A/N: Ohmigosh! Soooo...this is kinda sorta...the last chapter! 0.0 Besides the epilogues and excerpts of course! But ohhh my gosh guys, its been such an amazing ride! No flames please:) I want to thank everyone who has supported this story:

Kate Elizabeth Black, fascienneisola8, LCB, VampWitchCat, patie, tsukiko-uchiha95, Pristine Kirsten, skyla-lilly, hateme101, alannalove1990, lupuslady, Lady Oblivious, AwesomePersonlolxx, CMinuteByMinute, sweet-tang-honney, ginny7777, Wicked Sapphira, xDead or Alive, waterflower20, Falke-ness, ItsUpToYou, Violet-eyed-Tiger4, Evanelle, Burnedx2, edwardloverr

Thanks again for the insanely amazing ride! But I promise there will be at least one more chapter (the epilogue) and anyone who's read Ashes, Ashes knows how much I love writing excerpts;)

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all familiar concepts. Thanks!

Chapter Eleven-Time

"—all of their vitals are in perfect condition, Headmaster. The only issues they seem to be suffering from are being underfed."

"Excellent, excellent."

Hermione rubbed her eyes groggily, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as she woke up once again in the Hospital Wing, feeling as though she had been sleeping for years. She reached out to the end table, searching for her wand, before she realized—

She had left it in the drawer at Nurmengard.

Groaning, Hermione flung herself back on the bed, only to let out a shriek seconds later as she slammed her head on the headboard. Madam Polkins and Professor Dippet came hurrying around the corner, the latter looking at her strangely. "Are you quite alright, Ms. Macmillan?"

She rubbed her head, glaring formidably at the offending headboard. "Sorry, yes, sir. Just a bit out of sorts, is all. Are Harry and Ron awake yet?"

Dippet smiled at her. "Yes, your brother and Mr. Hurst woke a few hours ago and they are now down at the feast. They wanted to make sure you were okay, but I promised them that you just needed your rest."

"Yes, sir, that was probably for the best. Has—" Hermione was interrupted by the opening and closing of a door. Tom immerged from the loo, rolling the sleeves of his freshly washed white oxford uniform shirt up to his elbows. His eyes drifted over Dippet and Madam Polkins and rested on her. His brow arched, and she grinned rather goofily at him, feeling suddenly giddy.

"What was that, Ms. Macmillan?" Dippet urged her, and she ordered herself not to get distracted as Tom sunk down on her bed, sitting by her feet.

"I was going to ask if Dumbledore had returned yet." Her face flushed as Tom rested a hand on her ankle.

Dippet frowned, looking troubled. "No, he hasn't, and we are hoping he will soon. As soon as he returns, the Ministry officials will call the lot of you into the Great Hall to sort out this whole mess, and have General Kirk—"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, having forgotten all about the captive that the four of them had brought back. "The General—where is he?"

"He is currently being held in the Astronomy tower, under heavy guard. I'm afraid we can't do anything with him until Dumbledore returns. Until then, rest up and make sure to get some food into your system."

"Er, yes—thank you, Headmaster!" Hermione called as Dippet strode out self-importantly. Madam Polkins fussed over her for a moment more before leaving her and Tom alone.

After a moment, she said, "It feels weird, being back, doesn't it?"

"It does," Tom mused. "Second semester is going to feel exceedingly boring, after this." Hermione giggled.

"Well, we could always hire a stranger to break into Hogwarts and then take off to some foreign country and volunteer to go after them, again." Tom rolled his eyes.

"They might start thinking that we're just trying to get out of schoolwork, then." He watched, amusedly, as the color drained from Hermione's face.

"Oh, Merlin," she groaned. "Think of all the work we've missed! I'll bet I've got six essays waiting in Arithmancy! I'm never going to finish by Christmas break, and then I'm going to be stressing out over them, and—"

"We'll work on them together," he told her absently, rubbing circles on the skin of her ankle.

She blushed, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Everything has changed," she said aloud. Her eyes caught a glimmer of light, and she glanced over at Marvolo's Ring, which still sat snugly on Tom's finger. She pursed her lips. "Well, not everything."

He let out a disparaging noise, taking her hand in his. "Do you know me, in the future?" he asked suddenly.

She paused, pondering the dangers of telling him this. Finally, she answered. "Yes."

He gave her a sly grin. "Am I still devilishly attractive?"

Hermione froze, an image of modern-day Lord Voldemort slipping into the forefront of her mind. Unable to contain it, a bubble of laughter swelled in her throat and burst from her mouth. Tom stared at her, slack-jawed, as she doubled over, laughing so hard that tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Why is that funny?" he asked worriedly. "That shouldn't be funny!"

"Oh, nothing, Tom," Hermione chortled, still grinning. "Nothing at all."

After Hermione was feeling up to it, the two of them wandered outside to take a stroll around the lake. Hermione felt her face heat up every time their fingers brushed, but he didn't take her hand, and that irritated her. "I feel like I should be nervous," she told him honestly. "They're going to be really harsh, and they won't accept any gaps in our story—"

"There's no reason to be nervous," he countered, his voice smooth and convincing. "We've got all of our facts straight, we've got the evidence, in flesh, being guarded up in the astronomy tower, and, most importantly, we're telling the truth."

"I'm still a bit uncertain, though," she said, chewing on her bottom lip. "You do realize that, although we found the man who broke into the castle, we don't actually know who lowered the wards." At this, Tom looked away from her, and her gaze focused in on his face. "Tom," she said in a warning tone. "You know something that I don't."

He folded his hands behind his back, frowning. "I—I've got an idea…" he said slowly. "But I'm not certain."

"Well tell me quickly!"

"I believe that—"

"Mr. Riddle! Ms. Macmillan! Dumbledore has returned, and your presence is required in the Headmaster's office!" One of the younger students stood almost twenty feet away from this, tapping his foot impatiently. "Well, c'mon then!"

Riddle made to follow the student, but Hermione grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Tom, what was your idea?"

"You'll find out in a moment," he promised vaguely, before turning back to her, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. "And you aren't going to like it."

With that, he started after the younger student, leaving Hermione standing in the grass with a pout on her lips. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"State your name, age, and affiliation."

"Ronald Bilius Hurst, seventeen, Gryffindor house."

"Harold James Macmillan, seventeen, Slytherin house."

"Hermione Jean Macmillan, eighteen, Ravenclaw house."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, seventeen, Slytherin house."

Hermione stared moodily at the wall as the ministry wizard that was taking notes scribbled all of this down. Shouldn't it be required, in that profession, to be a fast writer? Hermione thought so. Also, she noted as she peeked over his shoulder, to have at least semi-legible handwriting.

"Well, let's hear it." Hermione didn't like the bored expression on Travers' face—as though it didn't matter what they said here, nothing was going to change his mind.

Tom cleared his throat. "Well, a few weeks ago, sir, Grindelwald's men broke into Hogwarts. Three of our friends, Abraxas Malfoy, Niles Lestrange, and Edward Burke, were accused, initially being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "

"Very likely," Travers muttered, rolling his eyes. "Continue."

Tom gritted his teeth, determinedly ignoring the surly man. "Well, sir, the wards were lowered at 9:52pm, approximately eleven minutes before the gates were opened. We theorized that whoever lowered the wards took off, letting the intruder do the dirty work of opening the gates."

"But you just said that the gates didn't open until—"

"I'm getting to that," Tom held up a hand, smirking. "Have you ever read about the medallion of Slytherin?" Clenching his jaw, Travers shook his head now, and Tom's smirk widened. "The medallion of Slytherin was an invention by Salazar himself, creating thousands of years ago to allow the fourth founder to sneak in and out of Hogwarts without alerting the other three of his absence. You're aware of the invisible wall that surrounds Hogwarts, I presume? Well, this medallion allowed Salazar to pass directly through the wall. Because the medallion had his blood it, the wards did not need to be lowered."

Hermione watched, enthralled, as Tom paced in front of them, his hands folded neatly behind his back, and she suddenly got the image of a different future for him, instead of the one he had created for himself; a political future.

"After Salazar died, in Northern Egypt, the medallion was sold into the black market, and purchased, years later, by a German wizard, Gellert Grindelwald's Lieutenant Coronel."

Travers interrupted again. "How come the medallion was only sold in recent years, when it has been on the market since Slytherin's death?"

It was a good question, Hermione thought, but judging by the look on Tom's face, he had a good answer, too.

"I imagine that none of the prices the customers offered were satisfying to the medallion's owner. Grindelwald, also, has very effective ways of convincing those people with things he desires to comply with him. We visited Egypt, searching for anyone who had come in contact with the medallion, and instead, we came across Doctor Zelos Armadei, who owned a compass that could track the medallion." Travers' face was skeptical, and Tom was quick to explain. "The compass was installed onto a scale, which required the blood of—of a Pureblood, to work. So, once we put a bit of Macmillan's blood on the scale, it glowed a vivid red, which, Armadei explained to us, narrowed down our search field primarily to Greece."

"A scale that requires blood to work," Travers mused, arching a dark eyebrow.

"Slytherin invented it so that, if someone ever stole the medallion from him he'd have a quick way of tracking it down. He also made it only work with pure blood so that he wouldn't have any Muggleborns or Half-bloods attempting to steal it." Hermione was impressed with his ability to lie so blatantly. But she knew that he would never, ever reveal to anyone in that room, let alone Travers, that he was the Heir of Slytherin."

"We went to Greece, to Heraklion, and almost immediately tracked down the German wizard in possession of the medallion. We had him immobilized, and took the medallion, but as we removed it from his neck, a swarm of Grindelwald's men surrounded us, so Hermione apparated us to France." Hermione's mind immediately drifted to that night on the Eiffel Tower, and her cheeks turned bright red, making Harry raise his eyebrows in a questioning way.

"We visited a seer there, Cassandra Trelawney, and she informed us that we need to go to Nurmengard to find the man we were looking for. We flew to Nurmengard the next morning and broke into the fortress—"

"You broke into Nurmengard?" It was not Travers who interrupted this time, but one of his lackeys, whose eyes were wide.

"Yeah, well, Hermione's ruddy brilliant." Tom muttered, and she felt her stomach flutter at the praise. "Anyway, we broke into Nurmengard—Ron and I got captured by a few of the guards, and Harry and Hermione got their wands confiscated by General—"

"Hold that thought," Travers said sharply. "Rines—have'em bring down the General." The young man disappeared from the office, and minutes later, two ministry guards heaved their way through the double doors, lugging along a smirking General. "Give him the Veritaserum." Travers ordered. The General hissed as the clear liquid was forced down his throat, and he coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Travers stood in front of his kneeling form, a cold smile on his thin lips. "What is your name?"

The blonde man glared up at Travers. "General Luther Klaus Kirkland," he spat, his stormy grey eyes glinting with malice. Hermione tilted her head, frowning slight. His eyes were so—

"And state your allegiance."

Kirkland tilted his head back, drawing himself up straighter. "To my Lord, Gellert Grindelwald."

Travers nodded in Tom's direction, and he continued. "The General threw us in the prison cells for three days, until Harry attacked one of the guards that brought us food and we escaped the cell. Harry and Ron stayed downstairs to fight off the guards while Hermione and I went to confront Kirkland. We dueled, and I bested him—"

Tom was interrupted by the General, who was chuckling, staring at Tom with narrowed eyes. Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet. "What is it, you?" Travers snarled at him.

"How vague he's being," Kirkland said in an innocent voice. "Do you not find it strange? Surely, he must tell you the means which he used to defeat me in the duel, the …curses he relied on."

Travers now glanced suspiciously at Tom, whose face had gone pale. "Mr. Riddle, if you would please recite the spells you used during your duel with Mr. Kirkland?"

Hermione saw Tom's adam's apple bob up and down before he began to recite the spells, and Hermione's was shocked to see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. She had never seen Tom look so ill-composed, so out of his element.

"Ah, ah, ah, you're forgetting one, Mr. Riddle," Kirkland said, his voice positively dripping with amusement. "What is it called again? It starts with a 'C'; I just know it….ah, yes! The Cruciatus curse!"

The cheerfulness in his tone contrasted so heavily with the murder in Tom's gaze that it would have been comical if Hermione wasn't so nervous. Dippet's eyes were nearly bursting out of his head.

"Tom that isn't true, is it?" Dippet exclaimed, clutching at his chest. "Travers, he must be repressing the Veritaserum—"

"He isn't," Travers said grimly, before turning to Tom. "Mr. Riddle, do you deny Mr. Kirkland's accusation of your alleged use of the Cruciatus curse, Unforgivable No. 2, banned by Order of –"

"Please, sir!" Hermione interrupted, stepping forward. "He was just using it to defend himself." Hermione, even, knew this was a lie. He had held the curse for a good minute and a half—that was hardly defending yourself. "Kirkland had cast about fifty killing curses his way at that point, and he was just getting desperate!" Travers opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off again, "Yes, yes, I know was Order of Law, Class B says, thank you, I've read it sixteen times, but I also recall reading in Right of Defense, Section XII, that even Unforgivables, in some cases, can be deemed forgivable if used for self-defense or in dire situations."

"Memorize the entire document?" Travers sneered, but turned back to Tom. "Riddle, you may continue, but we may consider pressing criminal charges after this interrogation is through." Hermione could hardly bear the look of affliction in Riddle's eyes, but he swallowed thickly and continued.

"After I knocked Kirkland unconscious, Grindelwald appeared, and threatened us, but that's when Dumbledore showed up, handed us the portkey, and….well….we arrived back here."

There was a beat of silence within the office and then, "So, tell me, Mr. Riddle: Who did open the wards?"

His eyes shifted to Hermione before looking Travers dead in the eye and saying, "Lionel Kirkland."

Hermione felt the air lodge in her throat, and she let out a great, violent cough, staring at Tom in shock. Surely, this had to be some kind of joke—

"No—!" Dippet, apparently was as shocked as she was.

"The Ravenclaw?" Slughorn was aghast.

"I never would have thought!"

"STOP!" Travers roared. "Before you all going jumping to conclusions based on a teenage boy's word, bring the lad in here!"

The group of them waited in a solid silence as a few of the officials departed to retrieve Lionel. Hermione felt like she couldn't see straight; her legs were wobbly, they felt like they couldn't support her weight. She could feel Harry's eyes burning holes into the side of her head, but she could not, would not look at him.

Lionel strode into the room, flanked by two guards, and Hermione's eyes immediately were drawn to his face. His features were arranged into an expression of confusion and innocence, but there, in his eyes, just beneath the bewilderment, was a flicker of amusement, a cold glint of satisfaction.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Lionel had been playing them all from the beginning—just like Riddle did. And it was at that moment that Hermione realized two things at once:

-If she hadn't been aware of Riddle's manipulation before she came, she would have been just as susceptible to it as the people in this time period.

-Lionel was a carbon copy of Riddle, and she hadn't been aware of this, so she had been susceptible.

"You needed to see me, Professor?" Lionel asked ingenuously, his stormy grey eyes sparking.

Oh.

"Yes, yes, err—sit down, Kirkland," Dippet said gruffly, looking quite put out, and Hermione supposed she would be to if she had discovered in one night that one of her top students had used the Cruciatus curse, and another was in allegiance with Gellert Grindelwald himself.

Travers eyed the blonde boy harshly. "Do you recognize this man?"

Lionel tilted his head, an expression of mock uncertainty developing on his face. "I think I've seen him on a few wanted posters. What is he doing here?"

"Oh, drop the act!" Tom snapped viciously, and Lionel's eyes flickered over to him, flashing almost indistinguishably with annoyance. "You lowered the wards that night and let him in! You're related—that's why it was so easy for him to keep tabs on us—he had you feeding him every bit and piece of information you got!"

"I don't know what he's talking about, Headmaster," Lionel said, frowning as he looked at Dippet with sincerity in his eyes.

"Really? Maybe these will remind you." Hermione's head snapped towards the door, and Lydia Greengrass strode through with a sort of haughtiness that only she could manage, and slammed a stack of folded papers on Dippet's desk. Lionel's eyes widened as he saw them, and he lunged for them, but Lydia was too fast, muttering, "Incarcerous," and watching with satisfaction as the ropes wound themselves around Lionel. Humming in self-approval, she plucked his wand out of his hand and handed it to one of the ministry officials. Hermione was still having trouble closing her mouth.

"L—Lydia?" She mumbled in astonishment. The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes at Hermione's inarticulacy.

"Obviously, Macmillan, unless you think I'm Cassie on Polyjuice, or something," she scoffed, but Lionel's antagonized wail interrupted them.

"Where did you get those?" He howled, bouncing up and down in his chair as if this would relieve him of the ropes. Dippet was flipping through the letters curiously, his bespectacled eyes widening every few seconds.

"I stole them from your dorm," Lydia informed him proudly. "I knew you were up something fishy, and I've been spying on you ever since you slipped that Veritaserum into Hermione's pumpkin juice."

The Muggleborn's eyes nearly rolled out of her head as she did a double-take in Lydia's direction before screeching, "He did WHAT?"

The dark haired girl snorted. "Yeah, you know, you really should keep an eye on what you drink, Macmillan."

Hermione's mind whirred back to the night in the common room, when Lionel was looking at her with him dreamy grey eyes, and how, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her mouth shut, and now it made sense why.

The blonde boy grinned apologetically at her, but now the triumphant glint was quite prominent in his eyes. "Don't take it personally, love. It was a necessary action. My uncle thought it was strange that the three of you had just appeared here out of the blue—he's always been a curious soul—and wanted me to dig up some info. So I did. I hope you aren't too cut up about it." He leaned forward, winking at her. "We never would have worked out anyway."

"How dare you!" Hermione roared, restraining against Tom's arms, which were firmly holding her back from releasing her mighty wrath upon an amused Lionel. "No, let go of me, Tom, I want to hex his balls off!"

"Later, darling," he murmured soothingly. "I let you get him when he's least expecting it." This seemed to calm down Hermione a bit, and she contented herself to sitting down and glaring scathingly at the boy, who gave her a charming smirk every few minutes.

"So, all of these letters indicate the contact between Mr. Kirkland and his Uncle?" Travers said, now taking a look at the letters himself.

"Yes," Lydia confirmed. "Obviously, I couldn't retrieve the ones that Lionel sent Mr. Kirkland, but these are all of the replies he received."

"But—but why did you do it, my boy?"Slughorn asked, looking stricken. "Your father—"

"My father is a useless, good for nothing, swine of a man, who will abandon his family at the first opportunity he can get! My Uncle has been the one taking care of me and my mother! He took us in, fed us and clothed us when my father wouldn't have anything to do with us! He never wanted to settle down! So why wouldn't I do him a favour and take down the wards? I knew my magic was up to it! Besides, it's not like I care about this hell of a place anyway," he sneered.

"I think we've heard enough. Rine, Bailey, if you'll escort Mr. Kirkland and his Uncle to the Ministry, I'm sure the Minister would be very pleased to learn that we've captured both of our culprits." He paused, turning to face the four of them. "And I suppose you lot can go inform your friends that…well, that they're pronounced not guilty." Hermione couldn't fight the broad grin that spread across her face. She turned and threw her arms around Harry's neck, and he laughed, picking her up and twirling her.

"Oh, and Ms. Macmillan!" She paused at the door, turning, and Travers tossed her a brown sack, which jangled loudly as she caught it. She saw him do the same to the three boys, and she peeked inside, frowning. "I think that should more than compensate your troubles, and illustrate the Ministry's gratitude." Tom was staring at the galleons with wide eyes, and Hermione realized that he had probably never had this much money in his life.

"C'mon!" Harry said abruptly. "Let's go tell them!" The four of them practically sprinted down to the dungeons, flinging open the door to the room that the three Slytherins were being kept in. Abraxas, Niles and Edward looked up, smiles brightened their faces.

"Did you—"

Hermione grinned widely, sweeping into a deep bow. "You lot are officially…..not guilty." The three boys let out whoops of happiness, and Harry and Ron hurried to help undo their bindings. Abraxas leapt up off the floor and captured Hermione in a bone-crushing hug; kiss her on the cheek repeatedly.

"You—" Kiss "Are—" Kiss "The most amazing girl—" Kiss Kiss Kiss "I have ever met." Hermione laughed liltingly, pushing him away partly out of good-nature, and partly because Tom looked about three seconds away from shackling Abraxas up right back where he was.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, waving off their compliments. "It was mostly Tom."

The three of them turned towards him. Abraxas' eyes were narrowed harshly. "Really? Because, you know I'm pretty sure that this is the same Tom guy that tried to turn us in."

Tom sighed, stepping forward and sticking out a hand for Abraxas to shake. "I've been thinking about that a lot, lately, and I just wanted to say…..I apologize."

The three of them gaped at him. "Did Tom Riddle just apologize?" Edward whispered.

The Great Hall was buzzing when Hermione walked in the door, and she felt a comforting sense of calm as she looked out into the sea of students, all seated underneath the familiar array of colours.

"Mione!" she heard a familiar shriek, and her head swiveled towards the Ravenclaw table, where Cassie, Cindy, and Samantha were rushing towards her. The curly-haired girl threw her arms around Hermione first, laughing. "Merlin, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"It's good to see you all, too. I missed you." Hermione smiled sheepishly, and the three girls laughed, leading her back to the table.

She glanced around for empty seats. "There's one here, Macmillan," Lydia said, patting the bench next to her, though she did not look at her. Hermione smiled gratefully, slipping into the seat beside her and enjoying the shocked expressions on the three friends' faces.

"Thank you, Lydia. For everything, I mean. We would've been toast if it weren't for you." The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. Hermione pushed her food around her plate indeterminately. "I—I thought you hated me."

"Oh, I did," Lydia told her unequivocally, but paused and glanced at Hermione's face. "But—I also think you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

Hermione's eyes sparkled, and without really thinking, she threw her arms around Lydia, who made a disgusted face, despite the small smile on the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, yeah, that's enough of that, Macmillan; I don't like you, yet."

"That's okay," Hermione said, still smiling as she pulled away and turned back to her food. "We've got all the time in the world for that."

Hermione was cutting into her steak when she felt a shift in the air. She looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed it, except…. Harry and Ron were both staring quizzically at her. Her eyes flitted over to the door of the Great Hall, and she felt a jolt as she realized that, standing in the doorway was an aged Professor McGonagall. Hermione's eyes searched hers, and the older woman tapped her wrist, before disappearing.

Time.

Hermione rose slowly, and saw Harry and Ron do the same at their respective table.

"What's the matter, Mi?" Bruno called around a mouthful of food.

"I Erm—I'll see you all later, in the common room." They nodded slowly, turning back to their food, but Lydia kept her gaze on Hermione. Their eyes met, and the dark-haired girl gave her a small, nearly imperceptible nod, as if to say, 'It was nice meeting you'. Hermione gave her a wry smile before following Harry and Ron out of the Great Hall.

McGonagall was pacing in the Entrance Hall. "Ah, there you are! Are you ready?—it is time."

"You mean….we did it?" Hermione asked skeptically. "We stopped him?"

McGonagall's face was arranged in a frown. "Funnily enough, he simply isn't there. There isn't a Voldemort, nor is there a Tom Riddle."

Hermione's mind whirred through a number of explanations, before she came to the only one that made any sense. "Professor….we aren't there, right? This entire time that we've been in the past, we haven't been there?"

McGonagall blinked. "Yes, of—of course, Ms. Granger, but what—"

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. "He has to come with us."

Harry's expression immediately darkened. "No—no! Absolutely not! C'mon, Hermione, what are you thinking? Professor McGonagall just told us that we had a Voldemort-free timeline—you don't want to get bogging that up, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her hands flying to her hips. "Don't you understand, Harry! The timeline is Voldemort-free because we're going to bring him back the future with us! If we leave him here, it'll go back to the way it was!" She frowned, her head pounding with realization. "But that also means that….that we haven't necessarily changed him. I don't want to bring him back just for him to be the darkest wizard of all time fifty years from then!"

"It doesn't even matter, Hermione, he's not coming," Ron informed her gruffly, and Hermione groaned, turning to Professor McGonagall.

"Just—just give a day! One day to convince myself that he's not going to go all murderous."

McGonagall peered at her calculatingly, before sighing, resigned. "Very well. You have one day, and I shall returned at nightfall, tomorrow evening, to retrieve you and take you back."

Hermione didn't even stay for goodbyes. She hurried back into the Great Hall, trying to morph her face into a casual expression, before plunking down next to Tom, ignoring her Ravenclaw friends, who were staring at her strangely.

"Hello," she said softly to him, blushing under the curious eyes of the Slytherins.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. "Well, hello. Feeling a little social today?" They sat very close, their thighs pressed against each other and arms brushing as he pushed his food around his plate. Hermione could see Abraxas' eyes flickering between the two of them.

"Something like that," she murmured. "I need to talk to you, when you're finished."

"I'm finished," he said precipitously, pushing back from the table. She followed him out of the hall, but not before she saw Abraxas throw her a sly wink.

They had just barely made it out of the entrance hall when she whispered, "We're leaving."

His head snapped towards her so faced that Hermione wondered if he would get a neck cramp later. "You—oh."

"Tomorrow night," she added, looking at him meekly through her hair. She watched his jaw clenched and unclench, his hands curling into fists several times before he took a deep breath and turned to face her, a forced smile set on his lips.

"Happy travels."

"Oh, Tom, don't!" she snapped agitatedly, running a hand through her hair and pulling him over to a bench that sat beneath an awning. "Don't shut me out. I—I need to talk to you about something very serious."

He scoffed, kicking a rock that sat near his foot across the courtyard. "What does it matter?" He sneered. "You're leaving. Probably eager to be rid of me—"

"Don't!" She repeated. "Sit down, stop being stupid, and talk to me. I don't have time for your childish antics."

He grimaced, turning his back to her and staring out past the courtyard, towards the boathouses. Hermione frowned, standing and reaching out to touch his shoulder, before pulling away and electing to wrap her arms around his waist instead. She pressed her lips against his shoulder, and she felt him, almost involuntarily, lean into her touch.

"I don't want to go," she murmured against his shirt. "That's why—that's why I've got a proposition for you." He turned to face her, his eyebrows drawn together. "I—I want you to come back with us."

He stared at her blankly for what felt like minutes before he seemed to register what she had said. "Back—back to the future. With you?"

She swallowed. "Yes. I think you would do really well in the political field—" At this, he turned away from her, his face contorted in disgust. "No Tom, listen, just listen. I've seen you're future. I've seen what you become, if you keep following this…..this path you're on. I know the power is alluring, trust me, I do—"

"You think that this is about power?" He turned to her, his face suddenly wrought with fury. "You think that all—all that was about power? It has nothing to do with power," he flouted. "If I wanted power, I would pursue a political career. I—" He paused, his face suddenly so open with fear that it made her heart cry out in agony. "I don't want to die."

Hermione felt helpless as she watched the suddenly quivering of his chin, how he so stubbornly refused to meet her eyes. She slipped her hand into his, but he yanked it away, glaring tenaciously at the wall behind her.

"Tom," she didn't know what to say. "Tom, I—I know everyone says this to you, but death, it isn't—it isn't something that you need to fear. It happens to everyone—"

"But that's just it!" he snapped. "I don't want to be like everyone! I want to live, and make my mark on the world! I don't want to become something extraordinary, and they dissolve into a pile of dust, and have all of that greatness be forgotten."

"But it won't be forgotten, Tom, it won't be!" She insisted. "You've read the history books! Those people are glorified all the time—look at Salazar Slytherin! As much as I despise what he stood for, his ideals are still present, even today."

Tom didn't look like he felt better, but he would at least look at her now. "And what would you have me be, if I came back to the future with you?"

Hermione frowned, sensing more than one question within his words. "Whatever you want to be, Tom," she told him honestly. "Just not…him."

He studied her suspiciously. "You wouldn't make me be a politician?"

She laughed. "Of course not! Hell, you can be a librarian for all I care, just not—"

"Not him," he finished grimly.

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. "I—I'll understand if you don't want to come. I know Abraxas and Niles and Edward are all here, and they're you're friends, and—"

"Give a little while, yeah?" He asked, peering down at her, his face carefully blank. She took a deep breath, nodding, and making her way back up to the dormitory. Hours later, she found herself curled up on her bed, staring blankly out the window. Why did it bother her so much? If he came back, he came back. If he didn't, he did. It wasn't like it would affect her.

She rolled out of bed, and, glancing at her watch, realizing that was nearly seven. She glanced it the mirror, giggling at her hair, which more resembled a hornet's nest. Deciding to simply throw her outer robes on over her crumbled uniform, she made her way down to the Great Hall. She was surprised when none of the boys were present at the tables, so she grabbed a muffin before making her way down to the Slytherin common room. She mumbled the password around a mouthful of muffin, ignoring the portrait's disapproving glare, and stumbled through the portrait hole, yawning widely as she plopped down beside Harry.

"Looking good, Macmillan," Abraxas teased, his eyes wandering over her hair.

"We were wondering where you were, Mione," Harry told her, absently flicking her on the nose. "We were getting a bit worried." His eyes swept over her face, and he frowned, adding in a lower voice, "Have you been crying?"

Apparently not low enough, because Riddle, who was sitting in an armchair with a book in his lap, looked up sharply, his eyes skimming over her face curiously.

"It's nothing," she muttered to Harry, avoiding his eyes. She watched in amusement as Abraxas and Edward engaged in a playful argument about whose Amortentia smelled better. She rolled her eyes, gaze flickering absently around the room. After a few minutes, Tom rose, snapping his book shut and bidding the lot of them goodbye, disappearing through the portrait hole.

Hermione had the strange urge to follow him, but as she rose, Harry pulled her back down, shaking his head decidedly. "No, Hermione. You've been spending far too much time with him alone. It isn't safe."

"Harry, we were with him for over two and a half weeks! Hasn't he proven to you that he's not going to hurt me?" Hermione whispered back fiercely, yanking her arm out of his grip. "I wish you wouldn't be so paranoid."

"Well, when you're best friend takes a fancy with the young Dark Lord; you can't help but be a little worried for her safety."

Hermione gave him a wry grin. "No, if my best friend took a fancy with the young Dark Lord, I'd be a little bit more worried about his mental health."

Harry's lips twitched and he nudged her playfully with his elbow, rolling his eyes.

Hermione hardly slept that night; her mind was too occupied with what was coming tomorrow. Her heart pounded in her chest every time she thought of Tom. McGonagall had said that he wasn't present in the future; surely that meant that he would choose to come with her? But what if she didn't mean that much to him? What if he thought she wasn't worth it?

She spent all morning and most of the afternoon with Abraxas and the boys. She was regretting not being able to say goodbye to her Ravenclaw friends, but she wrote each of them a very thoughtful letter, saving Cassie for last. As she considered what to write to her curly-haired friend, she looked up from her letter, addressing Abraxas.

"You know Cassandra Max, right?"

He pretended to look oblivious. "Err….the Ravenclaw, yeah? "

"Yes, her. You should talk to her." Hermione was shocked when I bright blush spread from Abraxas' ears down to his neck. Niles and Edward would surely take the mickey out of his for this later.

"Don't be silly," he mumbled. "She would never talk to me."

"She fancies you," Hermione told him matter-of-factly. It was strange, talking to someone like Abraxas Malfoy about something so casual, but she felt like it was a bridge that needed to be built. "She'd be flattered if you did."

He seemed quite reassured by her statement, drawing himself up straighter. "I might. I just might."

Evening came far too quickly, and the trio was forced to say their goodbyes. Abraxas gave her a huge hug, making her promise to write, and she smiled, swearing that she would, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Niles and Edward each kissed her hand, thanking her again for clearing their names.

Hermione looked around anxiously, feeling her stomach give a painful tug as she realized that Tom was nowhere to be found. She sighed dejectedly, scuffing at the ground with the front of her shoe. It didn't matter, she promised herself. She didn't care—

A hand slipped into hers, and her head shot up. Tom stood beside her, dragging his trunk along with his free hand. He glanced down at her, and gave her a small smile. "I decided that I needed to prioritize a bit," he admitted quietly.

She beamed at him. "And?"

"And I decided that you're a smart girl, and if you say that my future isn't worth looking forward to, then I suppose I'm inclined to believe you." He paused, nodding his head resolutely. "I'll make a new future."

"Right," Hermione agreed, shuffling closer to him as McGonagall became to re-structure the circle that they had to step into.

"With you." She looked up at him again. This time, his eyes were on her, probing her gaze for something, searching for some sort of reassurance. His words comforted her, and she was sure she was making the right decision. He didn't have to turn into a monster. She would help him keep to the path that he had been born to follow.

The light path.