CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hermione felt sheepish spreading this mauve-toned concoction over her lips. The previous day, the girls had been assigned some rather complicated make-up potions in Slughorn's class. The boys were trying desperately to hold onto their masculinity while preparing a musky vapor that they would try to catch in a cologne bottle with their wands. The dungeon classroom was overwhelmed by various fragrances. Hermione was sitting cross-legged with her back against the headboard of her four-poster bed, in nothing but her knickers with a circular mirror in her free palm.

The dull hum of the conversations being held around her was like a numbing agent. She had the nightmare about Tom again the night before and once more when she took a nap after tea. But, that nauseating feeling of separation from him was reverberating in her waking hours. There was only an hour left to the dance. She was to meet Tom directly outside the Gryffindor portrait hole.

Something was troubling him, making him more overly protective than normal. Hermione humorlessly chuckled at the thought that something terrible could happen between the seventh and ground floor while in the company of her entire House. She wondered if Dumbledore would force him to remain with the rest of the escorts as that was traditional.

"Hermione, you're not even dressed yet!" Logan exclaimed, yanking Hermione out of her reverie and saving her from overly coating her lips with the glossy potion. "Come on, we need to go!"

Hermione pointedly dipped the brush back into the little clay container on her blankets, "Thanks for almost making me stab my lip with the applicator."

Logan stroked the skirt of Hermione's dress, "Oh, a certain someone won't know what hit him."

Hermione slid off her bed, ignoring her breasts swinging and bouncing freely as she pulled the dress off her blankets, "It's just green -"

"Exactly!" Logan smiled mischievously, "Can't be a coincidence that that's the color of his House."

Hermione bent over and daintily stepped into the bust-line of the dress, "I'm sure he won't care that much."

"Oh, Hermione Granger. So modest," jeered Logan as she returned to her friends sitting on her bed.

Hermione smiled and pulled the dress up to cover her bare breasts. She felt the corset strings begin to slither through the holes and she placed her hands on the wall, bracing herself to be constricted.

Rosier was leaning in a corner of the area outside the Great Hall, corralled by his new followers. They all looked nervous. Nott had vomited before getting dressed in a dress robe his father had sent to him.

"This is your last chance to say your peace," Rosier said darkly. The boys remained silent. Rosier nodded, "Good. For any betrayals would result in immediate ... dismissal."

Tom Marvolo Riddle had not yet left his dorm room. Beneath his Slytherin robe he was wearing black dress pants and the darkest green button-up shirt he owned with black suspenders loose over his shoulders. He had lost quite a bit of weight since that pivotal trip to Hogsmeade so the suspenders were more than just a required accessory. Tom got to his feet from where he had been sitting in his rickety desk chair, staring at the Slytherin emblem he had carved into the stone wall by his bed. Wands were not permitted at the ball.

But, Tom had never been one to abide by rules. He retrieved it from the inside of his robe and aimed it at the relief carving. There was a dull grumbling noise before the carving crumbled to the thin blankets of his bed.

"I have many regrets," he said as dust started to rise from the pile of chalky stone. "The greatest of them all was continuing your dark work. If this is my last night, it will be devoted to defying you!"

With a detached sort of look in his eyes, Tom strutted through the curling dust and left his dorm for the last time. His trunk was left unpacked.

Hermione paced before the cold fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. She had made up a lie that she was getting cold-feet to the girls in her dorm ... which was now becoming true. Hermione was already squeezed into the form-fitting corset, the bodice supporting her assets but not obnoxiously. The lone lit candle on the oriental table behind the largest couch facing the fireplace highlighted the curvatures of her lifted breasts, her defined collarbone, and graceful neck. Her thick curly hair was situated in an elaborate bun on top of her head. Tendrils were falling loose, superior to the charm Logan had cast for Hermione.

Her short heels could hardly be seen beneath the large circumference of the skirt of her dress. Only when she struck out to take a step could the tip of her coordinating shoes be spotted. She heard someone enter through the portrait hole but she did not look at him.

"Are you alright?" Tom Riddle asked, slowly approaching her.

Hermione batted her watering eyes up at him, "Sorry, I hope you weren't out there too long."

"I'm alright," Tom insisted in a whisper.

Hermione looked at him critically, noticing that the dark shadows beneath his eyes had not faded, "Are you?"

Tom grinned humorlessly, "Can't I fall ill?"

She bit her lip and glanced at the ground between them, "Now that you mention it ... no. You can't. I have something that I ... that I want to confess." Tom's eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty but he did not interrupt her. Hermione sighed, "I never explained my behavior towards you before the winter holidays."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched, "I haven't forgotten. But, I'd like to."

Hermione gulped, "I need you to listen and not find me mad. Tom, I'm not supposed to be here."

Tom frowned, "Well, we'll be in the Great Hall soon -"

"1945, Tom." Hermione said in a rush, "I'm not supposed to be here. At first, I tried to convince myself that it was just a nightmare ... that I would wake-up to see my friends, my parents ... not see the people I've lost because of you."

Tom took a step closer to her, "I'm having a difficult time convincing myself that this is not some bizarre attempt at ditching me -"

"I wanted nothing more than that after you saved me. But, now ... that's the last thing I can bare." Hermione's lip was trembling, "I'm not lying to you, Tom. I want you to know the truth before we walk through those grand doors. Well, that is, if you'll still want to take me or go at all. Tom, I was born thirty-four years from now. I was supposed to return to my parents for the winter holidays ... but, instead, I found myself in your class. Say something to me."

Tom's eyes were fixed on hers, but, he seemed to be so far away, "I believe that you think this is the truth. But, you know I'm not easily swayed without proof."

Hermione found that she could no longer stand beneath his detached gaze and sank onto the soft cushions of the sofa, "I know something that you've never told anyone else."

Tom hesitated for a moment before stepping so that he was looming over her, "What is that? Why are you trying to ruin us?"

Hermione's voice cracked as she started to cry, "I know about your horcruxes."

Hermione's doe eyes were so wide her long, thick lashes were almost touching her newly manicured brows. Her soft lips were parted in fear of what the future Dark Lord standing before her will say now.

Tom swallowed, his protruding Adam's apple bouncing up and down, "You're afraid of me again. It would be wise."

Hermione's lower lip shivered, "I couldn't lie anymore, Tom. Not after you've been so honest and good to me -"
Tom scoffed wryly, "Have I? Tell me, how is it you would know that I have such dark possessions ... if I have any at all."

She thought of Harry and Ron with a pang in her heart, "I was part of a group of three. It was our mission to destroy ... all of them. Aren't you intending to make seven?" Tom remained silent and rooted to the spot. Hermione resumed quietly, "I know what they all are ... well, a few I don't. But, one's your mother's locket," Tom's intelligent eyes widened just a fraction as she began listing, "and that ring you took from your uncle which would've killed Dumbledore if Snape hadn't murdered him, your diary -"

"Stop ... talking," Tom said quietly to which Hermione did not protest. "Don't be afraid anymore. I believe you."

Hermione shakily dabbed away the tears dripping down her cheeks, "I thought you'd be furious with me."

"No, I'm not. But, if you had told me this five months ago ... who knows what I would've been capable of doing," Tom was now barely a few inches from where Hermione had backed up into a desk.

"I know," Hermione said with her voice breaking. She could feel Tom's warm breath on her face, "So ... why don't you look so well?"

Tom, who had been bending down to give her a reassuring kiss, straightened back up, "You were very brave to disclose to me your knowledge of my ... possessions. But, you're going to have to trust me. There is nothing wrong with me -"

"Could it be that your soul is split?" Hermione insisted, taking a confident step towards him which she had thought she may never do again. "Maybe it -"

"They make me immortal, Hermione." Tom tried to smile down at her unflattering concern. "Please, let us not speak of that again. I want you to be happy tonight."

Hermione sighed and asked jokingly, "Is that why you're fore-longing my execution?"

Tom bowed forward and took her gloved hand in his, "I'm afraid you'll be waiting for a very, very long time for that."

Hermione slipped her hand out of his gentle grip to wrap her arms unexpectedly about his broad shoulders. Without a moment of hesitation, Tom lifted her up off her feet, leaving her heels behind on the rug. This revealed that she was wearing crimson stockings underneath her emerald ball gown, sporting her Gryffindor heart underneath all this subterfuge. She giggled before pressing her lips to his. Hermione was brimming over with relief and a sense of accomplishment that surmounted all her school marks.

She had changed Tom Marvolo Riddle ... or rather she retrieved the man he truly was underneath all the hate and pain he endured. With surprising strength, Tom yanked her legs around his waist. The enormous skirt of her dress resisted such closeness but Hermione hooked her ankles to keep herself on him. Tom turned around and sat down on the table, running his hands hungrily all over Hermione. Hermione licked the side of his face and ducked low to kiss his collar bones.

Tom's hands rested on her middle, encouragingly massaging her soft skin. One curtain of his dark hair was flapping free of where it had been pinned behind his ear. Hermione felt jittery and restless. Tom laid back on the old table, his feet still planted on the ground thanks to his long legs. Hermione uncoiled her legs from around him and sat on his hips.

Tom watched her fan her dress out around her so that nothing but his pants and her panties kept them apart. Hermione stroked his concave stomach up and down, up and down, up ... Once he was inside her, Hermione gripped his shoulders as she began to writhe her hips on top of him. She clenched her muscles especially hard when he grunted and groaned. Hermione was panting breathlessly, her cheeks growing rosy. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he bucked underneath her and she gave a high-pitched cry of bliss.

Tom sat upright again and kissed her deeply, "No more secrets, do you understand me? You can trust me now as I have trusted you."

Hermione halted mid-writhe on his pelvis. After a moment, she nodded wordlessly and kissed him softly. Tom helped her step down from the table and he buttoned his black pants closed. Hermione crossed the room to the small mirror on a short cupboard. A few more tendrils of curls had wriggled free since she last looked in her reflection but she otherwise seemed presentable.

Tom walked up behind her and stroked the exposed strings of her corset, "You're beautiful ... no matter what your heritage is."

Hermione gazed up at him before turning around to kiss him, "Tom, I lo-"

BANG! Tom and Hermione were knocked to the ground by a sudden explosion near the Fat Lady's portrait. Tom hunched over Hermione, taking the blows from the scattering bits of stone.

Breathing shallowly, Hermione turned to peer up at him beneath the curling dust, "What was that?"

Coughing and spluttering, Tom gripped Hermione by her shoulders and lifted her to her feet along with him.

"You missed all the fun, my lord." There was a cackle of laughter, "Fashionably late, are we, Hogwarts'-most-likely-never-to-shag?"

Tom glared through the clearing dust and growled, "Rosier!"

Rosier strutted towards them, "Hope we aren't interrupting anything, my lord."

Nott appeared behind him and aimed his wand directly at Hermione's heart, "Crucio!"

Hermione was knocked to the ground and the curse hit a different heart. But, Tom hardly gave a flinch. Hermione stared up at him from where she had crumbled to the ground, realizing that he had pushed her out of the Curse's path. About a few moments passed in which Rosier, Yaxley, Nott, all of them stared up at their former leader's impassive gaze.

Tom clenched his jaw and cracked his neck before glaring down at them all, "That tickled."

Hermione saw something flickering in the corner of her eye and, when she glanced down at it, she saw that it was Tom's fingers ... trembling within the sleeve of his dress robe. Despite his apparent resilience to the Unforgivable Curse, she guessed that he had concentrated his reaction to his hands.

Rosier recovered quickly, "Is she still wet, my lord? Might we all get a go?"

Tom scoffed down at him, "Well, certainly not Avery, Nott, and Yaxley. I believe they'd run into a little difficulty. Wouldn't you, my friends? Unless you have sodomy on your mind," The three boys who nearly raped Hermione averted their eyes from Tom, whom glanced over his shoulder down at Hermione, "If I have not made it glaringly obvious, gentlemen, you'll have to duel your Dark Lord first. I can take you one at a time ... but, if you don't want to suffer, I can simultaneously put you all down like hounds." Rosier gulped and took a step forward, "Keep your distance, Rosier. I thought you were smart," Tom said quietly, protectively. "Just ask Nott, Yaxley, or Avery. They've witnessed my ... creativity."

Hermione held her breath when Tom turned his back on the boys and extended a hand down to her. She gazed up into his eyes ... he was scared. This must not be the look he must have been giving the Deatheaters surrounding them. He truly trusted her enough to reveal what he would have labeled as a weakness. But, Hermione saw it as strength ... the strength to not hide how he truly feels.

She read his lips, a silent message only for her, as he lifted her back on her feet, "When you get the chance ... run."

Tom had never felt so worn, so battered, so ... weak. Taking Nott's Cruciatus curse, though it had not been excruciating since the boy was not a talented wizard, had taken a hit to his palpitating heart. He felt restless, anxious, and paranoid. Hermione needed to be as far away as she could be from these young men he had raised to be killers. Especially now that he truly doubted he could protect her from them.

Hermione clung to Tom's forearm, his elbow coiled to her bosom. If she had the chance to run, she wasn't going to leave him behind. Something was wrong with him. He was no longer a danger to the world, but, there was a new danger rearing its head inside of him. Hermione did not understand it, hardly wanted to admit it, but ... he was dying.

She knew it. Something was wrong with his horcruxes. She wondered if she had something to do with it ...

Nott toyed with his wand, "No disrespect, my lord. But, we've all got a common feelin' that you forgot you were Lord Voldemort. You taught us that the mudbloods don't deserve to be educated like us -"

Rosier held up a hand for Nott to be quiet, "It's clear what has happened, men. Hermione Granger happened to him."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched, "I won't argue your deduction. I'll be back in a few minutes. Ready yourselves, boys ... you've gained my attention."

Next thing Hermione knew, before she could fully process what had gotten her there, she was falling through the air. Tom had grabbed her around her middle and leapt straight through the stain glass window behind them. She screamed with all her might, clinging so hard that she was tearing his dress robe.

"Open your eyes," Tom said calmly.

Hermione yelped as her feet patted the lawn of the castle grounds in the assumption that they would surely crash. Still trembling in his arms, Hermione glanced up from where the window was still raining sharp shards of crimson and gold glass to Tom's detached dimenor.

"What happ- did we fly?" Hermione breathed.

Tom nodded ruefully, "Shows how far I've pushed the boundaries of magic. Come with me. I'm getting you out of here."

Tom's thin ghostly fingers were coiled around Hermione's bicep and he jerked her towards the waiting carriages. Hermione's protests could hardly be heard over the commotion surrounding them. All the students were still being evacuated from the castle. The graduating witches and wizards were formally dressed while the underclassmen were in their pajamas. It was only then that Hermione registered that night had fallen.

She stumbled when she tried to stop him. Hermione tried to get him to look down at her. But, his brown eyes were locked forward as stubbornly as the muscle in his sharp jaw.

"Step aboard, girl." said Mr. Kettleburn distractedly, taking Hermione's hand roughly when it was within reach. "There's a good girl, come on. Hurry!"

Tom lifted Hermione onto the second step and shoved her inside the carriage. The professor slammed the door shut and Hermione reached her arm through the open window in the door.

"Tom!" Hermione cried out, her lips trembling.

He froze before he could fully depart from her. Tom turned around and took her outstretched hand.

Hermione reached for the latch on the door to break free but Tom hastily wiped out his wand, "Colloportus!"

The latch was magically rendered useless. Hermione shook her head weakly, pursing her lips together, and squeezing her eyes shut.

"You gave me no choice," Tom said, his deep voice so clear to her it was like he was inside her head ... her heart. It was what he had said in her dream. It was coming true. Tom continued flatly, "This is my fight. It'll be alright. I swear."

Hermione choked out, a whisper he miraculously heard over the shrieking masses, "I love you!"

There was a change in his detached gaze. Tom stepped forward but, before his lips could touch hers, the thestral took off at a gallop. She was wrenched from his arms. Hermione watched him stand frozen in the act of kissing her. Hermione let herself be pulled into a comforting embrace from a girl who was a stranger to her.

She stroked the neck of her wand as she gently pulled herself free after a few seconds. Hermione crossed to the opposite side of the crowded compartment and aimed her wand at the harnesses attaching the carriage to the invisible winged equine.

"Diffindo!" she whispered.