Notes: You are all so appreciated. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. We have finally reached the moment where the curtain is drawn back and the strings are exposed. But just because the problem is identified doesn't mean a solution exists.

There are a number of songs I feel go well with this chapter (yes, I'm into symphonic metal, so sue me):

"Get Out of My Head" - The Dark Element

"No More" - Nemesea

"Holy Ground" - Within Temptation

~*~ Twenty ~*~

Tom's arm was warm about her shoulders, a welcome protection from the raging blizzard as they stumbled through the streets of Hogsmeade. It had taken them several hours to make it out of bed that morning and she was pleasantly sore in ways that made her blush. Even after all these years, all the other boys, sex with Tom was a revelation. She longed to return to his bed, to feel the slide of his heated flesh against hers, to feel him throbbing deep within her, claiming her completely.

A shiver shook her frame and Tom dropped a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "All in good time, precious."

His voice was dark and sensual, a promise of wicked delight. She shuddered again. "I can hardly wait."

He chuckled against her skin, the vibration sending heat rushing through her. She squirmed, just barely curbing the urge to beg him to take her into the nearest alley and drive into her until they were both satisfied. "Before I can ravish you properly, Ms. Gable, I believe you have a new gown to purchase. I have quite the plans for next week, so I expect you to get quite the dress."

Hermione sighed. Right. She'd forgotten entirely that she was supposed to go to Madam Mayberry's with Aurelia. "I suppose I'm late already."

"No, just on time," he assured, motioning to where Aurelia stood in front of the colorful storefront, dress robes of all styles floating in the window, enchanted to swirl and sway.

Aurelia waved and Hermione smiled before turning to stare up at Tom, basking in the light of his adoration for a long moment. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not," he replied with a lazy smile. "I have an errand or two to run myself. I'll meet you back at the castle for dinner."

The kiss he dropped on Hermione's ready lips was indecent for a busy street corner, but she didn't care. The hot swipe of his tongue against hers was a promise of further delight, a promise she would hold him to the minute they were alone again. Her breath was an unsteady pant by the time Tom was backing down the street, a decidedly wicked gleam in his enthralling eyes.

"Oh, come on you," Aurelia griped, appearing at her side.

Hermione giggled, a hand over her mouth as Aurelia propelled them into the dress and robe shop. "Sorry… it's just…"

"He turns you into a sex crazed maniac?" Her tone was amused, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, I think I'd have to be blind not to notice."

Heat rushed up her neck and Hermione was suddenly very focused on the rack of ruby dresses to her left. "So, Tom said he wants an impressive dress… and it's Valentine's Day, so definitely red. What do you think?"

"I think you should find an open fitting room and I'll handle the dress selection. That way it'll be tasteful and flirty, not downright sultry. You're not to be trusted."

Aurelia made a shooing motion toward the back of the store where Hermione could see the fitting room curtains in a semicircle about a raised dais, full length mirrors hanging between rooms. Sighing, she trudged further back. A single curtain hung open and only partially. Eying it with suspicion, Hermione paused at the entrance.

Before she could react, an arm had snaked around her waist, hauling her against a firm body. The curtain slid shut and familiar stormy eyes glared down at her.

"Forgive me." That was her only warning before he pointed his wand squarely between her eyes and hissed "Legilimens"

For a moment she fought the invasion, but then he cracked through a different shield, one that she hadn't created, and the appalling truth crashed over her like a bucket of frigid water. She dropped every defense and let him in, let him plunder every facet of her consciousness and subconscious, let him scour her thoughts until she felt him everywhere at once. Until he knew without a doubt what had been done to her and she finally understood why he'd always been so afraid.

She was shaking, shaking so hard she barely stood within the steady circle of Malfoy's arms. She imagined it was something like waking from a coma. She remembered everything in between, but it was hazy, like she'd been behind frosted glass with one eye closed. And the frost didn't begin after their battle in DADA. No, it began that first day in the Great Hall when he'd caught her eyes for the first time, when he'd been nothing but a target, attractive, but a known evil. Tom Riddle had been inside her head from the very first moment they'd laid eyes on each other.

Her stomach roiled and suddenly she was dry heaving into Malfoy's shirt. He didn't say anything, didn't even pull away. If anything, his grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of her jumper. It was a long while before she could breathe steadily enough to speak, the reality of what Tom had taken from her cutting razor sharp into her lungs with every inhale.

"Did you know?" Her voice was a ghost, thin and transparent.

"Not for sure. At least, not for a long time." His hand stroked through her hair, reminding her of a mother soothing a child, all care and quiet understanding. "I suspected he might try something, but I didn't sense anything when I first started helping you with Occlumency. The bastard was sneakier than I'd thought. Plus, at the time you were staying away from him most of the time. I started to suspect I'd missed something when you allowed such a public sexual act, but I knew for sure when I pulled you into my room and you admitted to losing time. I hadn't been able to figure out how he could create so much architecture in your head without you noticing, but when you told me about the blackouts, it was obvious."

Her hands trembled against him, clenching in his shirt, fisting the soft cotton. "Did you get rid of it?"

Malfoy hands closed gently over hers, lacing their fingers together as he disengaged her grip on his black tee. "If I get rid of it, he'll know. He might not know it was me, but he'll know he doesn't have complete control over you anymore. You'll likely be in even more danger than you already are."

The tears running down her cheeks were hot and heavy, fear made manifest. "I can't… Godric, Malfoy. I can't, I can't, I can't…"

"I know, I know," his thumbs were infinitely gentle as they wiped the tears away, the expression on his face breaking her heart. "But we have to survive this, Hermione. We can't let him win. We can't have come to the past only to make things a million times worse in the future. We have to destroy him."

"I just want it all to stop," she hiccupped, not caring that she was bawling in front of him. It was abundantly clear that she had much larger problems than Draco Malfoy seeing her cry.

"The only way this stops, now and in the future, is with Riddle in the fucking ground, Granger." He looked as gutted as she felt.

She knew. She knew that now. There was no saving the boy with the hypnotic sapphire eyes. No, that boy was no tragic antihero, he was a manipulative mastermind. He took and took and took until there was nothing in the world left for him to feed upon. He would take her soul and eat it for dinner just to know it was his. Her teeth ground, the taste of salt on her lips. She'd thought she'd known what it was like to hate, but this was something else, something raw and unhinged that came only from a violation so incomprehensible. He'd taken her, mind, body and soul, without permission, without mercy. Her fingers dug into Malfoy's.

"I'll kill him." She wasn't sure if she actually could, despite the rage flowing unchecked through her veins. She had only killed at a distance before, never anyone she'd known well. Certainly not someone she'd shared a bed with for months. Hermione shoved the doubt away, embracing the rage instead. He would pay, she promised. No matter what happened, she would make him pay.

"Glad we've come full circle now." Malfoy sounded far from glad. "But that brings us back to your choice. I've eliminated a lot of what he did in your head, a foul combination of Legilimency, a perversion of the Imperious with a bit of memory magic thrown in, but if I get rid of the architecture he made entirely, he'll know and you'll likely be in another type of prison before you can react. So, I can leave it, put it back up, and we can go back for now or I can break it all and we leave right now, go anywhere else. But he will chase us. I wasn't joking. In his own demented way Riddle loves you. He will not give you up."

They weren't prepared to run. Their cover at Hogwarts was paper thin, especially since Riddle likely knew every sordid detail of the life they'd run from. If they just left, there was no telling what he would do and Hermione wasn't willing to risk it. Her jaw trembled as she stared up at Malfoy, the only option obvious and impossible. "You keep it in place. We have to. Tom likely knows everything, including the Horcruxes. We have to eliminate him before he can make one and he's going to do that immediately if we don't pretend everything is normal."

"I am so sorry to ask this of you." The truth of his sorrow bled through cloudy eyes, the angular panes of his face taut with unspoken despair. "I know the cost is far too great to bear."

"Just promise me," Hermione whispered, voice hoarse and wrong. "Promise me you'll free me. Promise you'll eliminate every scrap of him that was ever in my head."

"I will set you free. I vow it." Malfoy brought her fingers to his lips, sealing the words with a solemn kiss to her knuckles. The tenderness would have sent pleasant tingles across her skin if the moment hadn't been so serious, so wrought with all that would not be.

"I didn't even remember the note you sent me. When you put that shield back up, I'm not going to remember this." How she wished it wasn't true, but now she understood just how deep Tom's talons had sunk. She groaned, shaking her head. "If he knows everything, and I'd say that's a safe assumption, why doesn't he kill you?"

Malfoy blinked then a rueful grin settled on his full lips. "Although he has created quite the prison in your mind, I'm fairly certain my disappearance or death would dismantle at least part of it. You've known me in both realities and despite having an antagonistic relationship, we do have a relationship. I'm kind of impossible to forget, especially for you."

He wasn't wrong. Malfoy had left a deep impression on her from age eleven onward. It hadn't been a good impression at all, but she supposed he was right on that count too. It didn't matter that they'd spent half of their lives at odds with each other, only that it had been half of their lives. It seemed Tom was able to redirect her thoughts, not eliminate entire portions of reality. That was a cold comfort indeed. What might have happened if Malfoy hadn't grabbed her on the top of that tower? If she'd been alone in her confrontation of Riddle? Would she have trusted Dumbledore, even knowing the manipulative lengths he'd gone to use Harry against Voldemort? Or would she have fallen into Tom's web alone, without a partner to pry the deadly strands apart?

Her hands trembled, the warmth of Malfoy's grip holding the cold panic at bay. It was useless conjecture now. She was trapped, but by the grace of Merlin, she was not alone. She stared down at their clasped hands, at the scars crisscrossing Malfoy's pale skin, at the only thing that made sense in a world turned sideways.

"Does Aurelia know?"

"No," he murmured. "Nothing close to the truth anyway. She just thinks being with Riddle is making you do irrational things. She's worried about you and wary of him, but has no idea what he's capable of. I'm trying to keep her out of it as much as possible."

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Good. I like her."

"Me too." There was a note in voice that made her look up. His lips were twisted in a grimace, as if a physical pain had stolen over him. She glanced down at his leg, but his weight was carefully balanced fully on his right side. His leg might be hurting, but it wasn't causing the shadow across his angular features.

Hermione sighed. Now was not the time to pry, to try to whittle away at the hard exterior Malfoy kept in place no matter how much she cracked. No, there was the more pressing concern of her Valentine's Day date with Tom, a date she was fairly certain would end with a ring.

"He's going to ask me to marry him. Next week."

"And you're going to say yes."

Hermione tore free of him, spinning in a frantic circle inside the cramped dressing room. Trapped here. Trapped everywhere. "Argh!" Her fists beat against his chest, a plea and a denial. He didn't stop her.

"I wish I could tell you there was another way. But we can't figure out a plan to kill the bastard in five days, Hermione. He's smart and he'd see it coming a mile away. So you're going to be disgustingly under his thrall, just like you've been for the last six months. And it's going to require you to do things you would never do in your right mind. It may even require you to follow through and marry him, but I promise you, I will come for you and you will be free."

It didn't seem worth it. She'd known that coming to the past was a desperate move, a last-ditch effort to save her world, but she hadn't thought about the consequences to her soul, to her life. She hadn't understood that killing Tom Riddle would not be a wave of a wand and a dark spell, but rather the sacrifice of everything that made her real, that held the broken shards of her life together. To think she'd thought Tom put her pieces back together, healed her pain. He'd put her pieces together all right, but only because he'd stolen her mind and made her into an object of his own creation. To be admired and used, not alive and aware. And she was going to let Malfoy strip away her free will again, return her to that dungeon within her mind, to be used, body and soul, by a boy with hunger in his veins and destruction in his eyes. She was going to destroy herself yet again and for what? For a better future? For a world that deserved no such sacrifice?

Malfoy's hands were on her shoulders, firm and real, shaking her gently. Her rage had faded, her hands limp by her sides now. His fingers trailed a path of warmth up the column of her neck before cupping her cheeks, at once gentle and determined. "I promise, Hermione."

He was blurry, a sure sign the tears were back, if they had ever left. "I don't want…"

"I know," His voice was soft, as beleaguered as she felt. "I know. I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've even thought of asking Dumbledore for help, but he knows too much about me. Too much of what you knew about the war. He'll never believe I'm truly trying to help you unless I let him in my head. And I… I can't do that. I wish I could, I wish I hadn't…" He trailed off, shaking his head, that same haunting pain splayed across his angular features. "So I need time to figure this out, but I will work as fast as possible, I promise you."

"What if you don't?" It hurt to ask, but knowing Tom as she did now, it seemed likely Malfoy wouldn't succeed.

His eyes cracked, sorrow leaking through. "I won't fail. I've spent the last three years preparing for this fight."

His words made no sense. Until six months ago, he'd spent the last three years fighting for Voldemort, killing and torturing with an abandon that had earned him the title of monster in most civilized circles. She might believe that something greater lay behind those enigmatic eyes, but she knew the facts. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater in the extreme. He might not have wanted the job, but he had flourished in the role, his talent for pain inhuman. And yet the man standing before her was no cold-blooded killer, no architect of human suffering. No, he was her protector, the only thing that stood between her and a life without agency, without power, a life of Tom Riddle's design. She still didn't understand him.

"We don't have much time." Malfoy's thumbs swept over her cheeks, hot tears smearing in their wake.

Hermione wasn't ready. "I…"

Malfoy's lips were soft against her temple. "I'm so sorry."

Then his wand was there and her mind was shattering all over again, the pieces flickering and fading until there was… a dress of the brightest ruby, iridescent with enchanted sequins lining the bodice. She smiled as she picked it up. The heart-shaped bodice would be flattering with its empire waist. The skirt was layered with delicate lace over a deep satin that slipped like water between her fingers. It was perfect. She could just imagine the slide of the sensual fabric against her skin as Tom pushed up the skirts, deviant grin on his face promising pleasure.

Anticipation thrumming down her spine, she tore off her jumper and jeans before sliding into the dress. As expected, it was perfect, the fabric cool and silky against her exposed skin. Hermione grinned. Tom would be so pleased.