An: Hey y'all! I got, as of this moment, over sixty reviews! Hot dog! You guys are the best! I had one reviewer worried I might stop because of review count, but put that worry aside. Writing for me isn't about the reviews, they are just a lovely bonus and I always appreciate the people who take the time and energy to do it for me.

I also want to apologize for taking so long. I am normally pretty speedy on my updates, but life has kinda gotten me down lately (losing two jobs, worried about paying bills, trying to keep up at school) I don't like writing when I am sad, it translates over to the story. But a recent spread of good luck has improved my spirits and I am writing more than ever! So without further ado…

Chapter 7 Equilibrium

Hermione downed the last potion with a sigh of relief and collapsed back onto the bed, the pounding in her head finally subsiding. Next to her Tom snored quietly, curled into a ball, clutching at the soft pillowcase below his head. The boy had tried his best to stay awake with her, if only to learn potion making first hand, but he couldn't keep his eyes open after the first potion. She couldn't blame Tom for passing out; he had been put under a lot of stress for her the past day. Not to mention he is still growing, he needs all the rest he can get. She sighed and gently stroked his mussed hair out of his face, giving a small smile as he grumbled something under his breath and curled into a tighter ball.

For such a paranoid little boy he was a very heavy sleeper.

Biscuit was in the same state as the boy, except she had chosen to curl up inside the wardrobe, Hermione's scattered and dirty clothes from Tom's tramping making the perfect nest for her. She had tried to tell the little elf she could go sleep where she normally would have but Biscuit was adamant that she be nearby in case of trouble.

She is a good elf. Hermione thought fondly as she made her way over to the creature, carefully extracting a sleeping gown from the elf's arms and tiptoeing into the bathroom to change. The gown was wrinkled and rumpled but with a quick flick of her wand the garment was perfect again, Tom's fury had done a number on her clothing while he had been trapped inside the wardrobe. I'm glad I didn't finish unpacking or else he might have crushed the memory vials… and I still need to find some way to view them before I have to go again.

By her count she had used up a day and a half already and she would waste more while she slept. But I can't avoid sleeping, she thought ruefully, remembering the mad tornado of exhaustion that was her third year. So, with heavy eyelids she slipped into the bed, (careful to place a pillow between her and the sleeping Tom so as not to disturb him) and let herself doze off.

BANG!

Hermione shot up, hand automatically reaching for her wand that she normally left under her pillow- Are we under attack? Where is Harry? She looked around, frantic, but quickly relaxed. She was not in her tent in the middle of the woods; there were no giant snakes here. She was safe in her bed, with Tom-

He wasn't there. His side of the bed was made up neatly though. She peered over at the closed doors of the wardrobe. Biscuit is gone too.

CRASH!

Hermione flinched at the sound. It was coming from the other side of the door that led into the living room and her heart started to pound as she imagined just WHAT was going on. She felt around for her wand only to find it missing, a chill worked it was down her spine.

BOOM!

She raced for the door and threw it open to be met with a tornado of pages from torn books. The couch had been torn apart by what looked to be giant claws. A lamp lay shattered and the fireplace was crumbled in on itself, soot and bricks were everywhere. In the middle of all this chaos was Tom, covered in soot and ash from head to toe. The black made his deep blue eyes seem to glow brighter. In his grubby hand was her wand. His teeth seemed even whiter as he grinned and flicked the wand again.

The chair exploded in a shower of fluff and springs.

"TOM!"

The boy jumped in surprise and stared, stunned as Hermione marched toward him. "Just what in the name of Merlin do you think you were doing?" He seemed to come to his senses as she plucked the wand from his loose grip.

"Practicing," he mumbled.

"Practicing what? Blowing things up?"

He mumbled something so quietly she couldn't hear him.

"Speak up Tom, I can't hear you."

He looked down and she looked down with him. At his feet was a ravaged green book, in-between the gashes she could just make out the title. Healing Spells 101: A Beginners Guide Wellness.

All the anger rushed out of her like air out of a deflating balloon. "Tom, you are too young to be practicing that kind of magic… and I know you meant well but you should NEVER take someone else's wand." The boy said nothing and Hermione reached out to stroke his hair again, sighing as he jerked away from her touch. He is like a skittish kitten.

"I know how hard it is to be too young to do certain things, but sometimes you have to trust that the grownups know better than you." He gave a little noise of dissent but said nothing. "I need you to promise me you will not take my wand again except in an extreme emergency. Can you do that?"

It was Tom's turn to sigh. "Yes."

She could sense that was the best she was going to get. "Ok then… now where is Biscuit? She doesn't seem the type to let you destroy the house."

He glanced warily at her and that sense of dread from before returned.

"Tom, where is Biscuit?"

CRACK!

Biscuit appeared in the middle of the room, hands locked behind her back, a pleased smile crossing her lips.

"Miss be wanting Biscuit?"

Tom stared at the elf, wide-eyed and Hermione shifted her gaze between the too smug elf and the stunned boy with suspicion.

"I thought you might be in trouble, I see I was mistaken."

"I is tough miss. Not much Biscuit can't handle," the elf glared at Tom as she said this and he just narrowed his eyes in return.

"Were you two fighting again?"

They both turned to her, expressions carefully neutral.

"We was not fighting miss!" The elf protested quickly. "We promised Miss we would not."

Tom nodded in agreement and Hermione sighed. "You know you are both terrible liars."

Tom looked offended, Biscuit looked guilty.

"I am going to let it go this time, but next time if I catch you two fighting, or being nasty to one another there will be repercussions."

Tom's eyes went distant and she could tell he was trying to find a way around it. Biscuit on the other hand nodded and wrung her hands, glancing over at the boy warily. I am not going to be able to stop them. Hermione thought with a sigh.

"Well… now that that is all squared away, let's get this mess cleaned up and get something to eat."

Tom's nose wrinkled as he glared around the room. "That will take forever."

"Well Tom, you shouldn't destroy things if you are not willing to clean up after them," Hermione said and flicked her wand, cleaning most of the soot off of the sullen boy. "When we are finished here, you can use the bath."

His cheeks reddened and his jaw tightened. "Fine."

"Ok, you can start with the books. Try and fit the pages in the right order, if I repair them like that all the information would be scattered. And Biscuit, if you would prepare breakfast-"

The elf bobbed her head in a quick bow and popped away.

Tom glared at the place the elf was for a minute before going over to the books. He didn't say a word as he hunched over the pages and pages of information scattered around on the floor. He has destroyed at least five very large books and the work would take him a while. But he needs to learn his lesson. Hermione thought as guilt stabbed at her. He did something wrong and now he has to pay for it. It didn't stop her from wanting to help him as she quickly fixed the couch, chair, fireplace, and other various broken objects scattered around.

He glared at her at first, peering at her over his work when he thought she wasn't looking. It felt like hot daggers were being pressed into her spine his gaze was so cutting. After ten minutes of this the stabbing sensation lessened and Hermione finally let herself look over at him.

His eyes were closed, like he was concentrating deeply on something and his fingers were stroking the spine of a book, slowly. To her astonishment pages and pages loosened from the giant pile he had gathered together and seemed to slither as they wormed their way back into their proper book.

That's impossible. She thought, heart leaping into her throat. He should not be able to do that. Not with such control. Not even grown wizards could do what little Tom was doing. Most didn't have the attention span to even learn to light a candle wordlessly let alone wandlessly…

He was a wonder, a terrifying wonder.

How long would it be before he could best her? She had given him a boost by introducing him to the wizarding world so early. How advanced would he be by the time he reached Hogwarts? He wouldn't have to hide away from his fellow Slytherins his first few years as he caught up to his pureblood peers. He could start a powerbase as soon as he stepped foot in the castle.

What have I done? She thought woefully, fighting the urge to tear her hair out. I have made things so much worse. Another thought, a deep, dark thought, entered her mind.

While clever, the boy was still relatively helpless against her. She could end it all. All the war, all the pain the future would hold.

"Hermione?" Tom asked nervously. She blinked and turned her attention to him. His eyes glowed with uncertainty and she realized, to her horror, she was pointing her wand at him. She quickly flicked her wrist and all the pages stacked themselves neatly into separate piles. With another flick they were repaired.

"Just decided to help you out is all," she smiled weakly. "Go clean yourself up. Breakfast should be done by the time you finish."

The boy frowned, looking deeply into her eyes before giving a sharp nod and bolting from the room. Hermione sighed and collapsed on the newly repaired couch.

"He's a boy, just a little boy, it would be murder." She muttered to herself. Justifiable murder a voice in her head whispered darkly. She furiously squashed the thought down and refused to let the idea resurface. I'm not thinking clearly. The stress was finally getting to her. She shook her head tiredly and decided to head to the kitchen to check on Biscuit.

The kitchen was organized chaos.

Enchanted knives were chopping, something on the stove was being stirred, and plates and plates of food were scattered around in various states of completion. Her stomach clenched painfully as she realized just how hungry she was. I haven't eaten since Tom's apple. She thought, eyeing a plate of bacon.

"Miss can sit at the table while Biscuit finishes." The elf called out from the middle of the cooking tornado.

Table? Hermione turned and sure enough the room had been expanded to fit a large table, covered in a lace tablecloth with lit candles in silver candleholders, expensive looking silverware, and a vase of fresh cut flowers. Their gentle perfume lured her over and she smiled as she caressed a petal. The last time she had had flowers on her table was the last dinner she and her parents had shared. Her mother would always bring new flowers into the house every week to replace the ones that went bad. Some pretty, some smelly, some odd looking. Her mother was of the opinion that living things needed to be in a house to make it truly alive.

Hermione settled down at the table and let her thoughts drift to the past; she let herself think of happier times. They were simpler at least….

The door to the bathroom opened and Tom inched his way in. He paused to stare at the chaos of Biscuits cooking in ill-disguised amazement before peering over at her and making his way slowly over.

His hair was damp, clean, and messy from lack of brushing. His skin was, again, porcelain pale, and his hands were clean. His clothes were still filthy. As if sensing her thoughts he frowned at her.

"All I had were my old clothes, my other things are back at the orphanage."

Hermione hadn't thought of that. She frowned for a moment before brightening.

"I can transfigure you something until you get back. Would that be ok?"

Tom shrugged. She took that as a yes.

Hermione summoned one of the flowers to her, carefully plucking the petals off and laying them down. Tom watched, curious, as she tapped each one, mumbling the spell to transform them and beaming as they transfigured to just what she wanted.

"There! Will these do?"

Tom reached out and rubbed a part of the fabric in-between his fingertips. "It's fine, smells like flowers though…" he grumbled and tucked the clothes under his arm. He started toward the bathroom again before pausing. "Thank you."

Hermione blinked in surprise. Thank you? She didn't think it was possible; she was so stunned she didn't reply as Tom quickly made his way back into the bathroom. I don't believe it…

Perhaps she had been wrong about Tom… he might just turn out alright. She had been kind to him in the past from what she could tell, what if that was the key to ending the war? Changing him for the better- why didn't she think of that sooner? Was such a thing even possible?

Tom reappeared, the clothes she had made him hung loosely on his slim frame but fit well enough to function. She beckoned him over and wordlessly he obeyed staring at the floor as she adjusted his clothing to fit him. "There we are, you should be more comfortable now."

"Still smells like flowers," he mumbled, taking a seat at the table. "I feel like a walking bouquet." He still refused to look at her.

"Well I can always cancel the spell and turn everything back into flower petals."

"No!" the boy stared at her, horror struck, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his expression.

"Relax Tom, I was only joking. You know I wouldn't actually do anything like that don't you?"

His mouth twisted and he looked rather unsure before nodding. She sighed, if she was going to go about changing him, she needed him to trust her. But trust would take time, time they didn't have. I will just have to do the best I can each time I meet him, she thought tiredly.

"Breakfast!" Biscuit's cheery voice broke into her thoughts and plate after plate settled themselves in neat rows on the table. Bacon, eggs, toast, oatmeal, sausage, pancakes, French toast- every combination a person could ever want at breakfast was there.

Tom stared at all the food, a deep hungry look in his eyes. Hermione knew the boy hadn't been starved, but he had probably not had much good food in his life.

"Are you joining us Biscuit?" Hermione asked.

The elf's ears perked. "Biscuit would be happy to."

The elf sat across from the boy and they both stared at one another for a moment before slowly filling their plates. Tom refused to touch anything the elf hadn't picked up first. Hermione snorted and summoned over a teapot (one of four beverage containers) and slowly poured herself a cup.

It was heaven.

Hermione's ears perked at the sound of silverware scraping and grinned when she saw Tom finally dare to eat the food in front of him. Biscuit was watching the boy intently as Tom took up a spoonful of oatmeal, took a bit, and then set it back down.

"It's good." He grumbled.

The elf smiled brightly. "Tommy should be trying it with cinnamon."

Tom's nose wrinkled "Don't call me that."

He poured a generous amount of cinnamon on his oatmeal.

Perhaps there is hope for those two after all. Hermione thought with a smile and settled back into her chair, relaxed for the first time in a long while.