a/n: I really do hope you like it maybe god dammit.

Chapter 5

Flash Bang

She window shopped, and people watched, killing time. She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, in the mean time of waiting for her opportunity. She went to the bar for lunch. Her money was dwindling, but it was fine. It was the least of her concern. She sat at the bar. Cynthia wasn't in that day, so Hermione had a quiet lunch.

It made her restless.

Then, through the grimy window she caught a glimpse of the Malfoys. She hopped up, and left money on the counter before calmly exiting and stepping down an alley way. She heard a noise and turned. A spell narrowly missed her. She started to run, and they pursued. She looked over her shoulder.

She knew them. The shock of red hair, on the one. And those eyes. Sea green, almost glowing in the near-dark. She stumbled, and fell, her palms scraping against the cobblestone as she caught herself. "Harry," she said. Something ballooned in her chest. She moved to rise.

"How do you know who we are?" Harry asked. He had his wand pointed at her.

They had her cornered at the end of an alley.

"Of course I know who you are. Don't you remember who I am?"

Ron spat on the ground. "I know who you are. You're Hermione Granger. You have to be stopped."

"I–

"Expelliarmus," Harry shouted.

It hit her square, and her wand flew out of her grip. The force slammed her back into the wall. "I don't understand," she said. "Tell me what to stop, and I'll stop."

"Don't listen to her, Harry."

"You need to disappear. Stop doing what you're doing. Run away and never come back."

"You don't understand. I can't. If I don't you'll both die."

Ron said, "Like you care if we die."

"I do care. I do– I sacrificed everything to save you–

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "Explain yourself." He bent, and picked up her wand, but didn't stop watching her.

"I came back to kill the man who killed you. I'm fixing it, so that you can live your lives the way you're supposed to. So that you can have your lives as your own. So you don't have to deal with him."

Ron shook his head. "I've heard the stories, but you really are a crazy lady."

"I'm not. Give me back my wand."

"No way."

She summoned it back to herself, with wordless and wandless magic. That seemed to startle both of them a little bit. They both watched her. She just wanted to throw herself into their arms, but she got the impression she wouldn't even get close.

Ron fired a spell. It cut her skin. She gasped at the pain. It seemed almost like it was meant to sever her wand hand, but it was ill formed, and only gashed. But the blood was instant, and she felt her body go into shock. She had to get out of there. Harry would listen. If it was only Harry, it would be fine. She could talk to him. Ron never listened.

She apparated back to Knockturn alley. She needed help. She burst into Borgin and Burkes. Her blood dripped onto the wooden floor. There wasn't anyone there. It was late. Someone had to be there. The store was open. She called, "Tom."

Cynthia came out of the back. "Hermione," She rushed forward, to give Hermione something to lean on. "You're going to be fine."

"I don't think I can go any further."

Cynthia guided her to sit on the ground. She used magic to close the wound, and a charm to aid Hermione's body in replenishing the lost blood. But the shock of the trauma remained.

"Hermione, what happened?"

"I was attacked."

"By who."

Hermione shook her head.

"I have a calming draught back at the bar. I'll go get some. My lord, can you stay with her?"

Hermione followed her gaze to Tom. He looked down at her, and nodded.

Cynthia left them alone.

After a moment Hermione moved to stand. She thought she'd feel better. All the blood rushed to her head and she swayed on the spot. Tom held her hips to stabilize her. He took her right wrist. There was a thin, and jagged pink scar.

She said, "I think I messed up."

So he said, "You should stay with me tonight."

"Thank you." It was really only after the words left her mouth, that she'd processed what he'd said.

He asked, "Did you know who they were?"

"They said they had to kill me." She looked up art him. "Why would they say that?"

The front door bell chimed, and it was Cynthia with the draught. She knelt at Hermione's side and offered it. Hermione sipped at the lavender coloured, syrupy, liquid.

Tom said, "Thank you Cynthia. You're dismissed."

Cynthia bowed to Tom. She said, "Goodnight Hermione."

Hermione said, "Goodnight. Thank you."

"Of course."

After Cynthia left, Tom looked to Hermione. He helped her up. "We're going."

"Where are we going?"

"A safehouse."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was good. She could use a safehouse. Maybe it would have some kind of useful information in it. She followed him into the floo. He stood in front of her. She closed her eyes.

He said, "Malfoy Manor."

Her eyes snapped open. They emerged from an ornate fireplace in the front hall of the manor. Hermione kept her gaze on her feet. At least she had a reason to seem as disturbed as she was.

The grandfather came in and spoke to him. Hermione wasn't listening. She should have been, but she couldn't focus. The whole atmosphere was leaden, and it made it difficult to breathe. Their footsteps reverberated in the halls, as they lead her to a room.

When they were left alone, Tom sat on the bed.

A house elf, who introduced herself as Flora, appeared to help Hermione in the bathroom.

Hermione slowly started to panic. She didn't understand how they had found her. How they had the ability to travel backwards, like she had. It had taken her decades to work out the proper configurations for the spell work, She had been careful not to leave much of anything valuable behind. She wished she could have talked to them more. Harry would have believed her. They could have fixed it together. They were good at fixing things together.

She emerged in a black, satin robe. He was still there. It startled her how easy his eyes were to look into.

"You'll rest here. We'll talk in the morning."

"Thank you, Tom."

He just shook his head.

"I feel dizzy." She clutched her had with one of her hands. She hated how weak she felt. She hated everything about where she was, and what she was doing. It seemed out of her control.

He walked over, as in control as ever, and offered her his arm. She took it, and he helped her into bed. She sunk into the bed, but couldn't seem to fall asleep. She just couldn't make sense of it all.

Tom ordered more her more calming draught. It did help. Not in the way where it might help her make sense of anything. But it calmed her.