Hermione's magic alarm blared.
"For Godric's sake, not again."
Hermione was tired of waking up in strange places with aches and pains. For just one night, she wanted to have a night of restful sleep in her warm, soft bed. But yet again, the witch had woken up on the floor surrounded by books.
Hermione's neck was propped up on the arm of her sofa. The edge of a thick tome was digging into her spine. She massaged the pulsing muscles in the small of her back.
"That looked uncomfortable," a man's voice said.
Hermione jumped. There was Tom, sitting by the potion, prepping ingredients for the next round of stirring.
Last night had been odd. Hermione remembered going over her notes late into the night, searching for cracks in her theories. She had feverishly rifled through her potions books, and bounced ideas off of Tom. His mind was simply fascinating. He possessed such a wealth of knowledge, with wonderfully innovative ideas on everything from cauldron materials to modified stasis charms.
The two had spent hours delving into Potions theory, in a way that Hermione couldn't remember doing since her Hogwarts days. But in the cold morning light, Hermione felt slimy for intellectually collaborating with a future genocidal maniac.
Self-consciously, she ran a hand through her matted curls.
"What are you still doing here?" Hermione snapped.
"Good morning to you too, Hermione." Tom said, a cloying smile playing on his lips.
Hermione lifted her aching body off the ground, and placed her hands on her hips in an attempt to look authoritative.
"Please get out. I've got to get ready for work."
Tom sighed, as if he were a patient adult dealing with a toddler's tantrum.
"I really should stay to make sure the potion doesn't boil over," he explained. "I wouldn't want to ruin this… lovely carpet"
Hermione's cheeks pinked as Tom eyed the greying, threadbare rug.
"You'll come back this evening like we agreed. Go slither off to wherever you came from."
"Remember, quarter to seven," Tom said, and slammed the door behind him.
After a particularly dull day at work, Hermione was mindlessly filing the last reports of the day. It took everything in her power to keep her mind off Tom.
Something about the situation was niggling at the back of her mind. Of course, it was deeply wrong to be working with future Voldemort altogether. But last night, she had actually enjoyed brewing with him somehow.
Every time Hermione closed her eyes, she saw Harry and Ron's pitying faces. And poor Ginny, frightened into bed rest. What would they think of her?
After leaving the Ministry, Hermione stopped by a Muggle flower shop and purchased a bouquet of pink chrysanthemums. Then, she snuck into an alley and apparated to the Potters'.
The Potter house was heavily warded with a sophisticated security system. It was a complex bit of magic that was able to recognize the magical energy of each visitor.
Hermione felt the wards fall as they identified her, and entered the house.
"Hi there, Ginny."
Ginny's eyes lit up at seeing Hermione at her bedroom door. Even bed-ridden and pajama-clad, the expectant witch looked effortlessly beautiful, with radiant skin and thick copper hair piled on top of her head.
"Hermione! I'm so glad you came. Come here!"
Hermione bent over to embrace a very pregnant Ginny.
"How are you feeling? Is everything okay?"
"Yes, I'm just fine. The healers said it was a little stress and overexertion, nothing to worry about."
"Oh, good."
Hermione conjured a glass vase and water, and set the bouquet down on the bedside table.
"Those are lovely, thank you!" Ginny gushed. "Harry should be back soon. He's just gone to the Burrow to pick up James"
"Oh, no, it's alright. I just wanted to pop by quickly to make sure you were okay."
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Of course I am. You know Harry, he loses it at the smallest thing. He was an absolute nightmare when I was pregnant with James."
Hermione gave a weak smile, and sat on the edge of the bed. A heavy silence passed.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Hermione finally said.
The redhead gave her a quizzical look.
"What for?"
"Coming over and scaring you all like that. I don't know what I was thinking."
Ginny sighed and grabbed Hermione's hand.
"Hermione… how have you been lately?"
"I've been alright. Work is a bit stressful, but other than that, everything's fine."
"Harry said… that you told him You-Know-Who's back."
"I know."
"What did you mean by that? I'm concerned, Hermione. You haven't seemed quite like yourself lately."
The brunette witch closed her eyes to stop them watering.
Hermione wanted to tell Ginny everything. But how could she? With a young child and a baby on the way, Ginny was last person who should be involved. And if Harry and Ron hadn't believed her, why would this time be any different?
"Things are strange right now, but I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Good. Love you, 'Mione."
Hermione rolled her eyes. No one had called her that for years.
"Love you too, Gin".
"I'll see you Sunday!" Ginny called out as Hermione stood up to leave.
Hermione frowned.
"Er… Sunday?"
"It's my baby shower, remember?" Ginny said, "be at my mum's around one."
"Right, sorry. I'll be there!" Hermione promised.
Hermione arrived home just before six, giving her enough time to prepare for Tom's arrival.
The lovely moment with Ginny had been a distraction from the situation, but now that she was alone, the panic set in.
Hermione knew she was playing with fire. Tom was one of the most dangerous wizards in history, for Godric's sake. But if Hermione just destroyed the potion and kicked him out, who knew what way Voldemort would find to come back? What if his soul implanted in someone else, someone weaker?
She sat at the kitchen table with a cup of earl grey, gazing out at the overcast skyline. The hot tea soothed Hermione's twisting stomach and cleared her mind.
Hermione remembered the books she had collected from Grimmauld Place. There was still one left that she hadn't yet read.
"Accio beaded bag," Hermione cast.
She fished the heavy volume out of the bag and set it down on her kitchen table.
Even with magic, it took her nearly fifteen minutes to translate the entire book from Old Romanian to English. The dusty tome was old enough to trick even Hermione's translation charm, which she had meticulously perfected over seven years.
When she was done, Hermione ran her hands over the worn blood-red cover. Magia Sufletului și Artele întunecate- Soul Magic and the Dark Arts. She cracked it open and skimmed quickly through each chapter.
According to Magia, most soul bonding rituals required consent from both parties. However, Dark rituals could bind two souls without the other person even knowing. Presumably, this was the bond between her and Tom.
These Dark bonds had unique features. For one, they caused intense discomfort when the bonded souls were apart for too long. That explained the mysterious illness that had been plaguing her.
The other feature of Dark bonds was that they were unbreakable. The only way to sever a Dark bond, Hermione read, was the death of both souls. If one soul were to die, the other would soon follow.
Once the potion restored Voldemort's corporeal body, Hermione would kill him. And in doing so, she would kill herself.
Hermione felt strangely detached from the idea of her death. It was almost comforting. For the first time in years, at least, Hermione's life would mean something.
Hermione hid the old book behind her copy of Pride and Prejudice, and waited for Voldemort to return.
This was originally going to be one long chapter, but I decided to split it. Next one coming soon!