Part XIV

Tom glanced at the clock on his desk and rubbed his eyes. His long day was far from over, but he was looking forward to the ending for the most part. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his chest, trying to refocus on the hissing match across from him.

"For fuck's sake, Flynn-"

"Don't 'fuck's sake' me, Braxas, you bastard, I'm right and you damn well know it!"

"You're right and Merlin has a pygmy puff tattooed on his left arse cheek!"

"You are the most infuriating-"

"I'm infuriating?!"

"Insufferable-"

"This is bloody rich."

"Idiotic-"

"I know where you sleep, Flynn."

"Girls, please," said Tom, not bothering to hide his amusement. "You're both…adequate. I won't say pretty."

"Your definition of 'pretty' is what birdy grows up to be," said Flynn, taking the excuse to ignore the blond beside him. "So that's fair, I suppose."

"She's adorable now," Tom said somewhat defensively. Her hair was a frizzy disaster, and she was growing up far slower this time around than it had felt the first time, but that didn't mean he couldn't acknowledge that she was a cute little witch. Emphasis on little.

"Are you coming to the Manor tonight?" Abraxas asked.

Tom nodded. "It's the twentieth. Is your lover's quarrel over yet?"

Both men glared at him. "You have no room to talk, Tom," Flynn huffed. "And how we approach Umbitch trying to get involved this bloody early in the timeline is important."

"It is," Tom allowed. "But neither of you asked me if I'd taken care of it already."

Flynn's jaw dropped and Abraxas snorted. "Obliviate or did you get her in trouble with her current superior?"

Tom waved his hand and wandlessly set his things to pack themselves. "A bit of this, a bit of that…"

"You son of a…" Flynn sighed. "Fucking hell. Fine then, we're done here. Say hi to birdy for me."

"You haven't formally met her yet."

"So?"

Tom shook his head as he stood. "When she's met you, either version of you, I'll pass along hellos."

Flynn and Abraxas stood as well, the latter of whom made his way to Tom's office door and held it open for the others. "You could stop by tonight, Flynn. I'll be there, of course."

Flynn frowned. "She doesn't meet us this early, does she?"

"No," Tom said. "I'm the only one she sees tonight."

Abraxas' expression fell as they headed towards the lift. "Pity. It's been ages."

"Cry me a river," said Tom.

They parted ways at the public Floos for the sake of showing their faces, though Tom took himself home instead of going directly to Malfoy Manor. He wanted to wear something far more comfortable and casual than he had the last time he'd seen Hermione. Hopefully she'd loosen up a bit if he looked more relaxed than he did in his formal robes.

He immediately found his favorite sweater - Slytherin inspired, argyle patterned wool and cashmere blend, and wand-knit. He'd had it since sixth year, and felt the familiar comfort of the charms woven into the yarn wash over him.

His seventeenth birthday, the day he'd been gifted this sweater, was one of his fondest memories. He was looking forward to seeing Hermione's face when she realized that she was the one to give it to him, that he still had it.

He chuckled to himself at the memory. She'd been afraid he wouldn't like it, but really she'd just stunned him into silence.

Sixth year…

He sighed, grabbed a pair of jeans to change into, and left his walk-in closet to finish redressing. Time wouldn't fully catch up to itself until her seventh year, but Tom figured he was far enough in the future to render dwelling on the past a futile, pathetic activity.

She was still Hermione and he didn't want her to think he was constantly comparing her to another version of herself, even if he was always aware of the differences.

The scent of chocolate had drifted all the way from the dining room to Malfoy Manor's entrance hall. He could hear voices, though they were quiet, and picked hers out of the lot long before he reached the dining room.

"-I've only ever seen the muggle side of Paris," she said, presumably to Narcissa. "I'm sure the wizarding side is fascinating as well."

He rounded the corner, smirked when he realized she couldn't see him, and gave Lucius a nod in greeting before he spoke up. "I shall endeavor to take you there during a less busy summer, Dove."

She jumped and spun around in her seat, her doe-y brown eyes landing on him in surprise. He could tell by the way her eyes flicked over him that she noticed his attire was drastically different from the last time they'd met. She was nervous to see him again, but glad as well from what he could tell. Her hair was as wild as ever and part of him was glad for it. Hermione had wild hair. Hermione had wide, innocent eyes. Hermione was shy around him.

Dove was different. Older, wiser, sharper around the edges. Smoothed skirts and tamed curls and a gaze that learned to see right through him half a century ago.

"You remembered," she said to him.

He felt his expression soften as he stopped behind her chair, and didn't quite manage to prevent himself from pushing some of her hair out of her face. "I did promise," he said mock-defensively. "How's summer treating you so far? I haven't had as many chances to check in on you as I'd hoped, what with the trial and all. Severus said your exams went smoothly?"

Her quick nod was earnest and transparently honest, and he had to focus to keep his expression in check. Despite being nearly fourteen, she seemed so much smaller than she had when he was still in school. It made his stomach twist.

"I'm excellent," she told him, unbothered by his fool's task of trying to make her hair lie back. "The exams went very well. Professor Snape was an excellent chauffeur. No one dared get in his way for anything, not even at Fortescue's before he took me home."

Tom snorted in amusement. He'd make a mental note to thank Severus, even if part of him was livid that he hadn't been able to take her out for icecream himself. "Took you for icecream did he?" he asked dryly. "The prat. I told him I'd planned the entire day, but of course more evidence for the trial came up and I wasn't able to get away from the office. Though I am glad you got your treat for a job well done."

She flushed. "I haven't gotten my scores back yet. We don't know how well I did or didn't do."

He raised a brow. She'd been naive once, hadn't she, especially when it came to the limits of his influence? He'd forgotten. "You don't know how well you did," he said.

She sighed at him and he chuckled. "I'm very proud of you," he told her. They were words she'd seldom hear from his younger self. She needed to hear them more than he could say them. "Straight O's."

Harry and Draco's reactions, both positive on her behalf, made her cheeks darken, and it hardly helped that Lucius and Narcissa expressed their congratulations as well. Tom chuckled again.

"I've embarrassed you, Dove, forgive me," he said. "I'm pleased to show you off, is all."

She muttered a quick "S'alright" before taking another bite of cake so she wouldn't have to say more.

"Shall I have Leeny fetch you a plate, Tom?" Narcissa offered, rising from her seat beside Hermione. A seat he was happy to occupy in her stead.

"Please," he said after a moment's consideration. "I've had dinner, but something sweet wouldn't be amiss."

And it would give Hermione time to finish her dessert at her own pace. In an effort to give her nerves a chance to settle, he turned to the boys. They'd been whispering to one another while he'd been speaking with Hermione, and could only assume Draco had informed Harry of his identity.

"I've been terribly rude, I think," he said to them. "Hello, Draco. And I presume you're Harry?"

"I am, sir," said Harry, and Tom was thrown once more by how shy they all seemed at this age. So timid. He blamed their Gryffindor affiliation and offered the boy a smile.

"I've heard quite a bit about you from our Hermione, here. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance outside of letters."

Harry returned the gesture. "Same to you."

He caught Hermione subtly shaking her head at her plate and had to resist the urge to laugh. One thing was the same at least: she found his social persona exasperating already.

You're essentially a different person, she'd told him once. I don't like it. 'Normal' isn't natural for you.

She knew his darkness, had darkened her light to match his own, even. But not this Hermione. Not yet. Not for quite some time.

There was enough daylight left for Draco to suggest practicing Quidditch with Harry after dessert. Lucius volunteered to escort the pair to the pitch deeply tucked away on the south end of the property, and the three were quick to be on their way. Narcissa had vanished into the house after ensuring that Tom got his dessert, presumably to continue preparing for Sirius' welcome home gathering.

Tom did his best to enjoy his dessert and eat quickly at the same time, which was a challenge considering every twitch and fidget from the girl beside him made his insides knot and curl with discomfort.

He tried to keep the feeling buried, tried to ignore the never ending game of compare-contrast running rampant in the back of his mind, and forced his tone to stay on the lighter side when he spoke. "Come, darling," he said. His little Wendy Darling, not yet Dove, but still Hermione. "You wanted to see me for a reason, as I recall it. The library might be better suited for our chat."

She nodded as they both stood and followed him through the house to the library. He was acutely aware of her nervous form at his side as they walked. Her anxiety crawled over his skin and her fidgeting sent twinges of discomfort down his spine. By the time they reached the library, he'd had enough.

Tom wandlessly shut the doors behind them once they were over the threshold and spun around to face Hermione, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

"Relax," he ordered, feeling his cheerful, unworried mask slip slightly out of place. He was amazed to find that shifting from his attempt at remaining positive and reassuring to his more natural state of being made her obey without hesitation. "I don't bite, Dove."

She blinked and a brow raised before she could stop it. "You're a snake," she said.

He smirked. "I don't bite often," he amended.

Her lips twitched into a nervous smile. "I'm just not sure what's appropriate," she said. "I don't want to accidentally damage the timelines or something…"

He beckoned for her to continue following him into the room. "You won't," he assured her. "Think, Dove. I wouldn't be here right now if the timelines were damaged somehow." At her blank stare, he continued. "It's already happened. From your perspective, yes you're in younger me's future, but from mine you're experiencing events that have already happened. We're in the present, future, and past simultaneously. What is to come has already come."

He guided her to the circle of cushioned chairs that usually served as the meeting place for his inner circle - the remaining Knights of Walpurgis and select members of the Order of Hermes. Hermione eyed the dark emerald upholstery with appreciation as she made her way to the seat across from the one he'd taken for himself and he had to fight a smirk. For a brief moment the girl across from him looked more familiar.

"What did you need me for?" he asked, attempting to derail his thoughts. The comparison spiral he kept teetering into was starting to give him a headache. Not to mention he'd already started taking care of her primary concerns. Sirius Black was a free man. Harry Potter would be reunited with his godfather, the man who would show the boy what having a family actually meant.

Her lips turned into a slight frown as she started to fidget again. It was a nervous habit he knew she'd have for a while, but it irked him all the same to see such an easy weakness on full display.

"Stop," he said coolly. "Hot, cold, anxious, reassured… Pick a mental state and stick to it. You've been rotating between several since I got here. I know this situation is…odd to say the least, but only if you think about it too hard." He raised a brow and she flushed, chastised.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around it all," she muttered.

"And I'm happy to explain everything I'm at liberty to explain," he said slowly. "But you won't understand every in and out. The only person who truly does is me." He made a point to over-stress the word. "I'm the only person capable of creating a paradox or damaging the timelines because I've lived it already. Maintaining the integrity of the timelines is my responsibility, my burden to bear. This is not a situation in which your compassionate heart is welcome. I've worried and plotted enough without you doing the same. I know what must be done, what mustn't, and the potential consequences of my actions."

She listened with rapt attention, but he could see the concerned crease to her brow and sighed.

"You're barely fourteen, Hermione," he said, fighting the nausea the words caused. Too young, too small, too easy to read, too vulnerable, too fragile. "Your job is to be a third year. Your job is not worrying about all the things the adults are taking care of. You may know about them for the sake of understanding the world around you and to satisfy your curiosity, but if I think that knowledge comes at the cost of your mental health, then you'll only be privy to information you need to know." He took a breath, noticed she'd calmed somewhat, then wondered how and why his less friendly traits relaxed her already.

"I was worried about Harry," she said, answering his earlier question at last. "He doesn't have to go back to the Dursleys, right?"

"Not unless he wanted to," said Tom. "Shall I start from the beginning?"

She nodded and sat up a little straighter in her seat.

Tom's smirk was wry. Still a good listener…