A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and I'm sorry if the last chapter was a bit of a cliffhanger - but honestly, did anyone really think he wouldn't come?!

~oOo~

Wilfred Elphick (1112 – 1199) was gored by an African erumpent while travelling in the Okavango Delta in 1170. He is remembered as the first wizard to survive such an attack owing to timely use of a freezing charm, hence inventing the method by which Erumpent horns may be safely transported.

He put down the card, pulled the blankets up and turned over onto his side, trying to block out the headache that was pounding behind his eyes. It turned out that talking with erumpents for any length of time was really quite exhausting. Oh, they were pleasant enough, but so loud. He had always been accustomed to hissing, of course, and had adapted fine to neighing and hooting and all manner of other sounds, but the bellowing was hard to take. Still. It was better than being sat at home all day, and the creatures really were in need of protection. For the first time in far too long he felt a minor sense of achievement.

"Salazar?"

For a split second after he heard her voice in his head, he thought he'd finally cracked. Gone mad. Not enough that he saw her in every crowd and every time he closed his eyes; now he was haunted by the sound of his own name –

"…Z-zorion?"

He blinked, and in that instant, remembered – remembered a Christmas quite unlike any other, almost two years ago now, when he had befriended the object of his time-travelling machinations. Befriended her and given the only gift that he could think of, knowing that everything she really wanted was impossible to bestow.

She had kept it, then? What did that mean? Perhaps he was inferring something that had no reason to be inferred – probably she just saw the practical value in having a powerful friend –

She called him! Why was he still lying there? He jumped to his feet and threw on the shirt and trousers he had only recently vacated, the clock on the nightstand showing 9:51. Early, certainly, for him to have retired to bed – he still disliked Halloween – but late for her. Was something the matter? For a wild, hopeful second he imagined the reason for her summons being purely…. recreational. Then he gave himself a mental slap and took a deep breath before disapparating.

When he reappeared, the first thing he noticed was that he was not wearing any shoes or socks.

He noticed that particular fact firstly because he had landed on several small bones that were incredibly sharp, necessitating an ungraceful hop onto a bare piece of floor – and secondly because that bare piece of floor was approximately the temperature of an ice cube.

Once he had recovered his balance, if not his dignity, he glanced about. He was in some sort of damp, freezing tunnel. Turning around, he saw Hermione sitting huddled against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was staring at him with an expression he could not entirely decipher.

It was painful to look at her, so young and yet by this age unavoidably the person he was in love with – had taken to bed many times. A sort of nausea crept up on him, and he stamped it down with difficulty, reminding himself that she was not actually a child. And he was not actually… that kind of person. Oh dear. How long had he been zoned out for? He should apologise. Unfortunately she chose exactly that moment to speak, too.

"Um, hello –"

"Sorry –"

There was a bashful pause in which neither wanted to run the risk of interrupting the other a second time.

"You came –" she eventually blurted out, followed by, "I mean, erm, thanks for coming. It's – it's… good to see you."

He didn't know what to say to that, because of course he had come – he would go to any corner of the earth and beyond if she called – and not only had he promised as much, he wanted to. But he didn't know how to say that, so he just nodded dumbly instead. They stared at each other a bit longer, until he eventually began to take in the rest of his surroundings and imagine the sequence of events that might have caused her to be there, needing assistance.

"Um. Did I disturb you? I'm sorry, you'll freeze –" He shook his head violently and finally managed to get some words together.

"No! No. It's fine. I'd just, you know, gone to bed, so I got up in a hurry…" For the first time he looked down at himself: shirt creased and only half-buttoned, trousers bearing several grass stains and smears of Namibian mud. He grimaced. It wasn't entirely how he would have wanted the object of his unreturned affection to see him, particularly after a period of absence. She was smiling now, though – was that a good sign?

"Where are we exactly?" She looked rather surprised by this question.

"In the Chamber… oh. Of course. Not the part that you built." He looked around with new eyes, but could no better guess their geographical location than previously. Hermione was rummaging in her bag and retrieved what turned out to be a map. She stood up and unfolded it carefully. "This is the main chamber," she said, pointing, "and this is the statue. Over here there's a metal door, and that door opens out into this tunnel, except it's not a door in this time, and so I'm… stuck."

He had to spend a moment digesting that information.

"So how did you get here?"

She gestured upwards.

"That pipe. It's a sort of slide, hidden underneath one of the sinks in the girls' bathroom on the first floor."

"What?" She smirked mischievously – it made his chest ache fondly.

"I think you mean 'pardon' – I know how important good manners are to you." He laughed, properly, for the first time in weeks. "But, yes, one of your darling descendants made a new way in… or way out, to be more accurate. It must join up somewhere, if that metal thing isn't a door. But I can't find anything." As quickly as it had arrived, the laughter was gone. They were back onto precarious territory.

"Look…" he began, quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what they did. I'm sorry for what they wanted to do. I never wanted those things. Please believe me."

She gazed up at him with serious eyes – an expression too thoughtful, really, for her childlike face.

"I know," she said, and then, after an intake of breath, "I'm sorry, too." He could barely believe his ears.

"For – for what?"

"I was… angry. But that's no excuse for saying the things I said, without knowing any of the facts. So, I'm sorry. It's – you were – I mean… I understand it, now."

He couldn't find a single word in reply. It was like his brain had jammed, stuck on the idea that after everything that had happened, she would be apologising to him. By the time he had stopped gaping, she had already turned away down the tunnel. He followed somewhat gingerly, avoiding the shards of bone that littered the way.

The tunnel came to an abrupt end at a wall inset with a large disc of metal – it must be a door, he thought, because he hadn't put it there, and it wasn't exactly providing a decorative feature. He waved a hand across it, feeling for magic, and recognised the blood ward immediately.

"It will open for me, I think, but not for you."

"Oh." Her brow was furrowed in concentration. "Then I should leave it, because Tom will find out I couldn't have done it on my own."

"You've been here with him?" The stab of jealousy took him completely by surprise, especially when he considered that the source of it was a boy of only thirteen. She shot him a confused glance.

"Of course… I told you he was looking for it. He found the entrance on the second week back. I had to go along otherwise he'd be doing God-knows-what down here unsupervised." He swallowed back his further questions.

"I could remove the ward afterwards. We can make it into a regular door that only opens from this side." She appeared to consider this for a while.

"Yes, alright, good idea." He got to work, hurried along by the sight of her shivering, and after a while they were standing in the main chamber, the door jammed open with a large rock.

"It's – it must have been quite something, down here," she said wistfully, looking around. "You know… apart from all the snakes. It's not that I mind them, but honestly, you could have varied the décor just a little bit." He chuckled.

"The others never did like it. But I suppose it's all just history now."

They lapsed into silence, though not particularly an uncomfortable one. He tried to think of something to say to prolong his usefulness, lest she send him away again.

"I can't open the dungeon entrance by myself, so I'll have to sleep here tonight… thanks for letting me out of that tunnel, though."

"You can't stay here! It's cold. Come home and I'll return you in the morning." He tried desperately not to sound like he was pleading.

"I've already dragged you out of bed – I don't want to cause you any more trouble. It was my own fault I got stuck down here..." She was just trying to be polite, he hoped, rather than being keen to get rid of him. He extended his hand.

"Come on. Please."

There was only the briefest hesitation before she placed her small fingers in his.

~oOo~

When they reappeared it was not at the front door, as she might have imagined, but in his bedroom. Her confusion must have shown, because he looked panicked and said quickly,

"Sorry. Sorry. I should have said. I just don't really want… him to know."

"It's fine. Um… do you mind if I use your bathroom?" He gestured her inside, and she smiled in thanks.

It wasn't the first time she had been in that room, of course – she had used it daily for most of the summer – and yet it felt unfamiliar, though everything was exactly as it had been then. Perhaps it was because she was not used to seeing her fourteen-year-old face in this particular mirror.

She stared at herself for some time, lost in thought. In her ears she could feel the beating of her own heart, accelerated, as it had been ever since he had appeared in the tunnel.

What was it about him that attracted her so strongly despite everything? She had promised herself that she would stay away, and keep focussed on her goals, but already her resolve had crumbled. His true appearance, so startling at first purely because she was used to something else, had already begun to feature in her dreams. That was even before he had come running to her side, looking like that. Evidently he had been embarrassed about it – he was usually very neat and tidy – so presumably he remained oblivious to the devastating effect it had on her.

She completed her nightly bathroom ritual as fully as possible given the lack of her own possessions, but had nothing to change into, so opted to emerge in a towel. He was sat on the edge of the bed staring anywhere but at her – something that happened every time she looked like a child, she realised. She decided to test that theory.

"Would you mind… changing me back?" He glanced up for a moment, face carefully expressionless.

"Certainly. If you're sure." She nodded, and then felt herself growing. And then they were staring at each other – really looking – and she knew that her theory was correct.

And then she dropped the towel.

Their eyes remained locked for a moment, and then she saw his flick downwards – saw the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard – saw the tightening of his fingers on the edge of the bed.

"Do you… do you still want me?"

"What? Um. Pardon? Oh. Yes. Oh, fuck, yes, of course. Please."

She advanced, step by step, until she was standing between his legs – an inch or so taller than him in this position and in control. He made no movement as she unbuttoned his shirt, simply staring up at her with eyes now almost impossibly dark. His skin was warm under her fingers, his heartbeat strong, everything about the moment so alive. And then she kissed him.

It felt a little bit different to before, but that only added to the excitement: it had never been like this, she was sure, so desperate and raw. When his arms finally came around her, holding and stroking and pressing her so close, all thought ceased.

They kissed until they were gasping for breath and her lips were sore, and then he lowered his head to her breasts and she whimpered and arched into him, her fingers finding the waistband of his trousers. A single awkward moment while his clothing made its way to the floor was followed by falling onto the bed with every inch of skin pressed together – he tried to flip them over but she resisted, pinning him under her with a grin.

"I think I must be dre–"

His words trailed off into a kind of groan as she slid down his body and took the head of his erection into her mouth.

She was tentative – couldn't possibly have been good at it, not really, having only tried it once before – but his noises gave her more than enough encouragement. When he gently guided her back up for more kisses, there was no doubt that it was because he was enjoying it too much rather than not enough.

"Please," he said, and the sound made her insides twist pleasantly.

"Please, what?" There was no confusion over what he was asking for, but she was in control, and if she wanted to hear him beg then he would beg. His eyes locked onto hers; he could have been using legilimency but she couldn't bring herself to care or look away. She sat up, waiting – his sly smile told her that he knew what for.

"Please, darling, have me – fuck me. I need you… I need to be inside you… Please, you're so – so…" The adjective was lost as she raised herself up and began to slide down on him, not breaking eye contact.

"Don't stop," she instructed. His hands at her hips trembled, desperate to pull her down the last few inches onto him – she pushed them away, pinning them against the mattress. His smile only widened, his breathing quickening.

"So – perfect. I dream, I imagine you, but it's not the s–" she took him in fully – "oh. Oh, God, oh, yes, yes…"

For a while she remained still, savouring the sensation. Her eyes, which had fallen closed, opened to find him still staring at her in wonder; it gave her a heady feeling.

"Salazar," she said. He raised an eyebrow – combined with the smile and swollen lips, it screamed sex.

"Yes?"

"Nothing… I was just trying it out."

"Say it again." She raised herself up, releasing his hands, which sprang back to her hips.

"Salazar." He pulled her back down onto him, hard, and the name was lost in the sound of their twin cries. This time there was no stopping; she moved over him, guided by his hands and by her own pleasure, the rhythm frantic.

"I – I'm so close, darling," he gasped out after no more than a minute. "Please… slow down, I can't..."

It was something of a relief, honestly – it was surprisingly hard work, and, as it turned out, the slower movement felt even better. He watched her as if she was the only thing in the whole universe, intently and reverently, running his fingers up and down her body as she rocked against him over and over.

"I'm – oh, I'm – Salazar –" It was hard to breathe – impossible to think, let alone talk – and she cried out as the orgasm overtook her.

One deep breath, then another, and then she opened her eyes: his smile had become distinctly smug. She smirked and started to move again, rapidly, making him gasp in surprised pleasure.

She could think more clearly now – was better able to catalogue and interpret his touches and moans in order to find the speed and angle he preferred, and was rewarded with his increasing desperation. His expression was, for once, beautifully unguarded in ecstasy. She felt giddy with the power of it; raised herself up one last time.

"Come for me," she whispered.

As she slid back onto him he obeyed with a whimper, clutching her tightly, and it was her turn to be smug as his body trembled beneath her, their gazes still locked. When the aftershocks had passed he pulled her down on top of him and kissed her until she was breathless all over again.

Eventually, when the position became uncomfortable, she disentangled herself and curled up facing him. The kisses continued, though more languidly now – it was as if he wanted to make up for lost time, which seemed like a good idea. She was so warm, and so happy, and so satisfied that it was hard to remember why she had ever tried to distance herself from him.

"I – I don't think I understand," he said eventually, then quickly added, "it's not that I'm complaining, of course, but just… I thought you hated me." Her initial reaction was surprise, but upon a few seconds of reflection she supposed that it was a reasonable conclusion to have drawn from her behaviour.

"No – no… never hate. I was… I was hurt, and angry, and… stupid. I assumed I had the moral high ground, I suppose. It was wrong of me. And I'm sorry for it."

He made no move to accept or even acknowledge her apology, in fact, like earlier in the Chamber, he seemed taken aback by it.

"I shouldn't have lied to you." She sighed.

"I don't suppose you did – not really. You withheld information, certainly, but I suppose everyone does, to one degree or another. Perhaps it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." she said, thinking carefully, "I'll never know everything about you, will I? I'll always feel comparatively stupid, and powerless, and I'll never know what the future holds. Either because you won't or can't tell me, or because it's uncertain. But… I like you, and you're the only person who knows me, and you make me feel safe and… happy. So perhaps everything else doesn't matter."

His expression was not blank, but neither was it readable. She thought there was something sad about it, but couldn't determine what might have caused that. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally spoke.

"Anything you want to know, I'll tell you. I promise that even if I can't promise anything else. And you are not stupid or… powerless. If I've made you feel that way, the fault is mine." She shook her head.

"Not fault. Just truth. Don't you see? We will never be equal. You know so much – you've been everywhere – you can do just about anything! I'm nothing to you." He made a sort of choked gasp.

"You're everything to me!" She blinked dumbly. What she'd actually meant to say was I am nothing when compared with you, but her slip of the tongue had yielded an extraordinary reaction.

"I – um – sorry. Let's not fight, I was only trying to say that… that I'd like to, you know, be with you, that's all. However long it is that we have. Err – If you'll have me." He stared at her for some while and she got the feeling that he was testing out a variety of responses and rejecting them: it was slightly unnerving. In the end it was only one word, delivered with a quiet honesty, that she could hear echoing around in her head for a long time afterwards.

"Yes."

~oOo~