Disclaimer in chapter one

A/N: early update… eh, you probably shouldn't get used to that ;) I hope you'll like it. The last scene is one of the first I had in mind when I started this fic. Took me some time to get to the point, eh? Haha In any way, tell me what you think about it. I love reading your reviews.

Of course, thanks to all the reviewers from last chapter. I love you, guys :)

Eliana Amboni, AraelDranoth, Lioness32, FadedSunset, Nikita, Obey the Muse, Kathy376fun, The all mighty and powerfulM, P N Tran, Slytherrclaw, PinkSlytherin, sidasquid, Leo, Emilie Nightingale, yasaminyyy, FemmeFerret, Anna, KnoKnayme, YoursAnnie, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, alannalove1990, Guest, JuliaLestrange, Electray, Guest, Guest, sheddingeverycolor, MapleofFrance, sakurarules4eternity, The all mighty and powerfulM, Elased, PendantOfGoddes, THEPrincessx, PraticallyCharmed, TheNewCompanion, HelloIamGracie, 64teeth, markovgirl

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Chapter Twenty Seven: My True Element

Hermione sequestered herself away in the library and pored over the darkest books she had ever opened. It was only one topic she hunted through the books' pages: Horcruxes. The more she read, the worse it got. Ritual murder, dark magic, violence and blood were the foundations that held together the Horcrux and simultaneously twisted the soul into something unnatural. With growing fear and revulsion, Hermione read the old scripts. Who would ever follow this path? Who would be desperate enough? One answer spooked through her head as if whispered into her ear by the ghostly voice of RAB,

Tom Riddle.

Hermione's fingers tightened around the book and she felt its dark magic thrumming under her fingertips. Magick Moste Evil was a book that certainly kept what the title promised.

…but Tom wasn't really going to do it, was he?

Hermione closed her eyes and ran a shaky hand over her face. Tom wouldn't go and murder someone in cold blood. Not the Tom she knew so well. Only recently, he had dared to open up and trusted her enough to tell her about his childhood. They were so close, Tom wouldn't… couldn't hide something like this from her.

Hermione closed Magick Moste Evil and stared down at the book cover with empty eyes. RAB's letter, which still sat in her robe pocket, told her of a very different Tom Riddle and Hermione was having doubts. Merlin help her, but she doubted Tom. RAB had woven a picture of a much darker Tom and Hermione couldn't deny the truth behind those words. She had seen Tom using people when it benefitted him. Sometimes he threatened them and sometimes he used violence and fear to get what he wanted. Never, though, had she seen him show remorse over his actions.

Still, wouldn't Tom shy away from something like a Horcrux?

Frustration was welling up in Hermione as she stared at the book in her hands. She was wasting her time here. The library had told her everything it could offer and more than Hermione had ever wanted to know about Horcruxes. There was really only one thing left to do.

Reluctantly, she stood up from her seat and, with a flick of her wand, sent all the books back to their places on the shelves. Only Magick Moste Evil remained in her hand. She didn't even know why, but she slipped the book into her robe pocket. There was a numb feeling of guilt gnawing at her as she left the library without checking the book officially out.

On her way to the Slytherin common room, everywhere Hermione met students with happy smiles on their faces. The whole castle seemed to be bustling with carefree people, their only worry finding a date for the upcoming ball. Hermione ached to join them, but couldn't. Dark thoughts swam through her mind as she descended the stairs to the dungeons.

Just a corridor away from the Slytherin common room, Hermione stumbled upon Tom. Casually, he leaned against the corridor wall and talked with Bellatrix Black. As Hermione stepped closer Tom's gaze flicked to her, and her tense body automatically relaxed as she spotted a small smile curling his lips. It was strange under the circumstances, but Tom's presence still made her feel secure.

"Oh, look, Tom, your little girlfriend is here," Bellatrix jeered, mad glint burning in her eyes as she scanned Hermione.

"Indeed," Tom murmured amusedly.

Bellatrix wasn't paying him much attention anymore and was now entranced with Hermione. A destructive smile tugged at her full lips and she laughed softly while she studied Hermione interestedly. Hermione didn't quite know how to react. Although she had left Malfoy manor behind a long time ago, Bellatrix Black still managed to intimidate her. Hermione tensed as the witch sauntered towards her, invading her personal space. Smile still twisting her lips, Bellatrix raised a hand and ran her long nailed fingers through Hermione's curls.

"You're so neat and prim," she cooed contently. "So whole and radiant."

Hermione shuddered as Bellatrix leaned closer while her hand slipped to Hermione's chin, clasping it in a strangely gentle hold. Bellatrix' eyes glinting madly as she inspected Hermione's face. Then she declared seriously,

"You are the antithesis."

She turned her head and looked at Tom. "Is that why you spend your time with her, Riddle?"

Tom gazed at the crazy witch, smirk ghosting around his handsome features, but remained silent. Bellatrix chortled and turned back to Hermione.

"Little Miss Hermione," the witch sung. "You're pure. Like a knife through skin."

With wide eyes, Hermione stared at Bellatrix. It was Tom who spoke next. Amusement tinting his voice, he said,

"You've had your fun, Bellatrix. Leave her be."

For a moment longer, Bellatrix' touch lingered. Then the witch just smirked at Hermione and shrugged her shoulders.

"Whatever," she told Tom. "Do what you want. You know I'm right."

Finally she released Hermione and sauntered down the corridor, cackling softly, and left Hermione to collect her scattered thoughts.

"What did you want?" Tom's voice brought her back to the matter at hand.

A feeling of dread rushed back to Hermione as the Horcruxes sprung to the forefront of her mind. Reluctantly, she looked up at the dark-haired wizard and her fears crashed down on her again. RAB's letter seemed to burn forebodingly in her pocket.

"I- I need to talk with you."

Tom cocked a questioning eyebrow as he heard her shaky reply. "Okay?"

"Not here."

Tom nodded, obviously confused by her anxiety. Gingerly, he took her hand in his and led her down the corridor. His touch burned like fire and still Hermione held on. She felt like suffocating as they walked through the castle. Too soon, much too soon, they reached the Heads' common room and were finally alone. For a moment they stood in silence, Hermione unable to say anything. She didn't want to broach the topic they needed to discuss.

Tom, oblivious to her inner turmoil, cocked an eyebrow. "So? What happened that got you into such a gloomy mood?"

Hermione worried her lower lip. Her heart hammered away in her chest and she would have preferred to flee this conversation.

"I…"

Hermione didn't know how to start without it turning into an accusation. Surely RAB was a liar. Would Tom be angry with her for doubting him? Trepidation knotted her stomach and Hermione's throat constricted. With shaky hands, she pulled the letter from her pocket and offered it to Tom. He watched her actions, a frown taking form on his face, still he accepted the letter. Fear ripped at her as Hermione watched him unfold the parchment. She could barely breathe as his eyes swiftly wandered over RAB's message. The frown on Tom's face got deeper and deeper and as he finally reached the ending there was anger smouldering in his eyes.

"Do you know who wrote this?" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione jumped at his sharp tone and replied softly, "No. As you can see, they used an alias."

For a moment, Tom didn't say anything but glared at the letter. Suspicion bubbled up in Hermione and she had to ask, "Do you know who RAB is?"

Tom crinkled his nose in distaste. "No, why should I?"

It sounded sincere enough, but somehow Hermione wasn't sure anymore. Had he maybe recognized the initials? Or the handwriting? Hermione shook her head, trying to untangle her thoughts. It didn't matter. What really mattered to Hermione was Tom dispelling the doubts that RAB had conjured up.

"Tom…?" she whispered hesitantly. "This- What RAB writes, it's not true, is it?"

"What?" A cruel smirk appeared on Tom's face. "That he's powerless? A hypocrite? No, I think that is very much true."

Hermione swallowed nervously, not finding anything remotely funny about this situation. She looked at Tom pleadingly.

"You know what I mean. What he said about Horcruxes."

"Yes, that…"

Tom's eyes wandered back to the letter and the smirk dropped from his face. A dangerous expression darkened his features and he hissed,

"That is definitely a problem."

Hermione's eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath of air. Her voice trembled heavily as she inquired, "W- what does that mean? You're not really planning to create a H- Horcrux, are you?"

Tom's icy blue eyes flashed at her, making her flinch, and as if it were nothing he sneered, "Of course I am. And you can be sure RAB will pay dearly for spying on me."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him as panic cruelly twisted around her chest and all thoughts fled her mind. Tom was completely unaffected by her falling in a state of despair. Cold gleam in his eyes, he refolded RAB's letter and slipped it into his robe pocket.

"You can't be serious," Hermione managed to choke out. "Horcruxes are not… Was this your plan all the time? You want to find the Founders' objects just to turn them into these… these vile things?"

Tom's frosty eyes gazed at her, his face a blank unreadable mask. Then he replied coldly,

"Yes."

Hermione was taken aback by his offhand confession. A smirk slid on Tom's face and he commented lightly,

"I don't really understand why you call them vile, though."

Hermione's throat constricted painfully and she had to cough before she was able to answer, "I read about Horcruxes, Tom. I wish I hadn't. They're horrible. Wrong."

Tom reproachfully clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We're talking about immortality here, Hermione."

"I gathered that much," Hermione replied tightly. "It doesn't change what they are."

Tom simply eyed her pityingly as if he thought she were a bit slow. Hermione's magic gave a furious budge. All that she had read about Horcruxes rushed back to her. They were simply disgusting. Anger mounted up in Hermione as Tom so nonchalantly shrugged off her worries.

"Don't tell me you're wouldn't be tempted," Tom sneered. "Not even a little?"

"Tempted?" Hermione echoed coldly. "Tempted by what? Would I like to live forever? Forever be happy? Forever be with my friends and my family? Never having to say good-bye? There is no-one who wouldn't be tempted by that."

A triumphant glint appeared in Tom's eyes, but Hermione didn't want to let it take root. She crinkled her nose in disgust and continued caustically,

"That's just fantasy, Tom. A wish, a fairy tale. We're living in reality. Things never go that smoothly and you never gain anything without paying."

Tom shook his head at her in disappointment and said arrogantly, "I know what I have to give to gain immortality. It is nothing I would miss."

Hermione laughed at that, a mirthless sound from her lips. "So you want to split your soul. And you are not in the least bit concerned that you're giving away something essential? Are you not at all scared that something could go wrong with your plan?"

A haughty smile curved Tom's lips. "I am prepared."

Hermione nodded, but then demanded, "Tell me one thing, Tom." She took a step towards him and looked up into his starkly blue eyes. "What is the soul?"

An annoyed expression darkened Tom's features. "What stupid question is that?"

"It's not stupid," Hermione insisted. "It's reasonable. Apparently, this is the currency for immortality. What is the soul?"

Tom glowered at her, not willing to lower himself to answer. Hermione shook her head at his lack of insight.

"You don't know, do you?" she stated irately. "Of course you don't. Because no-one does. Scientists, philosophers, alchemists, they could probably argue about this for years and years and not find an answer."

Hermione reached for Tom's hand. She needed to make him understand. Holding his hand gently, she tried to reason with him, "You are using this magic, this Horcrux, but you do not really understand it. You can't possibly know what it's going to do to you."

Tom ripped his hand free from her grasp and glared down at her.

"I studied the spell, Hermione," he hissed, venom seeping through his tone. "I know what I'm doing. It's been done before."

Hermione pulled Magick Moste Evil from her robe pocket and said derisively, "It's been done before. Really?"

As Tom just looked at her, Hermione shook her head and continued curtly, "You know, on this planet, every day people get murdered. It's nothing we should be proud of, but it is happening. Every day people die and others become murderers."

She opened the book and flipped to a certain page. With disgust in her voice she stated, "Here it is. The book says Herpo the Foul is the only one known to have created a Horcrux." Hermione's gaze snapped back to Tom. "Herpo the Foul lived in ancient Greece. That is more than two-thousand years ago. Two-thousand years and he is the only one who created a Horcrux? A world full of murderers, but no-one ever wanted to gain immortality? Why?"

Tom sneered at her, twisting up his otherwise so handsome features. "You don't know that. Maybe they just weren't foolish enough to talk about such an accomplishment."

Hermione snorted, "Please. People like to brag. Two-thousand years, but not one single mention of a Horcrux? Not very plausible. So I ask, why did no-one create a Horcrux?"

Irritably, Tom gestured at the book in her hand and hissed darkly, "The information on Horcruxes is not easy to find. I needed years to gather all the information"

"Really?" Hermione sneered in disbelief. "You know where I found this book?" She raised Magick Moste Evil.

"In the Restricted Section," was Tom's curt reply.

Hermione arched her eyebrows. "Yes, I found this book on Horcruxes in the library of a school. And you really think no-one else could have found it?"

"Creating a Horcrux," Tom said, his voice gaining a deathly cold streak. "is very advanced Dark Magic. Believe me, not many could understand the spell work behind it. Maybe people get murdered every day. But how many of their murderers are wizards? How many of those wizards know about Horcruxes and how many of those could hope to understand the magic?"

Hermione's temper snapped and with an angry movement she threw the book on the couch. It bounced off the upholstery and fell to the floor.

"You know why no-one created a Horcrux?" Hermione yelled furiously. "Because it is not working!"

"You would be foolish to believe that," Tom scoffed callously "You haven't read the theory behind the spell. You wouldn't know."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line and hissed through gritted teeth, "Assuming you are right, you still haven't answered my question." As Tom mockingly arched his eyebrows she spat, "What is the soul? Does it even exist? Before you split something away from your body, you should know that."

"It doesn't matter," Tom replied angrily. "By creating a Horcrux I gain immortal life."

"You are playing with things you have no control over," Hermione said sharply. "Things that are irreversible."

Tom just glared at her, very much unimpressed. Hermione breathed in deeply to calm herself. With yelling at Tom, she wouldn't achieve anything. She needed a clear head. Hermione took a step towards him. Cautiously, she raised her hand and put it on his chest, stroking him tenderly. Her voice was soft as she reasoned with him,

"If you don't know what exactly the soul is, you also don't know what you are giving up here. Maybe it's something you need. Why are you so keen on selling your soul, Tom? This is nothing but a deal with the devil."

Hermione fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, holding it desperately, as she stared up into Tom's blue eyes.

"Please," Hermione beseeched. "Please, don't do it. Tom, I beg you."

Tom gazed at her. Hermione trembled slightly as his eyes slowly wandered over her. As he eyed the distress that was undoubtedly on her face, the hard tinge drained from his face. Hermione was relieved to see softness seeping into his blue eyes. Tom raised a hand and gingerly cupped her cheek. Hermione leaned into the touch. An affectionate smile played around his lips. He leaned down to her and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

"Don't worry," Tom whispered lovingly.

Hermione breathed out in relief, glad that she had managed to reach Tom. As he bent up again, the smile still hovered around his lips. Then Tom opened his mouth and said,

"Nothing is going to happen to me. I have this under control. I know what I'm doing. I will achieve what no-one ever dared to do before. I will create six Horcruxes."

Hermione's eyes widened, fear flashing through her like a physical pain. "S- six Horcruxes?!"

"Yes," Tom affirmed in a low voice. "Seven pieces of my soul. The most powerfully magical number."

Shock washed over her as she stared at him.

"N- no," she stuttered weakly and stumbled away from him.

A smile washed over Tom's face. It was out of place and inappropriate, considering the topic of this conversation. Still, Tom smiled as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Ravenclaw's Diadem," he recited, twisted pride in his voice. "Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup. The object Gryffindor created."

Tom raised his right hand and showed her the golden ring on his finger.

"This," he told her, a disturbing glint in his eyes. "once belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, my grandfather. It's a family heirloom and it will be my fifth Horcrux."

Horror, pure horror, overwhelmed Hermione. In denial, she shook her head, her wide eyes flying back to Tom's. The smile was still pasted all over his face. The innocence behind the gesture clashed painfully with his words.

"And the last Horcrux, Hermione," Tom said. "That will be you."

She could do nothing but stare at him. All thoughts came to a stand-still as her reality twisted into a nightmare. Her mind crashed and it felt as if all life had been sucked out of her, leaving her body empty and cold. A distorted form of concern flooded Tom's features as he saw her breaking down. He smiled at her softly and raised a hand. Hermione was paralysed, trapped in her nightmare, as Tom gently rubbed his hand over her cheek.

"Believe me, you won't get harmed. It's going to be fine. You will be fine."

Hermione felt tears prickling in her eyes, but shock did not allow them to fall and bring release. She raised a shaky hand and wrapped her fingers around Tom's wrist.

"No, please," she begged, words falling from her trembling lips. "You can't do this. Please."

A soft smile flashed down at her and Tom replied, "There is no need to be afraid. You have to trust me."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. The embrace was gentle and warm, but still managed to leave Hermione chilled to the bone.

"You are important to me," Tom assured in a soothing voice. "I will protect you. As my Horcrux you will be closest to me and I will be closest to you."

Hermione tore away from Tom and stuttered weakly, "Please, Tom. Y- you are not a murderer. Please."

Tom smiled at her indulgently as if she had said something ridiculous. Fond expression on his face, he said, "Silly girl. Don't you know? I already am a murderer."

Hermione shook her head in desperation, but then uttered what she had long since suspected to be the truth, "Neville Longbottom?"

"I killed him," Tom easily admitted, the smile on his face out of place.

"Why?" Hermione breathed weakly.

There was not even a hint of remorse in Tom's voice as he replied, "I just wanted to know what it feels like."

Hermione swallowed thickly, feeling nauseous. "Y- you are the Heir of Slytherin?"

Tom inclined his head. "Yes. My mother is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. I am his heir."

"N- no…"

Tom reached for her but this time Hermione shied away from his touch. Irritation crossed his handsome features at her retreat and continued opposition. Traces of his upcoming temper seeped through his voice as Tom rebuked her, "Use your head, Hermione. How do you think my mother managed to be allowed to live like a Muggle? To marry a Muggle? Even have a halfblooded son?" He laughed darkly. "She used her name. Slytherin's name. The ministry bows to one thing only: pure blood. And my mother belongs to one of the oldest and purest bloodlines that ever existed."

Hermione's whole body trembled as she stared at him. A vicious smirk twisted Tom's lips and she could barely recognize him.

"You can't do this," she whispered pleadingly. "All those people… You can't just murder them. Think what you would have to do, Tom. It's not worth it."

Her desperation did nothing to dispel the devilish smile from Tom's face. A mad glint shone in his eyes and he said, "This is something I have planned for years. You should be proud to be a part of it."

Hermione stared up at him. She was still trapped in a cruel nightmare, tears pooling in her eyes and her whole body cold as ice. Helpless and defenceless, she stood in front of something that could only be called… a monster? Hermione shook her head and balled her hands into fists. Not helpless! Not anymore.

As she spoke next all traces of softness left her voice and it was hard as steel, "I will not be one of your Horcruxes."

"You are mine," was Tom's reply, eyes shining menacingly. "Mine. You will be staying by my side. And you will do as I say."

Hermione looked up at him, meeting his vicious gaze. Then she shook her head and stated, voice hollow,

"No."

Not waiting for his reply, Hermione turned around and walked away. Tom didn't chase after her, but as she slipped from the room his voice followed and his conviction struck fear into her very heart,

"You will change your mind, Hermione."

†

Hermione felt like she was walking through a strange dream landscape as she wandered Hogwarts' corridors. She was trapped in a world of horror and wherever she went it followed her. Neither the other students' merry laughter nor the warm sun rays as she left the castle could reach her.

Not speaking with anyone, Hermione walked to the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. Then she pulled her wand and disapparated. Seconds later, she materialized in front of an iron gate. Hermione's hands curled around the bars so tightly her knuckles turned white as she glared at the huge manor house on top of the hill. Like a perfect apparation it stood there, looking quite peaceful and innocent in the middle of Hermione's nightmare.

Monsters were not born; they were made and forced into their shape. Hermione knew that Tom was not a monster. She knew him and she had come to love him. It broke her heart that he was forced to do all those horrible things. Hermione knew it was not his fault …not all of it. From the very start of his life, Tom's father had hated his son. He was the one who had told Tom he was a monster. Riddle Sr. had abandoned his son before he was even born. He had always despised Tom's magic and had locked him away for the most part of his youth.

Riddle Sr. had destroyed Tom.

Hermione's magic crackled furiously in the air as she glared at the mansion. Riddle Sr. had put Tom in an asylum, hoping his magic could be crushed. Tom's father had condemned his own son while his mother had stood by, doing nothing. It was their faultthat Tom now thought he needed to kill to survive.

An angry twitch rippled through Hermione's magic and it clashed brutally against the iron gate, blowing it from its hinges. Tom had been forced to grow up knowing nothing but hate. Hermione might be horrified by his plans, but she would not reject him. She would not hate him like his own family had done. Hate, she decided as she walked up to the mansion, would be reserved for the ones who'd earned it.

Magic furiously storming around her, Hermione walked towards the huge manor house. The gravel of the path crunched under her angry steps and her hand shook with suppressed fury as she raised it to knock at the entrance door. A woman opened, but it wasn't Merope.

"Yes?" the short woman asked. "How can I help you?"

Hermione didn't know who this was nor did she care. Anger seeping through her voice she hissed, "I'm here for Mr Riddle."

The woman, probably the Riddles' maid, narrowed her eyes, not at all appreciating Hermione's impolite behaviour. Still, she replied evenly, "Who can I announce?"

Hermione wasn't in the mood for this and simply pushed past the maid. Completely ignoring the woman's protest, she stalked into the entrance hall. Her magic still bristled around her and it didn't take much for Hermione to sense another source of magic near-by. It seeped through the walls from the room to her left and felt vaguely familiar. Bits of it resembled Tom's magic. Merope. A new wave of anger bubbled up in Hermione and, completely ignoring the maid, she strode towards the room.

"H- hey," the maid stuttered. "You can't just walk in here."

Hermione didn't reply but reached for the door handle. The maid would have probably stopped her, but Hermione's magic crackled around her and made it impossible for the Muggle woman to approach her. Hermione ripped the door open and entered the drawing room.

The room was as large and impressive as she remembered it. Now, though, Hermione's nose crinkled in disgust at the splendour. Her eyes quickly fell on the two people in the sitting area. Merope sat on a sofa, reading in a book. Across from her on an armchair sat Mr Riddle. Hermione's magic gave an angry budge at the man's sight. It was disgusting how much Mr Riddle looked like Tom. Hermione glared at him darkly. By now Merope and her husband both looked over at her, surprised by her sudden entrance.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Riddle," the maid apologized, looking nervously to her employer. "She just barged in. I couldn't stop her."

Mr Riddle stood up from the sofa and now fixed Hermione with an angry stare. Never taking his eyes from her, he addressed the maid, anger already seeping through his voice,

"It's fine, Margaret. Leave us alone, please"

Hermione heard the door behind her being closed, but she had eyes only for Mr Riddle. Merope watched the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Hermione?" the woman whispered shakily. "What are you doing here, dear?"

Hermione didn't reply, but stalked further into the drawing room, her magic storming around her aggressively. With sick satisfaction, she saw Mr Riddle's eyes widen with fear. Quickly, he managed to pull himself together again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and the arrogant expression slid back on his face. He struck an imposing figure as he stood in the middle of the large room and stared her down.

"What are you doing here?" Mr Riddle demanded to know. "I thought I made it clear that I don't want your kind of people in my home."

Hermione's eyes shortly flew to Merope. She watched the whole thing anxiously, but remained silent. Tom's mother would never stand up against her husband, Hermione realized. A rush of anger hit her at Merope's passivity. Eyes sliding back to Mr Riddle, Hermione bared her teeth and hissed furiously,

"I want to know what you did to Tom."

A mirthless laugh fell from the man's mouth. "What I did to him?"

"Don't deny it," Hermione snarled venomously. "You hurt him."

Mr Riddle's face turned purple with his anger. He took a threatening step towards Hermione and yelled in outrage, "You dare come into my house and sprout such baseless accusations? Who gave you the right?"

"Baseless?" Hermione sniped viciously. "I know everything. How you abandoned Tom, how you mistreated him."

Mr Riddle's hands balled into fists and he snapped, "Is that what he told you?! That I allegedly mistreated him? Ridiculous!"

"Are you seriously going to deny this?" Hermione raged. "You rejected him, you locked him away, didn't you? The only thing that's missing is physical abuse. You're the monster here. Not Tom!"

"Maybe that's what he missed," Mr Riddle bit out sharply. "A good slap now and then and he might not have turned out to be such a freak."

Hermione was disgusted by that statement and her magic stormed around her, mirroring her fury. It was that moment that Merope finally spoke up.

"Tom, please," she diffidently tried to appease her husband's temper. "Don't say that."

Mr Riddle completely ignored her in favour of glaring at Hermione. Merope was huddled on the sofa, eyeing her husband pleadingly. Hermione was deeply revolted by the both of them. Merope's weakness and Mr Riddle's cruelty were unbearable. Her fingers itched to pull her wand and curse them, show them a small glimpse of how Tom must have felt as a little boy.

She wanted to make them hurt.

Fed by her mounting wrath, Hermione's magic crackled menacingly in the air. Her eyes glowed dangerously as she glared at Mr Riddle

"You never loved Tom!" Hermione thundered at the despicable man. "He is your son and you never loved him."

Mr Riddle bared his teeth and glowered at Hermione darkly. His voice was twisted with malice as he snapped, "That boy does not deserve love."

Hermione actually stumbled a step back as she was hit by Mr Riddle's anger and she stared at the man in shock. Quickly, though, her fury rushed back to her.

"How can you say that?" the Gryffindor yelled, fierce glint in her brown eyes. "Because he's a wizard? You hate your own son, because he's different?"

Hermione took a step towards the man. Her magic bristled around her and with grim satisfaction she watched Mr Riddle recoiling slightly.

"It's not Tom's fault that he has magic," Hermione snarled angrily. "You shouldn't hate him because of it. You should have accepted him and be proud of what he is."

Mr Riddle glared at her as if he wished to kill her with his bare hands. As he spoke next, his voice was ice cold,

"Get out."

Hermione didn't listen. Instead she accused cruelly, "You are scared of Tom's magic, because you can't understand it. That's why you locked him away in that institution. Because you are a coward. You couldn't deal with the fact that your son is special, so you wanted to punish him for it."

Mr Riddle didn't react to her accusations. Strangely, all his fury seemed to drain from him and left an empty expression on his face. Dull eyes stared at Hermione and she was bewildered by the abrupt mood change. Wordlessly, Mr. Riddle turned away from her. He took a few steps to the sofa and for a moment simply stared down at his wife. He didn't say anything and Hermione couldn't see his face, only Merope's as she weakly smiled up at her husband. Finally, Mr Riddle bent down to Merope and placed a kiss on her forehead before he whispered simply,

"Talk with her. I… I can't…"

Then Mr Riddle left the drawing room without a glance in Hermione's direction. Staggered by the man's strange behaviour, she stared at the door through which he had disappeared. Hermione was ripped from her thoughts as someone pulled at her hand. She turned to Merope. The woman had grabbed Hermione's hand and now gently tugged at her. Feeling quite confused, Hermione allowed herself to be pulled towards the sofa and sat down.

"Don't worry about him," said Merope, gesturing at the door. "He'll be fine."

Her brown eyes wandered to Hermione. Hermione's anger had strangely ebbed away. It seemed to have vanished with Mr Riddle's abrupt departure and she was left in a state of confusion.

"You're wrong about him, you know," Merope said gingerly.

"What?" Hermione blustered indignantly.

"My husband," Merope replied softly. "You said that he never loved Tommy."

A hint of her previous anger returned and Hermione growled hotly, "But that's true, isn't it? Otherwise he wouldn't have hurt his own son like he did."

Merope shook her head. Then she asked carefully, "What did Tommy tell you?"

"He told me all about his accidental magic in kindergarten," Hermione said firmly, hints of anger again in her voice.

She glared at Merope accusatorily as she continued darkly, "It was accidental magic. It wasn't Tom's fault. And yet, with those first signs of magic, his father abandoned him and threw him into a psychiatric clinic. For no reason! He just couldn't accept that his son was a wizard. And you… you just let him do that to Tom. How could you?!"

Hit by Hermione's accusation, Merope exhaled slowly. Her hand trembled as she raised it and ran it over her face. For a moment, she didn't reply anything but seemed to fight against tears. Then Merope smiled shakily at Hermione and whispered,

"I'm surprised Tommy told you about his time in the Pinel clinic. You must be really important to him."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the woman. Merope sat, sunken down, on the sofa and looked quite miserable. Tom had been right, Hermione thought harshly, Merope was weak. It was her fault Tom had to suffer, just because she was too weak to go against her husband.

"I still remember that day," Merope whispered, her voice so soft it was barely audible. "I was cooking lunch as Tommy's kindergarten teacher called. The woman was so distraught, I could only understand that there had been an accident. I was afraid that Tommy might be hurt. I instantly called Tom and then we drove to Filey beach. An ambulance and police were already there… other parents… the children were crying. Tom was standing a bit apart from the other people. He wasn't crying. I was so relieved that he was alright. Two children had almost drowned."

"And you could feel it, couldn't you?" Hermione accused harshly. "You instantly knew that magic had been used, didn't you?"

Merope nodded reluctantly. "Yes. I knew. I could sense Tommy's magic all over him. It wasn't difficult to guess what had happened."

"So you told your husband?"

"No," replied Merope. "He already knew."

"And that's when he decided to throw Tom away," hissed Hermione bitterly. "And you just stood by, doing nothing."

"The children Tommy attacked almost drowned in that cave," Merope omitted to answer.

Angrily, Hermione replied, "It was accidental magic!"

She was taken aback as Merope then laughed mirthlessly and said, "Yes, that's what I thought, as well."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "What…?"

Merope peered at her and continued her story, "I told my husband that it was accidental magic. That it wasn't Tommy's fault. It could have happened to anybody. There was no use blaming the child."

"But he-" hissed Hermione, anger thick in her voice. "But Mr Riddle didn't believe you, did he?"

Sadness crossed Merope's face. Suddenly the woman looked so grief-ridden that Hermione felt a jab of unwelcome pity in her stomach. Sorrow laced her voice as Merope answered,

"No. Tom did believe me."

Hermione tensed. She hadn't seen that coming. Confusion washed over her, driving away any rest of fury.

"But I thought he…"

Merope sighed painfully. Then she looked Hermione in the eyes and said quietly, "We both know that what Tommy did that day was a lot of things, but certainly not accidental magic. It was too advanced. Too vindictive." She broke eye contact with Hermione. "Yet, I told my husband otherwise. And he believed me. I am to blame…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, no longer knowing if she really wanted an answer.

"We took Tommy home," said Merope shakily. "I didn't talk with him about the accident. I couldn't. Neither could Tom. We didn't bring Tommy back to kindergarten. He was six by then. He was going to be enrolled in primary school in a few months anyway." Nervously Merope wrung her hands in her lap. "Tommy was behaving normally. He didn't show any signs of magic. So… I managed to convince myself that it really had been an accident. Everything was fine…"

By the tone of her voice, Hermione could tell that nothing had been fine for Merope. Still full of bitterness, Hermione said accusingly, "Tom told me, right after that incident with the cave you brought him to a mental hospital. You shoved him away."

Merope flinched as she heard it. Clearly this wasn't a topic that she ever talked about. Still, the woman forced herself to answer, "No, that's not true. We didn't do that. I had still hope. No, we sent Tommy to primary school like any normal boy. The teachers instantly liked him. I was proud and my husband was relieved because Tommy didn't show any magic. He finished first grade as the best of his year."

Merope took in a deep breath of air and, frankly, looked rather sick. Then she whispered, her voice almost breaking, "During the following summer break- I remember, it was a Saturday… My husband had bought tickets for the theatre. Faust. I love the theatre. So we went together, me and Tom." Merope swallowed thickly. "Tommy was only seven. So… so Tom asked his parents to babysit him... We were gone a few hours. After the play, we had a glass of wine. I really enjoyed myself and wasn't in the least bit hurrying to get home… It must have been after midnight that we got back."

Merope hesitated to continue. As she finally did her voice was hoarse and almost broke, "We found them in the drawing room. Tom's parents. I saw them… lying there… and instantly knew what happened. I just knew."

"Were they- What happened to them?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"Tom called an ambulance," whispered Merope, tears swimming in her eyes. "As they arrived, the doctor could only record the death."

Hermione gasped as she heard it. Mr. Riddle's parents had died? How?

"Again," Merope said, sadness thick in her voice. "I could feel it in the air. I could almost smell it. It was all over the drawing room. Tommy's magic."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and her whole body stiffened. Ice cold horror froze over her blood.

"Tom? He- he-" she stuttered pathetically.

"He killed them," Merope said, her voice painfully firm now. "No other way to put it. Tommy killed his grandparents."

Silence rang deafeningly. Hermione tried to process the information and couldn't reply anything.

"I found Tommy in his room," Merope continued, tiredness seeping through her tone. "He was reading a book, lying on his bed. He was calm, relaxed even. I didn't ask him what happened. I knew. We both knew. I found my wand in the drawer of his desk. I hadn't touched that wand since I got pregnant with Tommy, you must know. I have no idea how long Tommy already had the wand before I found it."

"So…" Hermione mumbled weakly. "Tom knew that he was a wizard? He knew about magic? He told me he only found out as he got the letter from Hogwarts."

Merope shook her head, scanning Hermione sadly. "He knew. I told him when he was very little."

"And… and he…" Hermione's voice trembled. "Tom used your wand to kill Mr Riddle's parents? His… his own grandparents?"

Merope nodded, almost imperceptibly. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "What happened after you found the wand?"

"I had a talk with my husband," Merope replied. "He was so very sad about his parents' death. We knew we had to do something. That's when we decided to give Tommy away. He needed help. Help that neither of us could give him. So, I contacted the Pinel psychiatric clinic. There are experts that could talk with Tommy, help him control his anger and his magic."

"The doctors knew about magic?" Hermione asked confused. Hadn't it been a Muggle institution?

"Yes," said Merope. "First we thought about putting Tommy in a Muggle clinic, but they wouldn't have been able to contain him if he attacked with magic. So, I talked with the healers at St. Mungo's and they referred Tommy to the Pinel clinic. Tommy hated us for putting him there. For months he refused to even talk with me as I visited. It was a hard time. For all of us. Tommy had to stay there for so long. I missed him terribly."

Merope glanced at Hermione and threw her a weak smile. "As he was finally released, he was better. Not good, but better. Then I was so proud of him as he was allowed to go to Hogwarts. I had been afraid they wouldn't take him. And Tommy was doing so good at school. I know he still resents his father and me for having abandoned him to that clinic. But I'm so happy that he's doing good at school. He has the best grades, he made some friends, and now he's even Head Boy. I never hear anything bad about Tommy from any of the teachers. He's so much better now. And then…" This time Merope's smile was genuine as she looked at Hermione. "Then he visited us last holiday. With you. Voluntarily. It's more than I could have hoped for."

Hermione looked at the happy smile on Merope's face and felt something slowly, mercilessly tightening around her throat. Her stomach turned into one painful knot and she felt like suffocating. What should she tell Merope now? Tell her about Neville Longbottom, about the Knights of Walpurgis, about Horcruxes… about how Tom had never changed? How he still was like that little boy who had killed his grandparents in cold blood?

The smile on Merope's face gained a sad streak as she added, "You must know, my husband… he really loves Tommy. He does. But since his parents died… Looking at Tommy hurts him. It's making him say harsh things. But he doesn't blame Tommy. If he blames anyone, then it's me."

Hermione looked at Merope. Unshed tears swam in the woman's eyes.

"Why would he blame you?" Hermione asked gingerly.

Merope smiled at her weakly. "I made a lot of mistakes in my youth. And one was… Let's say I hurt Tom in the most horrible way. It's actually a miracle he stayed with me. I'm very grateful."

Merope put a hand on Hermione's arm and rubbed it gently. A smile was on her face as she said, "But that's another story. Don't worry about it. It's in the past. I just want you to know that my husband cares about Tommy just as much as I do. I'm very glad Tommy finally managed to put our problems behind himself."

Hermione could do nothing but to stare at Merope. There was such a beautiful glint of hope in the woman's eyes, Hermione couldn't bring herself to snuff it.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. I didn't know."

"Oh, it's fine," Merope said, gently skimming a hand over Hermione's arm. "In fact, I'm glad that you did. It shows how much you like Tommy. I'm happy he found someone like you."

Hermione nodded, forcing herself to smile even though she felt like bursting in tears. "I have to go now."

"Of course." Merope smiled.

"Can you…" Hermione said hesitantly. "Can you tell Mr Riddle that I'm sorry?"

"Yes," said Merope, still smiling. "Don't worry. He's not angry with you. He's just still very hurt. But I'm sure, someday he'll forgive himself and hopefully me, too."

She showed Hermione to the door and before Hermione could leave, Merope said cheerfully, "You are very welcome to visit again. Maybe next time together with Tommy."

Hermione threw her a weak smile but couldn't force herself to reply. Then she turned and walked away.

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

'I am the spirit, ever, that denies!

And rightly so: since everything created,

In turn deserves to be annihilated:

Better if nothing came to be.

So all that you call Sin, you see,

Destruction, in short, what you've meant

By Evil is my true element.'

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

(*1749 † 1832)