Notes: Hey all, so we're finally here... where all the excitement begins. I have taken some liberties with Grindelwald's magical abilities, but I think that's fair because he has several decades worth of experience beyond Tom, Draco or Hermione. So forgive me for taking an... imaginative approach. Also Tom is finally back! I love writing him so much and this confrontation was one of my favorites to do. Remember, all my characters are shades of grey, especially Tom. Okay, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: Canon violence.

~*~ Forty ~*~

The toll of the bells shattered the early dawn calm, Nurmengard going from sleepy fairy tale castle to battle fortress in the blink of an eye. Hermione was already pulling on a dark charcoal pair of trousers and a midnight black jumper when Grindelwald burst through their door.

Draco looked up from the couch where he was tying his boots, fully clothed. "Time?"

Grindelwald nodded—whatever differences still hung between them set aside for the moment. "He's at the gates. My men have instructions to bring him to my study. I figured a private, contained setting would be more conducive to our business."

"Appreciated," Draco acknowledged, rising to his feet, robes flowing around him like a dark waterfall.

Hermione hadn't seen him dressed for combat in weeks and she was reminded in an instant of how deadly he could be. Swallowing heavily, thinking of anything but the reality of what awaited them below, she pulled her own combat robes around her shoulders, relishing the familiar weight. Her wand was tucked neatly up her sleeve in the holster she'd used for the duration of their command with Grindelwald. She focused on the comforting slide of the wood against her forearm, on the ease with which her wand could drop into her hand, on the breadth of her knowledge.

Draco's hand dropped heavily on her shoulder, spinning her into him. He captured her startled gasp with his lips, devouring her with an abandon that made her tremble beneath his strong grip. Having no care for Grindelwald, he continued to brand her lips, to kiss his way into the depths of her soul until she'd forgotten entirely what else she was to do but melt into him, returning every fevered caress with equal fervor.

When he pulled back, his chest was heaving, a breathless pant escaping his bruised lips. "Whatever happens, know that I love you."

It took her a long moment to pull her senses together to reply coherently. "I could never forget that, Draco Malfoy. I love you too bloody much."

"Good." He pressed their lips together a final time, hard and fast and full of a desperation that tore into her.

"If the dramatics are out of the way," Grindelwald groused, eyes narrowed in thinly veiled annoyance, "I do believe you have a guest waiting below."

Draco's gaze cut to the older wizard, a mask of steel descending over his angular features. "He will not be easily subdued."

"I imagine that's my part in this endeavor," the man replied evenly, the Elder wand spinning between thin fingers before disappearing into the depths of his robes again. "I will have no problem disarming and detaining the young Mr. Riddle, Mr. Malfoy."

"I certainly hope not," Draco replied mildly before turning back to Hermione and holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

She took it, their fingers twining naturally together. Taking a deep breath that strained her lungs, she murmured, "Let's do this."

The trek down to Grindelwald's study was a somber affair, none of them speaking and only the shuffle of footfalls breaking the brittle silence. She was about to see Tom again. It didn't seem real. For all the times he'd broken into her head and even the shock of his letter, she'd never truly thought about what it would be like to stand across from her husband, to breathe the same air again.

And no matter what she felt for Draco, no matter that those emotions far eclipsed what she seemed unable to erase when it came to Tom, he was still her husband and despite everything that mattered to her. It was only a document in a courthouse in Little Hangleton, but it was real. She hadn't worn her wedding band beyond the morning Draco rescued her, but she hadn't destroyed it either. Even now, it lay in the pocket of her robes, a reminder of what might have been, if only he had known how to love another. Her grip tightened on Draco's hand as she packed the myriad of emotions away, forcing them beneath the surface until only a cool detachment showed on her face. She would not fail in this. There would be time to be human another day, to pay the toll of her trespasses in full at a later date.

They stopped at a large wooden door. Grindelwald glanced over his shoulder, eyes brimming with an unnerving excitement. "I'll go first."

He swept into the room without further ado, leaving the door cracked, obscuring Draco and Hermione, but not shutting them out. "Mr. Riddle. I have been expecting you."

"Where is my wife, Grindelwald?" Tom's voice was everything she remembered, deep and sultry, soaked through with authority and confidence.

"Perhaps she doesn't want to see you." Grindelwald was a cat playing with a mouse, his words undercut with a dark glee that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "Perhaps she has found another, more worthy man. You are, after all, still a boy, Tom."

Tom's growl was low and primal and went straight to her gut. "She is mine."

"I fear you are mistaken in that regard, Mr. Riddle." Grindelwald didn't bother to disguise the amusement that coated his words. "So if you are merely here because you want your wife back, I would suggest you leave before things get… ugly."

"She is mine," Tom repeated, a snarl now. "You will not take her from me."

Draco tore away from Hermione, stepping through the door with a casualness that belied his earlier tension. "You have done that yourself, Riddle."

"Malfoy." It was a dark hiss, almost inhuman. "I'll kill you for what you've done."

"What have I done, Riddle?" Draco's tone was still light, unconcerned.

"I warned you, I told you what would happen if you touched her."

Hermione couldn't see into the room from her perch beside the door, but she could imagine the rage in Tom's eyes, sapphire darkened to deadly cobalt. But she knew Draco now, understood that he'd allowed the torture in Tom's bedchamber, but was equally capable of evading it.

"Don't try it, Riddle. You're outnumbered here." She could almost see determined set of Draco's jaw, the flash of his stormy eyes. "I am far more capable than I led you to believe during our time at Hogwarts. How is your band of misfits, anyway? Still as incompetent as ever?"

"You'll never frighten me, Malfoy," Tom jeered, ignoring the dig. "But I imagine you'll be very happy with Aurelia's fate."

Hermione's blood ran cold. Draco's voice was brittle ice when he snapped, "What?"

There was a dark chuckle that reminded Hermione of all the worst parts of Tom. "You thought I wouldn't notice how she helped you take my wife away from me? That I wouldn't find a way to crack the surface of your impenetrable shields? You may be the best Occlumens I've ever met, Malfoy, but even you have a breaking point. I only got there once, but that was all I needed. I never would have allowed you to kiss my fiancé if I hadn't known exactly what it would do to your head. A larger mistake than I originally realized, but the payoff was sweet. My condolences for your wife. Such a pity. It really is too bad Astoria will never know her great aunt."

A cold dagger of comprehension sank into her. The day in Tom's room, when he'd made Draco watch. It hadn't been about her or Draco's jealousy or even Tom's need for power. No, it had been about breaking Draco's control, giving Tom the moment he needed to slip beneath those iron-clad defenses.

Nausea mixed with indignation, churning her gut and forcing her forward. She flung herself into the room, eyes bright with unleashed pain. "What the bloody hell did you do to her, Tom?"

"So you are here." His expression softened a hair as his eyes devoured every facet of her. "Don't worry, my dearest wife, I didn't do anything so dramatic as kill her. She'll have a very comfortable existence in St. Mungo's for the duration of her abbreviated life."

"You utter monster." Draco crossed the room in an instant, fists tangling in Tom's robes. He dragged the other boy across the room and flung him against the desk. Tom hissed at the impact, but stared balefully up at Draco from his haphazard landing position amongst Grindelwald's scattered parchments.

"Is this supposed to scare me, Malfoy?"

Draco's fist connected with Tom's mouth with a solid crack. The darker boy's head snapped back, blood welling from a split in his bottom lip. Eyes cobalt embers of rage, Tom ran his tongue deliberately over the injury. Draco still loomed over him, fist trembling and shoulders poised for action.

"You do remember we are wizards, Malfoy. There's no need to settle this with such pathetic Muggle methods." Tom spat a mouthful of blood to the stone below.

"This is the end for you," Draco hissed, every inch the vicious Death Eater.

Tom laughed, chilling and bloodstained. "I doubt that."

Spells filled the air within moments, walls cracking, furniture splintering with the onslaught. Hermione hung back, ready to jump in if the need arose, but still uneasy at turning her wand so deliberately on Tom, despite the hiss of fury in her veins. Despite the raw ache in her chest for the misery Aurelia now endured. Perhaps the curse Tom had wrought was reversible, but based on all she could not deny, she doubted he had such mercy within him. Merlin, she wished he was different, that the dark, charming boy who'd seduced her was all that lay beneath the surface.

There was a jet of green that had her ducking instinctively despite its target being across the room. She watched Grindelwald easily evade the curse and then begin a tirade of dark enchantments she'd never heard before. Tom managed well enough, blocking or evading most of the streams of deadly light, but when Draco joined in the assault a moment later, he faltered a step, retreating behind the massacred desk. But it would take more than one well-coordinated attack for Tom to go down and Hermione realized just how impossible the odds would have been without Grindelwald at their side. Her heart was only half in the fight and while Draco was beyond competent at the art of war, he seemed evenly matched with Tom. Indeed, what Tom lacked in battlefield experience, he made up for in raw power and a willingness to tap into the darkness raging within.

The desk shattered completely, pieces of wood spearing outward. Hermione dodged a particularly nasty projectile as she rolled, eyes never leaving Tom's hunched form behind the desk. In the space between two spells, the ebony haired boy sprang into action, wand waving madly. Hermione's feet slid out from under her and a moment later familiar hands were around her waist, the point of a wand jutting into the soft flesh of her throat.

Tom's bulk against her evoked an echo of the heat she'd once known, his breath ragged against her ear as he spoke. "It's over, Malfoy, Grindelwald. I leave now with her."

"You wouldn't hurt her." Draco didn't look like he entirely believed the words.

"I wouldn't kill her," Tom admitted, tracing a line with his wand from the frantic flutter of her pulse at her neck to the curve of her collarbone disappearing into her dark jumper. "But I'm more than willing to hurt her to save her from you. Can you say the same, Malfoy?"

"This isn't love, Riddle." She could almost hear Draco's teeth grind, almost see the frantic scatter of his thoughts behind tempestuous eyes.

Tom pulled her more fully against him. His deep voice echoed through her soul as he spat, "She is mine."

She belonged to nobody, but now wasn't the time to incite further rage in the boy holding her like the world would end if his grip loosened even the slightest bit. Draco took a step closer, wand trained steadily on the pair of them. "Let her go."

"Never." Tom's breath was frantic at her ear, his hands trembling where they clasped her, in desperation or rage she could not tell. "Come away with me, my dearest wife. Leave all of this behind. Leave him behind. He's nothing compared to what I can give you."

They were pretty words which might have held more weight if his deadly wand didn't rest above her panicked heart. Tom's lips skimmed across her skin, kissing a line of heat down her neck, but his wand didn't waver and Hermione suspected his focus never left the other occupants of the room.

She caught the twitch of Draco's eye, the subtle narrowing of his already thinly pressed lips. He blinked, suddenly staring directly at her. There was a desperation in his eyes that made her realize this would not end without bloodshed, that he was willing to do what was necessary to extract them from this complication. She dropped her head forward, a surrender to Tom's ministrations, an affirmation to Draco's request.

The diffindo hit a moment later, arcing across her chest and carving into Tom's wand arm. She gasped and dropped like a rock, blood staining her severed jumper. Tom's inhale was a curdled gag and she felt him stagger away from her.

"Expelliarmus." Grindelwald's calm voice cut into the chaos and Tom's wand was soaring across the room. Grindelwald caught it easily and then weaved the Elder wand through a complex design. A glowing net flew out and over Tom as he ceased the chanting intonation, coating the dark boy in a faint iridescent lattice.

Gasping as blood continued to pour over her hands—now weakly trying to staunch the flow—she watched Tom lurch to his feet and attempt a wandless spell. It yielded no result and he turned an incendiary look on Grindelwald. "What have you done, you old bastard?"

"A little trick I have spent many decades perfecting. You are free to move about, but you will not be able to cast a single spell. Not even a lumos." Tom's handsome face twisted at the words, morphing from anger to horror to some ugly combination of the two. His dominant arm hovered uselessly in the air beside him, dripping a steady stream of blood onto the stone below.

Draco was at her side now, his wand anxiously tracing the deep slashes marring her chest. The blood-stained flesh began to slowly knit as he buried his hands in her hair, lips worshiping every inch of exposed skin in frantic desperation. Between the caresses, he murmured, "I'm sorry," endlessly.

Hermione gripped his wand arm firmly, pulling herself into an upright position. "It was necessary, Draco. This is not another one of your sins."

Swallowing heavily, he held her gaze for a long moment. Satisfied by whatever he saw there, he slowly straightened, lightning within his stormy eyes as he glared at Grindelwald. "You couldn't have just done that to begin with?"

"Ah, but I wanted to measure the mettle of the boy, Mr. Malfoy. I learn nothing when I win in mere seconds, but a great deal when I allow my opponent the opportunity to believe they have a chance of succeeding."

There was a warning in his words that was meant as much for Hermione and Draco as Tom. Whatever they were planning, he would be ten steps ahead of them. Hermione cast the unease away; there were currently larger problems facing her than Grindelwald's clever machinations. With Tom rendered harmless, she had no idea how to proceed. The idea of killing him in cold blood instead of the heat of battle sat like lead in her stomach. And there was still the matter of the Horcrux firmly ensconced about his ring finger.

Draco clasped her forearm, drawing her slowly to stand. She wobbled a moment, hand reaching out for his shoulder, the effects of the blood loss hitting swiftly upon the change of position. They stood together a moment longer, her harsh breaths the only thing between them. When her limbs felt more solid, her heart less harried, she angled to face Grindelwald.

"What now?"

The elder wizard shrugged carelessly. "I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. What you do with Mr. Riddle is entirely up to the two of you. Indeed, I have learned enough to… ensure my own fate."

"We're not quite done," Draco countered, shifting to stand beside Hermione, his arm wrapped securely about her waist. "There is still need of you."

Grindelwald's sky-blue eyes narrowed, but he seemed to accept the request. "If you insist, Mr. Malfoy."

"I want to speak with my wife." Tom's voice cut across the room, softer than she'd expected, almost resigned. His eyes were luminous sapphires as he stared directly at her. "Privately."

She expected Draco to refuse, to give him no quarter, but instead his stormy eyes hardened to icy daggers as he said, "Fine. I'll give you a few minutes with Hermione if you give me your rings."

Hermione started, gaze flickering to the Gaunt family ring—the disguised resurrection stone—that now adorned his right hand. Had he made another Horcrux or was he merely claiming his Slytherin legacy? Did he understand the other, more arcane power that ring possessed? Tom made no effort to pretend he didn't know what Draco was asking. The grind of his teeth was audible across the wrecked study. His violent stare flickered to Draco as he pried the rings from his bloody fingers. "Doesn't bloody matter anyway, Malfoy. Not without her."

To say Hermione was shocked as the rings clattered onto the stone floor, blood splattering in their wake, was a momentous understatement. Voldemort had gone to incredible lengths to protect his Horcruxes and Tom had just surrendered his for mere minutes alone with her. He was vicious and cruel, obsessed with power and the Dark Arts; he was not a boy who threw away his plan for a girl. And yet. Hermione's mouth was dry, a bitter taste creeping down her throat as Draco bent to pick up the discarded jewelry.

"You're sure he's secure?" Ice storms directed their full fury at Grindelwald, but the other wizard merely nodded.

"He can harm her physically if he wants, but there will be no magic available to him unless I will it so." Those keen eyes dragged sharply across her face to land on Tom. "And I don't believe he'll hurt her."

Unease blanketing his expression, Draco looked to Hermione. "You don't have to do this."

"You promised," Tom hissed, crossing the room in a single stride. The blond cocked a brow at him, daring him to come closer. Tom stopped just short of Hermione, incensed stare boring through the other man.

"I promised. She didn't."

"It's okay," Hermione breathed, barely audible.

Draco squeezed her hand, fingers trailing softly across her skin as he pulled grudgingly away. "We'll be on the other side of the door. If you call, I'll be back in an instant." His gaze skittered to the metal in his hand. "I believe I have the perfect remedy for these."

She could feel Tom bristle beside her, could feel the weight of his hungry stare that followed Draco and his bounty out the door. It was only after the soft click of the lock reverberated through the demolished room that he dragged his burning eyes back to her.