and gaining any knowledge she could along the way. And the key ingredient in order to succeed in them is to learn how to blend in.
Hermione cleared her throat and channeled her previous years of living in purely pureblood communities. At least, outside Europe, no one knew her name so as long as she played her cards well, none would be the wiser of what her blood status really was. Furthermore, she wanted to know what sort of person Serafina Marie Malfoy was. From her son's words, the woman was amiable with her son even though she did not realize she was just being used so he could get into contact with her husband. She wasn't about to antagonize anyone who treated her son well.
"This may be bold of me to say, but your son, Lucius, he looks more like you than his father," she opened, making the other witch close her fan to show her smile. Still proper, but obviously appreciative.
"Yes, he is, but he has his father's spirit," she answered. "I could say you are in the same case, yes?"
Hermione withheld her snort, "That is true. Which is why it brings me relief that my Alduin is nothing like his father."
Just mentioning Riddle as her son's father tasted like ash in her mouth. However, there's no point in denying that fact. But that doesn't mean she can't work around that fact to put her in the advantage.
Hermione added, "Though does it not worry you? Your son has quite the expectations set upon his shoulders, knowing who his father is."
Interestingly, instead of huffing and raising her chin, the Malfoy matriarch hummed and lowered her eyes as she answered, "Yes, it does worry me. He is young but many eyes are looking at him now. But I have faith he will not disappoint his family, so long as my husband and I are there to guide him in the proper path of a pureblood worthy of the Malfoy name. As a mother, you understand what I am saying, yes?"
Disregarding the other witch's emphasis of being a proper pureblood, Hermione was genuinely surprised at the level of sincerity and affection the woman just shared. It made her wonder what had happened to Lucius in the future if he had someone like her as a mother.
Well, at least she's better than most pureblood mothers who wouldn't be caught dead openly showing such affection towards their children.
"Yes, I do understand," Hermione answered with a small smile.
Still, the other witch seems to be more relaxed in her presence compared to her husband. They may have submitted a cover story for the paper when she attacked their mansion but surely, she had been there, according to her son. Had she escaped? She didn't recall fighting any women in her blind rage. Then were she not made aware of who she really was? Either that or she's just an exceptional actor.
A moment of acknowledging silence passed between them before Serafina decided to break it, "Ah so how do you find this circus, Mrs. Riddle? I admit it is rowdier than the events I am used to."
Hermione felt her eye twitch, "It definitely has been an experience so far. I take it there aren't much events such as this back in France?"
"Unfortunately. You are aware of my heritage?"
"My son may have mentioned it," she said in fluent French that immediately perked up the other witch, "He said you were quite appreciative of having someone speak in your mother tongue again."
"Oh yes, I was. My husband only knows to speak the basics and my son has no interest in learning," Serafina lamented, "I envy you, Mrs. Riddle. Am I correct to assume it was you who taught your son how to speak another language?"
"Yes, but my son learns fast so I did not have to assist him so much."
"Ah what a bright child you have. Meanwhile my son is fixated in anything that is Quidditch.," Serafina tittered, "Which is why I am grateful to Mr. Riddle to have told us about the circus. It would be a good change of pace for all of us."
"I suppose that is true. Given the recent misgivings," Hermione drawled, observing the other woman closer this time. Serafina kept up her polite demeanor, yet the way she pressed her lips a bit tighter was telling of her distress about the incident.
"Of course. It is to my utmost relief that no greater harm had befallen our loved ones. It is quite fortunate that your husband had been there to fend off the thief and protected your son. I had evacuated as soon as I could to where my son was staying with relatives so I only heard from my husband. Still, I could only imagine the fear you must have felt to know your child was so close to danger. Although I must admit I did not expect to have met your son in such a way. Then again, I shouldn't have been surprised seeing how young Alduin looked so much like his father."
Hermione's hearing had dulled halfway through Serafina's words. She swore to herself she wouldn't ruin this day for her son's sake but by all that is magic, how can her blood not boil upon hearing that bollock?
Tom Riddle fended off the 'thief'?
The Dark Lord 'protected' her son?
HA! Of all the confounding lies she's ever heard! It's so like him to twist the story in his favor!
"Eep!"
Small shrieks suddenly erupted all around her. No doubt in response to the boiling waves of magic slipping out of her control.
Why that miserable, two-faced son of a-! Breathe, Hermione. Breathe…
In midst of her impending rage, the logical part of her interrupted. For one, she's in a very public area. She would not be the one to lose control and create a scene that would bite her in the arse later on. Secondly, her son is just somewhere nearby.
'In and then out, Granger,' she reminded herself.
"Breathe, woman, just breathe."
She heard first before she felt the weight of a firm hand over her shoulder. Followed by a hot breath next to her ear that sent chills down her spine. Part of her wanted to whirl around and unleash this fury. Or at least, slap him hard for the story he weaved. It hadn't been long since their 'little adult talk' and yet here she was on the verge of exploding at the same infuriating man as before. However, part of her also didn't want to give him the satisfaction of unleashing her anger. Knowing that he'll most likely pin the fault all on her. Loathe as she was to admit it but Riddle's words weighed more in this country than hers ever could.
Riddle, being the vile opportunist that he was; she could only imagine how he would spin this tale against her this time.
'Unstable wife losing magical control. Helpless husband and father working hard for the sake of his family.'
Granted, that may be stretching it quite a bit but no doubt Riddle would create something like that. It's just the perfect story for him to get rid of her and take her son for himself. Especially since he has quite the number of prominent pureblood families in his pocket.
Begrudgingly, she steadied her breathing to a calm just as the voice that kept whispering on her ear like a sin instructed her so.
"Feeling better?"
She turned her head over her shoulder to look at the man holding her to his side as if in comfort. Her newly formed reins over her control being the only reason she hadn't shuddered from their close proximity. Too bad he had such an aloof expression on his face so she couldn't tell what thoughts were exactly going through his head at the moment.
"Yes," she answered simply and felt his hand slackened a bit. When she turned back to Serafina, whose husband had joined her and was holding her in a more comforting manner, she nearly winced out of guilt at the sight of her pale complexion and guarded expression. She dipped her head a bit, "I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy. I lost my composure."
"O-Of course, please do not think much of it."
"What exactly happened?" Abraxas interjected, sending wary looks at her.
Serafina casted her an unsure glance.
"Nothing you need to concern yourselves with," Hermione answered, but before any of them could ask her to elaborate, the boys returned.
"Father! Mother! Look at the prize I won!" Lucius exclaimed excitedly, practically bounding up to his parents. It was definitely something she would never have thought to see on Lucius Malfoy. No matter how young he may be at the present.
In his hands was a box with the picture of a golden snitch. Hermione recognized it as a toy that functioned similarly to an actual snitch. Except it can only fly at a certain radius, and flies slower and lower to allow children to catch it themselves.
Meanwhile, following less enthusiastically behind him, but no less with a smile on his face, was Alduin casually chewing something in in his mouth.
At least boys' return and Lucius' cheerful chatter effectively shifted the topic earlier.
"It's the first prize of this game where you have to use a preset wand to fire as many targets as possible," Lucius explained, chin raised high in pride.
"And you did that all on your own? As expected of my son!" Abraxas boasted with a huff as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"W-Well, of course I did…" curiously, the blonde boy glanced over Alduin with an unsure expression that resembled his mother's.
Alduin swallowed whatever he was chewing and smiled broadly, "Of course he did it on his own, Mr. Malfoy. I hardly had the chance to participate at all! But I am grateful for Lucius' generosity. He gave me this box of chocolates, which was the bonus prize, instead."
He showed the box tucked under his arm and sent the Malfoy scion a wink. Lucius beamed at that, and tugged on his father's sleeve.
"Father?"
"Yes?"
"Can Alduin sit with us during the show?"
Surprise instantly morphed the older Malfoy's face, followed immediately by veiled nervousness as he almost reluctantly looked at them. Specifically, to the man who still had his arm over her shoulder.
There was a gleam in Tom Riddle's dark eyes.
.
What looked like a decently-sized red tent for a circus show on the outside, was actually three times bigger and taller inside. Good thing too, because they were just able to seat every single one of their audiences in attendance; Hermione would've thought every family in Wizarding London had come to watch the show.
And as expected of the Malfoy's, they were seated at the best place to see the entirety of the circus performance.
Music instantly filled the tent the second the lights dimmed and focused on the circular center stage. To Hermione's surprise, instead of a ringmaster appearing to host and explain everything that was going to happen, it started with an eerie, mystique opening that was immediately followed by performers dressed in the strangest costumes with faces painted to exaggerate their expressions.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DIVE?"
Oohs and Ahhs escaped the audience as they watched in amazement at the myriad of tricks being done one after another, acts that were choreographed in sync with the music constantly being played by live people and singers that had Alduin applauding from that alone.
It honestly felt like she was watching a musical theatre than a circus show, if not for the fact the performers followed up with bizarre tricks one after another.
Hermione leaned forwards in her seat when the performers started doing an act that had them walking in the air.
"Levitation charm? They can't be using artifacts since they're barefooted," she mumbled, eyes focused on their elegant movements; it made her wonder if they practiced their gymnastics with muggles. "Ah no… they're using an invisible platform! Where did they get them? What spells did they use?"
Her excited ruminations were abruptly cut short at the feel of eyes looking at her. Two pairs of eyes to be exact. Sitting to her right, Riddle stared at her with raised eyebrow, making her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
Two lives later, but old habits still die hard.
Meanwhile, on her left, Alduin was looking at her with clear amusement, but at least he quickly turned his attention back to the show. Unlike his older look-alike whom she could still feel his stare burning holes at her.
'Nope! Not this time!' she said to herself with conviction as she straightened herself to look back to the show. She won't let embarrassment shake her; not when Alduin's having the time of his life.
If only it could be as easy as imagining he wasn't there, but alas, Hermione had to keep her guard up.
Fortunately, she had mastered the ability of multitasking. While part of her was with her son enjoying a unique circus that took the showmanship of magic to a whole other level, the other part of her remained steadfast and observing of the dark wizard beside her.
Observation that had her mind running to a fact she would kick herself later for just realizing it.
Throughout their encounters, this was the first time Hermione actually had the chance to really look at Tom Marvolo Riddle without any animosity curtaining between them.
With a clinical eye, she took in his features. A jaw with a defined cut, dark wavy locks of hair, fair complexion, unchapped lips, straight nose, high cheekbones, and sharp dangerous eyes. The only thing anybody would find strange about that would be how unfairly handsome he looked. She would be lying if she said she didn't find him gorgeous; the very definition of a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
But that was the problem.
Tom Riddle was still handsome.
If her mental timeline was correct, here in 1963, Voldemort's period of evanescence should be over.
After the murder of Hepzibah Smith, Riddle had supposedly disappeared. For ten years, no one knew where he went or what he had been doing, and it was only through extensive research did they learn that he had used that time to delve deeper into the Dark Arts, and more importantly- create more horcruxes and hid them in their respective locations. It was also supposed to be during this time, or a year later, when Riddle should have returned to Hogwarts to reapply for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
His second application that would've been rejected by the newly-appointed headmaster- Albus Dumbledore.
Harry told her, when he saw that memory from Dumbledore's pensieve, that the Tom Riddle that entered the headmaster's office was no longer the same man as before. Verbatim, he said that is was as if his features had been burned and blurred; that they were waxy and oddly distorted, the whites of his eyes had a permanently bloody look, and his face was as pale as snow.
No. The Tom Riddle sitting beside her did not match Harry's description at all.
And that's exactly what's wrong.
Why? What happened? Did Riddle not disappear for ten years? But she had checked. After their encounter at Borgin & Burkes, she checked old news clippings and confirmed that Hepzibah Smith was allegedly poisoned 'by mistake' by her house elf- Hokey. Riddle should've resigned and disappeared by then. Going to Albania to find Ravenclaw's diadem and whatever else he did in that obscure time.
Her eyes fell to the ring adorning his finger. If she focused enough, she could hear that specific dark rhythm exclusive for something as vile as a horcrux.
The cause for Tom Riddle's physical deterioration was due to splitting his soul. She had learned this later on in her travels in her previous life. To break the soul is to break everything else about a person. For the soul is the very source of one's life and magic.
But the way Tom Riddle looked like now… did that mean he hadn't made more horcruxes? Or perhaps he did but had done something else?
Nevertheless, something changed, and she had a dreadful feeling it had something to do with her and Alduin's existence in this world.
'Bloody hell,' she cursed mentally, 'It seems that I'll have to write a letter.'
.
"That was a splendid show!"
"It was definitely worth coming all the way here."
"My favorite part is when the magical creatures finally came out."
"I wish I could watch it again!"
Men, women, and children sung their praises for the circus show as they trickled out of the tents and on their way back home.
Hermione couldn't find it in her to disagree with them, as it was indeed, a spectacular show. Especially as she watched her son smiling brightly as he chattered with an equally cheerful Lucius Malfoy, recalling the performances they liked best.
Although she was delighted to see her son happy, part of her couldn't help but be wary of the sudden friendship between her son and the Malfoy scion. She honestly wasn't sure what to make of it. On one hand, Alduin's natural charisma easily endears him to other people, including other children. Lucius' instant change of tone, when moments ago he was struggling to even reply to Alduin, and then was practically asking his father to let him sit with him during the show; Such a sight was no longer new to Hermione.
She could hardly see Lucius as a threat even if he's a Death Eater's son. After all, what can a little boy do? At least, compared to Alduin.
It was obvious that Riddle orchestrated them to meet. But for what purpose? Hermione could only think of Riddle wanting to iron out some wrinkles between him and the Malfoys. Even though he has the patriarch eating out of the palm of his hand, he wouldn't risk it. Especially since not doing so would be crude and more like something his dictator overlord persona would do. A persona that he wasn't…. yet.
"Mrs. Riddle?"
Hermione bodily flinched. She willed herself to calm and not snap at the shuddering title. She's far stronger than to be affected by some name. Still, it's best that she corrected it now. The first few times she didn't have the chance to correct it.
She whirled around, "Mrs. Malfoy-"
"I'm really sorry," the woman apologized in her mother tongue with such dignity and grace, but the fact that she actually apologized was what caught the brunette off guard even more.
"Come again?" she replied, eyes slightly wide.
"About what happened earlier. I humbly apologize. I did not mean to remind you of the incident that nearly put your son in danger. But please know that I understand why you reacted such a way. Even though it is against my teachings, I, too, would feel enraged if something were to happen to my child," Serafina Malfoy looked up from where she had been looking at her shoes. The genuine sincerity there as definitely something she didn't expect.
It almost reminded her of Draco.
In her travels, she had met all sorts of people, and just like not all muggleborns are kind and sympathetic, not all purebloods were conceited and condescending. It was the reason she gave this woman the benefit of the doubt. Especially since she married into the family. Thus, having a different upbringing.
'She's very proud of being a pureblood though,' Hermione deduced, 'but she's also sympathetic about the joys and trials of being a mother.'
A fellow mother…
"Please, think nothing of it," she finally answered, feeling her shoulders lighten a bit for some reason, "It is my fault for mentioning the incident in the first place. I apologize if my reaction had upset you."
The other witch smiled demurely, "Please, Mrs. Riddle. As I've said, I understood you completely."
Hermione's eye twitched again, "Then why don't we put this thing behind us? And if you're amendable, you may just call me Hermione."
"Then please feel free to call me Serafina, Hermione."
"That I will, Serafina."
They exchanged a moment of appreciative silence, oblivious to the stares the men were giving them. For Abraxas, he had a look of both relief and worry. He'd been getting even more restless as the days led up to this moment. After he agreed to Tom's suggestion of modifying his wife's memory a bit so she would forget the terror of the incident, he wasn't sure what would happen once his wife came into contact with the fearsome witch.
Meanwhile, Tom only had a gleam in his dark eyes that indicated their exchange to be worth something for him.
"Are you ready to go home, Al?" Hermione asked after they exchanged farewells with the Malfoy family.
Alduin looked up at her with a small, shy smile, "If it's alright, mother, I would like to meet the band and singers of the show. I just want to tell them how much I really enjoyed their composition! For me, they brought the show to life!"
"I suppose," she hummed. Though it didn't take much for her to relent to her son's wish. After all, how could she say no to that adorable face? "I don't think they would allow non-staff near their trailers but maybe we would get lucky?"
Grinning, Alduin then turned to Riddle, "Will you join us, Mr. Riddle?"
Riddle shot her a quick glance before nodding, "You two go on ahead. I just need a word with Abraxas."
He turned on his heel without further pretense towards the Malfoy family who were still visible a few yards away.
Hermione hoped he doesn't come back.
It seems that Lady Fortuna even favors her son. For as they neared the area that separated the trailers from the main tent, the next person to cross was the main singer herself. What happened next was something Hermione had already seen hundreds of times.
Charmed by her son and his enthusiasm, the singer was immediately taken with him and it wasn't long until she gathered the rest of her fellow singers as well as the band. After briefly greeting her, they gushed.
"Lara puey ra, Lara puey, Lara lara paririri," the circus band sung, including her son, not wanting to be outdone.
Hermione was contented to just stand by the sidelines and watch her son enjoying himself with fellow music enthusiasts when she felt it.
Ba-dump
Ba-dump
Ba-dump
A shiver shot up her spine as her eyes turned sharply towards the direction of the familiar dark rhythm. Not only that, but she also felt that hard, insistent pull deep within her stomach.
'A dark artifact and the Hunter's Pull? Here? Now?!' Hermione's brows furrowed deeply. Of all the time this could've happened… couldn't it have waited until they got home?
She spared her son a quick glance. Seeing as he was sufficiently distracted by the musicians and vice versa, she stepped back and stealthily slipped into the restricted area.
'I'll just be quick,' she said to herself, since both sensations were coming from the same direction.
She slipped between the brightly colored wooden trailers. Careful to not be noticed by any of the circus staff already mingling about until she reached her destination.
Hermione rolled her eyes disdainfully at the small trailer painted with the stage name of the witch occupying it.
Her target was a fortune teller.
She never liked divinations. Still does to this day. Even after all her travels, it was the one area of magic she could never connect with. And after what she learned upon her death, the one thing she despised the most.
Wanting to get this over with, she slipped her wand into her hand but before she could reach out for the door, it opened to reveal a hunched over old hag holding a staff with both of her very wrinkled hands. Rings of various colors adorned each of her fingers while a dark shawl was placed over her thin shoulders.
If there was a way for Hermione to describe the hag in simpler terms, the old woman was the picture-perfect definition of how muggles depicted witches.
"Haa… to think I would see something interesting in this old age of mine," the hag cackled lowly while the brunette's brows furrowed at her words. The milky whiteness of the old witch's eyes was more than enough proof that she was blind.
"Madam-" she began, but the old hag suddenly started walking circles around her, scrutinizing her with those haunting milky eyes that showed as much history as her physical appearance.
"Oh… Oh- Ohh!" the old hag shrieked, startling Hermione into taking a step back.
She's never experienced anything like this with her hunts before.
Faster than what she thought the old hag was capable of, her spindly hands clutched Hermione's cheeks and brought her down to her height. Wide, brown eyes with specks of gold stared straight into unseeing clouded eyes.
"My dear…" she breathed, almost reverent, "You have the stars in your eyes…"
Hermione froze.
"Not only that…"
"What are you- Hey!" Hermione protested, but they came out weak even to her own ears as the old hag suddenly tugged her towards a certain direction with surprising strength.
They stopped in front the crowd where her son and the musical artists were just in time to see Riddle ask her son: "Alduin, where's your mother?"
The old hag choked out a loud gasp and let go of Hermione's wrist as if she had been burned. Evidently, that gained them their attention but the old hag couldn't care less of the artists who were already trying to approach her as she looked between her, Alduin, and Riddle.
"Y-You!" she pointed a shaky finger at the three of them. Hermione was too bewildered by her target's erratic actions and moved back close to her son, "You are this boy's parents?!"
Riddle, whose dark eyes were narrowed at the woman's strange behavior, answered, "Obviously."
"YOU FOOL!" the old woman shouted, shrill, and as loud as she could, nearly making everyone flinch.
She slammed her staff onto the cobblestone before pointing a finger at Alduin's face, "HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT THAT THINGIS?!"
Overridden with anger at the accusatory words directed at her son, Hermione glared menacingly at the old hag. Her wand held tight in her hand as she stood protectively in front. Alduin's small hand clutching her dress being the only reason she hadn't fired a spell at the old witch. Even as other circus folks crowded in front of them, one half escorted the old woman away (who continued to look at them with unmitigated fear), while the other half apologized profusely and said excuses about the old hag being the eldest member of their circus family, how her health hasn't been doing well lately, and whatnot; they all fell into Hermione's deaf ears.
But amidst all of this, if Hermione noticed how Riddle moved to stand in front of her and Alduin, with his wand appearing in his hand, and how her son's other hand clutched his pant leg, she made no comment.
"Mother… can we please go home now?" Alduin asked softly, his eyes shaking.
In the silence of the night, the soft click of a small trailer's window went unheard by the people near it. Inside, only a single lamp provided a dim light for its sole resident lying on a bed of furs and soft feathered mattress and pillows. Meanwhile, the silent visitor stood in the shadows like a hidden predator.
The golden flecks in her eyes nearly made them glow against the darkness.
"Two hundred and one years…" the old hag wheezed under the covers of her bed, addressing her surprise visitor.
Surprise, but not unwelcome.
"To think… that I believed I've seen everything…" a dry laughter, "Life is so unpredictable like that… don't you think so?"
Hermione remained unmoved from her position at the foot of the elder's bed. Her hand clutched her wand with the remnants of her anger.
"Isn't that ironic coming from a fortune teller?"
Her target snorted.
The brunette added coldly, "I did not appreciate what you called my son earlier. Nor did he."
"I was… startled…" the elder breathed heavily between words, unapologetic, "such a sight… has only been described by le… legends… after all…"
"You're blind."
"HA! My eyes may no longer see, child… but I… am not blind… You and your son… are special…"
At that, Hermione swallowed. She knew exactly what the old hag was talking about, but it was precisely because she knew that she didn't know how to react.
"He seemed scared… your son… was it because he was found? Or perhaps…"
Hermione bristled.
"Oh… Oh dear…" another dry chuckle, "he does not know what he is… does he? Your so-called 'son'… does he not know that he is a-"
"A boy," the brunette snapped, "My son is just a little boy-"
"A little boy who is so much more," the old hag countered.
For someone who's about to die, she's quite the chatterbox, and it's getting on Hermione's nerves.
"Does… his father know?"
Hermione snorted, "He doesn't have to know anything."
"Ahh… trouble in paradise?" she glared hard, and the woman followed it with another hearty cackle.
"You know… there is a saying…" the elder breathed once she calmed from her laughter. Her eyelids closed over her milky eyes at this point, "when a parent dies… the child realizes their mortality… but when the child dies… the parent loses their immortality…"
That's it.
She's had enough.
This old coot had said far too much.
"You're going to die now," Hermione said measuredly.
The old hag nodded without protest, "I know… however… please answer me this…"
"You've got a lot of nerve after the slight you told to my son."
She ignored her.
"Oh lady of space… and walker of time… tell me… how bright do the stars shine in your eyes?"
Hermione's mind reeled at the titles.
Really… this was the strangest, most fearsome hunt she's ever been to.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"They are the brightest I've ever seen them in any night sky," she answered.
"Ahh…" the old hag smiled, and breathed for one last time, "How lovely…"
The last inhale, followed by a shudder.
Hermione held up her wand.
She need not any incantation to do this. Primal instinct allowed her to command her magic to do its bidding. There was no fanfare to withhold, no flurry of winds or eerie sounds. Nothing but golden tendrils sprouting from the old hag's chest where her heart was supposed to be. Like snakes, they slithered and coiled into the air towards her direction. stopping only a hair's breath away from the tip of her wand, the golden bands circled and coalesced until gold became the color of mist.
She remained steady until all of the golden ribbons disappeared, and she was looking at a glowing misty ball the size of her palm. Like a patronus without its corporeal form.
With her wand, she directed it towards her broken time-turner. As she brought the sphere of the old hag's soul closer to the necklace, its golden rings spun like it used to do, but instead of turning back time, it allowed her to see the hourglass that was supposed to be empty of golden sand, to be half-full of tiny misty spheres.
Souls she had gathered in her hunts to feed her son.
I bear the feast, this prize you yearn.
Hunt, eat, swallow, this reward to earn.
REASON FOR HIATUS: I was involved in a big project at work that I had to prioritize. As much as I love writing (and reading) fanfics, it doesn't exactly pay the bills.
The circus show idea is actually inspired by: Cirque du Soleil | KURIOS – Cabinet of Curiosities, ''O'' and LUZIA. Which I HIGHLY RECOMMEND, you guys can watch it free on youtube!
SPECIAL MENTION TO: [imjaneees] for creating such a lovely fan art for this fic of Alduin and Hermione! If you have tumblr, you can check it out here: blog/view/imjaneees/681793426292916224?source=share
Thank you so much for the continued support!
Take care everybody! And STAY AWESOME!
Ciao~!