A/N: Gosh it took forever to be able to upload this. But now that I finally did, here's Chapter 25. Guess I best hand out my thanks and get to writing Chapter 26. So here goes! Thanks to: Gueneviere, Ezeldia and Mildelra, PymyPuff20, The daughter of Slytherin, Autumn's-Smile, Skavnema, The Almighty Cheez It, nehimasgift, san01, Charming-Lynn, ellamalfoy8, o0Dreamer0o, arushi, Schermionie (thanks oodles for pointing out that grammar mistake. I want my fics to be perfect, so feel free to point out more... everyone!), LandUnderWave, ValorOrgulloso, dreamer1516, Lolaleddir, and fizznsoot.

Now, on to the chapter while I move on to writing the next... enjoy!

Chapter 25 – And So Hope Dies

Hermione had roused early that morning. She had spent the night with Tom and discussed their plan to leave and head to Bluffshire. They had decided that it would be best if they left the next day while it was still very early, and by very early, that meant two in the morning. Riddle had of course argued. He had wanted to leave that very night, but she said it wasn't wise. Explaining that had they ran and been discovered to be missing, it would not take a search party long to get to them because men were already prepared for a hunt. She told him to wait until the tracking dogs would be tired from a day's hunt, and the horses were entirely too exhausted to be pushed to catch up with the two of them. He eventually consented, and she left his room at a late, late hour of the night.

Now here she was at six in the morning, wide awake and smiling because he had stopped her at his door when she was leaving, so that he could place a gentle, tingling kiss on her cheek, which lingered on throughout the night. She touched her cheek and felt a slight heat in her face. She felt like she was in a dream, or rather, the dream of a dream. It was all too perfect. She shivered blissfully at the mere thought of how happy Tom Riddle made her. Was she in love with him? The only way for her to tell was for her to see him so she could kiss him once more and feel his touch upon her cheek again. She had to see him right now, in fact.

She dressed quickly, smiling all the while. Hermione hoped to catch him as he was getting ready to head down for breakfast. Or perhaps somewhere along the way. She raced along a corridor with her heart jumping and skipping in her chest as she felt a laugh growing in her chest. She was near letting it out as a giggle when another sound reached her ears. Crying. Or what she thought to be crying.

She slowed as she looked about the hallway. There was a familiarity about the sobs. It was almost like she could place a stuck up voice and dissatisfied grimace with it. Hermione's ears perked, trying to hone in on the sound. She stepped to her right, and the sound grew an octave louder. She took another step and saw the sunlight filter through a door that was slightly ajar. Walking towards it, the sniffling and weeping grew the tiniest bit louder each time she took a step. Hermione pushed against the door and saw the Duchess. The older woman was sitting upon a vanity chair, her face in her hands, and her plump body shaking around her shoulders as she sobbed.

The Duchess looked up in her mirror and sighed before she broke out into another crying fit. Then from a drawer on the front of the vanity, she pulled a small, circular picture frame.

Hermione pushed the door a bit more, and it squeaked, which caught the attention of Rodmilla. She jumped and hastily shoved the picture back into the drawer while wiping away the tears, though her face was still splotchy red.

"What are you doing?" the Duchess demanded in a watery voice as the young Gryffindor girl stood somewhat shocked and bewildered just inside the door. "It's rude to come into a room uninvited and without knocking."

"I just heard someone crying and-"

"Someone crying?" the Duchess repeated. "Nonsense!" Hermione saw right through the ruse though; she couldn't be fooled that easily. Not with tears brimming in the Rodmilla's eyes, and her voice wavering slightly. "Now leave!" the older of the two huffed with her voice changing in tone halfway through the demand.

"Fine!" Hermione barked. She couldn't stand the Duchess's rudeness towards her when all Hermione had wanted to do was see if she was all right. Whipped around, her hair spanning out behind her to add to the dramatics of her rage, Hermione gripped the handle of the door. She stepped out into the corridor and was ready to pull it to a slamming shut when Rodmilla called out.

"I'm sorry, child." Hermione paused for a moment before turning slowly back toward the Duchess. "I've been nothing but a portentous snob to you," she sighed. Needless to say, Hermione was aghast. Was the Duchess truly apologizing? Or at least trying to explain herself? "You see, my dear," the Duchess continued, "I'm jealous of you."

"Wh-wha-"

"Yes, jealous of you. You might be wondering why, but I should think that it's obvious." Hermione stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say or even why the Duchess was jealous. "There's a few reasons," the Duchess proceeded to explain. "For one, you're a beautiful young lady, and it's natural for me to dislike you for that, but I don't truly dislike you... I envy you; I used to be young, healthy, and pretty once myself."

"Yes, you were," Hermione spoke up in agreement. "I saw the painting of you down in the room where we ate lunch the first day we were here... and I'm sure you can still be just as lovely."

"Oh, Anastasia, please don't try and raise the spirits of someone whose beauty has laid dormant for so long that it's dead."

"Beauty never dies," Hermione said as she walked over and pulled a chair away from a small table by a window. "It just grows and grows... and for those whom it's seemed to have disappeared from, well... they just need to show kindness. There's so much beauty in kindness... even more than you know really."

"That's another reason I envy you," Rodmilla sniffled. "You've got an infectious personality. People love to be around you, much like they do my husband." Hermione smiled. She had no response, or at least no hopeful response, and for some odd reason, she took that as one of the highest compliments that the Duchess could pay her. "And do you want to know why else I envy you, young Princess?"

"Why?" Hermione inquired.

"Because you have a love like the one my husband and I... used t-to... sh-share!"

The Gryffindor Head Girl felt bewilderment cross over her and then she realized that the Duchess meant the connection that Riddle and Hermione shared.

"What do you mean you 'used to share'?" Hermione asked as she rested a comforting hand atop the Duchess's.

"We don't look at each other in the same way we used to. He doesn't even stay in the same room anymore. He's appalled by the mere thought of being in the same room alone with me!" she sobbed.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. He's just... proper," Hermione soothed uncertainly. "Maybe he doesn't think it's right that you two sleep in the same room together."

"Why would that be?" the Duchess quizzed. She was not fooled in the least by Hermione's poor cover-up. "We're married. What could possibly be improper about staying in the same room?" Hermione opened her mouth, though she had no answer, but that was okay because the Duchess pressed on. "And he approved of you and your love staying in the same room back at your castle... That's why I left early. He'll let two unmarried teenagers stay together, but he won't even peek into my room!"

The crying started again and all Hermione could do was pat the older woman's hand because she was at a loss for words. What should she say? Was there anything she could say? And if so, how was she supposed to phrase it? But before Hermione could even take a breath, the Duchess continued her woeful rant.

"You know, there's part of me that wishes my child could have been like you," she spoke softly. So softly Hermione almost couldn't hear her.

"Beg pardon?"

"That's another reason I'm so awful to you," the Duchess exhaled. "I want a child of my own, and I really don't like any young person because I have no children."

"Did you-"

"Did I try for a child?" Rodmilla cut in. "Oh yes, twice in fact. I lost the child both times though. The midwife advised against us trying for another as she was convinced that it would kill me to lose a third." Hermione was shocked to tears almost. This poor woman. What it must be like to lose a child. "A poor excuse for being awful to you, I know, but I just... can't seem to... help it." The Duchess sniffled and grabbed a lace handkerchief off her vanity. She dabbed her eyes and continued to speak. "That's about the time that my husband stopped sleeping in my room. It was as though he was afraid to even touch me. We hardly ever hold hands anymore even. The only time we touch is to dance, and we've not done that for the longest time. I can't even remember the last to be truthful... I'm just fearful that he doesn't love me anymore."

"Um," Hermione began, "have you tried at all to rekindle your love?" She bit her tongue after the question came out; she hadn't thought that this might make the Duchess realize more that her marriage was on the rocks, and not to mention, Hermione really didn't want to know about the love life of the Duke and his wife.

"Oh, hundreds of times," the older woman remarked in despair.

"Um... maybe you could surprise him with a candlelit dinner in your room tonight after he returns home," Hermione suggested. "I'm sure that after a long day's hunt he'll be plenty hungry."

"Yes, yes, I could," the Duchess sniffled with hope springing into her voice. "Anything else I could do?"

"Err... what about wearing his favorite dress of yours to the dinner and... greeting him at the door?" Hermione tried.

"I could... yes. Yes, I could!" the Duchess exclaimed happily. "I'll have to have it brought out from my old wardrobe."

"And," Hermione spoke up daringly, "try to be kind? I'm sure he misses that."

The Duchess paused a moment, and her excitement became fleeting on her face. The younger woman bit the inside of her lip while wondering if she had perhaps said too much.

"Yes, I have become a bit rude," the Duchess admitted.

'A bit?' Hermione thought. She cringed inwardly at her comment. 'That was rude of me.'

"Well, I must be off," she said as she stood and pushed her chair back to its original position. "I hope things work out for you."

"As do I," Rodmilla said. "Oh! Anastasia darling, thank you for all your help... for giving me a chance even though I was ghastly to you."

"Not ghastly, not at all," Hermione smiled. 'Beastly,' she thought secretly before scolding herself once more. "Good day." With that, she left the room and headed towards the dining hall for breakfast.

Hermione pulled on a pair of riding gloves that the Duchess had bestowed upon her. She smiled and mounted the horse, but once she was in the saddle, she frowned a bit at the riding attire she was forced to wear for the hunt. Rodmilla had called it proper and fashionable. Hermione, however, doubted that it was. Then again, she wasn't much on fashion, especially in 1797.

Taking the reins from one of the stable boys and nodded her thanks to him as Tom came trotting up beside her, she inwardly groaned as he smirked and eyed her up and down.

"Don't say a word," Hermione grumbled as the Duchess stood waving to the party from the doorway.

It was just after breakfast, and the hunting party was preparing to leave.

"Why, Anastasia!" the Duke said as he rode over to the young couple. "Is that my wife's riding outfit?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered while snapping a snickering Tom on the hand with her reins as the Duke looked over his shoulder at the Duchess. "She was most gracious to me and let me have it along with these marvelous gloves so that I don't get blisters from the reins."

"Wonderful then!" he boomed before riding up to join the King.

"Let's follow," Hermione instructed to Riddle as she willed her horse to walk up beside them.

"Ana love, are you sure that you can keep up?" the King asked with fatherly concern. "I'm afraid that without Mima here you'll fall behind the rest of us and be left alone. The two of you always seemed to stick together, so there was no fear of you being alone or too far behind."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Tom spoke up. There was something strange in his voice that made Hermione look at him, and she could have sworn that when his eyes darted to her, there was a glimpse of something deep down within him. It looked like something that had lain dormant and almost forgotten; something like love.

She shook her head when someone called, and dogs began to bark. Looking up ahead, she saw something red streak off across the field and towards a forested area.

"You all right?" Riddle asked as he watched the King, Mardon, Porthos, and Duke Rodden set off at a gallop.

"Fine," Hermione said as she settled her self securely into the saddle. 'My mind's just playing tricks,' she thought as she nodded for extra assurance. "We best catch up so we can keep an eye on those two and the King."

He said nothing and merely spurred his horse into a gallop with Hermione following suit. Minutes later they were caught up and entering the forest. The party had slowed, and the barking of the dogs had ceased. All that could be heard now was the sound of twigs snapping under the feet of the horses, and dogs rustling in the underbrush. Birds chirped in the early morning as they flew from branch to branch while the bits on the reins of the horses jingled from the steeds tossing their heads to ward off any bugs stirred up by their feet. The sniffling of the dogs as they ran their nose across the ground in search of their hunted game was faint, but noticeable to those who paid close attention.

Hermione was almost afraid to breathe; fearful that she would break the peaceful silence. But there was something scary about this silence even if it was slightly peaceful. It was foreboding in an all too quiet way. She glanced toward Tom who had his eyes shifting periodically among the King, Porthos, and the General. As Hermione turned her own eyes to the King, she swore she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped up to the trees above her, but all she glimpsed there was weak, morning sun rays trying their best to break through the holes in the bright green foliage above them.

"Something wrong?" Riddle whispered as he brought his horse closer to hers.

Their feet were nearly touching as they rode, and his eyes followed hers to the tree branches above and then back down to her as she mumbled her answer.

"Just thought that I saw something... but it was probably just a bird."

He shifted his eyes to the King and then back to Hermione.

"I think I would feel better if you rode up there with him," he informed as he nodded to a vacant spot on her pretend father's right.

"I feel safer back here with you," she spoke softly while feeling an odd warmth creep into her cheeks. What made the situation even more odd was that he seemed to flush a bit as well while he nodded and let her continue to ride on his left. His eyes returned to glancing around and checking Hermione and the King every now and then as they rode.

Suddenly, the dogs stopped; something was wrong. It was as though a foul scent had crept into the air. One of the five canines laid down, put his nose to the ground, and covered it with his front paws. Another backed up until it ran into a horse and let out a fearful yelp before cowering under the steed with its tail between its legs.

"Something's not right here," the Duke said as he looked from the dog under the General's horse to the King.

"I say, what's going on up there, Mardon?" the King called. "Is it another animal?"

"Not the kind of animal he thinks," Riddle said so that only Hermione heard as his eyes darted about the forest. "Stay close... and have your wand ready."

"What do you think it is?" Hermione asked as she pushed her fingers up into her sleeve so she could grab her wand handle.

Tom never answered as his head snapped to the right. Everything that followed seemed to happen in a flash.

Four men in dark brown outfits stood, leaves stuck to their attire as though they had been disguising themselves. Hermione gasped and pulled her wand from her sleeve, but it got caught on a loose stitch, and she dropped it. As she dismounted and hid behind her horse, she heard Riddle shout. Her heart leap into her throat as her eyes flew to him. As quick as lightning, she was on her knees on the ground, groping for her wand as he forced his horse to leap forward. Then the unthinkable happened.

Just as she stood up, she saw the four men launch arrows at the King. Two of the arrows were badly aimed and hit trees. Another hit its target, and the other hit something else entirely. Hermione cried out as Tom fell from his horse. A tingling sensation rushed over her, and everything seemed to go in slow motion after that.

There was a loud bang that seemed to split her eardrums. She jammed her fingers into her ears, wincing and gritting her teeth as she dropped to her knees again. There was a loud thud that shook the ground, and she looked to the source of it. What she saw was one of the four attackers lying among the underbrush, his dark brown shirt turning black where a hole pierced the fabric. He was bleeding, and judging by the glassy look in his eyes, he was dying from the wound.

"For God's sake, Mardon! Shoot those men!" Rodden ordered as he dropped his own gun, which had apparently been the one to release the loud shot that took down the first attacker as it lay smoking on the ground. The Duke forgot it now, however, as he helped the King. He was slouched in the saddle with an arrow in his ribs, and his already red hunting suit growing a darker maroon around the shaft of the arrow.

There was another round of loud bangs, and Hermione winced again. When she opened her eyes, they landed on the most unwelcoming of sights. Tom was lying on the ground. His face was virtually paler than snow, and his eyes were closed. He wasn't moving and there was an arrow jutting out of his left shoulder. Hermione's throat tightened as she scrambled towards him on her hands and knees. Tears were beginning to blind her as she grabbed his head and laid it on her knees.

"T-T-To-om," she whimpered as she bent over him, but there was no answer.