A/N: Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows! Tremendous thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter, as they are really such a massive help. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter seventeen and be on the lookout for chapter eighteen soon!


Autumn was filled with stolen moments with Hermione. He'd stop by the Ministry at the end of her work day just so he could walk her home. Or she would pop in at Borgin and Burke's while she was out on an investigation. Short little visits, but long enough that it could tide him by until the next time their paths crossed.

That's not to say that they didn't have longer meetings as well. There were a handful of dates at various restaurants, where Hermione breathlessly explained what she was learning about the origins of magic in the Compendium. It seemed to have sent her down a new rabbit hole exploring wandlore, seeing as the first wizards had no need of wands to channel their magic, not to mention that certain areas of the globe didn't use wands to this day. And of course, she'd reminded him, while wrapping an errant curl around her finger, they had both used plenty of wandless magic as children before they even knew what witches or wizards were.

They had more than their fair share of desperate and consuming kisses, in the hallway outside of Hermione's flat. Although she never invited him past the foyer, he longed to see what was hidden behind the door of her bedroom. What sort of sheets did she slide into every night? Would he catch a glimpse of the pajamas that she favored? Perhaps one of the short, silk dresses that he saw in the displays of Magorian & Sprouts.

It was all terribly base and Tom detested himself for it. How could he, a wizard of such great power, be reduced to little more than a panting dog by a witch?

But, he knew the truth wasn't really that complicated. Hermione was not just any witch. She was a witch that was so uniquely suited to him that he thanked whatever fate might have brought her to him. He thoroughly enjoyed opening her eyes to a different kind of magic, encouraging her to study a field that the rest of the wizarding world had made taboo, the very truth of their world. There was just magic. And those who were willing to explore every avenue had the advantage.

He'd relished it when Edmond had suggested that Hermione was his Queen, and it was only half because it meant Lestrange saw the writing on the wall and acknowledged him as their natural ruler. He had never imagined sharing his life with a witch, but Hermione...

Hermione inspired something in him that he didn't know he was capable of. He wanted more of her, and every bit more that he got didn't quell the desire. It only fed the flames, making his craving for her stronger. He wouldn't say that it was love - he wasn't sure he was capable of such a human emotion - but it was the closest to it that he'd ever felt.

His growing feelings for her was the catalyst that eventually had him inviting her back to his flat after one late night dinner, after Hermione had returned from a field visit to Wales. He had never invited another soul back to his flat, located above a small stationary shop in an unfashionable part of the Alley, mostly because he was intensely embarrassed by its humble nature. Scarcely half the size of the dormitory he'd shared at Hogwarts, his studio was absolutely nothing to write home about.

She did not seem to mind, slipping off her robes to hang at the door, revealing her sensible work attire underneath. She sauntered around, reminding Tom of the first time she'd been in Borgin and Burke's, her fingers running along the bookcases that lined one side of the room, stuffed to the brim.

"How do you find anything?" she asked, spinning around to look at him, leaning back against the books. "You have absolutely no organizational structure to speak of."

He couldn't stop from smirking at her. "Summoning charm, of course," he quipped.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but what if you don't remember the name of the book?" she argued playfully, pressing her hands to her waist, making her look exceptionally bossy.

Tom poured them each a portion of firewhiskey in his kitchen (no space for something like a bar cart, he thought glumly) before finding his seat on the settee. "I can't think of a time that that's happened," he responded. A part of him wanted to invite her over to organize his books, if only it would mean getting to spend more time with her in his clutches. But that level of domestic work seemed crass to suggest.

Hermione slipped into the open seat next to him and happily took the glass, taking a dainty sip of the brown liquid. "I wonder how much overlap we have," she said.

"Should we ever need to consolidate?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Tom detected the hint of a blush on her cheekbones in the low light. "I was only curious as to the areas where our knowledge might overlap," she said, not at all put out by the suggestion. "And the breadth of our knowledge combined."

It pleased him to know that she thought of them as combined, as if they were one entity. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he took the glass from her hands and set them both aside on the table. And then he was on her, pressing his lips to hers in a fierce, and now familiar kiss.

She melted against him when he wrapped his arms around her body, one hand reaching up to free her wild hair from the twist she'd pinned it into. She parted her lips, accepting him inside of her to deepen the kiss. She twisted her tongue around his, making Tom's mind go a bit hazy.

Hermione's boldness surprised him. She pushed her hands back on his chest, until he was pressed back against the arm of the sofa. It was a rather obedient posture for him to take, but he was far too enthralled with watching his beautiful Hermione astride him. She smiled at him wickedly, before leaning down to kiss him on the lips once again.

His fingers itched to pull her blouse free of her skirt so that he might snake a hand up to caress her chest, but she was quick to stop him. Instead, it was her fingers that found the buckle of his belt, the metallic sound of it ringing out in his flat.

Tom was quite certain that his mind was reduced to complete mush when next she worked to undo the zip fastening his trousers together and yet again when she wrapped her hand around his cock once it was free of all clothing. He groaned at the sight of her small hand working up and down on the shaft again and again. When he had invited her back to his flat, this was certainly not what he'd planned.

His eyes slipped up the narrow curve of her waist, the softness of her breasts, to her face. She was watching his every movement with a triumphant sort of look on her face when she saw just how affected he was by her sensual prodding.

A thumb swiped across the sensitive tip and once again he was focused on her hand, his hips rocking totally unbidden, in rhythm with her movements. Having her touch him was far better than anything his mind could have conjured up and he found himself quickly approaching a peak. Desperately, he ripped up his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen, each and every muscle in his body straining to meet the ultimate release of orgasm.

With a few more tugs, he was coming, his spend landing on his stomach.

Tom closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop beating so rapidly. He felt a dainty finger run through the liquid on his stomach. His eyes popped open to watch, perversely curious about what she planned to do with it. He was disappointed when she ran the finger over top of a potions vial, letting the liquid drip down the sides and into whatever potion she'd created.

He felt his stomach drop, wondering what she'd just tricked him into doing. "What is that?" he asked, hoping that he sounded calm. He wondered if she was just trying to prove a point to him about performing rituals without prior discussion. Hastily, he grabbed his wand to vanish the rest of the liquid away.

Hermione watched the vial as it bubbled away, until a hazy fume poured off, until something solid was left behind. She poured it out and offered it up to him.

"A protective charm for you," she said, sounding a bit nervous. "I know you said you didn't like Samhain because of how close to death it made you feel. So, this should give you a little bit of extra protection, if you wear it."

Tom looked at the small pin in his hand. It was a simple looking tie pin - only a silver circle would be visible when it was worn properly. But on the other side, he could see runes with a telltale reddish hue which could only signify one thing. "Blood magic and sex magic?" he asked her, suitably impressed. "Whose blood?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mine of course," she answered. "So you really must be careful with it. I don't want it falling into the wrong hands."

"Have you ever tried blood magic before?" he wondered, able to feel the strong magical power on the object.

"No, it always seemed too risky," she said, honestly. "But, I figured you of all people would have the right amount of respect for it. I trust you."

Her words and the gift made his heart fill with warmth that was almost too tight. "Well, thank you for thinking about me," he said, truly touched that she had done something so generous for him, with absolutely no ulterior motives. Just because it was a nice thing to do.

"I'm glad to finally give it to you. I wasn't sure if it would be ready before Samhain," she said, still sitting astride him. Then, she leaned forward until she was pressed fully against him, like a cat languishing in the sun. "It took me so long to decide which to choose that I was worried I'd run out of time. I was surprised by how many options there were. I think that horcruxes are probably the most effective way not to die. Have you heard of them?"

He was grateful that she couldn't see his face, because he was certain he would have given it away. Nerves began to twist in his belly and he wondered if she knew. But that was preposterous, because how could anyone know? He had never told anyone, not even Alfie, who would not bat an eye.

"In passing," he lied.

"In any case, I was sure that you wouldn't want to live forever. Just not die prematurely," she said with a laugh. "And, when I read about the ritual to create a horcrux, it was just...too terrible to ever recommend to anyone."

"Hmm," he said, frowning. It didn't seem like there was anything more to her question than a true coincidence, but it still had his mind whirring.

Hermione lifted her head from his chest and looked at him in the eyes with a mischievous sort of look on her face. "Can I ask you something?" she wondered.

"Anything," he answered. He never wanted Hermione to feel like she couldn't ask him something, even if that didn't mean he wouldn't lie to her.

Her fingers tickled up his exposed torso, lifting his white shirt until it found a spot along his side. She gently teased the dark ink under his skin, tracing the image - a snake wrapped around a sword. "Do you have a tattoo?" she asked, intensely curious.

His fears evaporating, Tom couldn't help but laugh at the question. "Yes, all of us do," he revealed. "I mean, my friends and I. The ones you've met. In Hogwarts we fancied ourselves a brotherhood that, of course, needs to be cemented with permanence, etched into our skin."

"What did you call yourself?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the small patch of skin. "Your brotherhood."

"The Knights of Walpurgis," he revealed.

"Like Walpurgis Night," she said, excitedly biting her lower lip.

"The very same," he agreed sheepishly. "Edmond did mine and I swear it hurt worse than anything I've felt since. But, I consider myself lucky. Mulciber did Brax's. And let's just say he isn't the most artistically gifted."

Hermione snorted at that, obviously pleased that Malfoy was forever blemished with a hideous tattoo. She sighed, dropping her head back down to her chest. "Oh, I really should go, but it's just far too comfortable like this," she revealed, sounding tired.

"I don't mind if you stay," he said, wrapping his arms around her body, wanting to keep her there as long as she would stay.

"I know, but..." she trailed off, before pushing herself up from the couch. "Until I see you next, Tom."