A/N: Well, all my lovely readers and reviewers, you'll be happy to know that I'm going to be confined to the computer for at least the next fifteen days. Sadly, I've broken my toe and my whole foot is swollen, rendering me unable to walk without great pain shooting through my foot and leg. So I'm going to be stuck in the computer chair until the pain eases up. But that's besides the point... on to the thank you's.

Thanks to: nehimasgift, .o0Aurelie0o., arushi, LandUnderWave, Charming-Lynn, Gueneviere, PymyPuff20, pottersgirl91, ellamalfoy8, libaka, Schermionie (I am forever grateful and in your debt! Thanks so much and I hope this chapter is better grammatically), Featherstrike, dreamer1516, The Almighty Cheez It, Chocolatecoveredespressobean, Silver Tears 11, Hyperactiva, o0Dreamer0o, Lolaleddir, Skavema, The daughter of Slytherin, the. dead. addict., AMistressMalfoy, and fizznsoot.

Enjoy! I'm off to write Chapter 27.

Chapter 26 – When Death Threatens

"Help me, son!" the Duke grunted to Porthos. Rodden was struggling to hold the King in the saddle; it seemed to be taking all of his might to hold himself upright while keeping the King from falling as well.

Porthos dismounted and jogged to the side of the King, helping to lower him down as the Duke dismounted as well. Once on the ground, they lay him down, and a groan escaped his lips as he clutched at his ribs. He was obviously having difficulty breathing, but Hermione hardly noticed just what was going on with anyone but Tom.

She was still sitting upon her knees with his head resting on her legs. Tears were still flooding from her eyes and splashing down onto her dress. From there they fell into Tom's ebony hair and onto his face. She grabbed his hand; it was clammy and pale. Her heart was racing as she tapped his cheek lightly with her other hand, hoping to get a response from him, but still nothing happened. She looked to the arrow that jutted out of his shoulder. Hermione could almost sense his pain as she looked at the blackening blood stain on his shirt. She knew that she had to dislodge the arrow and tie the wound off with applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

She moved his head from her lap, crawling around to his left side as the King cried out in the background. Turning her head to the other four men only for a second long enough to see that they were lifting the King from the ground, she realized now that she was Riddle's only hope as they tended to the fallen leader. Knowing that they would perceive the King as more important than a mere soldier boy, Hermione grabbed the arrow and tightened her grip as she clenched her teeth. She hoped that the projectile would dislodge quickly, effortlessly, and for Tom's sake, painlessly. Closing her eyes, Hermione gave a powerful upward yank on the wooden rod. With the sound of squelching blood and muscle, the arrow was removed, but another sound had accompanied it. A scream.

Her eyes snapped open as she tossed the wound inflicting rubbish aside. Her hands flew to his face and cupped it as she was overcome by more tears.

"Speak to me!" she demanded.

He only grunted with pain though. She was brought back to the task at hand by his sounds of distress. She stood, brushing off a section of her skirt. She grabbed the bottom of it, pulling it tight, and picked up the arrow. The Gryffindor Head Girl shoved it through the dress, creating a hole that she could push her fingers through to more easily rip the garment. She pulled at the fabric until there a full skirt length strip torn from the skirt. Kneeling once more, Hermione lifted Tom's arm and shoulder, which was much to his grumbling protest. She began wrapping the strip of material around his shoulder and then tied it tight over the wound so there was plenty of pressure to suppress the bleeding.

It was then that she noticed the Duke was by her side. He was ready to lift Riddle from the ground as Porthos and Mardon stood with their horses tied together. The King was laid across the two saddles and held down by a broken rein as he expressed the growing pain in his side.

"Come now, Princess," Rodden instructed. "We must get him up onto his horse so that I can help him along. It's most prudent that we get back to the castle quickly."

She nodded, wishing she could forsake hiding her magic and just levitate her time-traveling companion, but the men around her would grow extremely alarmed by the use of such power, and it would only cause more trouble. She grabbed Tom's legs as the Duke grabbed his waist and together they hoisted Riddle up into the saddle. Rodden held him there long enough for Hermione to mount her horse, and in turn, hold the future Dark Lord while the Duke got into his own saddle.

They set off, Porthos and the General leading the way as the Duke followed while partly holding Tom in the saddle. Hermione brought up the rear, pulling the King's horse along beside her own as she watched Riddle carefully. He was sweating profusely, moaning, and lolling his head as he slumped in the saddle. His eyes flickered, and he occasionally slid to one side of the saddle, only to be righted by Duke Rodden. Hermione suddenly felt very alone as she rode behind them with an empty saddle next to her. Would her Slytherin heir friend make it?

The makeshift bandage that she had made for him was already turning pink from the blood that it had soaked up. She feared in that moment that if she lost him, she would live forever alone while stuck in a time that wasn't her own. Tears prickled her eyes as her heart twinged at the very thought, but it wasn't just the thought of being stuck in the time alone; it was the thought of not being with Riddle.

It seemed as though it had taken the hunting party ages to reach the castle. When they got there, they were greeted by six stable boys. One of the stable hands took off into the castle for the nurse, three others helped Porthos, Mardon, and the Duke remove the King and Tom from their saddles while the last stable boy began moving the horses out of the way.

Once inside the castle, panic broke loose. Maids were running amok while fetching hot water, bandages, and other supplies to help the two wounded men. The Duchess was calling to her husband from upstairs. Apparently, she had intended to graciously welcome him home, but got quite a shock instead.

"My heavens! What's the meaning of this?" she demanded frantically. "And Anastasia... just look at the dress I gave you; all torn and covered in dirt!" She seemed distraught as she addressed Hermione, who had figured that the Duchess would be furious when she saw what had happened to the dress.

"By God, woman, that's hardly the least of our worries!" the Duke scolded as he helped carry Tom into a nearby room.

The tables were forsaken and served, for the moment, as improvised beds to lay the two wounded men upon. Nurses and maids began ripping open the shirts that Riddle and the King were wearing so their wounds could be properly dressed.

"Oh! My table linens! And all this blood!" the Duchess cried as she gaped at the floor where a trail of crimson led into the room from outside.

"Will you stop your bothersome whining!" Rodden commanded as he attempted to slam a hand down on the table in vexation and hit Tom's wounded shoulder instead.

He rose halfway up into a sitting position with his back arched as he yelled out in anguish. The Duke gasped and began shouting his apologies above Riddle's cries and orders of the nurses before quickly ushering himself and his wife from the room. Mary and Janessa came running in, each carrying a bowl of steaming water and a roll of white linens for bandages.

"Oh, Princess!" exclaimed Mary.

"This is no place for you!" Janessa gasped as she and the other maid ushered Hermione from the room.

"But I want to see him!" the Gryffindor cried out.

"But you mustn't be in the way," Mary advised.

"We'll take you to see your father as soon as they have him fixed up in bed and feeling better," the other lady in waiting assured her.

But Hermione hadn't meant the King; she had meant Tom. Yet what Mary and Janessa said made her realize something else: If she lost the King as well as Riddle, she would truly be alone and without the least bit of comfort. Hermione would then be pushed to take her place on the thrown as queen too.

'He has to pull through... They both do!' Hermione thought in panic as her ladies in waiting led her from the room.

Hermione lay in bed all day after making Mary and Janessa leave the room. She had cried a great deal. In fact, Hermione had cried so much that she had exhausted herself. After a short, fitful sleep, she was visited by her ladies in waiting again. The two maids had tried to bring her food and talk to her, but she would neither eat nor talk. Her reason behind this was because neither of her maids would tell her anything of Tom's condition or the King's. She had turned the two away several times, but they had come back every instance, begging her to eat. Hermione just turned her back to them and buried her face in a pillow. The last time, she had heard them whispering out in the hallway just outside the door, sounding fretful and genuinely concerned.

By later that night, the Gryffindor Head Girl was fed up and starting to feel slightly paranoid and almost crazy. She had been pent up in the room all day by no one's will but her own, yet with no news, it was no wonder she felt like a prisoner. If someone didn't tell her what was happening soon, Hermione was determined to burst into every room in the castle until she found out.

Just then, there was a knock upon her door, and the click of the lock told her that someone was coming in. She rolled over to face the door and sat up in the bed, staring at the intruder. It was the Duchess, and she was accompanied by none other than the Duke. Both looked something close to grave, and Hermione felt the worst was coming.

"Why have you not eaten, child?" asked Rodmilla as she walked over and sat down upon the bed. She took Hermione's hand into her own and patted it before smoothing back Hermione's matted hair from her pale, tear stained face.

"I refuse to eat until someone can tell me what's going on," the younger woman replied. "I have just as much right to know what's happening with my father and Aramis as anyone does."

"Too right you are," the Duke muttered kindly as he nodded. "And that's just what we've come to do as your hosts." He paused; Hermione felt her stomach twist itself into unbearable knots while the feeling of mounting tension crept up her spine. Her body vibrated with a forboding feeling while her eyes grew wide with expectancy as the hairs upon her arms and neck stood on end. "First, I wish you to know that I've sent out a group of no less than sixty men in search for the scoundrels that have done this to your beloved father and companion," Rodden assured her.

"And when we catch them, we will make sure that they get exactly what is coming to them," the Duchess butted in.

"But how are they?" Hermione managed to ask.

"I fear that your father isn't doing so well, love," the Duke sighed.

The pain was visible on his face now as he pulled downward upon his mustache. His eyes were glassed over with worry, and Hermione then realized that she wasn't the only one this situation was hurting. Rodden was facing something much like she was, much like she already had in being forced to leave Harry and Ron behind when she was thrown through time and space.

"What's wrong with him?" she inquired.

"He's come down with a most horrible fever and the bleeding is... difficult to stop," the Duke continued, swallowing back his despair.

"Oh, do stop!" Rodmilla commanded sympathetically. "You'll work yourself and the Princess into an illness," she warned as she touched her eyes with a handkerchief.

"And... and Aramis? How is he?"

"He's a fair deal better off than your father, but still in and out of it," the Duchess answered, obviously trying to give Hermione some hope. But when Hermione's response was nothing but a frown, the Duchess continued, "We've sent away for the best men of medicine in the country. We've made sure to tell them it was extremely urgent that they get here immediately."

"Yes, and there's all the hope in the world for Aramis. He's young and fit; he'll probably pull through this in no time," the Duke consoled.

"Ana," Duchess Rodmilla sighed, "have you eaten at all today?"

"No... I haven't been hungry."

"But you must eat, dear," the older woman argued lightly. "It won't do any good for you to get sick as well. Your father and young friend need to see you healthy and somewhat happy so they strive to get better for you."

A heart-filled smile touched the Duchess's features, and a glow lit up her face. Hermione smiled faintly. She couldn't help it; the smile the Duchess had given Hermione was contagious and apparently the Duke had noticed it as well. A fondness sparkled in his eyes as he looked at his wife, who patted Hermione's hand one last time and stood up.

"Feel free to come down to dinner, Ana," the Duchess advised in a motherly fashion before turning to her husband. "Come along... leave her to her some peace and solitude."

The Duke said nothing as he followed his wife from the room, seemingly speechless at her new behavior towards Hermione. She watched the older couple close the door before she got up and went over to her dresser. A basin of water sat there, cold from being left over from the night before. She cupped her hands into the water and splashed it up onto her face before fumbling along the dresser for the towel. She dabbed her face dry and felt somewhat refreshed, yet still a little down-hearted. Hermione looked into the mirror and frowned at her bloodshot eyes and messy hair. She grabbed the brush and began yanking it through her matted locks. She tried for five minutes before giving up and using her wand. Then a thought came to her when she looked at her wand. Healers. She needed to go get some Healers and bring them to the castle so that they could heal Tom and the King.

A smile grew on her face as she bounded out into the corridor, her destination Tom's room. Hermione slowed as she rounded the corner to the corridor were Riddle's room was. She straightened herself, realizing that she still had on the riding dress from earlier that day. Shaking her head in momentary frustration before shrugging it off, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so Hermione pushed the door open. Inside, Tom was lying in bed with a sweat still existent upon his face, and his skin still overly pale. She approached as quietly as possible and sat down in a chair beside the bed where a nurse had obviously been.

Hermione looked around the room, uneasy with the silence blanketing everything that resided within those four walls, but the silence was broken shortly after as Riddle moaned and shifted slightly in bed. She turned her eyes to him and saw him wince; he was obviously in pain. She needed to do something for him, but right now, the only thing she could think of was to dab his forehead with a damp cloth, so that's exactly what she did. After dipping the cloth in the cool water that was beside the bed, Hermione slid out of the chair and onto the edge of the bed. She was careful not to move too much so as not to shake the bed and cause him discomfort. Reaching up slowly, she ran the cloth gently across his face, brushing some stray strands of hair back from his eyes as she went.

"Don't worry," she whispered to him as she dipped the cloth in the water again. "I'm going to get you some real help, okay?"

She wiped his face again before standing and leaving the room. She headed down to the kitchens, half expecting to find Mary and Janessa there, but she didn't. Instead, she found the Duke. He was eating a rather large piece of chocolate dessert as he sat alone at a small two person table in the corner of the room.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she walked up to him.

"Oh... just fine," he muttered before taking another bite. "Just hiding down here so I can have some extra dessert... My wife hates it when I eat more than one serving at dinner, but I can't help it," he joked half heartedly. Hermione smiled and sat down with him, realizing just how hungry she was as she got a whiff of the food that was left over from dinner. Her stomach growled loudly, and she blushed as he Duke chuckled. "Thought you might be hungry," he said as he reached over shoved the last piece of cake towards her. "Eat."

"Thanks," she sighed.

Silence passed between them as they ate, and when the Duke had finished, he exhaled loudly and stared around the room.

"You really should visit your wife," Hermione advised quietly in an attempt to break the muteness. "I know it's not my place to say anything, but she needs you just as much as you need her right now. She's lonely, and she misses you. You're her husband, and as that, you need to show her love... always."

The Duke just stared at Hermione for a moment before a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I have ignored her for years and have greatly missed waking up each morning with her snoozing lightly beside me," he muttered, bowing his head. "It's just that I'm afraid she doesn't return my love like she used to. She's changed... she's become bitter. Yet today... today I saw a change in her when she talked to you."

"She still does love you. She's just not sure how to show it," Hermione remarked. "Go to her tonight... stay with her. I'm sure you'll see what I mean."

"Wise beyond your years, you are," he chuckled. "You're going to make a marvelous queen some day."

"No time too soon will I be queen," Hermione assured. She didn't intend on being around for that, and she was going to make sure the King made it through this. In fact, she was going to assure that very soon.

The Duke's eyes twinkled with a faint happiness before he rose from his chair.

"If you'll excuse me, young Princess, I'm going to do as you've suggested. I've been away from my love for far too long." With that, he left, and Hermione breathed easy while the tiniest hint of a smile curved her lips.

Hermione walked quickly down the street. She had rode down into town and tied her horse at a post near the edge of the village. She hated to be alone when it was growing dark so fast, but there was something that she had to do. Few remained out and about on the streets. A group of women and their husbands headed home, and four other men walked along lighting candles inside street lamps. Lights flickered out in store windows and shop doors began to display signs of closure. Hermione continued to quicken her pace still, bowing her head and hiding her face under the hood on her cloak. She turned a corner and looked back over her shoulder upon hearing some men laughing as they left a pub, hiccuping and singing. The smell of booze drifted through the air towards her, and she stiffened her back, noticing the store she was looking for was only three buildings away. She dashed into the place just in time; the man that she and Tom had seen yesterday morning was crossing the shop with a sign that displayed he was closed.

"I'm sorry, milady," he said, unable to recognize Hermione because of her hood, "but I'm closing up now."

"But I desperately need your assistance," Hermione said as she lowered her hood.

"Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed while coming closer. "Where's your young male friend?"

"That's why I'm here," she began to explain. "He's been hurt and so has my father. I need to get to a Healer."

"All right... all right," he nodded quickly. "Just let me close up shop, and I'll help you the best I can." With that said, he walked past her and locked the front door before hanging a sign in the window. He put out the light that was in the front of the shop and ushered Hermione into the back of the store. "If it's a Healer you need, then I'll have to take you to Bluffshire. I'm no good with fixing things, only inventing them, and I'm really no good at Potions," he told her as he headed towards the fireplace. "And seeing as you can't Apparate... or can you?"

"I can."

"Ah, but Floo would be safer," he mumbled more to himself than Hermione, ignoring her answer. "It'll take us right into Bluffshire without the few days trip that I mentioned yesterday, but don't tell no one that. I'm not supposed to have a fireplace fixed up to there. If the Ministry found out... boy, oh boy, I'd be in all sorts of trouble." At that moment, Hermione didn't care for rules, and even if she did, she had no real way of getting to London's Ministry to tell on him.

"All right, let's go," she agreed.

He said nothing more as he pulled a pot down from the mantle and lit a fire. He tossed the shimmering powder into the flames and gestured for Hermione to go first.

"Just shout 'Bluffshire', and you'll be taken to the pub there. Wait for me, and I'll be right along after you."

She nodded and stepped into the green flames. She shouted her destination as she went, and the familiar whirling sensation that she often experienced when visiting the Weasleys began. Instantly, she hugged her arms to herself tightly so as to keep her elbows tucked in and closed her eyes to prevent sickness. She heard bits of conversations, though most were rushed and blurred in a mesh of confusion. Suddenly, she jerked to a stop and stumbled out of the fireplace, toppling over a stool. She was soon helped up by her travelling companion who stumbled from the fireplace, almost tripping over her in the process.

When Hermione was finally back on her feet and brushing herself off, she looked around. A strange giddiness filled her as she saw the round bar with its many stools, and a few tables flecking the corners of the pub. She guessed that her excitement was due to the fact that she was in an all wizarding village, which meant she was finally close to getting help. The King and Tom would be healed, and she and Riddle would be on their way home in no time. Or so she hoped they would be.