Year Six: Chapter Fifteen

The door slammed open, startling Tom awake. He pulled open the curtain and rubbed his eyes. Why were Neville and Hermione stumbling into the dorm at the unholy hour of four in the morning? Tom pat Ginny's head absently as he swung himself out of bed. Dean was sitting up, but his eyes were still mostly closed, and Ron looked about as annoyed at the interrupted sleep as Tom felt. Finnegan somehow slept through the racket.

Then Tom noticed what they were carrying. His eyes narrowed. "You got the cup." He remembered feeling a flare of magic from Neville's Mark the night before. He'd sent Ginny to investigate, and the girl had come back looking amused and told him the matter had been dealt with. Had Neville been calling him for this?

The pair ignored him. Neville let go of Hermione and shuffled into the bathroom, where Tom heard the sounds of him retching. Hermione sat down beside him on the bed and leaned against him, trembling, the cup held loosely in one hand.

"Bellatrix?" Tom asked.

Neville answered, voice echoing through the doorway. "She brought back the cup, then we finished up, reset the wards keeping her in, and came back here."

Tom nodded toward Ron, and the boy went to help Neville. Then Tom returned his attention to Hermione. His eyes narrowed. Whatever else was going on, the cup couldn't be helping matters. Why she was touching it with her bare skin in the first place… "Avada Kedavra."

The cup shrieked and split down the middle, startling the girl into dropping it. She shot him a dirty look, but that was better than the lost one she'd had before. "I made sure it wasn't cursed before touching it," she muttered.

"What else have you been up to?" Tom asked rather than dignify that with a response. Really. She of all people should know how dangerous any portion of his soul could be, additional curses or not.

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out. After a moment, she closed it again, shaking her head.

"Did it have anything to do with the apparently missing Mister Nott?" Tom asked.

From the way her already pale skin whitened further, it did. She convulsed, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as she screwed her eyes shut and breathed noisily through her nose until she'd regained control over herself.

Tom blinked and realized that if she'd been in the Chamber with Nott, given the wards he'd placed… "What did you do to him?"

Neville exited the bathroom, still ill-looking, but better than Hermione now. "What did we do," he corrected. He swallowed. "We -"

"I transfigured him into a worm. Poorly," Hermione interrupted in some misguided Gryffindor impulse to claim all blame. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor. "I let go of the magic partway through the transformation, before I'd transfigured his head all the way."

Tom hissed, surprise and (unease) and pride and impatience warring with each other. It was a type of torture he rarely dealt with as Voldemort. Thinking up unique ends for his enemies took more time and energy than he had for the tens of dozens of run-of-the-mill pawns he'd killed, and anyone strong enough to earn his personal attention was also usually strong enough that Voldemort couldn't afford to take them apart at his leisure. "You left him there?" he asked, considering what Bella would make of her jail's addition.

Neville nodded.

Tom wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her closer. "Thank you," he whispered, and made sure she could feel just how pleased with her he felt.

Even if he did think this was quite a bit of melodrama for a single, not particularly gory murder.

It only came as a slight surprise when she turned further toward him and clutched at his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He'd seen it time and again at Death Eater raids. New recruits would get drunk to bolster their courage, perform splendidly, and then become nervous wrecks upon sobering. It was one reason he'd kept copious amounts of liquor. He didn't particularly care for it, but that series of events was rather like ripping off a bandage. Once they got over that first time, they rarely took much longer to come into their own as Death Eaters.

Of course, Hermione wasn't a Death Eater, but the principle remained the same. He ran a hand over her back in a way he'd seen others do. "You did well," he told Hermione softly. "You should feel proud. Nott was a worm, and you did nothing more than mete out appropriate punishment."

She shook her head, but the gesture had little force behind it, so Tom thought it would be best to leave it there. She might have gone farther than she'd meant to, encouraged by the wards in the Chamber, but she'd taken him there in the first place, so she couldn't have meant anything pleasant for him either way.

With one puzzle solved, Tom looked to Neville. The boy grimaced and averted his gaze. Tom frowned. "What else happened?"

"Nothing," Neville said shortly. "I'm going to try to get some sleep before classes start."

Hermione tugged on Tom's shirt, and Neville took the opportunity to close his curtains. Tom clicked his tongue in annoyance. "What happened with Neville then?" he asked the girl, seeing that he'd get no further information from the other boy for the time being.

Hermione laughed a little, and Tom politely ignored the note of hysteria to it. "It's… it's really not funny, but… Well, I'm pretty sure I interrupted an encounter," she said quietly. "You know, something sexual. I don't think he'd planned on it ahead of time, but Bellatrix seemed pleased."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I see," he said in the tone of someone who really didn't. "It's a common enough disciplinary technique," he added. Well, amongst a certain type of Death Eater anyway.

Regardless, he was awake now, so Tom helped Hermione lay down and left her to Ginny, who would do a far better job of comforting her than he ever could. Casting about for something to occupy his time, he eventually took out Hermione's notes on Astoria's illness to skim through.

They were, as expected, thorough to the point of absurdity. Given how very individual blood curses could be though, they would need every scrap of information possible. Certainly whatever afflicted Astoria was worlds apart from Nagini's curse.

He frowned as he read the notes and descended the stairs to the Common Room. Apparently her curse was being managed with a daily series of potions and spells. Blood-thinning potions, anti-inflammatories, lung restoratives, and nutrients in addition to waste-removal magic cast by her own personal elf. Even with all of this, she wasn't expected to survive past middle age, and her ability to bear children was doubtful, though the notes didn't say whether that was because of a lack of fertility or because her body simply wouldn't manage to carry the child to term. It seemed to him that the healers she'd dealt with thus far had simply identified symptoms and treated them on a case-by-case basis without bothering to determine the root cause. Because it had happened to past members of their family, they declared it a blood curse and called it a day.

Lazy.

Tom sneered at the thought of those healers and left the tower, heading to the library. Though a school library, it did still house one of the largest collections of books in Wizarding Britain. He may as well use it while he had access. He simply needed to narrow down what all those symptoms had in common, then fix the issue.

Of course, it wasn't going to be a simple matter to identify the root cause, but Tom was certain there must be one. A curse to single out so many different systems would be far too complex - he certainly didn't think he'd like to attempt to cast such a thing. The ritual would take far too many resources to complete, and that aside, honestly, people angry enough to cast a blood curse typically weren't feeling rational enough to create anything so intricate.

By the time he needed to set his books aside to head for Transfiguration, Tom had an idea. Hermione's timeline helped - some of the first symptoms were familiar to something he'd heard about as a child. That was in the muggle world, of course, and wizarding versions of muggle diseases often had all manner of fun differences. Even so, if his idea was correct, it would help Hermione with her task.

Tom hesitated at the thought. Right, he'd given this task to Hermione. She'd get there eventually either way. Given that, why… He glared at the girl's notebook and shoved it into his bag, ignoring the way the cover bent awkwardly. It wasn't exactly Hermione's fault he'd succumbed to sentiment and nearly committed the wholly emotional mistake of trying to solve her problems for her… but it wouldn't have happened had she been anyone else.

He was one of the last students to arrive at class, still feeling prickly and on edge. McGonagall flicked her wand and shut the door as he sat down next to Ron. The professor sent a stern look to the only two students to arrive after him, a pair of Ravenclaws Tom recognized from The Gray who'd just barely made it in time for today's lesson.

"Where were you?" Ron muttered quietly once they'd been set on their task for the day, basic self-transfiguration. "Not exactly the best time to disappear."

"Library," Tom said without looking to Ron's other side, where Hermione sat stiffly, one of the two tardy Ravenclaws beside her. He huffed and looked away, refusing to look back at the girl until class had ended.

The moment it did, he stood and withdrew Hermione's notebook from his bag. He eyed its state wearily and cast Reparo before standing and presenting it to Hermione. "You've done well," he said. "I expect you'll be able to figure out the mechanism behind it before long."

The girl took the notes with a wan smile. "Thank you," she said. Then, after a pause, "Have you already solved it?"

Tom shook his head shortly. "I had intended, given your… upset this morning, to assist you, but realized that would be a disservice. I trust you to solve this much on your own, though certainly I'll continue checking your work along the way." At her arched eyebrow, he let out a breath, forcing himself to relax. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was simply irritated with myself earlier, but I should not have taken it out on you or your notebook."

Hermione's smile was more natural now. "You don't need to sit next to me for every class," she said, but she felt softly pleased and relieved, so Tom paid no attention to her words.

Walking toward Charms, the rest of Gryffindor (or at least, all the sixth years who'd decided to continue on in Charms) surrounded them like a sort of retinue, a formation that had developed by itself. It was unfortunately obvious, but Tom supposed he could hardly expect Gryffindors to be otherwise. Hermione bit her lip. "You…" She swallowed. "You really think I did the right thing?"

Tom hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I'm proud of you for taking decisive action to end a proven threat, and I find your creative method of doing so amusing and ironic." His lips twisted down into a moue of disquiet. "I'm less pleased at how quickly he died - there are any number of spells you might have used to prolong his suffering - but as his intended target, I suppose you had as much right to him as I had."

They'd reached the classroom, where the rest of the sixth-year Charms students waited. The girl shook her head in exasperation. "That's the part that bothers you? Honestly." She was clearly going for disapproval, but she wasn't managing to hide her amusement well enough. After a moment, she frowned. "Wait, what do you mean his intended target?"

Daphne Greengrass sniffed, uncrossing her arms and stepping away from the wall she'd been standing against. "I can answer that." At Hermione's questioning glance, she continued, "Since Malfoy left with his mother, the Dark Lord has apparently been in a mood. I hear he's been giving all manner of unreasonable orders. He told Nott to eliminate The-Boy-Who-Lived." She rolled her eyes. "He told Zabini, who told us, that he was going to kill Granger instead, because she was an easier target, and hoped the Dark Lord would be satisfied with the substitution. The boy's an idiot."

"The boy was an idiot," Tom corrected mildly. "Didn't you hear? He's gone and run away. Not our problem anymore."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "... Of course. Ran away." Her lips twitched and she shook her head. "Is that what the muggles call it?" she asked with faux innocence.

Tom shrugged, lips twitching. "I'm sure whatever happened to him was no more or less than poetic justice. I have it on good authority though that Dumbledore is going with 'ran away,' officially, anyway."

"How did you live?" Zabini asked. "Nott told me what he planned to use, and… It wouldn't have been that fast, but you'd have gone far beyond the point of saving by the time they got you to the Hospital Wing. There's nothing mentioned that would stop its progression."

"Trade for a trade," Tom said with a sharp smile. "I'll explain that if you explain why no one informed me of this ahead of time."

Though Daphne took a step back, Zabini remained calm. "I only knew he was supposed to kill you and was planning on using poison. You would have caught it, so I just thought he was being stupid and left it at that. I didn't find out he'd changed his target until we were at breakfast, and then you were being rushed to the Hospital Wing."

Tom examined this and pursed his lips in irritation. "In the future, tell me about plans to kill me ahead of time. Even had he targeted me, there's no guarantee someone else wouldn't have ingested it before I checked everything."

Zabini nodded in acknowledgement. "Fair. Your survival?"

"I didn't." Tom could barely hold back a cackle at the disbelief on the boy's face. "Severus killed me. The bonding ritual let my soul stay long enough for them to get rid of the poison, though not long enough to fix all the damage it had already done. The convalescence was unpleasant, and I can now say with certainty what it feels like to die to the Killing Curse, but it was otherwise a useful test of one of the ritual's side effects."

Before Zabini could investigate that further, the door opened, and Flitwick invited everyone in.

Tom didn't have a chance to talk to Ginny until lunch. He fixed her with an annoyed look that didn't faze her in the slightest. "The matter was dealt with?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged, lips pressing together in an unenthusiastic effort to hide her smile. "Well, it was." After a moment she huffed and rolled her eyes. "I got down there as LeStrange was leaving, and we spoke for a moment. She told me she'd finally gotten through to Neville, I congratulated her, and I went inside to check that Hermione was actually there. I saw her and Neville with Nott, and left again. The end."

There was undoubtedly more to it than that, but it was already past regardless. Tom closed his eyes and sighed and so missed Ginny's victorious smirk.

That evening, Hermione drew Tom aside. "Tom, did you do something that made Neville and me do… that?"

Tom snorted. "Sorry, but you came up with that idea all on your own," he evaded.

Hermione nodded unhappily. "I thought so but… something Neville said last night made me wonder…" She laughed harshly. "I just kept thinking about how could he nearly take you from me, and what a disgusting worm he was, and then it occurred to me that I could make him actually a worm, and that was funny for a moment… but then I realized there was just too great a chance I'd mess up the transformation." She hesitated, one hand tangling its fingers up with Tom's. "Then I got there, and I felt like why not? Or rather, why would messing up his transformation be a bad thing?"

"It was a fantastic thing," Tom snuck in with a smirk.

Hermione scowled at him and shoved him with a huff. Then she sighed. "What would you have done to him anyway?"

Tom hummed thoughtfully. "I hadn't made any plans, so it's hard to say for sure. I suppose it would depend on my mood at the time. I might have killed him, or I might have tortured him and then killed him, or I might have used him as a test subject for the various spells I'm going to need for Potter. And then killed him, of course."

Beside him, Hermione gave a minute nod. "He was going to die no matter what then. Like I thought."

"Of course," Tom said. He hoped that was enough to push Hermione toward the realization that should have been obvious to her from the beginning. He thought if he said it outright, she'd fight against it simply to be contrary. Or a good person. Whichever.

To his immense relief and pleasure, Hermione worried at her lower lip then asked, quietly enough that Tom doubted the question was actually meant for him, "If something's going to happen either way, does it matter who does it? Does it matter if the person who does it enjoys themselves or not?"

Tom waited for a moment, then mentioned casually, "By the way, the Killing Curse is not painless. I'd wager it's one of the top five most painful things Potter and I have collectively endured." He shook his head. "I'm annoyed that I've been unaware of this for so long, but at least no one else knew either. What do you think would be the best way of spreading that information?"

If he'd had altruistic purposes, he'd have been offended by Hermione's look of deep suspicion. Tom smiled innocently to no effect.

More consequences of Hermione and Neville's bonding activities arrived at breakfast the following morning. Susan slid into the seat next to Tom. A few seats down, Hannah Abbot sat next to Neville. "What's Neville been doing?" Susan asked bluntly.

Tom glanced down the table toward the boy in question, then back at her. "Eating, it looks like."

The Hufflepuff girl rolled her eyes. "Last night and the night before, we got… Is he having sex with someone else?"

Tom choked and had to cough several times before he could respond. "The bond?" Last night as well? He glanced toward Neville, who looked increasingly uncomfortable with whatever Hannah was saying.

Susan nodded. "Not that I'm going to be upset about just that. We never actually specified that we'd like a romantic relationship with him, let alone an exclusive one, and we really should have, so that's on us. But the way he felt wasn't just good things. He felt kind of sick and upset and there was all kinds of negativity there, so Hannah and I don't think that whatever he's doing is good for him. Do you know what it is?"

Tom hummed thoughtfully, considering the matter. Hufflepuffs. Useful, but so hard to predict. He mentally shrugged. "It's a purely physical relationship, and it's with someone he otherwise hates." He glanced at the girl and went back to poking at the food on his plate. Getting poisoned had further decreased his already low appetite. "If you want to know who she is, you'll have to talk to him."

Susan nodded shortly and stood. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it." With that, she sauntered down the aisle to Neville, who was looking increasingly attacked.

Tom drank the last of his pumpkin juice, pulled out a Mandrake leaf, and stuck it under his tongue. Hopefully this time, he'd manage to complete the process.

AN: I'm not certain how exactly blood curses would work genetically, but I'm going to assume Astoria's condition follows something like an autosomal recessive pattern. It doesn't seem like it's a terribly common thing in their family and, were they not purebloods, probably would have bred out completely.

Also, shout-out to Harry is a Dragon, and That's Okay for being fun as heck to read. Also read a nice KatiexHarry fic that led to me staying awake far longer than I should have. Had 145 chapters. Phew.

And Oh. My. God. I couldn't log in, and I couldn't remember my username, password, OR what email address I'd used because this account is from back in the days of AOL and Compuserve. THANKFULLY, I figured it out, but man, that was scary.