Hermione was already on the Hogwarts grounds when the light of the full moon first touched the top of the forest trees. She had spent time a few nights before scoping out where the poppy grew and made a beeline for it; it was still there, growing in a patch that was now covered in the bright light provided by the perfect circle of the moon. Hermione had never appreciated the orbiting mass as she did that night.

She picked approximately three times the amount of the flower that she needed, preserving it carefully with a spell before placing it in a prepared box so that the petals would not crumple or bend. Her steps were measured and slow as she returned to the castle despite her growing excitement.

Poppy picked by the afflicted on the previous full moon.

Tomorrow night this beautiful moon would be the previous one. Hermione had picked the poppy. And, she thought with a sigh, I am afflicted.

The next day felt like a dream where time didn't quite move correctly. Slughorn's five-minute lecture felt like an hour, whereas the rest of the class passed in a blur as she lost herself to daydreams and fixations. At the end of the period, she hadn't done anything, and Draco, who she had still been stuck partnered with, had silently done the assignment himself. Because she was now so laser-focused on the parts of her that felt wrong, she couldn't bear to look at Draco since the night of her painful honesty.

Hermione arrived in the Head dormitories after her classes and immediately performed an hourglass spell that would inform her the precise moment the sun had fully gone down—she didn't have the patience to wait any longer, and all she could manage for the following half-hour was to watch as the sand slowly moved down the manufactured glass.

The second the final, glowing grain of sand slipped down her handcrafted hourglass, making the entire object disappear, Hermione was ready with the flowers from the night before, carefully adding them to the potion according to the instructions. She watched with bated breath as the potion turned the correct dark violet shade.

Hermione's hands shook as she picked up the entire bowl and poured it into her mouth. As the antidote acted, she felt the change inside her as she hadn't when the love potion took her over because this time, she was ready. As she greedily drank the purple liquid, she thought of Tom, and when she was finished, she craved him in a way that she hadn't in ages.

Now, Hermione noticed for the first time that Tom had never returned to the common room after dinner. She had been so focused on the task at hand that she hadn't even processed the information before. Hermione quickly left the common room and began to comb the castle, searching the library, talking her way into the Slytherin common room, and even checking the kitchens.

Eventually, she reluctantly concluded that Tom could be anywhere, and it could be that the moment she left the library to check elsewhere is when he decided to go there. Exhausted from running around, Hermione returned to their shared common room, sat on the couch, and waited.

She woke up hours later; she had fallen asleep on the couch and judging by the light coming from underneath Tom's door, he had walked right past her but was still awake.

Hermione felt her hair and made some attempt to adjust it, but was too filled with nerves to make much of an effort before knocking lightly on Tom's door.

Tom opened with a wary expression on his face. "Hermione," he said coldly. "What can I do for you? It's quite late."

She stared at him for a moment before responding; she had seen him recently, of course, but after taking the antidote, it was as though she were seeing him for the first time, except this time she didn't try to resist the pull toward him. His dark hair was sticking up slightly on the side in the way it always did when he had been reading in bed and his gray eyes were beautiful as always but distant. His cheekbones looked like they could cut her and she decided to test it as she grabbed his face and pulled him down toward her. Confusion flashed in his eyes for only a moment before he followed her lead and leaned down, their noses touching. His gray eyes were burning, and he was close enough that she could feel his breath tingle against her lips that were already sensitive from nervous biting on her part.

"Does this mean what I think it does?" He asked in a quiet, velvety voice; because of their proximity, she could feel the slight vibrations from his vocal chords as he spoke.

"I drank the antidote. I tried to find you but I didn't know where you were and then I waited up but I fell asleep," Hermione blurted out, her words running together slightly.

"And?"

"And what?" Hermione breathed.

"Is this what you want?" Tom asked, his eyes boring into hers.

"Tom, you know it is. We've talked about this."

He pulled her closer, burying his face partially in her hair. "I want to believe you," he said in her ear, and there was a raw desperation in his tone that she hadn't heard before. Hermione ran her hand up and down his back comfortingly.

"Tom, I told you I would tell you everything, and I will. I know I've made it hard to trust me. But I promise I won't leave again; I couldn't."

He held her tighter and Hermione felt as though her bones were about to break, but she just stood there while they embraced, stuck on slight tip-toe but not wanting to break the contact between them. He still smelled like Christmas, reminding her of the first time she had noticed, back when she had still tried to pretend like she could push him away.

It felt like a few minutes passed before he spoke again. "What about what you said to Draco—that you would kill me?" His voice was quiet and slightly shaky in her ear.

"That's what I thought I wanted," Hermione confessed. "I still don't know how I could watch you become what you did in my timeline, but I'm hoping we can prevent that together." She could feel Tom's heart beat erratically against her as she continued. "But even if we can't, even if everything is the same…" A heavy sigh escaped her. "I couldn't hurt you. I've known that since the day we kissed for the first time. Loving you has changed everything for me, and it's made the thought of destroying you impossible."

She could feel Tom let out the breath he was holding. His voice was silky and nearly inaudible as he responded. "Loving you has changed everything for me, too, Hermione."

He let go of her just enough that she could look into his eyes; they were close enough that the rest of his face was a blur, but his gray eyes were the lightest color she had ever seen them. It seemed like his eyes had always been piercing and searching. But for the first time, he appeared nearly content.

"Hermione?" He asked as he traced one of her locks of hair, following the erratic path of her curls.

"Yes, Tom?"

He pulled gently on the lock of hair he had been playing with as he responded, his voice calm and steady, only a hint of a question in his voice. "You won't leave again, will you?"

"No, Tom," Hermione agreed, mussing his hair slightly. Whether it was the hand through his hair, her response, or both, she had earned one of Tom's rare smiles.

She pulled him toward her as he did the same, their lips meeting as they crashed into each other. Their kiss was unrestrained: his hand was fully tangled in her hair, his hipbone pressed hard into her side, and when he bit into her neck, no longer marking her, but claiming her, it hurt.

They slept that night in Tom's bed, with Hermione's head on his chest. Her mind strayed once to the Cup in the drawer, but she found that after he had failed to make it a Horcrux, she was strangely at peace with the pieces of his soul scattered about the room.