PART FOUR

XIV / 6 January 2014

"You really know Dumbledore?" Lestrange asked, craning his neck slightly.

Hermione looked up from her book, frowning slightly from the pain. "How is it looking?" She didn't feel comforted by his shrug of indifference. "Yeah," she murmured, flipping a page and skimming it. "I know him."

"How well do you know him?"

She closed the book, tossing it into the bag sitting next to him. "Why?"

"No reason-"

"No reason," she repeated, watching him blankly. "No reason but Tom, right? What the hell does Tom want with Dumbledore?"

"Give us a minute, Greengrass. Perhaps get us some Starbucks."

Hermione felt the artist complete the section before resting the gun on the tray and leaving. "I'm paying him by the hour, you know?"

To say he least, he didn't care. She'd been curious as to why he'd joined her today, as he hadn't shown any interest in her tattoo before today, but she hadn't imagined that it'd have anything to do with Dumbledore. Sitting up, her straightened hair fell over her bare chest, thick and heavy even without her curls, but his discomfort was obvious. She pulled the sheet she'd been laying on over her and asked, "Well?"

"I have no interest in Dumbledore and his dealings."

"No offense, but you don't seem to have any interests at all."

As they made eye contact, he gave a dry laugh. "Tom heard he's involved with Grindelwald. I was tasked with looking into it."

She frowned, "Why on earth would I know if he's involved with Grin? I've been with you all for over a year now."

He plucked a piece of lint off his slacks. "Grin?"

Running her tongue along the inner curve of her teeth, Hermione looked down as though she were embarrassed. She wasn't. "I've been tasked with befriending Grindelwald."

Lestrange actually looked impressed with she looked up. "And that's working out for you?"

She ran her hand through her hair, pulling her fringe to the opposite side as she watched him. "I met Dumbledore when I started at Oxford, as he is the division head for the MPLS department, and he is the most accomplished physicist in the country. We shared an academic bond, but that's as far as it goes, as we didn't understand each other beyond the basic facts and appreciations for the physical sciences. We send papers back and forth, but that's it."

"And Grindelwald?"

She sighed. "Unofficially, he approached me a few weeks before I was forced out of Cambridge, with a job offer-"

"Why would Grindelwald approach you, though? You hadn't even begun your studies."

Hermione stared at him with wide, disturbed eyes, deeply offended by his stab at her intelligence. Ignoring him, she said, "I turned him away, as I'm was well aware of his colorful history and his stance on controversial topics dear to me. However, since Tom has asked me to reacquaint myself with him, I find he's quite charming."

"He's missing practically all of his teeth."

"He has quite a good dentist, thank you. And he's very intelligent. Why is Tom concerned about he and Dumbledore?"

Lestrange seemed on the fence about telling her before sighing and reaching for his soda. "Grindelwald asked something of Tom that he was uncomfortable with. He believes he went to Dumbledore and his pet Potter."

"He said no," Hermione shrugged, the soreness of her skin settling over her. She laid back down, careful to keep her hair off of her back. "He can't be upset about Grin going to someone else."

"Dumbledore has had it out for Tom since we were at St. Andrews, Grange. He knew his mother, or something, and felt that Tommy should transfer to Oxford. That the family owed him that much- Tom was quite scholarly," he supplied at her confused look.

But, Hermione had already known that. What she didn't understand was why Dumbledore would expect anything of Tom.

"He got the school to offer him a full ride, and everything. He hadn't even applied, you know?"

"What did he study?"

He gave her a funny look, as though he wasn't sure how they could have been together for so long and she not know. "Tom did his undergrad in biochemistry and economics, that's how we meet. He holds masters in biochemistry and medicine, and I believe he is working on his second PhD. Haven't figured out in what yet. He is quite accomplished. That's why you all suite each other so well. Everyone's watching and yet," he gestured largely.

"And yet what, Atticus?"

"You all are permitted to do whatever you'd like. Someone has to know you all murder people for a living, and yet you walk around free as birds. Any minute now, and you'll get offers from the government."

"What does any of this have to do with Dumbledore?"

"Well, nothing."

She groaned tiredly, glancing over her shoulder as Greengrass walked back into the room.

He passed her a Gingerbread Latte and a slice of pumpkin bread. "Tom sends his love."

She tensed uncomfortably as Lestrange accepted his usual Green Tea Latte and said, "Oh, that's so kind. I'll have to give him a ring later. Perhaps invite him over for dinner."

"Not you. Her. I brought a straw, Granger, so you can drink while I work."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He put his headphones on before getting back to work.

At length, she said, "Grin has no interest in Dumbledore, and Potter is a good boy from a good family. He won't get involved with anything, especially something Tom is turning down."

"I hear Potter would do anything for Dumbledore, though. He's like a godfather or something."

"Dumbledore is not Harry's godfather, and his moral compass isn't compromised. Perhaps in another universe, but not this one. Tell Tom you looked into it, and there is nothing to worry about."

Lestrange nodded quietly, but she noticed that something was eating at him, and told him to spit it out. "You know Potter too, then?"

"We haven't spoken in awhile, but he was the only reason I made it through Oxford. Even to this day, I trust him with my life."

She was nearly done with her latte when he said, "So. You and Riddle, huh?"

Hermione laughed loudly, her whole body shaking so greatly that it forced Greengrass to stop his shading. "God, Lestrange," she wiped tears from her eyes, "where have you been?"

XV / 18 March 2014

"God," Hermione murmured. "Get away from me."

"After everything we've been through?" Tom questioned, genuine confusion on his face.

She wanted to press her steak knife through his chest. It would have been the easiest thing she'd done in months. "Yes," she told him, leaning forward. His eyes fell, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he observed her breasts, straining against the top of her dress. "I would do- no, I would have done anything for you, do you realize that? And you've betrayed me," angrily, she wiped at her face. "You killed my parents."

"If I didn't, Dumbledore would have-"

"Why would he have killed them, Tom? He has nothing to do with them."

"You don't get it, do you? You invited Grindelwald into your life, Hermione. You hooked him in with all your beauty and charms and your parents. Your father was a powerful man, and in Dumbledore's eyes, he was way to chummy with an enemy of England to be up to anything good. He was a threat. Just like you are, just like I am."

She shook her head, tugging her fingers through her hair. "No-"

"Hermione. Please. Listen to me. You're the most important thing in my life; you have been for years now. I would never do anything to hurt you-"

"You killed my parents, Tom," she all but managed not to scream it.

"I was protecting you."

For once, she saw something other than calculated deceit or obsession from him. The anger that shined in his words and eyes caused her to genuinely consider what he was saying. "Dumbledore is a kind and gentle man-"

"He killed my mother," he admitted, barely even able to look at her. "Because she'd found out something she shouldn't have known about his past. I was six, hiding under the sink. She suffered, Hermione. At his hand. And do you know what that sick bastard did, when I ended up in the orphanage? He paid for my education. He," he broke off, sucking in deep breath. "My point is that I know what he is capable of when he thinks you know something you shouldn't. I'm sorry for hurting you. I truly am. But I saved them from something no one should have to suffer through, and I won't apologize for that."

"You've taken everything from me."

He rubbed his face. "I know. I'm sorry."

She placed her napkin on the table, "I can't forgive you. I don't even want to look at you. God, Tom," she got up quickly, suddenly unable to even be in the same room as him.

"Hermione," he said softly, eyes lifting up to her slowly. His jaw pulsed, eyes darkened.

It was sick, and she felt her body shaking in personal disgust, but she truly felt herself caving. "What?"

"When you walk out, are you walking out forever, or until you feel like seeing me again?"

"Forever, Tom. You know I don't do things in halves."

He stood up, too, buttoning his suit jacket and stepping closer to her.

"Don't touch me," she told him.

He bit his lip, lowering himself to one knee.

Hermione did grab her steak knife. She felt eyes on them, gasps from the nearby tables. All she could think was that it would just take a few seconds to get the knife through his breastplate. Before someone pulled her off of him, she would have done her damage. She could even get a few stabs in to his stomach before anyone noticed anything. "Don't you dare, Tom Riddle," she bit out, but she felt even less resolve now.

In all honestly, she could barely remember her life before he entered it, and picturing it without him hurt more than it should have, given her current knowledge. But, the thought of walking out –no matter how desperately she wanted and needed to- left an empty hole in her chest, the place where her heart should have been physically aching.

"You look beautiful this evening, you know?"

"I know."

He smiled, drawing her hand into his and placing it on his jaw. Kissing her wrist he said, "You're the most beautiful thing in my life."

"And I'm about to leave it, Tom. Stop acting like this. Get up."

"Hermione," he produced a small, dark green box from seemingly nowhere.

Despite herself, her breath caught in her throat. Her grip tightened on the knife. "Tom," she warned.

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her shoulders trembling with the pressure and effort to even survive. She hated herself, because he was all that she had left, and she completely understood that he'd made it that way, but…

"Hermione," he repeated, voice as smooth as silk as she heard it. Flipping the box open, he revealed an opal ring, set in gold and surrounded by diamond. It physically hurt to look at. "Will you marry me?"

Someone at a nearby table cussed, and she recognized it as Bellatrix.

She'd always been selfish and repugnantly self obsessed.

"May I stab you in the stomach?"

XVI / 2 May 2014

"We should just elope," Hermione murmured, tossing her bridal magazine off the side of the bed.

Tom looked up from his newspaper, glasses on the tip of his nose. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he said, "I've been meaning to go to Vegas."

She laughed. "We'd still have to have a wedding, you know? Or, a least a reception."

"You'd really just marry me, Granger? Just me and you?"

"It's always just me and you, Tom. What's the difference?"

He set his paper and glasses to the side, "Really?"

"Geez, Riddle. How often do I go back on my word?" Getting out of bed, Hermione walked over the closet to find something to wear. "But not Vegas. What about Morocco?"

He frowned. "What about Scotland? We could spend the weekend."

"We could spend the rest of our lives, Tom. It's just over the border."

He laughed.

# # #

"Hello, Abraxas?" Hermione smiled at Tom. He stood less than an arms length away, hands on his hips as he waited on her to finish her call.

"Are you okay?" Abraxas asked, worry heavy in his voice.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"I…I don't know. You sound panicked? Where's Tom?"

She tugged a hand through her hair, uncertain of why he seemed so worried over her phone call. Perhaps it was because she usually texted him. "He's right here. We're actually…we're in Scotland. We were wondering if you'd come over for a few hours."

"What the hell are you doing in Scotland?"

"Just hanging out. Listen, are you busy? Can you come?"

"Yeah. I can…I just have to go pick up a ticket. What part?"

"I'll text you."

"Okay."

"Wear something nice, okay?"

He was quite for some time before finally saying, "Granger. Are you asking me to be your witness?"

"Yeah, we're…yeah."

"You're eloping."

She didn't understand his hesitancy. "Yes. Whether you're here or not, love. And we'd really prefer it if you were here."

"Really? The both of you? Tom doesn't seem much like the type to really want anyone anywhere; bar, say, six feet under."

"Tom and I, Abraxas. You mean a lot to us. Please come."

He sighed. "I'll come for you. But, for the record: I don't support this."

# # #

Tom laughed, his shoulders shaking as he rubbed his eyes. Abraxas looked at Hermione with wide eyes, as though he was shocked to see him happy, and she realized that he probably didn't carry on with them like this. Realistically, regardless of the fact that may have been friends before, Abraxas worked for Tom.

"You've really got him hook and line, Granger," he commented, sipping his beer and shaking his head as Tom continued to laugh.

She pinched at his cheek, barely even considering what she may look like before saying, "Riddle."

"What?"

"I'm Hermione Riddle. Granger's a bit obsolete now."

As he calmed down, Tom drew an arm over her shoulders and kissed her hair. Hermione felt herself blushing as he whispered, "Hermione Riddle," as though he couldn't quite believe it. His fingers slid over her neck soothingly.

"Right. Sorry. Still processing the fact that two most calculated people in my life just eloped like a couple of teenagers."

"It's actually becoming an increasingly popular trend amongst young professionals. Balancing work and life, you know, it's hard. Who has time to plan a wedding?"

"Well…you."

"Shut up, Abraxas. We're celebrating."

"You aren't drinking."

"So?"
"Are you pregnant?"

Tom coughed. "Not yet."

"We aren't having children."

"Yet," he prompted, eyeing her before looking at Abraxas. "We aren't hiding anything, Malfoy. She suggested it, I agreed, and here we are three days later. I love her, and she deals with my shit. It was a logical step in our relationship."

Abraxas chugged his beer. "Well, good. Because Bellatrix would flip if she found out you were married and expecting at the same time. She'd kill you both."

XVII / 15 July 2014

Abraxas continued to bang on the door, yelling for Hermione to open it. He'd been out there for an hour, and although she didn't open it –didn't even say a word to him-, he remained, and she sat on the other side, tears silently streaming down her face. She was thankful for his being there, for him caring about her enough to come and find her, and visit everyday. No one else had.

"Hermione, love. At least knock a few times."

She tapped her nails against the door, smiling as he laughed.

"Have you been there the whole time?"

"Yeah," she told him, her voice barely reaching the other side of the door.

He knocked what seemed to be his head against the door. "You feel like letting me in?"

At least ten minutes passed before she pressed her finger to the lock, allowing the click to echo as she moved away from the door. He sat down beside her, kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs across the foyer. "We're friends, you know? You can tell me whatever you need to tell me. I…you hang out with my children, Granger. No one else even knows that I have children."

She rested her head on his shoulder, wiping the tears from her face. "He killed my parents." He tensed. "He killed them, and I knew. I married him anyway."

"Hermione," he murmured, turning toward her.

"I don't want you to say anything. I know."

He left to make a cup of tea, forcing her to drink it when he returned. "How did you find out?"

"Fucking Grindelwald. Who else?"

Abraxas nodded understandingly, swallowing loudly. In vain, she tried to stop crying, but everything seemed as though it was pressing upon her, forcing her to acknowledge the fact that she'd really and truly fucked up. That she was in love. There was nothing left for her to do, save her job, and even that was becoming harder by the second.

"Can I ask you something? It's…its okay if you can't answer it."

"Okay."

"Did you really get kicked out of Cambridge?"

"No. I left on my own."

"It wasn't a mistake, then? Tom finding you."

She set her cup down on the floor, wiping her face again. "No."

He licked his lips, staring blankly at the wall across from them. "Why do you think he wanted your parents dead?"

Hermione picked up her tea, finishing the cup and standing up. She left him in the foyer, choosing to shower and get dressed, and rejoin society. It'd been a week since she'd left her house, since she'd even spoken or heard from anyone, besides Abraxas. She wasn't sure what to make of the fact that it'd been him, but she forever grateful that it hadn't been Tom. She probably would have killed herself if he'd come by.

The blond was in her kitchen when she got back downstairs. He smiled at her from the stove, "The only thing I know how to make well is chicken and broccoli. The chef does most of the cooking at home."

She sat down at the counter, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. "I think he wants to make sure he's all that I have."

"It's not true." He turned off the stove and sat down across from her. "I mean, maybe for him. But, you aren't alone here, Hermione. I," he swallowed. "I wouldn't allow that. I don't want you to feel that way."

She didn't question it. The fact that he was there was proof enough. "Thank you."

"Tom's a fucking sociopathic orphan that grew up alone because he wanted to be. Because he believes himself to be god, or whatever. Better than the rest of us –well, maybe not you. He thinks the world of you –has a sick way of showing it, but…I don't doubt that that was his reasoning. And I'm sorry. Especially for him, because you're all that he has, but he is not all that you have."

"Thank you."

He got up quickly, looking through her cabinets for a plate. "Why'd you marry him? If you knew, I mean."

She laughed. "Because I'm a sociopathic UC that grew up desperate to fit in, and belong somewhere."

Abraxas dropped a plate, and although she heard it, she didn't really understand.

"And I finally found someplace. Here. With him; in him; because of him. However you want to say it." She looked up to see that he was watching her with wide eyes. "And more than anything, I love him."

A/N: I can see your reviews via email, but I can't see them on this site or reply to them. As soon as I can, I will. In the mean time, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it.

I will post the last update in a few days, and I hope to have another story (similar to this one!) posted soon.