Hey you all, I'm sorry I haven't updated much recently, but you know how life is! :D Well, this is only a small flashback chapter! I did not revise it too much, so feel extra-free to bitch about the grammar :D

Menteur: Chapter 5: Of Dark Arts and Temptations

September 30, 1943

There it was...

Hermione flexed her hand just a little tighter, which caused the magic clasped around Riddle's neck to contract, forcing its way deeper into his pink flesh, and slowly turning it paler and paler. With a great pleasure, enormous bolts of energy shot through her entire body, as she watched the terror in his eyes right before consciousness left him. His limbs loosened and the motionless body crashed to the floor. The wand slipped from his hand, rolled across the podium and down to the carpeted floor, but Hermione didn't care, nor did she loosen the invisible chains. Her visions started to blacken. She couldn't see straight. It was like all the magic drained from her surrounding and crawled up her back, piercing her heart, lungs and brain, making it impossible to think, yet she held onto every last bit of it. There was only one feeling left: hate. The eternal, raw sense of disgust towards the man in front of her…He was the reason…

She could hear Ron and Ginny screaming in pain, and Remus and Sirius begging for mercy so loud, she was forced to cover her ears with her free hand. The velvet darkness approached.

"Hermione"

"Hey, wake up, Granger!"

The brown haired witch lazily opened her eyes just to close them back up, as soon as the bright golden sunrays hit her face.

"Come on, Lioness." Said the smooth voice again, but this time there was strong hint of despair and pressure in it, so she finally forced her upper body to a sitting position.

"Sorry to wake you, but we need to go."

Hermione, now much more attentive, looked at her blond companion, noticing the worried look in his icy gray eyes, and immediately jumped up from her blanket cocoon. Draco rarely let any emotions show on his soft aristocratic features, so when he did, it must have been really serious. She walked quietly to the frosted window on the west side of the room, which allowed her a clear view of the small paved street outside. It was completely deserted despite the early afternoon hours, which led her to the same conclusion Draco has made just a minute ago- it was time to go.

They have found this place, a small three story building on the edge of small muggle village, two weeks ago and it was, at least until that point, the best hideout they could hope for. The house itself belonged to an old blind woman, whose hearing and motility weren't agile enough for her to worry about the occasional noises coming from the attic, and so they were able to sneak in and settle on the highest floor. It was only one small room with old wooden floors and unfinished insolation, but it had a small window on each side of the house, giving the two uninvited visitors ability to monitor house's surroundings for any possible dangers. They both spent hours sitting in front of those windows, taking turns to watch, chatting or simply making plans for their next move. It was the first place they were able to stay for more than a couple days, which, after two years on the run, made it almost feel like home.

Draco grabbed her backpack and walked to stand next to her: "It was like this for hours." He motioned with his head towards street, then added: "Not a single person"

Hermione nodded silently and took a hold of her backpack.

"I guess it's time to go then…" she sighed.

She didn't want to leave this place. It was great strategic point, but the Death Eaters've probably started to search the neighborhood and it wouldn't be wise to stay. If they ever got even the smallest whiff of her whereabouts, that place would surely within minutes be crawling with Voldemort's minions, destroying anything and anybody standing between them and their master's wish for her demise.

Draco gently pulled on a loose strand of her unruly hair and with the slightest smile pushed it back behind her ear.

With the use of some muffling charms, they soundlessly walked down the two floors of wooden steps, through the small, but neat living room, and into the hallway. Draco, as the one to lead the way, headed straight for the main entrance door, but Hermione couldn't resist stopping and taking one last look into the place she'd eventually came to enjoy. Even though much more deserted and dusty, old lady's living room reminded her of the house her parents used to own near Oxford. Compere to other houses of that time, this one had a specific old-modish vibe to it. The main "attraction" of the room wasn't a TV, but rather large red-brick fireplace set against faded yellow wallpaper, giving off a physical heat, as well as cozy feeling of home. One each side then stood one large armchair and a couple tall wooden bookshelves, all facing a low mahogany coffee table. The last major piece of furniture decorating the intimate area was an old dark-brown, velvet recliner, the preferred dwelling of the house-owner. The old lady would sit there for hours every day, reading, or brushing her fine silvery locks, while humming some nameless melody only she could remember. Hermione gave a small bittersweet smile, when she realized that the lady of the house wasn't in her best mood either. Her velvet throne was facing away from Hermione, but she could still see woman's head resting against the back of the chair and her left hand hanging loosely over the cushiony armrest. Her fingers were long and almost as pale as ivory, hinting the beauty of the past, and setting a perfect contrast to a hefty-looking, crimson gemstone on a golden ring, which was now way too loose for woman's bony fingers. Then the ring slipped and rolled towards the fireplace until it was stopped by fuzzy rug just a yard away from the foot of the chair. Hermione carefully took a one step backwards to hide behind the doorframe she stood in, fully expecting the old lady to get up and reach for her beloved possession, but nothing happened.

Strange, thought Hermione, because the old lady never went to sleep with her window open like that. Witches eyes traveled to the small aperture in the wall. The curtains were almost completely closed like normally to block late afternoon sun from shinning directly onto the recliner, but the double-glassed frame behind them was cracked open… Too strange. ..Hermione pulled out her wand and slowly, step by step, progressed towards the spot occupied by the elderly woman. She heard Draco whisper her name in attempt to call her back, but she felt like she couldn't turn now. The closer she came, the more her heart thumped in her chest, and when woman's face came in to her view, Hermione couldn't help but let out a painful gasp.

The aged face was twisted into a hideous scowl of utmost fear. Lifeless blue eyes were filled with drying blood, which slowly trickeled there from open wounds on the wrinkled forehead. Two words were messily carved onto the tender old skin between her temples: knock, knock. Hermione could recognize the handwriting anywhere, because her own forearm was scarred in it.

"Shit" whispered Draco who suddenly appeared behind the brown haired witch, looking just as alarmed as she was.

"Now it's really time to go!" blurred out the blond heir and pulled Hermione towards the opposite side of the house, leaving the desecrated dead body behind. Hermione simply followed, too startled to talk or even put a solid sentence together in her head. When they reached the back door, he turned back to her and his eyes immediately softened.

He wiped off the lone tear that rolled down Hermione's cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I will never let anything happen to you, understood?" His hand slit underneath her petite chin and she looked up just to be welcomed by the sweet calming feeling of his soft lips pressed against her own. The kiss didn't linger, but it was enough to make her smile. They intertwined their hands and sneaked out of the heavy wooden door.

Hand in hand they jumped a short white fence leading into a neighbor's garden, and through a small brick walkway between the houses they ran onto the deserted street just a block away from their original position.

"I knew the muggle bait would eventually lure out the mudblood!" high-pitched voice called from behind them. Tall cloaked figure- undeniably Bellatrix Lestrange- stood just a couple yards away from the young couple, laughing hysterically at her own joke as other two Death Eater appeared just next to her, raising their wand towards Draco and Hermione, who decided not to wait around, and, after throwing a couple of exploding hexes, started to run in the opposite direction. More and more Death Eaters apparated onto the street, slowly but surely closing on their human prey, until there was no place to run. They were surrounded. Hermione spun around to count the enemies, and to her dismay found at least twelve, all fight-ready with their wands raised. Draco, who stood good six feet away from her, was, on the other hand, concentrated only on one particular crazy witch. She was slowly walking across the pavement, spinning her wand between her fingers and laughing as she always did.

"What a pleasure to finally see you, little Draco!" exclaimed Bellatrix mockingly as she entered the circle of cloaked assailants.

"Too bad, that this is your girlfriend's last stop" she growled and pointed her wand towards Hermione.

Draco quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out a single wool glove and with "Hermione, catch!" tossed it to confused Hermione. As soon as it landed in her hands, young Gryffinodor recognized the familiar tingling sensation of porkey's transportation and panicked. She tried to let go, drop the magical object, but it was too late. The spell was already activated. Last thing she saw was a burning red curse being shot directly at Draco from no one else than his insane aunt, hitting him straight in the chest….Then everything went blurry…

A strong hand pushed Hermione aside so viciously she almost fell over from her kneeling position. The overpowering magic was gone and her vision slowly started to clear. Her eyes followed the path from her clutched hands, across the wooden podium, all the way to the crumbled, motionless body of young Tom Riddle and worried face of Horace Slughorn. She watched the professor to turn Riddle's body around and check his pulse, then calling some younger student over. She didn't need to hear the fanatically spoken words of the chunky man, to be able to guess what exactly he was saying. The ginger haired Hufflepuff departed quickly, with Slughorn and Voldemort's levitating body in his heals and Hermione finally regained control over her body, dragging herself to the edge of the podium and swinging her legs down to the carpet.

She drew a gulp of fresh air into her lungs and held it in for a second before letting go. Her brain just started to figure out what happened. She remembered casting the binding hex perfectly around young Voldomort's neck, and then a strong pull of dark magic embraced her so tightly, that she wasn't able to contain her own magic anymore. She knew that tempting feeling of power which drew her into this state. It wasn't the first time she felt it. The use of such powerful dark magic was known to blind its caster, making him or her practically unable to control their emotions and therefore not being to stop the spell until it has fulfilled its purpose. She has felt it once before, when she found the Death Eater responsible for her parents' death. Her emotions slipped that time and the dark magic fully embraced her mind, resulting in the man's demise. It frightened her then, as she tried to make countless excuses, but now it was even worse. After she'd burned the killer alive, she felt bad and disgusted with herself, but today she felt nothing. There was not a single drop of remorse in her heart for what she did to Riddle, and that scared her more than anything. Dark magic was like a drug, maybe more.

"Are you alright?" asked somebody. Hermione didn't bother to find out who, and simply nodded.

"Eh.." started the soft voice again: "Well, Slughorn'd dismissed the class…maybe you should also go see Mrs. Gray…"

It took a second before the healer's name clicked in Hermione's mind. She raised her head to thank the student for the worry and assure them that she was perfectly fine, but when her gaze met the one of young Minerva Mcgonagall, Hermione's words froze on the tip of her tongue. Young Head Girl simply stood there and observed the new girl, while still waiting for any sort of response. Hermione cleared her throat and hopped into a standing position.

"I don't zink it will be necessary." The Slytherin said cheerily and walked over to her abandoned backpack by an empty table. Lying to a younger version of her favorite professor was even worse than lying to Headmaster himself. Her heart clutched a little when she saw Minerva's partly puzzled- partly hurt expression, but she couldn't tell her. Nor would it be wise to hang around someone, who will in future practically become your mentor. It was simply too big of a risk for both of them, Hermione knew.

And so she was very glad, when Minerva decided not to push the issue and quietly departed, sparing both of them the unnecessary lies, which would surely follow were Minerva to stay and question her. When she reached for her old-new school bag, she noticed another one left behind just few steps away from hers. She scanned the classroom for any other students, but met only with an empty, silent space. So she decided to check it out and walked to the black leather bag. When she opened it up to find out whom did it belong, a small familiar notebook with golden corners fell out. She couldn't believe her luck, as her fingers traced the small metal plaque with neat inscription: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

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