Dissindere Temporalis

So here we are again, with another chapter of this wild ride we're taking. Don't worry everyone there will be happier times ahead, and also don't worry... we're only a small chunk of the way through this adventure.

We still have fifth, sixth and seventh year to go! Not to mention Adulthood!

I hope you enjoy this chapter...and the revelations it contains.

Love you guys!

Secundo Dimidium

"It is easier to kill than to heal. It is easier to destroy than to preserve. It is easier to tear down than to build. Those who feed on destructive emotions and ambitions and deny the responsibilities that are the price of wielding power can bring down everything you care for and would protect. Be on guard, always."

- Lucivar Yaslana

"We have a problem."

Potter really did have the most unnerving knack of just being able to pop up beside him when Draco least expected.

And he couldn't help himself when he jumped, nearly knocking over the vial of Fenwood he was supposed to be gradually adding into the cauldron gently simmering before him.

Turning, he gave the other boy a glare, determinedly ignoring the tiny curl upwards of Potter's lips in satisfaction.

"Potter," he sneered, "You do realise startling someone brewing a potion is a hazardous habit to have."

"I don't think you'd blow up the castle Draco."

"No, I wouldn't." Draco glared at him harder, "Unless someone startled me and made me add an entire bottle of Fenwood to the potion instead of incrementally! Then we might blow up!"

Potter shrugged, seemingly unphased by the prospect of an imminent messy death, and Draco huffed at him.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"We have a problem." Harry repeated, and now his voice was more serious, making Draco's gaze snap up to his.

"What kind of problem?"

Honestly he wasn't surprised that there was one, since the ritual he'd had this sense of everyone. Nothing specific, just more of an awareness. Rosier had said that with time, Coven bonds could deepen, there were records of such things happening with ancient ones. But for now he could simply sense them.

He'd had an ache in his chest since last night.

And he'd come pretty quickly to the realisation that it was because of one of his friends. They weren't in danger, weren't in physical pain. But they were deeply unhappy, hurt in an emotional sense.

It wasn't any of his Ravenclaw girls, he'd checked. And clearly it wasn't Potter.

By the time Harry had finished explaining what had happened, Tom's thoughtless hurtful words, and worse, the Hufflepuff overhearing it, Draco was pinching his nose between his fingers.

Once upon a time, he had been a fool.

He knew that, knew it intimately, so deeply that it was practically carved into his bones at this point.

He'd been born to a life of privilege, a life of wealth, indulgence, sophistication and power. He'd watched people give his father accolades and respect and had felt warm and happy to see it. He wanted to be just like him, to have the powerful people accept him as one of them.

All the politicians were his father's friends. He was a Hogwarts school governor.

What his father aimed for, his father succeeded at.

Little Draco had idolised him.

So he'd listened and absorbed when his father mentioned Gryffindors he rolled his eyes and when he spoke of Hufflepuffs his lip curled in a disgusted sneer.

At least Gryffindors had some use, he said.

Hufflepuffs were the left overs. The Unwanted. The Unexceptional. The people who weren't smart. Weren't brave. Weren't cunning or ambitious.

Basically.

Idiots.

And so Draco had taken that to heart. His greatest fear for the months leading up to starting at Hogwarts was being told he was a Hufflepuff.

Disappointing his father.

Being nothing.

Everything had changed since then and Draco's entire perspective had been cracked open and reforged and reshaped.

These days, after everything he's seen, he knows there are far worse things than being a Hufflepuff.

And he knows that while Hufflepuffs might not be flashy, they may not demand the attention, they do more hard work behind the scenes than anyone else.

And their support should never be underestimated.

He thought of Tierra, funny, playful, painfully kind and strangely innocent. She still believed in people, still believed in good and kindness and beauty and love. She saw all those things in the broken people, the dark places.

Like Draco.

Like Tom.

He remembered Riddle's face when Hermione admitted what she knew of Tierra's fate. That she'd died young, that she hadn't lived long enough to graduate. And that her death had been the final straw for Dumbledore, and a year later after intense media pressure and angst, he'd finally defeated him.

But beyond the bigger picture he remembered all the countless times he'd seen Tom and Tierra interact.

He remembered her gentle, open affection, one of the few people who seemingly had no hesitation to touch him. Tom always gave off an air of not welcoming physical affection, but he never shied away from her touches.

Draco could remember countless times they'd sat together, heads bent to study something, shoulders leaning against one another. He could remember them lounging, Tierra's sleepy head resting against him. He could remember Tom's hands guiding her into a better stance, always gently, but always there.

Somehow out of everyone, Tierra was one of the two that Tom didn't feel the need to hide anything from. Harry was the other, of course, his Dimitera and his equal, but Tierra was equally as trusted. And Draco knew, though Tom would never admit it, just as cherished.

And one he'd lost the first time around.

In another life, Tom Riddle had prized items, artifacts, symbols of magical power and prowess. People held little value because they were transient, mortal and also changeable. Loyalty could, and did, waver and change. There could be little trust there.

Even then Voldemort had prized one quality in his followers above any other.

Loyalty.

For a moment Draco pictured Voldemort, as he had been, followed by an army of determined, fanatically loyal and fierce Hufflepuffs.

Suddenly he was glad that most of Slytherin underestimated them…

But this time around Tom valued people, he prized Harry above all others.

He was as protective over them, the people he saw as his, as a Niffler hoarding gold. They were his, and he showed his care, and affection, by ensuring their safety and place by his side as he pushed the bounds of magic.

While they'd been threatened continuously by Parkinson and Walburga Black, these threats seemed to phase Tom far less than the knowledge that in another life, he'd lost the Hufflepuff girl.

And unfortunately he'd apparently decided to handle those complex emotions by pretending he didn't care at all.

Draco groaned, rubbing his face even as he added a touch more Fenwood to the black, glimmering potion before him.

"I just don't know why Tom would say that." Harry was saying, sounding confused and a little annoyed, "Tierra isn't nothing, she's the best of us at bloody shielding and she's definitely the best with Magical Creatures. She's not stupid…"

"It's not about her brains, Potter," Draco sighed, and stoppered the Fenwood, turning to face the other boy, "It's because… the first time around…." He hesitated for a moment as Harry cocked his head, just like Tom Riddle did, "Tierra died, Potter. Tierra died before she even graduated."

Harry's eyes widened, "Why, what happened?"

"Grindelwald, or a follower, something to do with him anyway. An attack in France. She died."

The green eyed boy looked shocked by the revelation, mouth slightly open, "How do you know?"

Draco winced, and Harry's confusion turned into a glare.

"You looked it up."

"No, Hermione looked it up," Draco swiftly deflected, "And then she told me, and Riddle, when we asked."

Harry groaned.

"So Tierra died, thanks to Grindelwald… and Tom knows this."

"Essentially."

Potter ran his fingers through his atrocious hair, "That's why he was an arse. Because he doesn't want to admit he cares. Because she might die?"

"In essence, yes. Or so I believe." Draco sighed, "Tierra died the first time around, but that history is gone… maybe it's different now?"

Harry didn't look convinced, "You remember what Hermione said, that sometimes the bits and pieces change but the big moments, the crossroads, remain the same. Do you think her death was big enough to be a crossroads?"

Draco shrugged, "I don't know Potter, probably not. After all, it doesn't seem like it had much impact on history…"

"Mmmm." Harry mused, and again Draco could see his brain working, "Maybe. But either way… Tom doesn't handle death well."

Draco snorted, it was the understatement of the century.

Potter glared again.

"You know, this is your fault, and Hermione's. If you hadn't told him…"

Draco rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way he could.

"Potter, Riddle wanted to know, in fact he was exceptionally insistent upon knowing, precisely so he could avoid such pitfalls. You know he's going to try and stop this from happening to her…"

"Of course he is," Harry sighed, like Draco was the one who was thick, "But he's going to try and protect himself too, try and force himself not to care too much. Just in case. If anything you've put an expiration stamp on her!"

Draco gave him a bemused look and Potter signed, 'Muggles put labels on food so they know when it will go bad."

Muggles were bizarre. But he supposed it was something worth knowing... if you were planning on leaving food lying around…

"How did Tierra take what he said?" He asked, stirring the potion slowly.

"She left." Harry sighed, "I've been trying to find her since, with the Map, but she's been avoiding me, avoiding everyone."

"Course she has," Draco huffed, "She's embarrassed."

"Or hurt." Harry rolled his eyes at him and Draco poked him sharply, "Hey! It's true. Tierra values emotion, the human side of things. Yes she might be embarrassed, but she's not proud. If she's hiding, it's because she's hurt."

"And how do you propose we find a hurt Hufflepuff, Potter?"

Harry's too innocent smile told him he wasn't going to like the answer.

"You've got a lot of balls asking me about one of my ducklings, Malfoy." Catalina Rivera informed him, sweeping past him and Potter, her caramel skin gleaming in the low light of the Library.

The Sixth year prefect had been one of the ones who had helped Tierra with defences against Walburga.

"I haven't done anything to her!" Draco huffed, regretting everything, "I'm just a concerned party."

Catalina gave him a look.

"The fact that you're asking means you have some part in this."

"Or that I'm her friend and heard that something had upset her!" Draco groaned, frustrated and just knowing that Potter was smirking behind him, "Do you really think I would have done something this egregious?"

The Hufflepuff sixth year ran her eyes over him assessingly.

"I think you'd be capable."

Draco spluttered.

Rivera carried on, however, before he could convey the full extent of his outrage, "Potter on the other hand…"

Merlin's teeth…

"Oh sure, Saint Potter." Draco grumbled.

"Neither of us were responsible for this," Potter politely jumped in, with a tone in his voice that Draco knew meant that the other boy deliberately wasn't rolling his eyes, but just you wait until Draco had his back turned, "Tierra is our friend…"

Rivera looked unimpressed, "Some friends. You haven't been looking after her very well, have you…?"

Draco blinked at her, a touch insulted, and beside him he saw that Potter was equally as taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Rivera put her books down, slightly harder than necessary, "It's clear that Tierra is burned out. She's been looking exhausted, she cries in her sleep, or so the girls in her dorm told me, and this was before whatever happened."

Draco felt guilt squirm in his stomach.

He remembered Tierra talking to everyone when the group was at odds, supportive and coaxing.

Had anyone actually ever taken the time to look after her, like she had looked after them?

Judging from the guilty expression on Potter's face, the answer was no.

Catalina nodded, like she'd expected as much.

"That's the problem." She folded her arms, and gave them another one of those looks that made Draco want to squirm, "This is what you all forget. Kindness is its own kind of strength, but it can be terribly isolating, especially when it's not appreciated."

"We appreciate her!" Draco huffed, annoyed.

"Does she know that?" Catalina asked with venomous sweetness.

"Yes!" then, "She should!"

"So you have assumed that she knows?"

Draco looked at Potter helplessly, but the dark haired boy still had that guilty look on his face. Rivera continued,

"Typical Hufflepuff. She hides her hurt, and her sadness because she wants to protect you all, because she loves you. But that empathy comes with a cost."

Draco glanced at Potter again, who was looking back at him too, expression stricken.

Rivera sighed, and took a seat, her voice gentling, "Give her time. She's hurt. And I'm not sure you, or your other friends, can give her what she needs."

"What do you think she needs?" Draco asked, curious.

Dark eyes caught his and held them.

"Respect."

They were studying in a dark corner of the Library, in one of the dark little nooks tucked among the shelves and the walls to create a comfortable little space, with a desk and booth seats.

Perfect for some private studying.

Aurora's quill scratched soothingly over the parchment, her handwriting flawless as she detailed an assignment for Potions, but Draco was paying little attention to her work.

Instead he was watching her.

Her silky, thick, raven hair was piled up at the back of her head, out of her way, with tendrils slowly escaping the quill pushed through it, holding it all in place. Her lips were red, a little puffy from her absent minded chewing on them as she studied.

She was possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

Like a lake in the darkness of a night with no moon and a sky flooded with stars.

Deep.

Unfathomable.

Sensual.

He imagined her dark gaze on his, her lips red from his kisses rather than her studies, her soft scent in his nose she moved close to him.

She was exquisite.

She was thrilling.

She was… too much like Tom.

It was a thought that halted his libido every time. Stopped him every time he itched to pull her sweet mouth to his.

She was so much like Tom. Naturally dark, that rich, sensual, intoxicating darkness that enfolded you, emboldened you.

Their darkness was rich but clean, no hint of corruption.

But Draco could remember.

Tom would never be Voldemort, but it would take time for him to remember the feeling of that rich darkness and not fear pain, not fear reprisal.

The fact that Aurora's darkness called to him was hopeful.

He was just willing to wait.

Even if Weasley said he was being a coward.

A thick tendril of black hair fell out of the knot at the back of her head and Aurora gave a frustrated huff as it swung down, brushing her parchment dangerously close to her wet ink writing.

He didn't think.

He reached out and gently pushed it back, back up and over her shoulder and over the quill.

His fingers brushed the delicate curve of her ear as he drew them back, her dark gaze locked on his grey.

The moment was charged, heavy with the promise of more.

He could do it.

All he wanted, in that moment, was to kiss her.

Then there was a thump as Victoria rounded the corner, books in her arms, huffing in annoyance.

And the moment was broken.

Both of them hurriedly turned back to their work.

And Draco elected to ignore the wide smirk that had bloomed over Greengrass' lips, as she read the room, and he ignored her sharp elbows digging into his ribs.

Girls really were a menace.

It turned out that Professor Merrythought had good instincts, as the next Duelling Club returned to Concert Duels, and she matched Tom and Harry against Tierra and Hermione.

Tierra who had the strongest shields, and Hermione, the brightest witch in the year.

"Begin!" The professor called and instantly Hermione cast, her purple spell splintering against Tom's blue.

The return strike did not shatter Tierra's shields, which drew appreciative murmurs from the audience, and a shocked look from the dark haired Slytherin boy.

Tierra didn't even look at him, she simply focused, face hard, and stony as she turned inwards.

Tom's frown deepened and he picked up the pace of his attack, and upped the power, determined to break the shields.

But they didn't break.

Tierra's shielding held.

But he could see that Hermione, just like Tom, was getting flustered, seeking a new solution as she came up against Potter's wall like shielding.

"Intumescere!" She cried and Tom stumbled as suddenly the ground swelled under him, like a giant boil.

Draco whistled and beside him Sebastian grinned broadly.

For a split second Harry's shield slipped.

"Expelliarmus!" Three voices cried.

Harry's wand shot out of his hand, just as Hermione's and Tierra's clattered at Tom's feet.

"Game over," Bash mused.

But Harry's wand had also sailed through the air, ripped from his hand, and been snatched up by Tierra.

Swiftly she reconjured her shield, just in time to block Tom's next spell.

Shock showed on his handsome face, and then determination hardened it once more.

"Concutere!" He cast, focusing entirely on her, now that Hermione was disarmed, now that it was down to just the two of them.

The shield held, for ten long aching seconds as his shield shattering spell dug itself in, as Tierra fought bitterly to keep it together.

And then it splintered into nothing.

"Very good." Professor Merrythought called, bringing an end to the match. "The winners are undoubtedly Mr Riddle and Mr Potter, but I liked that creative use of the swelling spell, Miss Granger." she praised, making Hermione flush with pleasure, as they all left the circle.

"Interesting…" Bash breathed next to him, and Draco glanced at him, seeing his dark eyes focused on the four in the circle, "Very interesting."

"Oh?"

Rosier glanced at him, something very serious about his usually, perpetually smiling mouth.

"We'll see… I suppose."

"Cryptic."

His, Merlin save him, great-uncle shot him a sardonic little smirk, "Figure it out Draco. Then we'll talk."

Draco huffed at them, and then watched as Tierra brushed past Tom and Harry, and left the room.

It was Kel who guided them down to the Forest the next evening.

Tierra had taken on work assisting the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, something that fit the animal loving Hufflepuff.

It was also just beyond the boundary of Potter's super annoying and informative Map.

They were directed to a small grove just inside the Forest, dark and quiet, and isolated from the rest of the hustle and bustle. Draco was a bit nervous, not having any really positive memories of the place, but Potter was insistent, and so with him, and Kel alongside, it was a little less worrisome.

They found Tierra in the glade, feeding Thestrals, and singing a quiet, slightly sad, song as she stroked their silky hides.

It made Draco pause for a second, the image startling him somehow, seeing the warm, maternal, supportive Tierra with creatures that so many considered inherently dark.

But of course she'd see their beauty.

It was her way, who she was, to see those qualities in things that many would consider inherently evil.

Like Thestrals.

Like Draco.

Like Tom.

Her voice was sweet too, pleasant, and warm. A voice you could imagine singing a lullaby… or raised in a mourning song.

"You can see them," Potter blurted out.

Tierra turned sharply, the song cutting off abruptly as she spun, shocked to see them, and the Thestrals rustled restlessly, reacting to her surprise.

"Harry?" She eyed them warily, "Draco? Kel? What are you guys doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously," Draco drawled, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his robes.

Tierra frowned, soft eyes considering them, "Why?"

Potter was the one who moved forward, slightly awkward but endearing too.

"Because you've been avoiding us." His voice was quiet, gentle, "Because we've been worried about you."

Tierra blinked a few times, eyes misting a little.

"You don't need to be. It's nothing I haven't heard before…"

That made Draco frown.

Who had said that to her before?

"Not from Tom." Harry pointed out, and Tierra's face crumpled with hurt for a moment before she turned back to the Thestral.

"It's not so surprising."

Kel shifted beside Draco, "I don't think Tom knows how to handle emotions about people he cares about." She said softly, her soothing voice carrying across the glade, "And he cares about you Tierra. Always has."

Draco frowned.

Something about that phrasing, or her tone, was off. Some implication or something…

Did Kel know about Tierra's fate?

…had she Seen it?

Tierra shook her head and huffed, "Look, I don't need… I don't want you to worry. I'm fine… it just stung…"

"It was also a lie," Harry stepped forward and rubbed his hand over the coat of the Thestral nearest to him, "Tom doesn't like to feel vulnerable, and that can make him a bit of an arse about things."

"Harry I don't need you to lie to make me feel-"

"He's not lying!" Kel interrupted, insistent as she too moved forward, resting her hand lightly, and briefly on Tierra's arm, "Tierra you're important to Tom, a boy who, before he came to Hogwarts, could never trust that he wouldn't lose something."

Oh she knew something.

Draco stared at Kel intently, and then decided to go for it.

"Tom found out you might die."

Harry and Kel whipped around to stare at him, Potter with an expression of incredulous 'what the hell, Malfoy' and Kel…

Kel was surprised, her eyes wide, but there was something more on her face..

Realisation…

The Hufflepuff meanwhile, stared at him, those soft eyes huge in her pale face, "What?"

"I don't know all the details," Draco fudged, keeping his face impassive and his attention firmly on the Seer even as he spoke to Tierra, "But in the original timeline, you died. When Tom heard that…"

He glanced at her, for just a moment.

At Kel, whose cheeks slowly were draining of all colour.

"It's not going to happen," Harry assured Tierra, entirely focused on the Hufflepuff and unaware of the Seer having a minor crisis nearby, "That was part of forming the Coven right? So that we could be there to help each other."

"Excuse me…" Kel breathed and hurried back across the clearing, past Draco.

"Kel!" Harry sounded confused, and worried, but he was unwilling to leave the Hufflepuff's side.

"I'll just…"

Draco gestured vaguely, and then hurried after her. He found her a short way down the path, slumped against a tree.

"Kelanna."

She started, guiltily, and looked up at him with those haunted eyes. Dark blue with a ring of hazel around the pupil, multi-coloured and yet like a misted forest, muted.

And so sad, so ancient.

"You know something." He continued, keeping his voice soft, but firm, "You realised something, in that clearing…"

"Draco…" Kel gnawed at her lip, "Leave it…"

It was a weak pushback, barely any effort in it. A token effort to keep her boundaries, but not a committed one.

So he simply took a seat before her on a fallen bough, the ground still being too icy to sit on comfortably.

"Kel."

One word, her name, and the Seer crumbled.

"Draco…" the hesitation this time was more of a gathering of herself than an actual delay, "I had visions of Tom for years before I came to Hogwarts. Dreams of his crimes, his murders, his early years and his time at Hogwarts. I saw his followers, I saw so much, so many moments which happened in your time, and so moments that changed as choices were made."

She wrung her hands together so hard her bones creaked.

"I can't explain what I saw, what I now know is connected." She met his gaze and he was shaken by what he saw there. "But I think… I think it's important."

So it was that a small group was gathered in the Room of Requirement a day or two later, in a small room that was given strict instructions not to let another soul into the room, no matter if they knew of their location or not.

Harry was there, as was Hermione, Ron and Draco, with Sebastian, who it turned out also knew about Tierra's fate.

Tom and Tierra were not.

They'd wondered if they should know, but Kel had insisted that they not. It wasn't their story, she said, and it would only hurt them. Not help.

And so it was that Kel showed them a story from another time.

She showed a young pale Slytherin boy meeting an equally young Hufflepuff girl in a small tower and how they'd agreed to share the space as long as no one talked.

She showed them the slow growth from acquaintances to study partners, to something more.

It was strange, seeing the cold, hard version of Tom Riddle, who was so cruel to everyone else, soften a little around the Hufflepuff. She was soft, she was innocent, she was pure.

She was his.

That was how he saw her, and it was only solidified by her heritage. She was his, his alone, and he hated seeing her happy with any others.

Then it showed a long, clear vision, a discussion between Tom Riddle and Tierra after his first murder, the murder of Myrtle. They saw the Hufflepuff compromise her empathy and morality to protect one she loved, and how it cracked something within her.

They saw the pair's final confrontation, on the cusp of summer the following year, and Tierra turning her back on the boy she loved, unable to stomach the compromises she'd made to protect him.

"I have a project," Tierra's voice, distant, speaking to someone unknown, someone who wasn't Tom, "I know it's dangerous but I will only find the answers on the mainland of Europe. In France."

Something like ice slid down his spine as slowly their eyes adjusted to a new scene before them.

It was a vision he recognised, but with more detail now that he wasn't locked into walking through the battlefield.

It was the vision they'd all shared, so long ago now.

Of the young woman, in the centre of a battle, holding shields while people fled into a building.

She was covered by mud, by blood, and grime and the first time he'd seen this he hadn't recognised her.

He did now.

Tierra.

Their stupidly determined, idealistic Hufflepuff, who refused to flee, refused to run, refused to abandon the innocent and the unprotected.

Who stayed, who closed the gate, knowing that it meant her own chances of survival closed too.

It hurt, seeing the vision once more, now with the knowledge of exactly who it was

They witnessed her murder.

They witnessed the brutality of it, the cruelty, and the terribleness of its waste.

And as she died, they heard, as though the magic was screaming with her, a single word.

A name.

Tom

They didn't hear it in their ears.

They heard it in their bones.

In the depths of their souls.

The very fibre of their beings.

After they lifted from the memory, Hermione's face was wet with tears, Potter looked pale and distressed, Weasley had his hands clenched and Bash… Bash was withdrawn, silent.

Quietly Kel spoke.

"We'll take a few moments… before the next one."

Draco was glad, he was feeling very rattled, seeing someone he knew, someone he cared for, murdered before his eyes.

The raw emotion of it all was draining, exhausting, seeing their friends in a different time, a different lifetime.

A Tierra whose love hadn't been enough to stop the boy she loved from falling to the deepest darkness.

A Tom who walked the path to Voldemort, and felt no remorse, no sorrow for the destruction he caused… except for one, young Hufflepuff.

A tightly held secret.

One that even the seemingly all-knowing Dumbledore had been unaware of.

Tierra didn't fit the narrative, the story of the dark orphan boy who sought only pain and power.

Dumbledore was content with the surface of it, because it fit with what he knew, what he believed. He believed Tom was evil.

Like Grindelwald.

Maybe it was a comfort to believe that Grindelwald was also incapable of love. Maybe it soothed the guilt.

Why would Dumbledore ever look past the visage presented before him?

Why would he look past the story, that he believed only he could see, of a boy on the path to darkness.

Dumbledore had believed he'd seen the true Tom Riddle. Past the polite, genial, charming boy that everyone else thought so highly of. He alone saw the darkness, the lust and drive for power, and the magical potential to achieve it.

Why would he look any further?

His ego would not allow him to see it otherwise, and his condescension would not allow that perhaps Tom, did in fact, know of love.

A twisted, possessive, desperately sad kind of love.

But love.

The only love he'd ever known.

And one that was stolen from him. Leaving him hurt, vulnerable.

Of course he'd chosen to never feel that way again.

"Tierra was the one we saw," Hermione said quietly, and her eyes were misted, "This was how she died… it must have been Grindelwald's men attacking the town."

"Why were we all shown that?" Potter asked, rubbing his arms, "Memories from our lives…yes it opened that discussion but this? This was something we didn't know."

"Maybe it's something we're meant to change." Hermione mused.

"It's not going to happen now, we would have changed that very early on… long before we saw it." Draco pointed out.

Weasley had his arms folded, but there was a look on his face, angry yes but also putting pieces together.

"Voldemort opened the Chamber in his Fifth year, right Harry?"

Harry nodded, looking a little lost, drained, like the world was resting heavily on him.

"The second vision… was after a year, just before they left Hogwarts at the end of their Sixth year." Weasley continued, and then his gaze locked onto Draco's own. "She died, how long after?"

"During that summer." Hermione was the one to answer, voice sad, "Only a month or so later. Do you think they reconciled?"

She glanced at Kel, who slowly shook her head.

"I'm pretty sure that was the last time they spoke together."

"If she hadn't died, I don't think Voldemort would have just simply let her go…" Harry mused quietly, "He would have stepped back, let her have the summer, but he would have intended and planned to force her to reconsider when they came back to Hogwarts. No matter what it took. He would have done it. He didn't accept failure."

They considered this quietly, and then after a few more moments Harry got to his feet and moved back to the pensieve. One by one the rest of them joined him.

Kel bit her lip, and poured a vial with a darker white, almost grey, memory into the pensieve bowl.

They all plunged in and found themselves in a forest at night.

The first thing Draco noticed was that it wasn't the Forbidden Forest. In fact some part of him was pretty sure it wasn't even a British forest. The air felt different, the trees were unfamiliar too…

It was dark in the woods however, night, and the trees were thick, impenetrable almost with bramble and thorns. But they were standing in a clearing, with luscious grass and brush all around.

And before them were two men.

One of the men was a blond man, with sharp features, and with a start Draco recognised him as the one who had tortured Tierra for information, the one who had brutalised her for her silence…and the one who had killed her when she still, even after everything, refused to speak.

He didn't look as confident or cruel now. In fact he was visibly shaking, clutching his wand like he was afraid it would bite, and he was staring at the man standing opposite him.

Tom

And he was a man now, the last of the roundness of childhood having left his face. He was now breathtakingly handsome, almost inhumanly so, with his pale skin, sweeping silky black hair and those fathomless eyes.

There was cruelty on his face however, and never had Tom Riddle looked more like the monstrous version of Voldemort than now.

He exuded power, and control, but it was slightly off too. It wasn't like their Tom. It was like a note played in a song which fit, but was also discordant. Unsettling.

And in his eyes.

Red.

That terrible, familiar red.

"Who are you?" the man asked, his mouth moving for different words, German, but understandable as the English Kel must have heard in her vision. "Who are you!?"

"We shall come to that. Right now, I am more interested in who you are, Gustav Bulmach."

Tom's dark eyes gleamed viciously.

"I-I-I am nobody." Gustav stammered, clearly alarmed now, watery blue eyes flickering around the clearing.

"No? Are you not one of Grindelwald's men? Did you not attack a village in France, on a summer's night?"

Tom's voice was like a seductive caress in the dark, rippling in the night air as he prowled forward.

Gustav gulped, obviously terrified but something flickered in his gaze. Recognition. "N-No…"

"Did you not go to attack the worthless muggles, and find your way blocked by a witch?" The caress had deepened into a roll of thunder now, and red, bright, crimson, alarming and painfully familiar flashed forth in his eyes, making the blond man, his prey, cry out in alarm and scramble backwards, stumbling and clumsy in his terror.

"A girl witch," Tom continued, or rather Voldemort, continued, crooning the words like a lover, but with a twist of cruelty to it, "just a girl. Who held the shields as the others escaped?"

"Please no, mercy please." Gustav whimpered, falling over his feet so that he was sprawled on the soft green grass, Tom looming above him contemptuously.

"Did you not, shatter her shield, and then stand over her…just like this."

"Please…" Gustav was weeping now, clearly beyond terrified of the pain that he knew was coming, hoping that there was a way out, "Please…"

"'Where did they go?'" Tom mocked lightly, raising his wand, "That was what you asked." his face twisted, something dark and violent, and… pained, "And then… crucio."

Gustav's whimpers turned to screams of agony as he writhed on the ground.

"'Where are they girl?'" Voldemort spread his arms, mocking once more as Gustav screamed himself hoarse. Finally, he lifted his wand, leaving the man crumpled on the ground.

Voldemort slowly knelt before him, and his nose wrinkled slightly as the man soiled himself, an involuntary reaction to a Cruciatus curse inflicted for such an extended time.

He waited for Gustav's gaze to finally focus on him.

"'Tell me, or die.'"

The words were exactly what they'd heard in the vision.

This Voldemort, in his youth, in his prime post Hogwarts, knew exactly what had happened to Tierra

"Please…I beg of you." the blond man wept.

Voldemort's lip curled, cruelty and disgust on his face as he stared down at his prey. Then, slowly he stood.

And pulled a locket out of his robes.

Nearby, Potter gasped.

"She didn't beg," Tom's voice was a silky caress, soft and exquisite in its tenderness, his gaze staring at the locket for a long moment.

Then he turned back to the doomed man on the ground.

"She never begged." Hate lanced across his face, something savage and full of fury, "But you see…she was mine, Gustav. That little witch was mine."

The last word was raw, hissed, cracked with intensity.

"I'm s-s-sorry…"

"Nothing so mundane as love, you see." he sneered, caressing the locket in his hand, barely even really paying attention to the miserable Gustav. No, his gaze was looking beyond him, to something only he could see, only he could know. "No, nothing so worthless, so mundane."

The rictus of rage shattered for a moment, and all that was left was a bleak desolation on Tom's face. No red in his eyes, just the dark familiar indigo of their friend.

"But she was pure. The only truly pure thing in my life. Innocent… " he breathed the words, fingers tracing the locket with a lover's tenderness, before suddenly his gaze snapped back to his prey, the red surging forth once more, "And you… took her away."

The blond man whimpered.

"In some ways I must thank you Gustav. You confirmed exactly why I was doing this, preserving my essence in perpetuity. You solidified that these measures were necessary. And now you will help me again, in penance for your crimes against Lord Voldemort."

"H-How?"

"You will die. Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, and that terrible green light blasted forward.

Gustav slumped to the ground, lifeless, a shell, but the green didn't fade. Instead it morphed from the vivid emerald to a sickly, terrible yellow green, like Bubertuber pus, like something rancid.

"You will be my next tether to life."

Lord Voldemort held out the locket letting it float in the air as the light grew, and Gustav's body began to glow brighter.

"For her."

A scream slowly filled the air. It sounded like Bulmach, it sounded like many others.

It sounded like Tierra, alone in France as she died.

The sound grew, and grew, until they all had to cover their ears but it did nothing to stop the terrible scream.

Like a Banshee.

Like magic being ripped apart.

Draco glanced at his friends, seeing Hermione clutching her head, eyes tightly squeezed closed, Bash and Ron with her.

Harry was staring at Voldemort, nails digging into his head.

Draco looked back at their old enemy, brain throbbing with the terrible sound.

The Locket was open, magic like a vortex swirling into its depths, as they saw something leaving Voldemort, like a ghostly thread.

For a moment the thread was a thin veil, suspended in the air, and within it they saw Tierra.

She was weeping.

And then the silver thread plummeted into the locket, with the sickly green thread from Gustav.

And then the locket snapped shut.

Silence.

And then they were lifted from the memory, and into another.

The forest was replaced by an elegantly furnished sitting room, a formal space with antique furniture.

The architecture of the place was beautiful but the furniture within it was rickety and antique, and very obviously muggle crafted. It looked slightly out of place within the space, but not too jarringly so.

Tom was standing by the fireplace, a glass of firewhiskey resting on the mantle within reach.

He was staring into the black empty space where a lit fire would be, a pensive expression on his face.

Younger than the Voldemort that they had just seen, about the same age as he had in the final vision with Tierra.

He sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair, as he turned away from the empty fireplace, away from the whiskey.

He was halfway to the window, when he clutched at his chest, nails digging into his skin.

"What…" he whispered, before crying out sharply, falling to his knees by the fireplace.

Suddenly the heath, previously unlit, roared into life, wild and uncontrolled and Tom scrambled back, clutching at his chest, at his stomach, gripping tightly, almost desperate, panicking,

"What is-?"

He cried out again and the nails drew blood on his white dress shirt.

Bruises rippled over his exposed skin, nerves stood out in high relief, and he sobbed in pain, thrashing as he tried to get away from something, anything.

What was happening to him?

Draco didn't know.

Long moments passed.

Finally Tom slumped to the ground, panting, blood spreading over his clothes, his white shirt, his black dress slacks, and Draco wondered… wondered if perhaps this was it. Of whatever it was…

But in the hearth, the fire roared higher, brighter, more terribly, until...

It was like a thread snapping.

The fire went out.

And Tom screamed.

It was a sound he'd never heard before.

And he never wanted to hear it again.

"Tierra!"

As one, they lifted out of the memory of Kel's vision.

And stared at each other.

"He knew." Harry whispered. "That something had happened."

"Even after everything…" Hermione wiped her eyes, sniffing, slightly, "She called for him… and he heard."

"Too late.." Draco replied, a little bitterly, he could hear it in his voice, "He only knew when it was too late. What was the point?"

"Facing death…" Harry's hand touched the edge of the pensieve, "She reached for the person she loved."

Draco remembered the story of Potter going to face his death in the Forbidden Forest and felt a sharp pang.

He would know.

"You think she loved him?" Ron breathed, "Above her friends, her family, her parents…?"

"Of course." Sebastian's voice was quiet, but there was something in his voice that made Draco, and all the others look at him.

Sebastian's face was solemn, but there was something in his gaze, something bright, something intent.

"I've had a theory for a while. I haven't wanted to share it, because I wasn't sure…I didn't know…"

"What theory?" Weasley's voice was quiet.

Bash took a deep breath and some instinct deep in Draco's gut shivered.

Whatever he said… this was a moment.

He just knew it.

Sebastian's gaze locked onto Potter's.

"He was her Dimitera. And she was his."

To Be Continued...

No review responses this chapter. As most of them are answered by this chapter, or lament my cruelty.

That did continue here.

The revelations in this chapter have been planned since the beginning. I was going to string it out longer... but this felt right.

I hope you all enjoy!

Also a little Drarora for all you Draco x Aurora shippers out there.