Chapter 12: Music of forces
Now - 4th August 2002, Hotel Merkwaardig, Amsterdam, Netherlands
"I'm not him, Hermione," Tom said. His voice was rough, his eyes frighteningly blue in the afternoon sunlight. "And I'm done pretending."
"Then stop." The whisper came out angrier than she had intended, full of the frustration that threatened to rise up her throat and choke her every time he wrongfooted her like this. She shifted up onto her knees in the bed, letting the duvet fall from where it had been tucked under her arms as she placed her cup on the bedside table next to her wand. "I don't know what you think you're doing, what you're trying to get me to believe, but you need to stop."
"Fine," Tom growled, moving quick as a snake to fist a hand in her hair. Hermione tried to jerk backwards in shock but his grip was too tight, his arm snaking under hers and up her spine to hold her in place. "But if you think I was trying to trick you with the prophecy then you're wrong."
"There's no way -" Hermione bit out, but Tom cut her off.
"Think about it," he breathed. "Use that massive brain that everyone's always going on about."
His eyes were intent upon her face, and Hermione swallowed, several responses flashing through her mind as she watched his pupils dilate.
It couldn't have been about him, Hermione told herself. There was no way that Trelawney's prophecy could have - it would make a mockery of everything Harry had stood for, everything that they had believed, and yet -
What if they weren't out of chances?
"You brought me back from the dead, Hermione," Tom whispered. "Do you think that sort of thing just happens?"
She brought her hand up to rest against Tom's chest, feeling the lean span of muscle twitch minutely beneath her fingers.
Careful, she told herself.
"What are you doing?" he asked. She felt rather than heard the hitch in his breath as she trailed her hand downwards to grip his hipbone.
"Say I believe you," she ventured, her free hand searching the table behind her for her wand. "Say that I agree it might just be -" Tom released his hold on her hair, and Hermione couldn't suppress a shiver as he drew his hand back, brushing his fingers over her ribs. "That it just might be possible that -"
Her words stuttered to a stop as he drew a finger along the scar on her neck that her hair left exposed.
"Sometimes you remind me of her," he murmured softly, and Hermione's stomach clenched: half horror, half want as she held her breath, her fingers brushing her wand, almost - almost -
"Andromeda always was the brave one. And then Narcissa was clever, and Bella -" his fingers twitched almost imperceptibly against her neck.
"What about Bella?" she asked, and Tom looked over at her, his eyes mapping a familiar trajectory across her face. Eyes - cheekbones - lips.
"Loyal," he said, soft and sad, and though she knew there was a part of him that mourned her, Hermione felt a creeping sense of what she refused to believe was jealousy. "Bella was loyal to those she loved, and treacherous to all others. Just like you." And suddenly the sadness fell from his face like a glittering mask, leaving only calculation in the moment before he brushed his mouth against hers.
"Nice try," he murmured as Hermione froze with shock, just long enough for his hands to move again, quick as lightning, one to close around her neck and the other around her wrist. Hermione made a choked squawk of protest as he squeezed her throat hard enough to leave a bruise. "You think I'd believe that I'd won you over, just like that?" His mouth was still torturously close to hers, their bodies aligned in a mockery of a lovers' embrace that made her heart pound in her chest.
"Don't try to con a con man," Tom went on, relaxing the pressure on her neck to stroke his thumb over the hollow of her collarbone.
"You're right." Hermione's voice sounded strained to her own ears, carrying the memory of his crushing grip. "I should stick to what I'm good at."
He reared back the moment her hand left his hip, but she'd been counting on that, since it gave her enough clearance to take a swing at him. There was a crunching sound as her fist connected with his nose, and Tom released his grip on her, hands flying to his face as he fell backwards off the bed with a furious shout.
"Fuck!"
Hermione leapt up, scrambling to cross the room in search of her beaded bag, but she didn't get far before Tom caught her by the ankle to bring her crashing to the floor.
"Ow!" Hermione yelped, raising her wand to stun him, but Tom had dragged himself to his knees and threw his full weight onto her, knocking her hand aside so that the spell went flying to the ceiling, the wand rolling away from her under the bed.
She kicked at him, eliciting a grunt of pain as his grip on her loosened enough for her to push upwards and roll them both over, pinning him under her as he got hold of her wrists and held them where they pressed into his shoulders.
"Are you happy now?" he hissed. He tried ineffectually to shift himself free, but Hermione leaned her weight on her hands, feeling bone pressing against the heels of her palms as she dug them against the meat of him.
This close she could see that her fist had made a mess of his face, blood staining the lower half of it from his broken nose.
"Of course not," she ground out, "I'm still stuck with you, and I'm still going to have to try and make the fucking best of it."
"You chose this," Tom spat, straining upwards against her in a way that made Hermione suddenly very aware of the way she was straddling him, even as she fought to hold him down underneath her. "And you're making me choose it too, because I can't -"
He paused, his grip on her wrists loosening as he slid his hands up her arms to press his fingers into her triceps.
"Can't what?" Hermione told herself she couldn't hear the catch in her breath; couldn't feel the rise and fall of Tom's abdomen as he sighed under her.
"You brought me back," he whispered. "And we're each other's best hope for getting what we want, so I can't fight you."
She wasn't sure when her head had dipped towards his, but their faces were so close that Hermione could feel the way the air sparked in the scant inches that divided them. "Are you saying you let me win?"
Tom turned his head so that the tip of his nose brushed the edge of hers. "Who's winning here, muggle girl?"
His eyes were dark as midnight, endless as the sky, and she could feel the pull of him, somewhere deep inside her, in the part that couldn't deny the way he lit her blood and stole her breath and made her forget everything except the feel of him, right there, beneath her.
"I don't know," she breathed. The space separating their mouths was almost nothing at all - Hermione could practically taste the blood on his lips when there was a knock at the door.
oOo
Before - 20th June 2002, Ministry of Magic, London
If you didn't pay too much attention, the days slipped past much as they ever had.
If anything, the quiet suited him. The sombre mood made it easier to concentrate; easier to keep his head down and never think about how wrong it all was.
Stack all of those feelings - all of the grief, and the pain, and terrible terribleness of everything - behind a stone wall in his mind, and deny that any of it was happening.
And if his fingers itched with the need to pick up his wand; if his throat ached with the pressure of holding in a scream of rage; if his eyes burned with all the terrible things he had seen, then it didn't matter, because he couldn't let it show.
He'd taken a Stunning Spell to the back as they'd fled the Battle of Hogwarts, and it was only luck and some very quick thinking that had managed to persuade Dolohov that he had been there fighting on the side of the Ministry.
The Dark Lord and his followers never seemed to understand that the Cruciatus Curse was only really ever effective in getting people to talk when they were acting in self-interest. As soon as you had someone else to protect, none of it mattered.
He pushed open the door to his office, still immersed in his paperwork, but came to an abrupt stop at the sight of the dark-haired wizard lounging behind his desk.
"What do you want?" Percy asked, surprised and annoyed that Nott seemed to have somehow managed to bypass his security measures.
"Big question," Theo smirked. "The end of The Daily Prophet's stranglehold on the wizarding press, the trade embargo against Italy to be lifted so I can get some new ties, the destruction of my enemies, the wrackspurt infestation in the lower levels of the Ministry to be cleared -"
He was ticking things off on his fingers as he went, but Percy frowned and stopped him. "Wrackspurts?"
"Heard of them have you?" Theo threw him a malevolent little smirk. "Tricky little buggers. Very evasive, and then of course as soon as you catch them, all you can do is hope that they'll get free."
"Hope that they'll -" Percy echoed softly, dropping himself slowly into the armchair that faced his desk. "You're not talking about Wrackspurts."
"Am I not?" Theo's smile shrank slightly, and his eyes glittered in the lamplight. "What else could I possibly wish to see evicted from the Ministry dungeons?"
Percy's hand twitched with the desire to loosen his tie. Four years of being very, very careful seemed all at once to be crowding his throat, making it difficult to swallow as he considered his options.
"I heard a rumour," he said slowly, "that Hermione Granger had been caught."
"You must have good ears," Theo said. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Hear anything else?"
Percy considered Theo; considered how much trouble he potentially wanted to bring down around his own ears. His heart was beating very fast, and somehow it felt good - it felt right to be doing something and -
"I heard Narcissa Malfoy disappeared," he said carefully.
"You did, did you?" Theo tilted his head. "And yet all I hear of you is that you're a model employee; punctual, efficient, and entirely unworthy of note, unless you count the total renunciation of your family's loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix."
If Theo was trying to get a rise out of him, Percy hoped he was disappointed. Worse things had been said to him. He'd done worse things.
"And yet," Theo sighed. "I find it strange that so many suspected muggleborns manage to turn up wizarding family trees; that the order to maintain the unplottable status of the ruins of Hogwarts Castle is upheld; and that a full horde of goblins appear to have simply vanished."
"None of that can be connected to me," Percy said. His mouth was dry, and there was a vague ringing in his ears as he stared Theo out. "I haven't signed off on any of it."
"No you haven't," Theo agreed easily, sitting back to watch him like a cat with a mouse between its paws. "And yet I would say the very fact that none of this paperwork appears to have crossed your desk is suspicious in itself." He waited a moment, making a show of studying his nails before he continued. "Of course, I've covered your tracks, so now there really is nothing to raise any alarms."
"Why would you -" Percy started to ask in a rush before he stopped himself, smoothing his tie and trying to regain his composure. "What do you want?"
"I need your help," Theo shrugged amiably.
"With what?" Percy demanded. "Getting Hermione out?"
"Oh, Merlin, no." Theo actually laughed at that. "Granger's got herself covered, I wouldn't dare interfere. No," he went on, "I need your help making me disappear."
"Ah," Percy said, vaguely wondering how this was his life. "Right."
"And I need to be gone in four days," Theo grinned.
oOo
Now - 4th August 2002, Amsterdam, Netherlands
At the sound of the knock Hermione sprang backwards away from Tom, who sat up, his hand rising apparently unconsciously to his mouth before he dropped it to the floor beside him. For a moment neither of them moved, simply staring at each other, until the knock came again.
"Mr Rebus? Miss Shepherd?" a faintly-accented voice called through the door. "This is Schouwer Hendriks and Schouwer van Vliet, from the Ministerie van Toverkunst. We have a report of a disturbance in your room - is everything ok?"
"Fine!" Hermione finally gathered her wits enough to answer, snatching her wand from under the bed and quickly spelling the room to order. "With you in just a second!"
"Clean yourself up!" she hissed to Tom, as she made her way to the door.
"No," he said bluntly, stepping forward to stand beside her.
"What do you mean -"
Tom swung the door open, and Hermione snapped her mouth closed, smiling with what she hoped was a less maniacal expression than it felt at the sight of the two Aurors who were standing in the hall.
"Miss Shepherd?" The taller of the two stepped forward at Hermione's nod, followed closely by his partner. "Thank you for - Mr Rebus!" The tall Auror had apparently just noticed Tom's bloodied state. "What happened?"
"Tripped over the carpet!" Tom laughed. "Honestly, I'm terribly clumsy, it really is appalling."
"Right," the Auror nodded doubtfully, glancing at Hermione, who did her best to look small and innocent. Apparently satisfied, he stepped across the room, glancing around as though searching for further clues.
Hermione watched him for a moment before she became aware that the other Auror was squinting dubiously at her.
"Shepherd?" he said quietly, and she nodded, before his eyes moved to his partner. "Hendriks! Komt ze je bekend voor?"
The blond Auror, Hendriks span on his heel and stared at Hermione before he glanced at his partner. "Je denkt niet..?"
"Ah," Tom said. "Ah, this is -"
"Hermione Granger!" van Vliet said firmly, all doubt apparently cast aside. "I am arresting you for treason against the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, war crimes committed in league with the terrorist organisation the Order of the Phoenix, the murder of Narcissa Malfoy, the abduction of Theodore Nott -"
"Hold on just a minute," Hermione managed to interject, feeling an edge of panic as the blond auror sent a quick spell out of the window. "I'm wanted for war crimes, are you -"
"Oh thank Merlin!" Tom cried, stepping in front of her so that the Aurors couldn't see him take her wand. "I'd almost given up any hope of you finding us - it's been terrible, you've no idea."
"Mr Nott?" van Vliet asked, frowning. "You are Mr Theodore Nott?"
"Hij komt overeen met de beschrijving," Hendriks shrugged when van Vliet looked to him for confirmation.
Hermione felt the faint, ghostly energy in her palm as Tom slowly raised the wand in his hand; the horrible, metallic tang of the spell; and her eyes widened with recognition. "No," she breathed, and Tom spared her the barest glance downwards before rolling his eyes and sending twin stunners shooting towards the Aurors before either of them could react.
"Happy?" he asked her, as they crumpled to the floor.
"What, that you didn't murder anyone?" she grumbled. "Ecstatic." She knelt down to pull both the men into the recovery position, deliberately not looking up when Tom gave a pointed sigh.
"We don't have time for this."
"I'm not going to leave them to choke on their tongues," she spat.
"Hermione." Tom's voice was suddenly urgent as he grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. "Hendriks sent a message off, do you really think we're not about to -"
He stopped talking, looking up suddenly as the air around them began to pull and twist, and the first pop of apparition echoed through the room.
A/N: I woke up this morning and decided this chapter needed to be written. Thanks to everyone who is reading along, dropping in whenever I manage to get my shit together and get an update out for you, and also to all of those new readers who have caught up so far! You're all the best and I love you.