Disclaimer in Chapter One
A/N: Hello, dear readers. I finally finished the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. Either way, let me now what you think about it ^^
Huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I love you, guys. I didn't manage to reply to each and every one of you, but let me tell you the reviews are such a wonderful part of fanfic writing. You're all awesome!
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Chapter Thirty-Nine: Padded Cell
To be honest, he wasn't sure why he was even here. There were a thousand other things he had to take care of. Just an hour ago he'd got a rather panicked status report from Bole. Apparently, the idiot had managed to lose one of his fireteams somewhere in the Algerian Desert. He should not have promoted Bole. Clearly, the man was a shit sergeant.
Greyback thrummed his fingers against the tabletop, long claws leaving scratches. Well, fuck it. At least Mitcham, the missing fireteam's corporal, was reasonably competent. He'd probably get his men out the desert. Still, the whole thing left Greyback mildly annoyed. The next time he saw Bole he was going to tear the bastard a new one.
"I contacted Signe."
Greyback boredly glanced at the man who'd spoken, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a bit of a loner, that one, wasn't he? Greyback could never get a good reading on the guy. Very private person. Potentially dangerous.
"And?" Tonks asked, leaning a bit towards the man over the table.
Greyback scanned the woman with the crazy hair. At least Lupin had taste. She was a fine piece of ass to be sure. Bit loud-mouthed, but you can't have everything. And Tonks knew how to throw a punch which always was a plus in a woman if anyone asked Greyback.
"The ferry with the Muggleborns arrived in Kristiansand just an hour ago," Shacklebolt continued. "Everyone is well. The Muggleborns are being transported to the safe house as we speak."
Tonks exhaled in relief. "That's good."
Greyback silently agreed. Rescue missions were always a bit tricky, especially when civilians were involved. Too many unknowns. In a snap, things could go tits up.
Weasley nodded, relieved smile on her face. "So everyone made it out."
"Well, not everyone…" Lupin mumbled glumly.
Greyback scanned the captain. Lupin was slumped in his chair, looking defeated, with a pale face and dark rings under his eyes. Greyback felt the urge to snap at the captain to pull himself together. He held himself back. The captain's dejection, though unsightly on a Corps member, was understandable. He had lost a soldier in the mission. There really was nothing worse than that. Greyback had lost a few soldiers under his own command. It wasn't anything he liked to think about.
Black leaned towards Lupin and put a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder. Greyback honestly doubted it would do any good. Black himself looked like death warmed up. Again, he couldn't blame the man either. After all, Black was the leader of his so-called Order.
In a quiet voice, Black inquired, "What else did Signe say?"
Shacklebolt cleared his throat and continued, "They plan to settle the Muggleborns down in different cities. They have connections in Drammen, Bergen and Trondheim."
Black nodded his head and commented, "We should contact them again tomorrow. See how it went."
The Auror, Moody, eyed Shacklebolt and asked, "Do they all want to stay in our world or did some decide to go Muggle?"
Greyback rolled his eyes. Of course that's what the Auror was interested in. The ones that decided to stay in the Wizarding World could potentially become allies to the Order and support future missions.
"Most want to stay," Shacklebolt supplied in his deep voice. "But a few want to go back to the Muggle world,"
Weasley sighed deeply. Then the woman added, "Well, no one can blame those poor people. Our world must seem like hell to them."
Greyback couldn't help but frown at Weasley. The world, Muggle or not, had always been a shithole. Whining would do jack about that. His claws again scratched over the table's surface. He really felt like snapping someone's neck. Maybe he should go hunt later. Might do him some good.
Longbottom glared at Weasley. It made a sharp smirk appear on Greyback's face. He'd always liked the no-nonsense woman. Coldly, Longbottom said, "The mission was a success. We saved a hundred Muggleborns. With only two losses on our side. Does that count for nothing?"
Her harsh words managed to jolt Lupin out of his depressed mode and pushed him into a furious one. Greyback watched as his captain shot up from his seat. His fangs were bared in a snarl and he sniped,
"We didn't lose Hermione! She's still alive!"
Longbottom kept her cool, even when confronted with a livid werewolf. Greyback's respect for her rose a notch. Frostily, the woman replied, "You don't know that. It's very likely that they killed her."
Probably true, Greyback thought but hoped that he was wrong. He'd rather have the girl back in the barracks. Unharmed. Longbottom's callous words made Lupin lose his temper completely. The werewolf snarled furiously and would've probably thrown himself at Longbottom if Black hadn't held him back.
"Come on," Black whispered, trying to soothe the angry werewolf. "It's not Alice's fault."
Of course it did nothing to calm Lupin. Greyback chuckled at the two men, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. Eventually, he ordered,
"Captain, sit the fuck down."
Obviously, Lupin was still incensed, but he heard his superior's order and obeyed grudgingly, sinking back down to his seat. Black slumped into the chair next to the werewolf's. His face was pale, the pain shining in his eyes now even more pronounced. Greyback crinkled his nose and let his gaze wander over the other Order members. By now Weasley had tears in her eyes. Gingerly, her husband tried to console her. Tonks furtively wiped a hand over her own eyes. Shacklebolt just sat there stoney-faced with Moody at his side, not looking any better.
Well, morale hit rock bottom, didn't it? A sneer formed on Greyback's. He casually kicked back in his seat. After a moment of consideration, he opened his mouth and decided curtly,
"We have ter find her."
Now they all turned to stare at him. Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Greyback rolled his eyes at them. Of course Longbottom was the first to regain composure and sneer,
"It's too dangerous. A suicide mission. We'll lose even more people. And for what? We won't find Hermione."
Greyback just shrugged at her and replied nonchalantly, "No one gets left behind."
He stared them all down, one after the other, daring them to contradict him. The smirk was back on his face, baring his pointed teeth.
"Black, captain," he snapped and turned to the two despondent men. "'s yer job ter find out where the fuck the girl is. After ya found her, we'll consider our next steps. Do ya understand me?"
There was a second of baffled silence. Then Lupin seemed to remember proper conduct. Abruptly, he stood up and saluted.
"Yes, sir," the captain replied briskly.
Black, never having been a military man, remained sitting and just stared at Greyback with wide eyes. He still looked like death warmed up, but there was a new glint to his eyes. A man with a mission was always preferable to one without. Greyback doubted the girl was still alive, but now Black and Lupin had some kind of objective to pull them out of their depressed mood. If the girl was really gone, they'd have tried at least. And maybe… hopefully… Greyback was wrong and the girl was still out there.
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By now it was hard to tell if he was even here anymore. Tom brushed his fingers over the dark leather of the sofa. He barely felt the touch. It wasn't like he'd lost feeling in his fingers. No. The sensation was still there. It just… didn't reach him anymore? He wasn't sure. Tom raised his gaze and let it slide over the Slytherin common room. It was late and the room was almost empty. The younger years were already in their beds while the seventh years were still in the library, a last cram session before the NEWTs started tomorrow. Only a group of sixth years sat around one of the tables, playing chess. Their conversation was hushed and subdued. Now and then they threw Tom anxious looks. Their obvious fear of him only served to irritated him further. His dark glare and agitated magic eventually drove them to retrieve to the safety of their dorm.
As he was finally alone, Tom sighed and let his head sag against the backrest of the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he should go back to the Heads' dorms and revise for the start of the exams tomorrow. What a waste of his time. Tom ran a shaky hand over his face. However much he ignored it, it still hadn't left him. It was gnawing at him relentlessly. It broke things from him and threw them into the void. He was feeling not like himself. The numbness spread and so did the nothingness. What was this? Would it stop?
He couldn't think.
Tom gritted his teeth. He couldn't slip now. This was his path, wasn't it? He was going to be on top. Just a bit further. He was invincible. A shuddered breath fell from his lips. He could not waver now. Tom just had to pull himself together. He knew he could do it. If only that empty feeling stopped clawing at him.
Tom war ripped from his chaotic thoughts as the entrance of the common room creaked open. He looked up and watched Bellatrix enter. Finally. He'd waited for the witch. Bellatrix immediately spotted the lone figure in the common room. A mad smile curled her full lips. Tom forced is lips into a smirk of his own. The girl walked over to him, sultry gaze wandering over him. The destructive smile still pulled at her lips as she plopped down beside Tom. In a light voice, she inquired,
"Were you waiting for me?"
The smirk on Tom's face felt nailed in place as he felt his temper rise. Fury raged through him and infected his magic. Tom wasn't in the mood to to play their usual game. He didn't see the point, so he abandoned the tight hold he'd had on his magic. Immediately the dark force started to roil the air around him, angrily wrenching at Bellatrix. The witch's eyes burned with an excited light as she felt the angry magic in the air. The scorn in her eyes collided with the fake concern lacing her voice as she said,
"Poor Tom, did something upset you?"
White hot fury burned through Tom, feeding into the nothingness. More collapsed. Parts crumbled away and he shortly wondered if they'd ever come back to him.
"You," Tom's quiet voice was infused with his cold fury. "talked, Bellatrix."
The girl had the audacity to laugh. Tom's magic gained in momentum, the angry force now thick in the air. Bellatrix pursed her lips into a pout as she scanned him.
"Dippet called me into his office," Tom hissed.
Bellatrix blinked at him in mild surprise and chirped, "How awkward for you. What did he want?"
As if she doesn't know. Tom's magic gave a violent budge. His hands balled into angry fists, nails cutting into his skin. He felt the strong urge to punch the girl in the face. Through gritted teeth, he fumed,
"The only one who knows what happened to Regulus is you, Bellatrix. You betrayed me. You talked with Dippet."
Bellatrix shrugged lightly and flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "You must be dreaming."
Tom's thoughts swirled and he could barely see through the haze of his fury. There was more and more falling away from him. He could see Bellatrix' scornful smile, but yet he couldn't feel it. Like the brush of his fingers over the leather sofa, Bellatrix got hazy. Did she turn into a ghost? Tom sucked in a sharp breath of air. Carefully, he arranged his face into a cold mask as he threatened,
"You're pathetic. If you miss Regulus so much, I shall reunite you with him."
Bellatrix didn't recoil in fear. Instead, she scanned him attentively. Her arm was casually draped over the backrest of the sofa and she even leaned a bit closer to Tom. After a moment, a wild smile curled her lips.
"I'm dreaming, too, you know," she said, strangely cheerful.
Tom almost lost it then. He could feel his magic slip. A strand of it cut across the leather sofa before it ripped into the floor. Bellatrix remained unimpressed. She smiled at him widely and sung,
"I adored you Tom Riddle. You're like me. So similar. I met you and you were like one of my dreams. Just the same." A mad cackle left her. "I have so many dreams, you know, deep down. They're compressed. I think they're dark. But when I wake up, I can barely remember. And they've turned into beautiful shadows. Right here."
Bellatrix tapped her index and middle finger against the side of her head. Her gaze was still fixed on Tom, predatory glint in her eyes. He could feel her magic crackling in the air, already ripping at him. Danger lurked beneath the surface of that destructive smile on Bellatrix' face.
"Now you're this," the witch sneered derogatively. "No dream. No no. Not at all." Her nose crinkled and she shook her head. "Dreams do not make mistakes. It's because they're dreams that they float over everything." The mad smile fell from her face and her voice grew sharp, "You betrayed me. Not the other way around."
Bellatrix raised a hand to Tom's cheek, almost touching but not quite. "Now I look at you and can't ignore it anymore. Are you trying to infect me, Mudblood?"
Tom's magic brutally slammed into Bellatrix and threw her off the sofa. He could barely control the rabid force. Tom didn't know if he even should. It felt strange as part of him dissolved into murderous rage and another part remained untouched and unfeeling. Either way, he sprang up from his seat, already pulling his wand. His anger fuelled everything and he could feel the process gain momentum. More parts of him crumbled away and fell into the void. Victims of that cruel nothingness. Through the haze, Tom watched Bellatrix climb to her feet. Her powerful magic pushed against Tom's. Tom blinked, trying to wake himself. His gaze shot to the entrance door. Could he do this here? He… he could be seen. He needed a second to think. Just think. But his thoughts still collapsed around him. Could he attack her here? He was invincible. He was immortal. Or was he the innocent Head Boy? What…? At this moment what did he need to be? Bellatrix didn't leave him time to collect his thoughts. She stepped towards Tom. A lethal sheen burned in her eyes. There was no playfulness to her voice anymore as she whispered to him,
"When you're ready, come to me."
Tom didn't react. He stared at her and felt everything drop around him. Without another word, Bellatrix left. Tom watched as the girl walked away. It was wrong. Didn't he need to do something? Tom raised a hand and his fingers fisted into his black hair, tugging. He needed to… do something. He should… Tom watched as Bellatrix disappeared down the stairs to the girls' dorm. Tom licked his lips, swallowing thickly.
†
"Where is Black?"
"Where is Black?"
"Where is Sirius Black?"
Over and over. Always the same. Over and over.
She remained silent. There were Dementors, thirsting to eat her soul, and men, ready to break her body. Hermione wouldn't speak even as she got cursed. Again and again. Umbridge's smirking face was her constant companion. If someone had asked Hermione, she'd said that the woman enjoyed the misery she caused. Were there easier, less painful ways to make Hermione speak? Probably. Hermione wasn't sure what drove Umbridge. Twisted professional honour? The sick urge to see Hermione break? Or simple sadism? Whatever it was, in the woman's twisted smiles Hermione could always spot confidence. Time was on Umbridge's side. Everyone had a breaking point and the woman knew that.
Hermione curled up into a fetal position. Once again, she was alone in her cell. It was cold and she shivered in her thin chemise. Umbridge was gone and so were her henchmen. It wasn't anything unusual. They'd come and go at unpredictable intervals. Hermione pressed her eyes closed and hid her face in her hands. She took in a shuddering breath. She had no idea how long she'd been trapped here. Days? The lights were never switched off. It felt like months.
A soft sob fell from Hermione's lips and she hated herself for it. Her body hurt all over. She was sure her ankle, that had been broken during her capture, had been joined by more broken bones. Every breath hurt and Hermione knew she had some broken ribs. One of the brutal curses had hurled her away and she had heard a strange cracking sound as her head had been knocked against the wall. Hermione tried not to think too much about that.
She removed her hands from her face and reopened her eyes. The cell's walls were closing in on her and Hermione cried. She couldn't help that weak feeling in her chest. That feeling was creeping up on her and she couldn't shake it off. Maybe she was really going to die here. Hermione swallowed thickly. She would actually prefer that to telling Umbridge anything about Sirius or the Order. Fear twisted around Hermione's throat, threatening to suffocate her. What if Umbridge would get to her and she blurted out all the Order's secrets like an idiot?
Hermione's blurry eyes wandered from her hands to the Dark Mark tattooed into her left forearm. With her index finger she traced the black lines on her skin. Curiously, something Tom had told her on her first day at Hogwarts popped into her mind. 'You belong to me now,' Tom had said back then. 'And I do not tolerate failures.' A hoarse laugh fell from Hermione's lips.
In the end, he had tolerated her.
She closed her eyes. Maybe she could hold on just a little while longer.
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Tom could tell it was the next day only because the sun rose. He hadn't slept at all. Since that conversation with Bellatrix, he couldn't pull himself together. It only got worse. When had this started? When Hermione had left? Or sooner. He couldn't remember anymore. Tom left the Heads' dorm. He just couldn't stop it. It chipped away from him and the nothingness grew ever larger. He knew he had to stop this, but he didn't know how.
Gritting his teeth, Tom moved. His steps echoing through the corridor, he started to walk towards the Great Hall. Almost late. Tom entered the hall. The four house tables were gone. Instead many smaller ones were positioned in the hall, all facing one direction. Most students already sat at the tables. Some looked nervous and panicked, others confident. Tom spotted Bellatrix. The witch didn't even glance his way. Tom felt the urge to walk up to her and slice open her throat. A smirk that wasn't his own curled his lips. He felt disconnected from the situation as his fingers danced over the handle of the knife he always hid on his person. He couldn't pull it now, could he? Tom's brow furrowed and he tried to blink his confusion away. No. What about the witnesses?
His gaze shortly slipped to Slughorn. The potions professor stood in front of the students. He had spotted Tom and gave his star pupil an encouraging smile. Tom returned it. At least he could feel the corners of his mouth move upwards. He walked to a free table and sat down. Mechanically, he sorted his quill, ink and parchment on the desktop. Not much later, Slughorn spoke up,
"Welcome, students, to your potions NEWT exam." Tom couldn't really concentrate as the professor rambled on. In the end, he heard Slughorn say, "I wish you all good luck."
Then the professor snapped his fingers and the exam papers flew towards each students' desk. Tom read his. His nose crinkled as he skimmed thought the questions. So easy. He started to write in his neat cursive. The stupid exam didn't serve to focus his ever swirling thoughts. Tom could feel himself slip once again. He couldn't do anything to stop it. His fingers tightened around his quill as he was carried away.
He needed to stop this. There had to be a way. Maybe she could help. He could still feel that thin strand of magic that connected them. The bond between them. It anchored him. It just wasn't enough to pull him out. Tom needed her. After all this had started after she left him, hand't it? Hence, getting her back would stop this. Tom groaned softly as it got worse than ever before. He could barely concentrate on the exam. Worse than ever before, it ate away from him. Sitting in the back of his mind, it waited. Waited and waited. For him to make a mistake. He could feel it. It shifted. It wanted to rip something out of his mind, his soul, his body. It got worse. Always worse never better. There was less and less left. From what? From him? He didn't know. But he needed it to stop. If it left him completely, then it would be the end.
Tom took in a sharp breath of air and forcefully pulled his thoughts back. He glanced down at the exam paper. Once again he scribbled down the answers. His quill danced over the paper, spreading ink. He tried to concentrate. So hard. But his mind betrayed him and Tom crumbled. He felt like falling as his thoughts spun out of control. Furtively, he peered around. The other students were still bend over their exam papers. No one was looking his way. Tom raised a shaky hand and wiped over his forehead. He could barely feel the touch. He could barely feel anything at all. It had never been this bad before. He blinked down at his exam paper but everything was blurry.
Tom swallowed thickly. He just couldn't stop the downward spiral. Everything hurt. He needed her. He could see it. A white plane. Was this his destination? Where there was nothing, only pain. Nothingness. Tom could feel something constrict around his chest. Was he afraid? The world in front of him slipped away and turned into this void. It would welcome him and he would never be able to leave again. Everything transformed into nothing. The world around him, the thoughts inside of him. It faded away. With each minute. He got closer. Closer. He was sucked down into… So much pain! The Nothingness. What was it? What did it want from him? It was eternal. Ever present. He could see it, feel it. His mind was collapsing. He could watch it breaking down, into bits and pieces. Useless. There was no stopping it. He must not fall into the Nothingness. It was unforgiving. Could he ignore it? His mind would wither even faster. What would happen if there was nothing left? Why did that … eat away from him? Why? Why? Why? He needed her. Yes. She would stop it.
"Tom, m'boy," he heard a voice. Blurred this time. Overshadowed by the Nothingness.
He turned his head and looked up. Into a face. A teacher. Potions. He had always liked potions. No, he hadn't. He had faked it. Acted. Had he really liked it? He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't tell the lies apart anymore.
"Do you feel well?"
He forced a smile. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."
I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine! I AM FINE!
She had said that. A lot. Always, it had been a lie. He was not fine. Could she not see it?
"Very well," Slughorn said with a reassuring smile. "I know you'll do well."
Tom might have nodded, might've smiled. He couldn't tell any longer. If he slid down further, there was no way back. So much pain. And fear. He remembered her voice, 'I don't want you calling me Hermione!' But it was such a nice name. Could she not take the pain away? Hermione? Where was she? Enchantress. Sorceress. No mere witch. She was more. She could bend it. Tom knew. The Nothingness. Away from him. Stop the pull downwards. She could do everything. And nothing. It obeyed her. Where was she? Hermione. He wasn't allowed to call her that. Yes, Tom knew. But it was an incantation. A secret spell. He used it. And the Nothingness yielded. Not for long. He needed her to break it.
There were chairs scratching over the floor, people getting up. Tom looked up in confusion. The exam, of course. He stared down at his paper. He didn't even care anymore. He followed the other students. Mechanically. Like an empty shell. Because that was what he was. What he would soon be. He stepped out of the room. Great Hall. NEWTs. He left it behind. Walked down the corridor. And again it was all blurred. The people, students, the stone walls. The portraits. All hazy, like his thoughts. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had waited too long. He was going to find her. Now!
Down he went. First wide marble staircases. Then narrow, creaky steps. Down. Until he stood before a door. The kitchens. The Mudbloods were here. And Hermione. His Secret Spell. They would know. He opened the door. The room was empty. No-one there. They were all gone. Just like the Spell. Wasn't she supposed to be here? Tom blinked at the empty room. Was she…? The Secret Spell must be somewhere else. Desperately, he tried to find the connection that linked him to the Spell but he was drowning in his own thoughts. He could barely feel himself anymore. How… was he supposed to get to the Spell now?
†
Another curse hit her and Hermione doubled over. She crashed down on her knees and threw up. It was mostly blood but she wasn't really surprised.
"Why don't you just talk?" a voice asked her.
Head swimming, Hermione looked up at her assailant. The man was clothed in the grey trousers and shirt underneath a black cloak that Hermione had come to know as their uniforms. Still, she didn't know to which unit they belonged. She guessed they might be Snatchers, but the uniform was wrong. At least Umbridge wasn't here this time. No, the woman had left Hermione alone in the cell with one of her henchmen. The man looked down at her and Hermione hated the slight pity on his face.
"You're going to talk in the end anyway," he told her, smiling comfortingly. "Just spare yourself the pain."
Hermione tightened her mouth into a thin line. The man sighed as he saw the stubborn look on her face. Once again, he waved his wand. Hermione yelped in pain as a curse crashed into her chest and threw her against the wall. Weakly, she sagged down to the floor. She could literally feel the bruise taking shape where the curse had impacted with her. The man tilted his head to the side as he looked at her, still with that horrible pity on his face.
"You know where Sirius Black is," the man said in a gentle tone. "Just tell me and you're out of here. I promise I'll make sure you're taken care of."
Hermione defensively wrapped an arm around her chest and pressed herself against the wall behind her as she eyed the man distrustfully. Seeing this, the man sighed sadly. He took a step towards her and Hermione gasped in pain as he grabbed a handful of her curly hair. He held her in place and raised his other hand. White hot pain shot through Hermione as his fist collided with the side of her face. Again, her body was thrown to the floor. Hermione whimpered softly. Her temple ached horribly and the throbbing pain radiated into her whole head. She felt broken. Everything hurt. On top of that she was incredibly thirsty. They hadn't given her any water or food since she arrived here. She hadn't been allowed to sleep either. Hermione knew it was rapidly taking its toll.
She flinched as she felt a hand gingerly run over her head. Softly, the man spoke to her, "Believe me, I really don't want to do this. I much rather want to get you out of this cell and have you settled somewhere comfortable. Please, just work with me here."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the gentle, almost loving, contact. At this point, she really wanted to take the man up for the offer. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She just wanted to get out of here. Hermione bit her lips until the coppery taste of blood hit her mouth. The liquid felt almost soothing on her dry tongue. She remained silent. The gentle hand left her hair, accompanied by a sigh from the man. Hermione didn't bother to look up. It didn't take long and another curse crashed into her. Hermione gasped for air, her ears ringing. Painfully, she curled up, holding her aching side.
"You know what?" the man's voice told her softly. "I'll give you a few minutes to think this over. When I come back, you tell me where Sirius Black is. If you don't…" he sighed sadly. "I'll have to really hurt you."
Hermione shuddered. She heard footsteps. Then the heavy metal door was opened and closed again. The lock clicked and she was alone. Hermione knew it wouldn't be for long, though. The man would be back and he would make good on his threat. She whimpered again. By now her chest and side hurt unbearably. Maybe she had a few more broken ribs now. Her head was even worse, though. There was a constant sharp pain. Every time she blinked her eyes open, she saw things in doubles. Hermione ran her tongue over her parched lips. She was afraid that the man was right and she would talk in the end.
Carefully, Hermione tried to uncurl from her position, but was instantly punished by even more pain and nausea. A long breath fell from her lips and she stopped moving. Fear wrapped around her and she tightly squeezed her eyes shut. She might really die here and she didn't even know where she was. There was no way she could escape. Not in her condition. And no one would ever find her here. Hermione felt strong magic humming in the air. It came from the heavy wards that fortified her cell. Hermione was completely isolated and cut off from everything.
Just as her lone and desperate situation crashed down on her, Hermione could feel a light tingle coming from her Dark Mark. The feeling was barely there. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open and stared at the black tattoo on her left forearm. It definitely tingled a bit. Hermione hadn't felt her mark react since she left Tom at Hogwarts. In all honesty, she had assumed Umbridge's wards were disrupting her Dark Mark. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. It was very muted, but it definitely felt as if Tom was calling her. Curiously, that realisation sent a jolt of irrational anger through Hermione. How dare Tom still presume he could call her? The anger left her just as quickly as it had appeared and Hermione tiredly slumped on the floor. Her eyes slid closed again. There was the sick feeling of blood running from her nose and trickling down her skin. Hermione still felt that familiar tug in her left forearm, but by now it was barely there. A few moments later and the sensation had completely disappeared. Hermione trembled helplessly and felt painfully alone.
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Tom sat in the Heads' common room and stared at the fireplace. He watched the fire burn while the world around him putrefied. Was he still breathing? He couldn't feel his muscles move; everything was numb. His Secret Spell was gone. He had tried, but it wouldn't come to him. How would he fight the Nothingness without it? More and more of his mind crumbled away. Soon there wouldn't be anything left and what would he do then?
Through blurry eyes he noticed that the fire in the fireplace suddenly burned up and turned a green colour. Tom didn't even bat an eyelid, disconnected from such emotions like surprise or caution. He simply watched numbly as a head appeared in the flames. He instantly recognized the black haired man. Sirius Black's head hovered in the flames and glared at Tom darkly.
"Riddle," the man greeted curtly.
Tom continued to gaze at him. He didn't manage to conjure any dislike for the man. No emotion could cut through the thick wall of lethargy that had wrapped around Tom. Black's eyes narrowed. There was disgust in them. After a moment, the man inquired harshly,
"Do you know where Hermione is?"
How he wished he did. Tom shook his head and said in an empty voice, "No. I thought she was with you…"
At his reply, anger flittered through Black's eyes. The man obviously wanted to yell at Tom. In the end, he pulled himself together. He opened his mouth and hissed,
"Umbridge. She took Hermione."
Tom tensed as he heard that. The new information managed to cut through his lethargy like a knife. Dolores Umbridge stole what wasn't hers? Taking the Spell away, against its will? What a sacrilege.
"Umbridge took it… her?!" Tom mumbled under his breath.
"That disgusting woman!" Black cursed, not really listening to Tom. Then his eyes snapped back to the Slytherin. "Listen, you're still Hermione's master, right? You can feel where she is?"
"I..." Tom furrowed his brow. He'd tried, but everything was so hazy. The Spell's connection to him was hard to grasp these days.
Black glared at him, taking Tom's hesitancy the wrong way. Fury and bitterness battled in his tone as he snapped, "Believe me, you're the last person I'd want to ask for help. But you're Hermione's master." The man looked disgusted by the mere thought. "You can find her. We tried everything but we have no idea where Umbridge took her." Tom furrowed his brow as he saw the worry in Black's eyes. "We searched for Hermione everywhere. The usual holding centres for Muggleborns, the Snatchers HQ, facilities of the Bloodlines Department. Hell, I even tried to get intel from a contact working in body disposal… nothing. We can't find her." Black stared at Tom urgently. "You're the only one who can sense where she is. You need to locate her before it's too late."
Somehow, Tom had stopped listening as he heard 'body disposal'. His throat constricted and he could barely breathe. Blankly, he gazed at Black. What was he saying? That the Spell could… die?
"Hey," Black called in irritation. "Are you listening?"
Tom forcefully pushed the panic away. "Yes."
"So, can you do that?" Black prodded. "Can you find her?"
"I…" Tom hesitated. It was so hard to concentrate. "I can try."
"You better do," snapped Black. "Hermione doesn't deserve this. Have you any idea how important she is?"
Tom frowned at the man indignantly. What a ridiculous question. "Of course I do."
Not looking quite convinced, Black spat, "Locate Hermione. I'll contact you again."
Before Tom could reply anything, Black's head disappeared from the fireplace and the flames turned back to orange.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'I know I'm mad, I ought to tell
The doctors, let them care for me,
Confine me in a padded cell
And never, never set me free;
But Oh how cruel that would be!
For I am young - and comely too...
Yet dim my demon I can see,
And there is but one thing to do.'
- Robert William Service
(*1874 †1958)