Disclaimer in chapter one

Hiya. Next chapter for you. I hope you like it ^^ Not much to say here this time.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I'm sorry I didn't manage to reply to everyone (I'm horrible). But don't stop reviewing, I giggle like an idiot everytime I get a review ;) Thank you, guys:

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Chapter Twenty: Wishes of my Heart

The next day, Hermione woke to the chatter of Parvati and Lavender, discussing the last DADA lesson. Lavender seemed to have developed quite the crush on Lupin. Hermione listened for some time, still lying motionlessly in her four-poster. Her body hurt, the pain a reminder of the events of the previous day. She closed her eyes and tried not to think. Sometimes she had done that back in Malfoy manor, lying in her small cot until she was able to face the new day.

"Hermione?" a voice – Parvati – disturbed her. "Are you up?"

"Yes," she replied, surprised by how blank her own voice sounded.

"Good," said Parvati cheerfully. "Hurry if you still wanna get some breakfast."

"Okay." Once again Hermione's voice was scarily empty. "Thanks."

She could hear the door to her dorm being opened, then closed again and the merry chatter left. Hermione sat up in bed and opened the curtains around her four-poster. She squinted her eyes as they were assaulted by the bright morning sun. Listlessly, Hermione left her warm bed. Her whole body throbbed painfully and she cautiously wobbled over to the bathroom.

Not much later, she started to pack her things for the day. A roll of parchment fluttered out of her school bag and sailed down on the ground. Hermione reached for it. It was her last Transfiguration essay. McGonagall had given her an O on the essay and Hermione had been so proud. Her eyes wandered over the text, not taking anything in. Slowly, her fingers tightened and the essay crumbled in her hand. The ball of parchment slipped from her fingers and rolled under her bed.

Mechanically, Hermione grabbed her bag and left the dorm. The Torture Curse made her body feel stiff and sore, but she knew the pain would eventually ebb away. Opening the portrait hole, she left the Gryffindor common room and stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted Tom waiting for her in the corridor.

"Morning," he greeted and inclined his head.

His face was a blank as he calmly gazed at her. Hermione forced all emotion from her own face and replied politely,

"Good morning."

Tom's blue eyes shortly skimmed over her. His brow furrowed slightly and he seemed to want to comment on something, but then he just said,

"Let me walk you to the Great Hall."

Hermione nodded silently. As they walked through the corridors and down flights of stairs, she wondered how she felt about the situation. Did Tom make her feel uncomfortable? Maybe. Or angry? Vindictive? No. Not really. Cautious, probably. She couldn't tell. It was just strange that Tom had picked her up today. Hermione glanced at the Slytherin. He walked beside her looking as handsome and unapproachable as ever. If she was honest with herself, she did feel betrayed by him. It was a stupid notion, though. Thinking back, at no point in time had Tom ever told her that he saw something more in her than his servant.

†

Tom eyed the curly-haired witch sitting at the Gryffindor table and conversing with her friends, smile on her face. Hermione couldn't fool him, though. It was plain to see that yesterday hadn't left her unaffected. She was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes while she held her body delicately. Tom knew that the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse afflicted her. A slight smirk curled his lips as his eyes wandered over Hermione's body. She had deserved the curse. Admittedly, he hadn't planned to curse her. He had lost his temper. But Hermione had deserved it, Tom decided coldly while he observed the girl. She had dared to defy him. He had needed to correct her intolerable behaviour. Tom was pretty sure that after her punishment, Hermione would be a lot more obliging.

"Riddle…" Bellatrix' sultry voice poured into his ear.

Tom looked at her. The girl sat beside him, sipping a cup of tea, as she observed him expectantly.

"What?" he said impatiently.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at him. It almost made Tom smirk. The witch was one of the very few people who knew the real him and still dared to act so casual around him.

"Are you still not bored of your little bird?" Bellatrix nodded towards the Gryffindor table.

A vile smirk curled Tom's lips at the question. He cocked an eyebrow at Bellatrix and noted amusedly,

"Why do you care so much?"

Bellatrix pursed her lips into a pout and put her cup down on the table. She scannend him in irritation before she said, "Because you're much less fun since she's around."

Tom couldn't help but chuckle at the suggestion. He supposed he liked Bellatrix in a rather convoluted way. He did appreciate how they shared the same definition of 'fun'. Languidly, Tom leaned back in his seat.

"You could go and play with your own toys," he suggested evilly.

Bellatrix jutted her chin stubbornly, still insisting on her angry pout. "I already did that."

"I'm not here to entertain you," Tom told her boredly.

It didn't help wiping the sulky expression from the witch's face. Tom sighed. A bored Bellatrix was always a dangerous Bellatrix and he was not in the mood to clean up after her.

"What about that Hufflepuff guy?" Tom remarked. "What's his name? He's in their Quidditch team."

A contemplative streak entered Bellatrix dark eyes. "Herbert Fleet?"

"Yes. Didn't you say he was interesting?"

Slowly, Bellatrix full lips twisted into a rather disturbing smile. "He certainly is easy on the eyes." She peered pensively at the Hufflepuff table, but then decided sullenly, "No. No, I'm not in the mood."

Tom shrugged easily and mentioned, "Well, he has a girlfriend anyway. Also Hufflepuff, as far as I know…"

Contently, he watched a malicious look crossing Bellatrix' face. Once again she stared at the Hufflepuff table, predatory glint in her eyes.

"If you put it like that, I basically have to do something." She smiled a dangerous smile. "I mean we already have way too many Hufflepuffs. Don't need them procreating any further."

"Suit yourself," Tom replied. "Whatever you do, though, don't leave any traces."

"Pshaw. You don't have to tell me everything. I'm not like your stupid girlfriend,."

†

Hermione was sitting in the potions classroom but the usual mix of joy and excitement she felt in every class failed to appear. Numbly, she listened to Slughorn going through the different steps of brewing the Draught of Peace and wrote down the important parts. She did it mechanically, not really putting much effort into it. The Draught of Peace was a rather difficult potion and, considering Hermione's skill in that subject, she was sure to mess up. Surreptitiously, she glanced at her potions partner. Tom was sitting beside her, calmly copying whatever Slughorn said, although he probably knew everything already. Uneasily, Hermione wondered what Tom would do to her if she managed to mess up their potion and his grade. She shuddered as she remembered the pain of the Cruciatus and quickly averted her eyes from Tom, refocusing on her parchment. Her notes were an illegible scrawl, but Hermione didn't care.

This was a far cry from the first class she had ever attended. Back then, she had happily drunk in everything the professor had said and had completely enjoyed herself. Idiot, a cruel voice sneered at her and Hermione had to agree. She could dance around in her pretty school uniform all she wanted, it didn't make her a student. Yesterday, Riddle had reminded her of what she really was.

"Let's start with the practical part of this class," Slughorn's voice happily rang through the classroom. "Please, work in pairs for this potion can be rather tricky."

Hermione glumly cast a glance at Tom. He skimmed over the notes he had taken. She didn't move, but merely sat on her chair and stared blankly at the parchment in front of her. Waiting.

"I'll get the ingredients," Tom stated neutrally. "You can start with lighting the fire and get the water boiling."

"Yes, Tom," Hermione replied servilely. It was a tone of voice she had honed over many years.

Hermione caught Tom's blue eyes lingering on her for a moment. Luckily, he didn't voice anything and went to get the ingredients. Hermione released a breath of air as he stepped away from her. Glancing at the instructions, she filled the required amount of water into the cauldron before she waved her wand thus igniting a fire under the kettle.

Then Hermione stood beside the cauldron, head bowed, while she waited for Tom to return. Around her the other students chatted animatedly. Slughorn didn't mind his students talking with each other during the practical part of the class. Hermione remained to be silent and stared down at the tips of her shoes. She stiffened as Tom returned to their table. Without saying anything he placed the potion ingredients on the worktop then he checked the cauldron. His blue eyes flashed at her and Hermione had to pull herself together to not shy away from him.

"Go ahead and crush the rose thorns," he ordered her.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, almost adding a 'Master' at the end.

She turned away from him and filled the thorns into the mortar before she reached for the pestle. In the meantime, Tom prepared the bat spleen which had to be added next into the potion. As she grinded the thorns, Hermione remembered their last potion class. Back then she had pelted Tom with questions about the potion, the ingredients and really anything she could think of. Now, she was completely silent. In fact, there were hardly any words exchanged between Tom and Hermione until Slughorn boomed, clapping his hands,

"Time's up. Let's see how you managed."

Some of the students groaned at that, others beamed confidently; Hermione simply put down the ladle and waited. She again felt Tom's eyes on her, but he didn't say anything. Hermione was glad he didn't. It would probably have been a rebuke, considering that their potion was a dirty orange colour instead of the required yellow.

Hermione watched as Slughorn slowly meandered through the classroom, testing the work of his students. It wasn't long and the professor reached Tom's and her table, expectant look on his face. Pursing his lips, Slughorn bent over the cauldron.

"Hm," he tsked as he stirred the potion contemplatively. "The colour is slightly off, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom in an expressionless voice.

Slughorn straightened up and scanned Riddle, before he said, disappointment in his voice, "I'm afraid, I can only give you an 'E' for that."

Hermione looked up as she heard that. She knew that Riddle had never gotten anything less than an 'O'. Something had gone wrong with the potion, though Hermione didn't know what or how. Still, she knew her duty. So, Hermione cleared her throath and said,

"Sir, it's my fault. I ruined the potion."

Slughorn's eyes fell on her and he smiled at her broadly. "Now now, Ms Rookwood 'ruined' is such a strong word. It still is a good potion."

Hermione cast a fleeting look at Tom. His face was stony and unreadable.

"I added the wrong amount of antimony," she said softly. "It was completely my fault. Tom didn't do anything wrong."

Slughorn grinned at Riddle conspiratorially. "I see you managed to win over such a lovely lady, didn't you Tom?" Then he addressed Hermione, "Now, Ms Rookwood. Don't worry about Tom's grades. After all he's my best student." He clapped Riddle on the back and laughed. "I daresay he should have noticed that mistake before it was too late."

"You are right, sir," Tom said lightly, a smile on his face.

Great, Hermione thought numbly as she contemplated that smile on his face. Was he going to punish her for that ruined potion? She nervously bit her tongue as a well-known feeling of apprehension bubbled up in her stomach. It had always accompanied her in Malfoy manor whenever she had caused trouble.

"I expect you in the Heads' common room after dinner," Tom told her after Slughorn had finally concluded the lesson.

"Of course, Tom," affirmed Hermione in the same distanced tone of voice.

She stuffed her textbook and parchment in her bag, wanting to leave as quickly as possible.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron's voice called her.

There was a big smile on his face as he fell in step beside her and asked cheerfully, "How was potions?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fine."

Ron blinked at her and raised his eyebrows. Then he mocked, "What? No rant about how wonderful the class was and how much you learned?"

"No," said Hermione colourlessly. "Not really."

"Ah, well…" Ron scratched his head. "I thought it was horrible. Got an 'A' though. What did you get?"

"E," she replied colourlessly.

"Oh, that's good, isn't it?" Ron smiled at her.

"I guess so…" mumbled Hermione.

Ron scanned her for a moment through his blue eyes. Then he asked cautiously, "Is something wrong?"

She turned her head and looked up at his freckled face. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno." Ron still scanned her in concern. "I kinda miss your enthusiasm about everything school related ...aaaand a nervous breakdown. Because you only got an E."

Hermione tightly informed, "Ron, I really don't care about my grades so much."

The red-head took a cautious step back and declared melodramatically, "Now I know there's something wrong. What is it?"

"It's really nothing," Hermione dismissed his concern. "What do you think is for dinner?"

"Smooth change of subject," Ron commented dryly. "But okay, you don't have to tell me."

"Fine then," said Hermione curtly.

He frowned at her as he heard the sharp edge in her voice. Gently, he offered, "If something's bothering you, you can tell me."

A faint smile appeared on Hermione's face and for the first time this day she was truthful as she opened her mouth and said,

"Thank you. But I really doubt anyone can help me."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, damn if that doesn't sound peculiar."

Hermione chose not to reply and to her immense relief Ron didn't prod. Instead he pulled her into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table. Dean already had a plate loaded with mashed potatoes and meatballs in front of him, shovelling food into his mouth. Ginny sat across from her boyfriend and obviously tried to beat him at who could eat fastest. Ron plopped down beside Dean and quickly filled his own plate, not wanting to be bested. Gingerly, Hermione sat beside Ginny. She wasn't that hungry herself. Her whole body still throbbed painfully and she just wanted to lie down.

"You gonna eat that?" Ginny inquired, gesturing at a small bowl with carrots.

Silently Hermione pushed the bowl towards Ginny who dumped the contents right over her mashed potatoes.

"What'sh wrong?" the red-head asked around a meatball as she spotted the frown on Hermione's face.

"Nothing."

Ron groaned as he heard Hermione's colourless reply. "Don't bother, Ginny," he advised. "Been there done that. She won't tell."

"Well…" Ginny scanned Hermione, worry in her eyes. "Okay. Bad day?"

"Something like that," Hermione mumbled as she listlessly poked her food.

"We're gonna have a little… er… get-together in the old Arithmancy classroom later," Dean provided. "You wanna come? We have Butterbeer."

Ron threw his friend an expectant look. After a second, Dean conceded, "Okay. We have Butterbeer and Firewhiskey. Satisfied?"

"Yep. You gotta advertise this right, man," Ron grinned. Then he glanced at Hermione. "So, you coming?"

Hermione looked at her friends' enthusiastic faces. She really wanted to go with them… but no. Hermione sighed tiredly. She couldn't meet with her friends. After all, her master had already decided how she would spend the evening, hadn't he? And Hermione really didn't want another go with the Cruciatus because she had defied Tom. Her stomach knotted painfully at the thought.

"No, I'll pass," she forced herself to say.

"Aw, Hermione," Ginny nagged. "You have to come. It'll be good for you."

Hermione shook her head morosely. "I'll be meeting Tom."

Ginny scrunched up her face in distaste. Then she mumbled into her potatoes, "I would say, bring him, but I seriously don't want you to."

Dean ignored his girlfriend's bluntness and smiled at Hermione. "If you really had such a bad day, maybe Riddle can help cheer you up?"

He threw a wink in for good measure. Hermione forced herself to smile at him. He meant well.

†

Having no choice, Hermione didn't meet her friends that evening, but went back to Tom. They didn't talk much as they sat in the Heads' common room. Hermione worked on her Charms essay. The atmosphere in the room was oppressive and she wished she could be anywhere else. Even Malfoy manor would be a welcome sight. At least she had known the rules back then: Getting caught lazing off? Slap to the face. Stealing food from the kitchens? A beating and maybe a stinging hex or two. Breaking one of Narcissa's precious china plates? Woe betide you.

Now? Now, Hermione just didn't know.

She surreptitiously peered at Tom. With him, it was unclear what she was and wasn't supposed to do. It was a dangerous situation. Where was the invisible line? At least now Hermione knew that there was such a line. Trying not to sigh, she forced herself to concentrate on her essay. Being a lousy student would probably not please Tom at all. Interrupted only by the scribbling sounds of Hermione's quill, the tense silence was even more palpable. It was Tom who finally destryed it.

"Look, Hermione," he said tightly. "You are being unreasonable."

Hermione stopped writing and put her quill down on the table. She managed to keep her face blank, her gaze politely attentive. In Tom's blue eyes, though, she could spot frustration shining through.

"I apologize, Master," Hermione replied in an even voice, bowing her head, even though she didn't know what she had done wrong.

"You are to call me 'Tom'," he snapped irritably.

"Of course, Tom," she observed clinically.

"You have no reason to behave like a spoiled brat," Tom hissed, traces of anger lacing his tone. "You disobeyed me. You deserved to get punished."

Something twitched inside of Hermione's chest as he said it. Obedience. It was the only thing wizards ever wanted from her. It hurt hearing Tom demanding it as well, but Hermione couldn't allow herself to care. She forced a hollow but polite smile and whispered,

"I shouldn't have disobeyed you. It won't happen again, Tom."

Obviously the composedness in her voice only managed to infuriate him further. His dark magic forebodingly swirled through the air.

"You were being disrespectful, Hermione," Tom clarified coldly. "You left me no choice but to chastise you."

She bowed her head and replied, voice painfully distanced, "I am sorry I disappointed you, Tom."

He hesitated to reply and Hermione could feel his gaze weighing down on her. She looked up at him. The anger was still written all over Tom's face. There was a strange gleam in his blue eyes as they wandered over her. Finally he gritted out,

"It's fine. Let's just forget about the whole thing."

"Yes, Tom," was Hermione's detached reply.

With that she reached for her quill and resumed working on her essay. Once again, the common room was drowned in tense silence. Hermione noticed that Tom didn't return to his own work. Instead his gaze rested on her heavily. She tried to ignore him. He was very confusing and she just didn't know what he expected from her.

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Hermione wondered why she kept digging. It wasn't as if she didn't have a pile of her own problems. Maybe she just needed something to distract her with. Or maybe she simply didn't know when to stop.

In any case, just a few days after Tom Riddle had decided to abandon his role as Hermione's saviour, she ascended the staircase leading up to the Divination classroom. It was late and Hermione didn't expect to meet any students. As she entered classroom, the smell of patchouli assaulted her nostrils. The room was hot and stuffy, maybe from all the burning candles standing about. Hermione crinkled her nose as she let her gaze sweep over the so-called classroom. Circular tables stood around, surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes. The windows were darkened by thick curtains, making the candles the only source of light. It certainly wasn't what Hermione would call a healthy learning environment.

"How can I help you?"

Hermione startled as a voice came out of no-where. It took her a moment to find its source. There in the back of the room, hidden behind an enormous crystal ball, sat a girl.

"H- hello," Hermione stuttered, still a bit spooked. "I'm Hermione Rookwood. I… er… I'm searching for Luna Lovegood."

"You want to see me?" The girl smiled blissfully and clapped her hands. "How nice. Did daddy sent you? Is it about the Quibbler? I'm not finished yet. The mating cycle of Wrackspurts is not an easy subject. I'll have the article finished next week… or maybe the week after?"

"No, no," Hermione said. "I'm not here… because of that. I just… I'm a student, you see. I need to talk with you."

"Even better." Lovegood beamed at her happily. "Sit down. Please, sit."

Hermione climbed over little pouffes and abandoned crystal balls to reach the table. Smiling hesitantly at Lovegood, she sat across from her. The girl gazed at her with large grey eyes, not at all ruffled by Hermione's sudden appearance. Her dirty blonde hair glinted merrily in the candle light and a soft smile danced around her lips.

"Tea?" Lovegood asked, invitingly gesturing at the teapot.

"Er… No, thanks. I'm good."

The girl shrugged and said good-naturedly, "Maybe better. You never know, tea leaves tend to be quite the gossipmongers."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Yes… That is a valid concern." She uncomfortably shuffled in her seat. "Right. Now I'm here because I wanted to ask you something."

Lovegood arched her thin eyebrows, big eyes blinking at Hermione. Hermione cleared her throat and said awkwardly,

"I heard that you're the Divination teacher's apprentice."

Lovegood bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Yes. It is quite fun. Sybill is very nice."

"Uh-huh." Hermione hesitated shortly, not knowing how to best proceed. "I heard what happened. You were expelled, because they suspected you were somehow involved in Neville Longbottom's death."

The blissful smile on Lovegood's face strangely collided with the topic of conversation

"Oh that," she said serenely. "It was a horrible incident."

The girl's eager reply was a bit suspicious. It rubbed Hermione the wrong way. Breathing in deeply to clear her head of the stuffy room's air, she asked,

"So you really had an Erumpent?"

Lovegood nodded enthusiastically, seemingly all too happy to talk about this. "Yes. She was such a sweet thing. I took her in because she was infested with Nargles."

"I… see…" Hermione mumbled slowly.

Her eyes wandered over the other girl. Luna Lovegood was certainly a strange one.

"Do you think your Erumpent might have killed Neville?"

Immediately Lovegood shook her head and the smile dropped from her face. "No. She would never hurt anyone."

Hermione nodded. "Where's she now?"

"She escaped," the girl said softly. "When Tom tried to catch her, she ran from the room. I think she hid away in the Forbidden Forest."

Once again, Tom's involvement in the whole case didn't sit right with Hermione. Her glum thoughts were interrupted by Lovegood's voice,

"I would have never hurt Neville. He was my only friend."

"He was in Hufflepuff, wasn't he?" Hermione inquired.

Lovegood nodded and the blissful smile found its way back to her face. "Yes. The best Hufflepuff there was. I never had any friends in Ravenclaw, you see. Just Neville."

It was kind of sad how the girl smiled happily while stating something like that. Hermione threw her a comforting look.

"If it wasn't your Erumpent that caused Neville's death, what was it then?"

Lovegood pursed her thin lips and thoughtfully tipped with her index finger against her chin.

"It was uncommonly hot that day," she contemplated excitedly. "Maybe it was a Heliopath. They tend to be more active when it's hot. But I don't know how it might have got into the castle."

Hermione frowned at the girl sceptically. "A Heliopath? I thought they don't exist."

Lovegood's grey eyes widened almost comically. "They do. When daddy and I were on vacation in India, we almost saw one."

Not wanting to argue, Hermione nodded. "Well, thank you. This was really helpful."

"No problem, Hermione," the girl smiled widely. "I like talking to you. Not many of the students want to talk to me."

†

Although, Lovegood seemed to be an amiable, if a bit strange, person, Hermione felt relieved as she left the Divination classroom behind. Sadly, though, Neville's death remained a mystery. Hermione couldn't dismiss the possibility that he had been killed by Lovegood's Erumpent. Still, there were so many inconsistencies that proving the girl's guilt beyond doubt was equally impossible. Why had she been so easily expelled? It all came down to Tom's testimony. He was the only connection between Neville's death and Lovegood.

Hermione's stomach instantly dropped at the thought of Tom. There was no way she could ask him. It certainly wasn't Hermione's place to interrogate her master. The word echoed bitterly through her head. As if to prove that word invalid, she automatically pulled her wand. The contact with the wood soothed her. She wasn't that powerless slave girl anymore. Her fingers tightened desperately around her wand. Her wand. Mudblood Penny was gone, wasn't she?

An ice cold waft of air hit Hermione and she turned around. The silvery form of a ghost glided through the otherwise empty corridor. Quickly, Hermione pressed herself against the stone wall, eyeing the ghost apprehensively. It was the Bloody Baron, house ghost of Slytherin. Hermione warily eyed him as he floated closer to her. Since the Grey Lady insisted on yelling at her whenever they crossed paths, ghosts made Hermione edgy. The Baron's dead eyes wandered over her form.

"It is you," he said as he angrily gestured at the wand in Hermione's hand.

"What do you mean?" she inquired cautiously.

"I have heard of you," the ghost snapped, glaring at her. "I have heard of your wand."

Hermione's fingers tightened protectively around her chestnut wand and she asked, "Did the Grey Lady tell you?"

"Lord, no," the Baron quickly denied. "Helena… does not talk to me." A dark look twisted his face into something dangerous and he asked demandingly, "Where did you get that wand."

"Why do you want to know?" Hermione returned, not stepping down.

The Baron floated closer to her, making her shiver. There was a livid gleam in his eyes as he glared at her.

"The wand, girl!" he snarled. "It is not yours. Where did you steal it?"

"I didn't steal it!" Hermione hissed automatically, although it was a lie.

She remembered her time in Albania with Tom. The wand had found its way into Hermione's hands as they had searched for Ravenclaw's Diadem. It was as if it had waited for her in that clearing with Helena's grave.

"It is my wand," Hermione stubbornly insisted.

"Oh, no," the Baron cackled darkly. "I know you are lying, because that wand belongs to me."

Hermione's eyes widened and she stumbled a step away from the ghost.

"What?" she croaked weakly.

"The wand is mine," the Baron repeated sharply. "You had no right to take it."

"I…"

Hermione stared down at the chestnut wand in her hand. Then she desperately looked up at the ghost.

"I need the wand," she told the Baron pleadingly. "I found it. I swear I didn't know it belonged to anyone."

The Bloody Baron still trapped her in his stare, but the anger seemed to bleed from his eyes. As he spoke next his voice was soft, almost sad,

"Does it work well for you?"

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. "It's a nice wand."

The ghost's pale lips curled into a mirthless smile. "I have not laid eyes on that wand since I died."

"I- in Albania?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Yes," the ghost replied in a hollow tone. "Deep in a forest."

"There was a stone coffin," Hermione told him hesitantly. "The wand… was on the ground."

"A coffin?" The Baron scanned her piercingly. "…Helena's."

Hermione nodded before she asked, "Why was your wand there?"

A grin that never reached his empty eyes streched the Baron's lip. "I was tracking down Helena. Her mother, Rowena Ravenclaw, had asked me to bring her daughter back to Hogwarts after she had stolen something."

"Was it the diadem?"

The Baron floated a bit closer to Hermione. "You know about Ravenclaw's Diadem?" At Hermione's nod he admitted, "Yes, Helena stole her mother's diadem."

"And Ravenclaw wanted it back?" Hermione mused thoughtfully.

"That too," the ghost replied. "But first and foremost, Ravenclaw wanted me to bring her daughter back. The heiress to her legacy."

"And you found Helena?" Hermione prodded carefully. "In Albania?"

"Yes. Helga told me of Helena's hiding place." The Baron sighed deeply. "As I found Helena, I told her she had to come back. She would not listen and told me to leave her alone… You must know, I had courted Helena for some time and could not accept her rejection. In my disappointment and anger, I lost all reason." The ghost shook his head, anger on his face. "I reached for my wand and cursed poor Helena."

Hermione took in a sharp breath of air. "You… That's how she died, isn't it?"

The ghost nodded, glum air hovering around him. "She was mortally wounded. The instant I saw her blood gushing from the wound, I regretted what I had done. I hastened to hold her, maybe even heal her with my magic."

"You couldn't…" Hermione whispered softly.

"No," the Baron replied, regret wrapped around his voice. "Helena would not accept my help. With her last strength, she pulled the dagger from my belt and slashed my throat."

He gestured at the silvery blood dripping all over his ghostly pale clothes. "This is how I died: At the hand of my beloved. Since then, Helena has refused to talk to me. I do not blame her. She has every right to curse my name."

The Baron's empty eyes fell to the wand in Hermione's hand and he stated, "That wand brings nothing but grief. You should get rid of it while you can."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom snuck a look at Hermione sitting beside him. The girl was bent over some book or other, hair obscuring her face. Like always lately, she was decidedly taciturn. Since she had entered the Heads' common room an hour ago, she had barely spoken three words. Obviously, Hermione was insisting on her childish sulkiness and her behaviour had quickly become tiresome. Tom really didn't understand where her recalcitrance came from. If he wanted to spend time with someone not able to carry on a conversation, he could as well have met with dear old Amy Belby.

As Tom stared at the girl, he once again regretted that she had to alter her appearance with Polyjuice potion. Sadly, this was an unavoidable necessity. His eyes stopped at the smooth skin of her neck where it wasn't hidden behind her curly hair. Licking his lips, he slid closer to girl. Maybe he should be a generous Master and distract his Mudblood from her silly moping. He certainly could do with some distraction.

Tom reached for the book and pulled it from Hermione's hands. The girl stiffened and looked up at him in confusion. Tom simply smirked at her. One of his hands slid around her waist and pulled her against him before he placed a fleeting kiss on her lips. Not waiting for her reaction, he gently pushed her down on the couch. Now lying over her, Tom could feel how tense her body really was. She needed to relax.

Eagerly, he let his hands glide over her body, caressing the curve of her waist and skimming over her slim belly. He could feel her body trembling in pleasure under his touches. Smirking contently, Tom buried his face in the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet sent before he traced soft kisses down her neck. Hermione moaned in response and her body tensed as if waiting for more. Not wanting to disappoint, Tom nibbled at her skin and was rewarded by a gasp.

His hand wandered to the back of her head and his fingers carded through her curly hair, gingerly scratching at the base of her neck. Then he tugged her towards him. He could see Hermione's eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his mouth over her own. His lips moved against hers, drawing her into a kiss, while his hands wandered over her body, caressing, stroking. The girl was shivering in his arms and Tom could feel the warmth of her body under his own. Demandingly, he brushed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Hermione complied obediently and parted her lips. Tom groaned as he could finally thrust his tongue into her mouth, claiming her. A burning tingle ran over his body as he felt the girl so close.

He could smell her, taste her, touch her and she was all his.

Engaging Hermione in a deep kiss, Tom's hand wandered to her chest. A hot wave of lust ran through his body as he kneaded her soft breasts. Tom's greedy lips finally parted with her mouth and wandered down her neck. His kisses on her skin became more demanding. His tongue moved hungily over her and teeth bit her, leaving behind small bite marks. Desire burned feverishly hot through his body. Hastily, Tom undid the buttons of her blouse, making Hermione once again whimper sensually. A moan tore from his own mouth as he could finally run his fingers over her bare skin.

Hermione's breathing hitched as his fingers wandered down her body. Teasingly, they skimmed over her stomach, passing her belly button, until they reached the waistband of her jeans. Tom slowly opened the button of her jeans as he looked down at the witch. In her pleasure, she had closed her eyes and panted heavily. Tom licked over his lips, still able to taste her, as his eyes feasted on her. Even through her polyjuice-disguised form, Hermione was beautiful. Beautiful, because she belonged to him.

Because she was his.

.

Hermione forced her body to relax, her breathing going fast, as Tom's greedy hands wandered over her. His touches burned like fire and at the same time she could barely feel them. A thick layer of fear had wrapped itself around her mind and would not let any other feeling pass. Tom's kisses had always been something special to her. This time, though, the brackish tang of fear soiled the contentment his kisses usually left behind on her tongue.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want this. There was a threat hanging over her that left her with no control over the situation. The last time she had defied Tom, he had crucioed her. Hermione's breathing accelerated, but passion had no play in it. Panic swirled through her head and screamed at her to run. Still, Hermione forced her body to just lay there. She didn't resist Tom as his fingers skimmed over her exposed skin.

As he demandingly tugged at her jeans, fear and panic melted into a wild mixture that Hermione could no longer contain. Her eyes snapped open. Tom was still looming over her. Lust smouldered in his starkly blue eyes as they greedily raked over her exposed body. He still pulled at her jeans, trying to rip the cloth from her. Through her panic, all thoughts were gone. Hermione couldn't control her body anymore, raised her hands and forcefully pushed Tom away from her. She was a mute observer and watched as she scrambled up from the sofa and ran.

.

Tom knelt on the sofa and his icy blue eyes were fixed on the door that had just snapped shut behind the girl. He hadn't expected the evening to end quite so abruptly. Annoyance bubbled close to the surface. Already traces of his angry magic bristled around Tom. He felt the urge to follow Hermione and drag her back here. He didn't, though. Instead Tom let himself fall back on the couch and crossed his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Hermione's insolence was intolerable. He should find her and punish her. She had no right to refuse him. Hermione was his Mudblood. He had expected her to finally understand this.

Tom irately ran his hand through his black hair and pursed his lips. Of course, he could punish Hermione again, but he didn't see how that would improve the situation. Before she had fled the room, Tom had seen tears welling in her eyes. So, judging from that physical reaction, she probably hadn't refused him out of defiance. Hermione had been… Scared? he pondered thoughtfully. While Tom liked exerting his dominance in relationships, including intimate ones, forcing Hermione to sleep with him would strangely feel like a failure. At the very least, it seemed less satisfying than making her moan in pleasure under his body.

Tom sighed deeply and closed his eyes. It would have helped if Hermione had said something earlier…

†

The next day was a Saturday and Tom didn't see Hermione at all. At first he didn't notice as he was swamped with Head Boy duties. Then during lunch in the Great Hall, her absence dimly registered. It was as she didn't seek him out in the common room that Tom realized Hermione was avoiding him. He felt annoyed by her dismissive behaviour.

It was late evening that he finally lost his patience. In the end, it wasn't that hard to find Hermione. Tom had only needed to step into the library and there she was sitting on a couch in a rather secluded area. He hid himself behind a book shelf and observed the girl. Hermione had taken off her shoes and had folded her legs under her body while her back rested comfortably against the armrest of the couch. Sun rays fell through a near-by window and painted the scene in warm colours. Tom's gaze skimmed over the book in Hermione's lap. He couldn't read its title but, whatever it was, the book managed to make Hermione's eyes glimmer merrily and curled her lips into a blissful smile.

Tom abandoned his hiding place and stepped closer to Hermione.

She noticed his presence and looked up. The happy smile was gone in an instant and her eyes frosted over. Hermione abandoned her relaxed posture and actually stood up from the couch. Tom already felt his magic twitch in irritation. He stepped over to her and sat down, motioning for her to do the same. Hermione sank down on the sofa as far away from him as possible and let her head hang. She didn't even want to make eye contact with him. Tom observed her confusedly, but it was Hermione who spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she said.

Her voice was free of any emotion. It frustrated Tom. Usually, Hermione had been full of emotion. So unguarded and easy to read. Now, when he really needed to read her, she made it impossible.

"I shouldn't have run away yesterday," the Mudblood continued, glancing up at him. "It's your…"

She stopped there and swallowed. Her brown eyes left him again and stared down at the floor. Then she spoke again and this time her voice wasn't so controlled anymore. He could hear it shaking ever so slightly.

"I know, it's your right to… do with me whatever you want." Again she hesitated, composing herself, before she repeated mechanically, "I shouldn't have run away."

Her empty words and her detached tone didn't help Tom in understanding her. Hermione raised her eyes at him and even her face was a blank. Once again her emotions were hidden behind a wall

"I am sorry I defied you, Master," she said in a steely voice.

Her title for him had subtly changed its meaning. It stopped to transport submission but was now used to push him away. Tom didn't like it. Contemplatively, he eyed Hermione's closed off face. He needed to somehow make her emotionless front fall. There might be a way to provoke a reaction… Tom slid closer to Hermione and put his hand on her waist. She stiffened under his touch and he deliberately let his hand wander, enjoying the curve of her body.

"So…" Tom murmured softly. "You would not run if the same situation arose again?"

Tom felt her shuddering under his ministrations, but it wasn't the kind of reaction he would have wanted. Hermione's brown eyes were empty as she stared up at him. He had been unsuccessful; the blank mask continued to cover her face.

"Of course not, Master," she replied, distanced.

Tom's hand lingered on her waist, enjoying her warmth. That warmth clashed quite spectacularly with the frost that seemed to cover her whole posture. Hermione was simply disgusted by his touches, his nearness. Tom pulled back his hand, frustration and anger mounting up in him.

He narrowed his eyes at her and hissed, "Is this still about the crucio?"

If Hermione was surprised by his outburst, she didn't show it. She stared at him, still with that unnerving blank look.

"No, Tom," was her steady reply.

Of course she was lying. Tom's magic reacted and started to irately swirl around him. Hermione flinched, grabbing her left arm where the Dark Mark was hidden. Obviously his anger was hurting her. Tom didn't pull his magic back.

"Of course it is," he snapped irately. "Can't you get over it? It was surely not the first time you were hit by that curse."

Where Tom's anger burned inside of him, Hermione was ice cold. There was no emotion on her face, her gaze chilled and distanced.

"No, it wasn't the first time," she replied, bitterness hidden in her voice. "And probably not the last time either."

Tom gritted his teeth. He wished he could just pull his wand and show Hermione how right she was, but he knew it would not change this situation to his advantage. So, he opted for another route. Instead of cursing his Mudblood, Tom pressed out acridly,

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Once again, Hermione disappointed and responded with a veneer of detachment. The apology was not heartfelt, but Tom had expected more of a reaction.

"Why do you apologize?" Hermione asked, her voice infuriatingly level. "There's no need to apologize to someone like me."

"Because," replied Tom, fighting for composure. ", you seem to have issues with it."

Hermione steadily gazed at him as she stated, "I do not have issues."

With that she snapped her book shut and stuffed it into her bag. Her brown eyes again fell on him and she added stiltedly, slightly bowing her head,

"Unless you want me to have issues, Master."

Tom merely glared at her. He should curse her until she apologized and stopped her ridiculous behaviour. Tom balled his hands into tight fists. He didn't stop his magic as it angrily wrenched at Hermione's bond. She winced painfully, but otherwise did not react.

"Fine," Tom snapped mordantly. "Fine!"

Without another word, he stood from the couch and left, fuming inside.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"I just…" Hermione frowned in irritation down at the parchment. "I just don't understand it."

Regulus, sitting beside her at the library table, peered at her essay, and commented, "I think it's pretty good."

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands. "That's just it. Slughorn gave me an O in the last two potion essays."

Regulus chuckled softly. "You know, 'Outstanding' is still the best mark there is."

"I know," the Gryffindor sighed and listlessly fiddled with her quill. "How can it be that I write those stupid essays, but screw up every single time I actually brew a potion?"

"Dunno," Regulus admitted. "I mean, potions theory and practice are two different things."

"Tell me about it," Hermione mumbled morosely.

The Slytherin cocked an inquiring eyebrow. "You were home-schooled before you came to Hogwarts. How often could you actually try and brew anything?"

Hermione groaned again and put her head down on the table. Home-schooled, indeed… She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the lies and deceits that allowed her to attend Hogwarts. Eventually, she replied,

"Not terribly much."

"Well, there you have it," was Regulus' answer. "You just need to practice more and you'll be fine."

"Yeah…"

Hermione sat up and looked at Regulus. The Slytherin threw her an encouraging smile and she was really glad to have him as a friend. Regulus, Ginny, Ron… When they were around, Hermione managed to feel normal, like one of them. It was nice to forget her pile of lies for a moment. The same had been true for Tom, but then he had-

Hermione shook her head; she wasn't going to think about Tom. As if he were able to read her thoughts, Regulus asked cautiously, "Did you fight with Riddle?"

Hermione arched her eyebrows. She really did not want to talk about this. "What?"

"Because of me." Regulus bent over his book, trying to hide his face. "You two seem more distanced since… well… since you found us in that classroom..."

Hermione breathed in sharply at the memory. She didn't want to go back to that classroom where her delusions of being a student had so abruptly died.

As Hermione didn't reply, Regulus peered at her. "You know…"

He hesitated to continue, but after a moment seemed to have mustered the confidence to continue,

"I'm probably digging my own grave here by telling you this." Regulus looked at her and sighed. "But I think… you should… I don't know… consider finding another boyfriend?"

Now Hermione was truly surprised. "I thought you were his friend."

A small smirk curled Regulus' mouth as he callously voiced, "We are not friends."

At her raised eyebrows, he continued, "Oh, come on Hermione. Don't play stupid, it doesn't suit you. You've seen what Riddle did to me. Friends don't treat each other like that."

Hermione was hard pressed to argue that. "Then why do you hang around him?"

Regulus eyed her for a moment, seemingly pondering something. After a moment, he said carefully, "I tell you that in confidence, okay?" At Hermione's nod he continued, "In Slytherin, there's this group, the Knights of Walpurgis. I don't know quite how to describe it… it certainly is no study group. We are…" He pursed his lips in thought. "Dark? Not the kind of group you would put on a CV if you know what I mean. And Riddle… Riddle's our leader."

Hermione didn't really know what to say to that. She mulled the information over and had to admit, it didn't surprise her much. It fit the picture didn't it?

"Why did you join?" she eventually asked. "If you're not convinced it's the right thing."

Regulus shrugged. "Because it's convenient? Because it's expected of me? I don't know. But it's too late to leave now."

Hermione nodded, still deep in thought. Regulus stood, grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Before he had taken more than a few steps, Hermione stopped him.

"What happened to Neville Longbottom?"

Regulus froze over, his back ramrod straight. Slowly he turned around to her, his face white as a sheet.

"What do you mean?"

"How did he die?" Hermione asked, calmly gazing at her friend. "I spoke to him. And Luna. I doubt it was an Erumpent."

Regulus barely managed to look Hermione in the eyes as he whispered, "Then you already know too much."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione managed to avoid Tom for the rest of the week. She didn't want to speak to him or see him at all. Of course, her avoidance tactic wouldn't solve anything, but Hermione just couldn't face him. As she had arrived at Hogwarts, Tom had been her anchor in a strange world. Now, he himself had turned into a stranger.

Hermione took to hiding away in the Gryffindor common room. She had been quite moved when Ginny had brought her a box of cauldron cakes, looking a bit worried. The only times Hermione left the commom room was for classes and library visits. Currently, she hurried back from one such visit, clutching her bag full of books tightly. The castle's corridors were quite abandoned, as she was sailing close to curfew.

That was the reason that no-one heard it as Hermione gasped in pain and doubled over. It was as if she had been stabbed by a knife. Groaning softly, she clutched her stomach and felt the piercing pain spread. Weakly, she stumbled a few steps. As her skin started to burn agonizingly, Hermione knew what happened. Her blood froze over in panic.

How could she have been so stupid? She had been so stressed lately, days blurred together and Hermione didn't know when she had last taken her Polyjuice potion. Groaning in pain, her shaky hands groped for the bottle of Polyjuice, but as soon as she held the bottle Hermione knew it was no good. It was too light in her hand. Empty. Hermione bit her lip so hard it started to bleed. She hadn't asked Tom to give her more of the potion.

Another wave of pain hit her and Hermione blindly stumbled down the corridor, leaning heavily on the wall. A few metres further down and she came upon a door. Hermione's breathing was laboured and tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn't make out where she was. She groped for the door handle and prayed this was the way into an abandoned classroom.

The door creaked softly as Hermione opened it. Then she dragged herself in the room and the door fell shut behind her. Another gasp of pain left Hermione and her skin felt as if it were boiling. She shuddered helplessly as she felt the last rest of the potion's effect leave her and her body turned back into her original self. Eyes pressed shut, Hermione stood in the unknown room. Her breathing was still laboured and she painfully held her stomach. For so long she had been disguised by the potion, it now hurt as her body was forced back into its normal form.

"Ms Rookwood?!"

The deep voice made Hermione's eyes shut open and she whirled around. Her pain was temporarily forgotten as she stared at the man sitting behind the desk. Yellow inhuman eyes burned into her.

"C- Captain Lupin?" His name fell from her quivering lips.

The werewolf got up from his seat and stalked towards Hermione. Fear consumed her completely and her whole body trembled. She felt painfully exposed as his piercing eyes wandered over her body, seeing her true form for the first time. Hermione bowed her head and stared down at the floor. With soft steps, the man circled around her like a wolf around its prey. Hermione didn't dare move a muscle.

She still didn't look up at Lupin stopped before her. Hermione could barely breathe around the anxiety constricting her chest relentlessly. Suddenly there was a gruff hand clasping her wrist. She didn't fight as her sleeve was shoved up her left arm. Hermione's stomach twisted into a ball of fear as she stared with shock-widened eyes down at the Dark Mark on her skin, now fully exposed. Lupin's strong hand mercilessly tightened around her arm. Hermione trembled violently, vision blurring in front of her eyes.

"Please, Professor, don't…" Hermione pleaded pitifully, not really knowing what for. "Master Lupin…"

"You are a Muggleborn," the werewolf said in a dangerously controlled voice.

She timidly peered up at him. His wolfish yellow eyes bored into her. Panic wrapped so tightly around her, Hermione couldn't get out a word. So, she only nodded at him.

"You're posing as a student…?" the captain stated colourlessly as he released her arm.

Hermione trembled all over while tears ran down her cheeks. She fell down on her knees before Lupin and had her head cast down as she begged hopelessly,

"Please, Master Lupin. Please, don't tell anyone."

Hermione knew he wouldn't listen. It was over. Everything. She gritted her teeth to stop a sob from escaping her. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably as she wondered what they would do to her.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

'I was in the darkness;

I could not see my words

Nor the wishes of my heart.

Then suddenly there was a great light –

"Let me into the darkness again."'

- Stephen Crane

(*1871 † 1900)