Notes: Thank you for all your comments, etc., you all are the best. Most of you have figured out where this is going (for once, a less twisty plot twist), so kudos to all of you. Now, of course, there will be consequences...

~*~ Thirty Five ~*~

Hermione held Draco's stare as the jet of green shot toward her. He didn't flinch, but there was a plea within his eyes, a desperate hope that had no place in a room filled with sickly green light. A moment passed, and then there was a rip along the edge of her soul, a tear through the very fabric of her being. Her skin was hot and cold, numb and burning, her heart stopped and racing all at once. It was as if a piece of her was dying, being burned away while the rest of her remained unchanged, entirely unaffected by the killing blow.

But she was screaming. No, he was screaming. The voice in her head, it was not her own. The soul being pulled into the searing depths was no facet of her own. Tom. She searched frantically for him, raw emotion clouding out any reservations as a bone-deep need, overwhelming and powerful, spurred her into action. She clawed against the scorching destruction to reach for him, to tighten her hold on him. She would not let him be taken from her. She could not lose this piece of her, no matter how foreign its origin. He had taken everything from her, but he had also given, had imprinted upon her soul, had provided her a companion in the darkness and she would not see his light extinguished so eternally.

Now she was screaming too, a primal yell that echoed through every crevasse of her battered soul. She clung to the shards of him, her light wrapping into his darkness, a mosaic of shattered hopes, forgotten dreams, of a love that hadn't been. But no matter how much she blanketed him, the fragments of his soul were smote down, the burn searing into the depths of her, every pore aflame, every secret exposed by the green light that crackled beneath her skin.

Then it was silent, the pit of her stomach falling through eternity, the prickle of her nerves the only sign of the battle that had raged within. A metallic tang coated her tongue no matter how many times she swallowed. Her fingers felt as if they'd been scorched, but a glance down at them showed only unbroken skin, so sign of the flames she'd felt.

Nothing had happened; her pulse still fluttered at her throat, her lungs still filled with stale air. And yet everything had changed. She'd felt the moment Tom's soul turned to ash, could taste it in her mouth, feel it in her lungs. He'd been with her, intertwined to the point she could not tell them apart and then he was gone and she was utterly alone, bereft of a facet she hadn't understood belonged. She ought to be glad—the Horcrux he'd created within her had been destroyed—but she wasn't. She was overwhelmed with a grief she had never expected to feel, with a knowledge that Tom meant so much more to her than she'd been willing to acknowledge.

But just because another part of her had cracked didn't mean the world had stopped turning. It certainly didn't mean she was excused from the sudden uproar as she rose from the floor, the occupants of the great hall of Nurmengard scrambling back in disbelief.

"What is the meaning of this?" Grindelwald was staring, a hungry look in his eyes that had Hermione taking a step back and then another.

Draco was in front of her instantly, his arm pressing her tightly against his back as he squared his shoulders, wand dropping to his hand. Grindelwald paused, checking his approach to study the sudden transformation of his commander. Draco growled low, the sound vibrating him against her. "You will not harm her."

"Then you will explain."

"Privately."

Grindelwald's crystalline gaze narrowed, flickering between their faces. Hermione could see the wonder, the incessant need to learn exactly what had protected her from the sure destruction of the Killing Curse. He was a power hungry wizard willing to delve into the darkest of arts and they had just given him proof of one of the blackest magics. Hermione was wrecked from the experience, from the forceful unbinding of her soul from Tom's, but this could not wait. The gleam in Grindelwald's eyes was too keen, his hunger too visceral to be denied.

"Fine," the elder wizard allowed after a charged moment. "Come with me."

He made a clear show of keeping his wand trained on both of them, indicating with his free hand for them to walk ahead as he directed them down one of the many hallways. The sconces flickered, swept into a frightful dance by the disturbance of air as they moved down the hall, Grindelwald's pace a frantic walk that had her stumbling more than once, only Draco's secure arm at her waist keeping her upright. They made a handful of turns she couldn't remember before stopping outside an arched doorway. Grindelwald moved his wand in a complex unlocking spell and the door fell away revealing a small sitting room with a vast array of windows illuminated by the brilliant orange of the dawn. Draco led Hermione to one of the wing-backed chairs, settling to lean against the arm as Grindelwald finished resetting his locking charm. Collapsing into the chair, Hermione let her hand settle on the armrest, letting out a breath of relief as Draco clasped it, his fingers weaving seamlessly through hers.

"Explain." Gleeful and imperious, the word echoed through the room.

Draco's grip tightened, but his voice was deceptively level, bored even. "I needed you to eliminate the soul fragment of another person that had been placed in Hermione. To do so required the use of the Killing Curse and a pure intent to cause her death. I was… unable to do the task myself for that reason. Hence the fabrication of Hermione's treason. I do apologize for the charade. I know it will be difficult to explain."

"Difficult to explain?" Grindelwald crowed. "It is impossible to explain. No one survives the Killing Curse. Not a single soul and now I have a traitor without a scratch on her at the receiving end of my wand. A wand that does not lose."

"It didn't," Hermione interjected. "The part of Tom's soul inside me had to be eliminated before you could kill me. The magic in your wand worked properly and destroyed a soul as requested. It just wasn't mine."

"Tom?" Grindelwald's keen intellect didn't miss her admission. "As in Tom Riddle. What was a piece of the soul of the man you want to kill doing inside you?" He paused, Elder wand lowering to dangle at his side as he slid into a chair across from her. "What magic is this? This splitting of souls and survival of curses? I feel as if I've heard of it or something very similar before. Let me think… yes, back when Dumbledore and I were friends, before the tragedy, I recall a discussion about some very dark magic indeed. Magic so black it withered the soul, but preserved the body. An eternal life, but at the highest price, the very essence of one's soul."

An apropos description of a Horcrux if she'd ever heard one. Draco shifted beside her, his jaw tensing. "So you know."

"Of Horcruxes?" There was a pleased gleam in his eyes that grew as they both tensed at the word. "Yes. I am not such a fool as to believe they would work. Power is useful, a means to an end, but it only benefits a wizard if there is still a fully functional mind and body to use it. From what research I've done, Horcruxes seemed useful only in the direst of situations where they were the only way to prevent the destruction of the soul in its entirety. And still, if one's body were to be destroyed, it would take dark magics indeed to provide a sufficient host. Even still, it's likely the mind and body would never truly fit together as intended and that the power sought would never be fully attainable in such a compromised form."

An astute conclusion based on what had happened to Voldemort following his desperate resurrection. Draco seemed to agree, nodding beside her. The dawn's light had painted his platinum hair a blazing bronze, its fine strands like a dancing fire as he carded his hand through it. "The effects are quite similar to what you surmised. But it's much worse if the soul has been fractured more than once."

Grindelwald froze, icy blue eyes widening to a nearly comic degree. "And how many times has this Riddle boy split his soul?"

"At present, only two," Hermione admitted.

"But in the future," Draco continued, features twisting in clear disgust. "Seven."

"No wonder he becomes less sane," Grindelwald reflected, clearly remembering his conversation with Draco in the farmhouse bedroom. "So he's terrified of death, but why use a human vessel? Ms. Granger is very much mortal. And don't think you're off the hook, Ms. Granger. Those memories I saw of you and my former friend were very real indeed."

Hermione took the statement in stride. Her relationship with Dumbledore could easily be explained if she showed him any one of her memories of the future. As well as the true content of the letter she'd received. It seemed Grindelwald was more fascinated by her knowledge of Horcruxes, including her stint as one, to be concerned with killing her any longer. Any punishment would likely be a method to pacify his followers who'd witnessed her impossible survival than anything truly endangering her.

Draco took a half step forward, stormy eyes alit, the sunrise turning his irises radiant. "You will not harm her."

"So you've said before. I am impressed, Mr. Malfoy, by your affinity for deception. I would not have killed, or attempted to kill I suppose we should say, Ms. Granger if I had not been convinced you felt she was a danger to yourself and others within my walls. Of course, it helps that you played the part, Ms. Granger. Your anger was rather palpable. I'm afraid I will no longer be able to allow either of you the liberty of leading my forces." Hermione's pulse leapt, the consequences of Draco's deception coming into focus for the first time since she'd risen to her feet in the great hall, the harrowing imprint of Tom's charred soul burned into her forever. But Grindelwald, waved a hand a both of them, a smile tugging at his lips. "I will not be abandoning our deal, my dear time travelers, merely altering it. But I still have questions and you will provide me with answers."

"Of course, my Lord," Draco assured, his stance relaxing a hair.

"Neither of you answered me. Why did Ms. Granger have Tom Riddle's soul in her?" His gaze was sharp now, unrelenting as he crashed against her mental barriers.

Draco's eyes slid down to meet hers, a question behind them. It was her secret to share, but he would if she was unable to face it. She swallowed heavily, metallic burn still coating her tongue. This was her burden to bear and she would not shirk it. "Tom Riddle and I… we were close. So close we were married." At this, Grindelwald's brows shot upward, her words clearly not the explanation he'd expected. "Tom's twisted idea of a wedding gift, or something like that, was to tie us together eternally. He made me a Horcrux after killing his father after our wedding."

The elder wizard blinked slowly, as if he could not quite believe her. "And you willingly tied yourself to such a man?"

"It's complicated." And it was. The death of Tom's soul within her today had made that abundantly clear. She'd thought she was over him, that the months of healing spent with Draco had changed her, allowed her to morph into a different woman, a woman unshackled by Tom's memory. Clearly she'd been mistaken. All it had taken was a threat against him and she'd thrown herself without thought or reason into the path of destruction. If anything, she was lucky the devastating green light hadn't chosen her instead, as often as she'd tried to block it from reaching Tom. She knew that within the murky depths of her soul ties to him still lurked, that she was attached to him in ways she couldn't square with what he'd done to her, but actively fighting for him was something she'd promised never to do again. Her skin crawled as she realized how little she understood of her connection to him still. He was deeper in her psyche than she'd imagined and purging him was clearly no simple matter.

Draco's hand on her shoulder, strong and warm brought her back. She let her head fall against the touch, his rough skin against her cheek. He didn't pull away. "Is that all?" The question was directed toward Grindelwald, but she could feel his eyes on her.

"Until I can determine how best to handle the mess you have created, I suppose so. We are not finished discussing this matter, however. I would know the intricacies of this magic. Do not worry, I have no designs to use such destructive magics on myself, but I find greater understanding is always beneficial."

Hermione had no idea whether or not to trust him, but they had little choice now. Draco gently squeezed her shoulder and it took all her self control not to collapse against him, to yield to the exhaustion that threatened to steal her away now that the imminent threat had passed. "We'll retire to our rooms until you decide our fate."

"That would be appreciated." Grindelwald's gaze sliced through her before cutting up settle on Draco. "You both have created quite the mess for me today."

"I'm sorry, my Lord." But for once the blond didn't sound sorry at all.

The fact was not lost on Grindelwald. "Do not think you haven't shown your true colors today, Mr. Malfoy. Do not think for one second I do not know the rank deception of which you are capable. Tread carefully while you are dependent on my charity."

Draco's grip on her shoulder tightened and his next words were pure deference. "I apologize, my Lord. I will not forget."

"Leave."

They didn't need to told twice. Even though Hermione was toeing the edge of complete exhaustion, she surged to her feet, swaying against Draco, but moving steadily toward the exit. It was only after they'd safely turned down the hall that she allowed her steps to falter, her body to succumb to the trauma it had endured. The world spun, off kilter and impossible, but then warm hands were around her legs and she was floating, warm and safe. The corridor fizzled and faded, the darkness that followed a welcome relief.