Pamela RR,

You're not only a friend, but a damn warrior. Thank you so much for your help!

Hermione closed the oversized book that rested heavily on her legs. Her forehead pressed hard against the worn leather cover, breathing in her favorite scent. Well, her second favorite scent. She enjoyed taking a few moments after her reading to just rest. To let the information she read soak through her brain. Her drowsy brain. Between Snape's brutal Occlumency lessons, potion making, and her nightly research in the Malfoy library it was getting a bit difficult to stay focused. She was constantly doubting herself and her will to stay strong. I can do this. I know I can. A mantra that still played in her head more often than not. She continuously reminded herself that she only just figured out what she wanted moving forward, but how to achieve it was the hard part! Hermione raised her head, having her eyes now focus on the small window in her library. She has caught herself these last few days drifting from her research and instead letting herself stare outside. It wasn't as if she missed being outdoors, but the view from the manor was lovely and she noticed how it brought her some comfort. Every window she looked out had a beautiful view, whether it be hills in the distance or the gardens surrounding the pristine estate. It was the same feeling she would get when she would stare at a painting or a photograph when her parents would take her to the London museums.

A corner of her lip twitched at the thought of her parents. Don't do this to yourself. She missed them dearly and guilt pained her within her chest. I had to protect them. Hermione choked out a breathy laugh. Protect them from what now? Torture? A monster...a...lover? Before she could let her eyes unleash the tears she had sworn off, she stood from where she was sitting, raising her arms high above her head to stretch her aching limbs.

Sitting in the same spot for hours was a bad idea, but once she started a book, she refused not to finish it. But tonight was different, she had a promise to keep. A promise she made to a very determined house-elf. On queue, Hermione smiled a genuine smile, as the familiar pop of Meeley was heard coming from her sitting room.

"Good evening, Meeley," said Hermione, walking confidently into her sitting room.

"Oh, Miss! Are you ready?"

"I am. Lead the way," she said, with a quick nod. Meeley instantly grabbed her hand and lead her to Voldemort's way more spacious bathroom. Upon entering, Hermione's smile quickly dissolved taking notice of the single chair and a pair of sharp shiny scissors displayed on the velvet cushion. I can do this.

"Almost done!" An excited Meeley squealed, moving her hands through Hermione's hair.

"Wonderful, Meeley," replied Hermione, making sure to keep her eyes closed just as Meeley requested. To be honest, she could give two Knuts about her hair, but still the reveal was making her a bit nervous. This is for Meeley, you can do this. It truly was the least she could do since the house-elf had helped her sneak into the Malfoy library for the last four nights. She would have hoped for more time, but she or Meeley couldn't take the risk tonight, not when he was due to return. And although it was only a short period of time, she had managed to read a handful of books. Books she was sure would be able to aid her with her plan to keep both Harry and Voldemort alive. So, of course, it was only fair to keep her end of the bargain. Not to mention, the vast collection of women's clothing that was now hanging opposite of Voldemort's own wardrobe courtesy of the eager to please house-elf.

The day after Meeley took her measurements his large closet magically filled with a variety of clothing including robes, dresses, trousers, jumpers, and shoes. The closet now looked balanced on each side, the only difference being the color spectrum. The sight of the abundant amount of clothing made her anxious and very uncomfortable, the feeling only multiplying when she discovered the cabinet drawer filled with sleepwear and undergarments. Every piece completely devoid of white cotton, a fact Hermione did finally look past when Meeley surprised her with jeans and t-shirts. Hermione was grateful for the gesture since robes were definitely not her favorite.

Yes, this is for Meeley.

While Meeley's hands maintained their movement against her scalp. Hermione could feel her body slowly melting into the chair. It had been ages since she's actually been to a hairdresser, so Meeley's tiny fingers massaging her head was indeed a pleasant surprise. However, the feeling didn't last long.

Hermione's brain started to drift again, this time, to letters, then words, then sentences. One book seemed to come up more often, but the thought of reading the dark rituals again made her feel queasy. Moste Potente Potions seemed like a children's book compared to Curre Ritualia Rubrum. Blood magic was indeed horrifying and completely foreign to her. Her only experience was the oath she shared with Voldemort and she didn't have to do much thanks to the damn cut that was on her hand. Rituals Run Red. The title itself made her feel uneasy. Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Meeley's voice.

"What? Sorry, Meeley. I didn't hear you."

"Meeley asked, why you have not used your new soaps."

"Oh" Hermione opened her eyes. "Um, why do you ask?"

"Meeley makes sure Master has what he requests. You smell of his soap."

"I suppose I simply"...miss him, Hermione shook that statement from her head, "grab what I see first and use it. But I'll definitely make sure to use one of those new soaps you brought me. The rose scent is very lovely...and the clothes...are too. Thank you."

"Yes, good, Miss." Hermione hated to admit how much she missed him. Pull yourself together, Hermione. It's only been four days! Going on five. She assumed the soap was a way to remind herself of him. The spicy sweet scent on her skin created a sense of comfort when she got wisps of it throughout the day.

Hermione's eyes focused on the window in front of her, using the scenic view to slow down her thoughts and enable her brain to focus on something else besides words and longing feelings for him. She loved watching the dusk approach, the purple sky leisurely morphing into a shade of midnight blue and the stars making their full appearance.

"December 31, New Year's Eve."

"All day, Miss," giggled Meeley.

"December 31?" Hermione scrunched her nose, then suddenly gasp. "December 31...1926."

"Excuse me, Miss?" Hermione looked at the house-elf with wide eyes, then calmed her expression.

"Oh, nothing Meeley. Are you ready for me to take a look?"

"Yes, Miss! Meeley is so happy! Close your eyes!"

"Alright," Hermione followed the elf's request and closed her eyes. She could feel the chair turn on its own to now face the large mirror over the sink vanity.

"Open!" Hermione opened her eyes, but before she dared to face the bathroom mirror, her attention was locked on the small clumps of chestnut curls that lay scattered around the floor. Fuck me! When her eyes finally met her reflection, she bit down hard on her lip, it was the only thing she could do to prevent the outbreak of laughter that threatened to escape her lungs.

"So, pretty," breathed Meeley, before snapping her fingers and magically making the hair on the floor disappear. "Meeley will prepare dinner now." Without another word she was gone and Hermione again focused on her reflection in the mirror, but this was cut short as the sound of the bathroom doors swung open catching her off guard.

Hermione's eyes moved to the other reflection in the mirror, his dark robes were a contrast to her bright red jumper. The color only a few shades brighter than his eyes. Before any words were spoken this distance between them was filled and his mouth pressed firmly against her own. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips willing her to open her mouth to him. Her arms moved around his waist, as his hands weaved through her hair. When they finally took in air, Hermione spoke.

"Happy birthday," she whispered, within the small space between them. Despite the fact that they just shared an incredible snog, his eyes narrowed from her remark and he pulled away from her embrace. Hermione watched the sneer began to form on his face. But as soon as it started, it stopped. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, then very slowly, to the other side, as if he was unsure of what was in front of him. What in Merlin's name! Hermione could feel herself getting angry. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when he raised his hand in a silent command.

"What in Magic's name have you done to yourself?"

With this, Hermione remembered why she was standing in the bathroom and an outbreak of boisterous laughter filled the room. Wiping the tears from her eyes she could see him still standing there, his face deprived of any emotion.

"Why, I have no idea what you are referring to." Hermione tossed her hair back, doing her best to ignore how her hand passed through air rather than the thick curls she was accustomed to, before casually walking past Voldemort into his room.