Chapter 14: A Many-Coloured Revelation

Before - 4th August 2002 - Hotel Merkwaardig, Amsterdam, Netherlands

"We need somebody in the Ministry," Hermione said, sharing a look with Tom before she turned back to Percy. "We need somebody at the centre of things who can move when the time is right and help us to -"

"They'll suspect me," Percy said. "You-Know-Who gets more paranoid every day, and it wouldn't surprise me if he decided to kill me, Yaxley and Travers outright for letting you get away."

"Then we make you look above suspicion," Tom said quietly. He twirled the wand in his fingers, and Percy paled visibly, though Hermione was impressed when he didn't look away from Tom's gaze.

"What would that involve?" he asked.

"We modify your memory. Yaxley and Travers too," Hermione said, before Tom could answer. "We make it seem sloppy, rushed, and we lay the blank over your real memories so that -"

"So that they don't go digging," Tom nodded slowly. "But we should still make it look as though we didn't have too easy a time of subduing you."

"Meaning what?" Percy asked.

Tom looked at Hermione, smiling amiably as though to say 'this was your plan'. She swallowed, recognising the test, but unsure whether it was one she wanted to pass.

"You said they used the Cruciatus curse on you," she said slowly, and cringed slightly as two red spots appeared in Percy's pale cheeks.

"Hermione -" he started hotly, but Tom interrupted him.

"Would the Dark Lord expect anyone to take a Cruciatus voluntarily?" he asked pleasantly. Percy's jaw tightened, fingers clenching at his sides.

"No," he said. "But that doesn't mean -"

"You know it's the best way," Hermione interrupted. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Percy relaxed slightly. "If you come with us you make our group too recognisable, but if you go back to the Ministry you can help us from there." Percy glared at her. "Please, Perce. You know it makes sense."

"And what if I stun the pair of you and take you to straight to Bill?" he said.

"You can't beat us both," Hermione pointed out gently, though his pig-headed courage made her want to smile. "You know there's only one way that ends."

"Do feel free to try though," Tom remarked, as he turned away and put the wand to Yaxley's temple.

Percy's jaw was still working as he stared daggers at the back of Tom's head, but eventually he sighed deeply, shoulders drooping, before he pushed a hand resignedly through his hair.

"When I heard you'd gone in search of the Well of Souls I thought you must have lost it," he said quietly. "I'd only ever heard of it as a legend, it didn't seem like -"

"When did you hear I'd gone there?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

Percy blinked in surprise at her abrupt tone, then frowned. "There was an intelligence report," he said slowly, "after the raid at Hogwarts. They sent a team of Aurors up there and everything but when you didn't show up after five days they thought they must have missed you -"

"There was a time dilation," Hermione said absently. "I went in on the 19th and didn't come out until the 31st, but -"

"'Born as the seventh month dies'," Percy murmured, his eyes on Tom. "Shit, Hermione, that's -"

"Somebody betrayed us," Hermione said, ignoring Percy's look of dawning incredulity. "I thought maybe the Death Eaters found us at Hogwarts by chance, but if they knew about the Well too -" she grabbed Percy's arm. "Did they take any prisoners?" she demanded. "When they raided Hogwarts did they -"

"I don't know." Percy shook his head. "If they did, they kept it under wraps. Like I said, the Dark Lord's getting more paranoid, he won't -"

"But some of them made it out?" Hermione pressed him. "Some of the others -"

"Theo's still at large," Percy nodded. "That's why they're saying he's with you. I'd imagine most of the others as well, since there's been no fanfare about anyone being caught, and no -" he paused; swallowed. "No more executions."

"So whoever sold us out -" Hermione started -

"- might still be with the others," Tom finished her thought for her, rising smoothly to his feet before he turned the wand towards Travers.

"Which could mean we're heading into a trap," Hermione said, with growing horror. "Or that they're already dead, or -"

"As Weasley points out, there would an announcement if they'd been caught," Tom said. "And while I agree that it might be a trap, I don't see that we have many other options."

Hermione looked at Percy, who shrugged, and then back to Tom.

"That's it?" she asked, bewildered.

"You brought me back to help you end the war," Tom said. He finished the Memory Charm on Travers with a neat flourish. "Isn't walking straight into a trap exactly what Potter would do?"

"What would Harry Potter do?" Percy asked, with a weak attempt at humour, as he watched Tom move onto the two schouwers.

"One finds oneself acquiring a taste for pointless heroics," Tom murmured, turning Hendriks's head to one side as he worked the spell. Hermione could feel the energy of the linked charms pulling at the air of the room.

"You're really prepared to - what? Kill the other part of your soul?" Percy asked dubiously.

"That part of my soul," Tom said without looking up, "has squandered the legacy of everything I tried to build." He turned the wand to van Vliet. "I have seen him devolving into madness; seen him almost destroyed by a teenage boy because he has become scared of his own shadow. Yes," he finished the spell and finally turned his eyes to Percy, "I am quite ready to kill him."

There was silence for a moment, and then Percy looked at Hermione. "I don't like this," he said.

"I know," she replied, giving him a pleading look. "But it's not just about us."

"Are you ready, Weasley?" Tom's voice came from closer than she had expected, and Hermione glanced behind her to see him standing in the middle of the room. Though they had cleaned most of the blood from his face there was still a scarlet stain down the front of his shirt, and he fairly exuded menace as he stood there, smiling slightly and apparently relaxed, just daring Percy to make a move.

In a very un-Weasley-like demonstration of admirable restraint Percy ignored this provocation, not breaking his gaze from Hermione's. "Don't forget what we're fighting for," he told her simply. His eyes darted towards Tom, and then back again. "What we're all fighting for."

Hermione nodded once and then Percy knelt, scowling up to where Tom was still smirking at him. "Make it quick," he growled, removing his belt and placing the leather between his teeth.

Tom's smile widened, suffused with what appeared to be genuine warmth as he raised the wand. "Art should not be rushed, Weasley," he said softly, before - "Crucio."

Hermione forced herself not to look away from Percy's grimace of agony, dropping to her knees and bracing his shoulders with her hands as the spell seared its way through his flesh. Terrible as it was, it was the best way to prove his innocence to the Ministry. After all, what sort of masochist would agree to be Crucio'd?

"I won't forget," Hermione whispered, as Percy's growl of pain deepened to a groan. A blood-vessel burst in his eye and she choked back a wave of bile as she watched crimson flood across the white. How many times had he endured the curse, she wondered, that he could take it now with barely a sound? "And I'll never stop fighting."

Percy's fingers squeezed her arm in what she thought might have been an acknowledgement of the words, though with his body now being wracked by shudders of torment it was hard to tell. His jaw was working convulsively, but Hermione waited until she saw spittle starting to foam white at the edge of his mouth before she looked up at Tom.

"Enough now," she said firmly, and even so was a little surprised when he nodded without argument, lifting the wand and watching with an expression of cool appraisal as Percy collapsed forwards into Hermione's arms, gasping for air.

"You have to -" he started to choke out, but Tom flicked the wand again and Percy's eyes rolled upwards as the silent Stunning spell took effect.

Hermione let him gently down to the floor before she stood up and glared at Tom, who was still watching Percy.

"You could at least try to pretend you didn't enjoy that so much," she huffed.

"Why?" Tom asked. "You'll only use it as an excuse to get angry with me for lying to you, and besides, I like him better when he isn't talking. Before you say anything," he went on, holding up a hand, "you know that Potter felt exactly the same." His eyes glittered, and Hermione scowled at him, unable to argue. Tom's mouth twitched with amusement before he crouched to place the wand delicately against Percy's temple. "However," he went on, "I will admit that he took the Cruciatus very well, which I usually find to be a strong mark of character. Legilimens."

Hermione watched, fascinated, as thin silver tendrils of memory twisted up from beneath Percy's skin to swirl around the tip of the wand. After a minute or so Tom made a humming sound, and his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "What?" Hermione said, bending forward as though she might be able to see more that way. "What is it?"

"Clever Weasley," Tom muttered, his smile turning grim. "Oh," he said, looking up and seeing the alarm on Hermione's face - "don't worry, he has no intention of betraying us. But he hasn't been entirely truthful, either."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her stomach clenching in sudden fear. "Did he lie about -"

Tom shook his head. "No, but he had a fail-safe in place," he said, frowning as he pushed the wand hard enough against Percy's forehead to turn the skin white around it. "If he didn't cast the counter-charm it - oh -" he said, nodding to himself "- this was well-hidden. I'm actually impressed."

"You are?" Hermione blinked, then shook her head. "Never mind that. Why -"

"He's a superb Occlumens," Tom observed, for all the world as though Hermione hadn't even spoken, before he finished the spell with a little twitch of his wand. "But fortunately I'm a better Legilimens."

"Are you going to tell me what you're talking about," Hermione ground out, "or am I going to have to test my own Legilimency skills against yours?"

Tom gave a disbelieving bark of laughter. "Don't tempt me," he muttered, snatching the wand out of the way when Hermione made a grab for it. "Ah-ah," he admonished as he caught her hand. "He had a series of charms in place that will have triggered an owl relay. Difficult for the Ministry to trace, so I would imagine Bill Weasley is learning you're still at large as we speak."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Why wouldn't Percy tell us about that?"

Tom gave her a long look before raising a single eyebrow. "You really have to ask?"

"He wants them to know we're coming," Hermione sighed. "I guess if it was the other way round I wouldn't trust someone who was with - well…"

"Flattering," Tom remarked drily. "Assuming Bill and Andromeda are still together, which would be remarkably stupid of them and therefore is distinctly likely, and -" he raised his voice above Hermione's cry of protest "- assuming your traitor is with them as well, we should definitely get moving." He glanced quickly around the hotel room, with its contents of five Stupefied wizards, and grimaced slightly. "We've left quite a mess, and it won't be much longer before someone else comes to investigate."

"Give me a chance to get changed," Hermione told him, reaching for her beaded bag and rummaging inside it. Her fingers closed around the compass, and she pulled it out to throw to Tom, who caught it with a Seeker's reflexes. "You might as well check we're still heading in the right direction."

He gave her an unreadable look. "Why aren't you arguing with me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Why would I argue with you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Tom gestured at his still-bloodied shirt from where she had punched him earlier. "I wouldn't say that you've been overly appreciative of my ideas up until now."

She blushed fiercely, remembering how that fight had ended; the two of them on the floor, the feel of Tom's stomach clenching beneath her and the dark look in his eyes. "Well, this time you're right," she said lamely, straightening up as she found the pair of jeans that she had been looking for and the pouch containing her fresh underwear. Tom was still staring at her, and Hermione raised her chin in challenge. "Would you give me some privacy, please?"

He watched her with narrowed eyes for a moment more before he before he turned away with a rueful little laugh.

"Fine," she heard him sigh as she began to scramble out of her pyjamas. "Still south. Maybe a touch south west."

"Well then, where do you think we should try next?" she asked, pulling the t-shirt over her head and turning around to find Tom watching her. "Do you mind?"

He took a step forward, then another, backing her against the wall. "You know," he said quietly, "I haven't forgotten the conversation we had before."

"Which -" Hermione heard the quaver in her voice and swallowed tightly. "Which one?"

"You know which one," Tom replied. He lifted his hand and ran the backs of his knuckles down her cheek. Hermione felt strange - suddenly hot and yet shivery at the same time - far too aware of his touch against her skin, of the sound of her own pulse in her ears and the catch in Tom's breath when he bent his head slightly to one side. He inhaled, and it was only when she felt the shift of his abdomen that she realised how close they stood to one another. "Will you keep fighting me, muggle girl?" he murmured.

"Tom -" and somehow it didn't matter, at that moment, that his name, that everything about him, was a betrayal of all she had ever stood for "- I -"

There was a sudden hammering at the door, and Tom smiled without humour, dropping his hand to twine his fingers with hers.

"They have a remarkable sense of timing," he murmured. He raised the wand, and Hermione felt an uncomfortable jolt at the realisation that she hadn't even remembered he had it. "Trust me?" Tom asked her, and Hermione, barely able to think straight, cast a last look at Percy's insensible form.

"Yes," she whispered reluctantly, curling her fingers around his before she felt the yank of apparition, and the room swirled away from them.

oOo

Now - 6th August 2002 - St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London

Percy was watching the sun set over Hyde Park when the second set of Aurors appeared. The first pair had spent more than two hours questioning him that morning, to the point where he didn't even have to feign the exhaustion that brought the Healer clucking to his side.

He could still feel the after-effects of the Cruciatus; those little involuntary muscle spasms, and the raw, scraped feeling of his throat where he had gasped for air.

He didn't recognise either of the Aurors when they came in, though he thought the dark-haired woman might have been the year below him at Hogwarts. The man beside her had a bland, forgettable face, but he wore the silver bars of a captain which told Percy he would need to be careful; an impression that was confirmed when the man folded his arms and leaned back against the door, allowing the woman to take the lead with the questioning.

"Mr Weasley," she greeted him pleasantly as she took a seat beside the bed. "My name is Auror Haneda, and this is Auror Fleet -" the man nodded curtly "- we'd like to ask you some more questions about the afternoon of 4th August."

Percy swallowed, his tongue feeling sticky and dry in his throat. "I'm very sorry, Auror - er -"

"Haneda, Mr Weasley." She gave him what Percy supposed was probably supposed to pass for a reassuring smile, but it fell somewhat flat.

"Auror Haneda," he repeated. "As I told your colleagues, I think I was Obliviated. I really don't know what else to say."

Haneda's brown eyes dipped to the piece of parchment in front of her, then she glanced over her shoulder towards Fleet, who uncrossed his arms. "Mr Weasley," he said. "I should not need to impress upon you the fact that if you do not tell the truth, you are likely to face severe consequences for your actions."

Percy was tempted to laugh. The message had been fairly plain when he'd woken up in a private room in the notoriously overcrowded St Mungo's. If he had been under the illusion that he had been kept off the main ward for his own comfort, the ropes binding his wand hand to the bed served as a strong clue that this was not the case.

"Why did you leave your desk to respond to the arrest warrant for Hermione Granger?" Haneda pressed.

"Because I know her," Percy said flatly. "I know how she thinks, and what she's capable of, and I thought I could help."

Tell the truth, he remembered his father saying to him. Tell as much of the truth as you can, so they don't spot the lies.

Haneda watched him for a long moment, her face almost expressionless, and Percy felt the creeping sensation of Legilimency before she sat back in her chair, shuffling her handful of parchments. "Very well. Did you have any chance to speak to Hermione Granger, or to the wizard who is travelling with her?"

Percy turned his head so he was looking her straight in the eye. "Not that I have any memory of."

"Are you able to confirm whether or not her companion is Theodore Nott?"

He didn't have to fake his grimace. "From the little I saw, I would say that it wasn't Nott she was with."

Haneda looked up, clearly surprised, though Percy had given the same answer earlier on. "What makes you say that?"

"I know Nott fairly well," Percy replied. "His Manor houses a substantial twelfth-century archive which the Records office has need of from time to time. Whoever Granger was with, it wasn't him."

"If it wasn't Theodore Nott, do you have any idea who it was?"

Percy gave himself a moment to consider his answer.

"I hadn't seen his face before," he said finally.

Haneda's eyes narrowed, and she glanced towards Fleet again, who motioned with one hand that she should continue.

"The Healers say that you showed signs of the Cruciatus curse," Haneda said. "Can you think of any reason that Hermione Granger might have had for wanting to torture you?"

This time Percy did laugh.

"None in particular, but I don't know why you're surprised. To her mind I'm sure that I'm the traitor," he answered bitterly.

"Right." Haneda nodded, her sympathy unconvincing. She consulted the notes in her hands yet again, her forehead creasing slightly as she read, before she looked up at Percy. "Is there any chance that the person accompanying Hermione Granger is Harry Potter?"

"What?" Percy spluttered. "Harry's dead isn't he - why would - how -?"

"Drop the act," Fleet growled, pushing himself away from the wall. "Our intelligence suggested that Granger was trying to find the Well of Souls, and there's only one reason that Potter-worshipping bitch would be going there." He smiled nastily, and Percy felt a cold weight settle in his abdomen. "So let's try it again," Fleet said. "Do you know who Granger was travelling with?"

Percy glared back at him. "No," he growled. "It wasn't anyone I knew."

"Are you sure?" Fleet demanded. He'd pulled out his wand, and was pointing it threateningly at Percy's throat. "You know the consequences if we find out that you've lied to us."

"I've told you everything," Percy said doggedly. "Use Legilimency, use the Cruciatus -"

"Use Veritaserum?" Fleet asked, and Percy gritted his teeth. He hadn't thought they had any stock, but apparently he'd been wrong.

"I have nothing to hide," he repeated, hoping he could bluff it out. "So why don't you just tell me what you want me to say and we can get this farce of an interrogation over with?"

"I think that's quite enough, don't you?"

Three pairs of eyes turned towards the door, and the small witch who had just stepped through it. She wasn't wearing a uniform of any sort, but Fleet dropped his wand and shuffled backwards, his head bowed in a show of deference. From his position on the bed Percy couldn't see the woman's face, but he knew that voice -

"Auror Fleet, Auror Haneda, why don't you go and talk to Mr Travers and see if you can get any more sense out of him?" She took another step into the room, her heels clicking gently against the tiled floor. "I'd like to have my own little chat with Mr Weasley."

The Aurors filed past her, and Pansy Parkinson came to sit beside the bed, smoothing her skirt over her knees. She smiled her little feline smile, and leaned back in the chair.

"I think we both know you don't want the Veritaserum, Percy," she remarked once the door had closed.

oOo

Now - 6th August 2002, Pont-Saint-Esprit, France

Tom had apparated them to Geneva, where they had avoided visiting the well-established wizarding quarter - both agreed that they would be unlikely to go unrecognised again after the fiasco in Amsterdam. Instead they had spent the remainder of the day sitting in the sunshine beside the lake, seemingly trying to pretend they had both forgotten their argument.

Hermione had watched Tom from the corner of her eye as he lay back with his eyes closed, apparently relaxed, though she could see the tension in him, and noticed that his hand remained resting on the pocket that held the wand.

Her wand, she could have pointed out, if she had felt like fighting him again. But she was still tired and it was so easy to forget, as they sat there surrounded by young families and laughing teenagers and pale-skinned tourists, that they were fighting for their lives.

After spending the night in a muggle hostel they had apparated onwards to Lyon, where Tom had surprised her by handing back the wand.

"We don't know how close we are," he had said when she frowned up at him. "So it would probably be best if you're the one holding this when we find them."

Unable to argue with his logic, Hermione had simply nodded. "I was thinking," she said slowly, picking at the omelette that they'd ordered in a small riverfront cafe. "It might be easier to find them if we do things the muggle way from here onwards."

Tom's lips had pursed tightly. "The muggle way?"

"I think we should hire a car," she had gone on. "That way we won't be -"

"It's a good idea," he'd sighed with obvious reluctance, shading his eyes to peer at her across the table. "They won't expect us to drive."

"That isn't why I -"

"I know," he'd smiled. "But you have to admit it's an advantage."

They'd got the bus to the airport and then hired a car using the emergency credit card that Hermione's parents had given her years ago. She'd had a moment's hesitation before doing so, then figured it was highly unlikely that wizards would try to track them using muggle means. Tom had stood to one side as she'd filled out the paperwork, looking irritatingly relaxed and handsome in a pair of dark sunglasses he had insisted on buying in town, and attracting glances from all the women and more than a few of the men who came into the company's small office.

Now, after a day's slow drive from small town to small town, Hermione could feel an odd sense of anticipation building, making her feel jittery and nervous. The needle of the compass was twitching infinitesimally every few minutes, which had to mean that they were getting close, and she was suddenly at a loss for quite how she was going to explain things to her friends.

"What if they're already dead?" she asked Tom, her hands tight on the wheel.

"Weasley would have heard," he said with perfect indifference, as he watched the rugged landscape of the Gard roll past the windows.

"But what if he didn't -"

"Are you going to keep asking me questions that I can't possibly give you an answer to?" He turned and looked at her, lifting the glasses so that she could feel the full force of his stare. When Hermione didn't answer he turned back to the car window. "We should stop here tonight," he said, surprising her.

"Why?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose and staring through the dusty windscreen at the unremarkable little town that rose out of the confluence of the Rhône and Ardêche rivers.

"Because you've been driving all day, we're both worn out, and we've no idea what sort of reception to expect," Tom said, counting off arguments on his long fingers. "I, for one, would prefer to have had a good night's sleep before facing Andromeda Black again."

Though Hermione hated to admit it, she could see his point.

"Fine," she sighed. "Would you prefer a hotel or breaking and entering?"

"I am not a petty criminal," Tom sniffed, leaning forward to peer up the street ahead of them. "That hotel looks perfectly adequate."

It was at least cheap, and when they got to the room it was clean and bright with the last of the evening sun, the voile curtains lifting in the light breeze blowing off the river.

"I'm going to have a shower," Hermione announced, ignoring both the large double bed and the way that Tom had flopped himself down on it in a manner she recognised as habitual. He waved a hand airily at her, not even bothering to open his eyes.

When she emerged back into the room, clean and refreshed in a way that charms could never quite manage, it was to find Tom asleep. Hermione paused by the side of the bed, astonished by how young he looked. The sunset sent deep pink light across his face, softening the angles of his cheeks, and for a moment she could almost have believed -

Tom's eyes flew open, and his hand caught her outstretched one before she could touch him. They stayed like that for a long moment, the air between them turning charged as they stared at one another. Outside the open window Hermione could hear the splash of the river; a child's laugh; a dog barking somewhere far away.

It almost felt as though they were not her fingers that unbuttoned his shirt; not his hands that left white impressions on her skin; not her teeth that bit down on the swell of muscle at his shoulder.

He held her beneath him, and he was so real - so real - and she could no longer deny it, and though neither of them said a word she could hear his voice -

You're here -

Could see his eyes, bright in the final rays of sunshine -

You came -

And she could taste the flavour of salt on his skin, of blood on his lips - and if it was wrong, if it was wrong then she did not care. She could not bear it any longer.

Hermione arched her back as he pressed himself into her, her eyes starting to flutter shut before Tom caught her chin.

"Look at me," he groaned, raw and urgent. "Look at me, Hermione."

His breath was ragged, and she heard her own catch in her throat; half-sob, half-gasp.

"You're the only one who never looked away," he whispered, and she couldn't; knew that she would never, that she was lost to him, now and always.

"I won't," she heard herself say, as she stared up into the endless blue of his eyes. "I won't, Tom, I can't, I - Tom."

A/N: my thanks to Ibuzoo, whose lovely moodboard inspired by this story can be seen on my tumblr, and reminded me that I should probably not leave you all hanging much longer, and to Cocoartist for editorial madskillz (seriously, girl had to wade through this one and she did it with good humour and aplomb and THAT'S all I have to say about THAT).

And also thanks to everyone else, as ever, for reading and following. Your reviews are a delight!