Hermione let her eyes wander restlessly around the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. After studying the theory of non-verbal duelling spells in detail before the holidays, today was another practical lesson. She would be fighting Tom again in front of everyone. Even though her relationship with him had changed in the meantime, it still made her nervous.

She still didn't know whether she was superior to Tom or not. She had the feeling that Tom had previously won by unfair means, which she would have been prepared for in a different context. Out on the field, on the run from the Death Eaters, all her senses had been tuned to the fact that her opponents were trying to kill her with every curse aimed at her. She had had the same experience in her previous duels with Tom, but her approach, her inner attitude had been different. Was that the only reason she had lost?

Was she even allowed to show how much she could do? Even now, she was attracting attention that she didn't like. Other students saw her as Tom Riddle's girlfriend and talked about her. What if her name became known outside the castle walls? Would people from her own time remember the stories about Hermione Dumbledore if a Hermione Granger appeared alongside Harry Potter? Would too much focus on her cause her to change time after all?

"My heart."

Tom's quiet words snapped Hermione out of her inner conflict. She blinked several times to rejoin the other students in the classroom. She looked up at him questioningly.

"I want to see what you can do today. Make me proud," he whispered to her.

Hermione could see in his eyes that he meant what he said. She swallowed. The decision was probably taken from her. "If that's what you want. But I'm warning you. Don't hold back. If I have even a hint of suspicion that you're deliberately letting me win, you won't like the consequences."

The corner of his mouth twitched as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Hermione Dumbledore, do you realise who you are saying those words to? I would never let anyone win."

She raised an eyebrow meaningfully, but her reply was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Merrythought. The old professor thanked them that some students had already rearranged the classroom to make room for the duelling podium. She pulled out a clipboard on which she noted all the pairs and again gave precise instructions on how the duels should look. Whoever used a verbal spell automatically lost.

Hermione was not surprised that the duels ended much quicker than before. Not all of the students had managed to master the non-verbal spells so well in the meantime that they were able to perform complete protective or attack spells. In most cases, one curse was enough.

Likewise, she was not surprised that there was an expectant gleam in the old witch's eyes when it was Hermione and Tom's turn to mount the platform. Although Hermione knew that the platform was specifically designed to limit the curses of the duelling students so that onlooking students would not be affected, she was glad that Professor Merrythought motioned for everyone to take several steps back. If she was to unleash all her power and skill, she would not shy away from wreaking destruction.

At the professor's signal, they both raised their wands in front of their faces and bowed. Tom then took up a wide stance, while Hermione ducked down and placed her feet hip-width apart. Despite his words, Tom was still intent on elegance and appearance. She gave him a cocky grin, which he returned with a provocatively raised eyebrow.

Hermione carefully focussed all her senses on the handsome young wizard in front of her. She kept telling herself in her mind that he was here to kill her. That she had to fight him with everything she had and render him harmless if she wanted to survive.

While she was still gathering her focus, she noticed the slightest movement of Tom's wrist. Instead of casting a defence spell, Hermione jumped to the side, straight to the edge of the platform. It was only a few metres wide, so she would have to be careful where she dodged. Shaking her head, she looked forwards to where Tom was obviously waiting for her retort.

Concentrating, she moved her wand. In quick succession, she shot an Expelliarmus followed by a reduced Expulso at Tom. While he effortlessly blocked the first curse, the shockwave from the explosion at his feet almost knocked him over. His patronising posture collapsed and now Hermione finally saw seriousness in his eyes. He realised that she was indeed not here to play.

More and more curses flew at her, while Hermione herself was busy sending her own curses at Tom. She barely had time to analyse his attacks, so she mostly dodged to escape the spells. Tom, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed by her curses and skilfully blocked them all with the right counterspells. Sweat gathered on the back of Hermione's neck and her heart raced.

What Tom didn't realise was that she had a lot of stamina thanks to her escape and her unintentional practical training. She could keep up the dodging game forever without exhausting herself. At the same time, she made no effort to weave her curses in a concealed way. Her wand drew pattern after pattern in the air so that Tom could easily recognise what was flying towards him. She had to stop herself from giving herself away with a grin.

He probably thought she was showing off all her skills.

Even from a distance, she could see that Tom's expression stiffened. He didn't want to show it openly, but he was disappointed in her, she was sure of it. She licked her lips tensely. Now the time had come.

"Hey, Tom," she called out to him without stopping her spell work. "Enough playing, or what do you think?"

Before he could respond, Hermione sent three curses at him, one after the other, without moving her wand or any other muscle in her body. Only her mind spoke the words and drew the pattern.

She watched with satisfaction as Tom had to jump to the side, ending his previously uninterrupted flow of curses. He had to brace himself with one hand on the floor, so abruptly had he been torn from his concentration. When he looked up at her again, his gaze turned murderous. Grinning, she jutted out her chin and began to send her spells against Tom in as quick a succession as she could manage.

Now he did the same and physically dodged her curses. Hermione had him exactly where she wanted him. Even though Tom always endeavoured to take care of his body, he didn't train like his Quidditch-playing housemates did. He had nowhere near the stamina she had. He would get tired sooner or later. And then he would make a mistake.

Only at the very edge of her consciousness did she hear a murmur pass through the rows of spectators. Her last duels in Defence Against the Dark Arts had already been exceptional, but this one put everything else to shame. She was not prepared to lose and neither was Tom.

Again and again, she felt curses flying past her, but none of them hit. Her own curses didn't hit either, but she saw Tom's chest rise and fall violently. He was already out of breath after just a few minutes, while she felt her breathing quicken, but she didn't yet feel the burning in her thighs or the stinging in her side that told her she was reaching her limit.

She saw Tom take a step very far to the right and suddenly he was standing right on the edge of the platform. Instantly, she sent a Stupor at him that would miss him if he didn't move, but hit him if he tried to dodge to the other side. His body was already instinctively in motion when he recognised her trap and so the curse caught him just on the upper arm. He was jerked backwards, but he was able to stop his fall and catch himself with a large step backwards.

Hatred blazed from his eyes. As he started to counterattack, Hermione sensed that something had changed. She concentrated more than before on dodging his curses. She didn't know what he was using against her before already, but suddenly an icy panic rose up from the depths of her subconscious that she wouldn't survive a hit.

Her mantra that he wanted to kill her, which she had initially only used to sharpen her senses, suddenly came true.

She frantically dodged the next curse, but just as she did before, Tom now used it to his advantage. While she was still in motion, he already spoke the next curse that awaited her where she came up. He only grazed her leg, but instantly all-encompassing pain shot through her body.

While she was distracted for a second, the next curse hit her. The power of the Stupor pulled her off her feet and catapulted her off the pedestal.

Pain still held her whole body captive as she looked up at Tom, who was coming across the platform towards her. There was cold hatred and murder in his eyes. Groaning, Hermione tried not to let the pain show. She knew that if Professor Merrythought noticed anything, she would definitely change history.

"Tom," Hermione breathed, her voice breaking as she searched his gaze. Pleadingly, she shook her head, trying to signal him to stop the curse.

The old professor came rushing towards Hermione and the pain finally subsided. Coughing, she straightened up as the professor carefully placed a hand on her back. "Are you alright, Miss Dumbledore? Are you in pain?"

Every fibre of her body ached, but Hermione shook her head. Under no circumstances could she let it get out that Tom had just used the Cruciatus Curse in a classroom duel.

oOoOoOo

Tom paced up and down his room tensely. Hermione was lying in his bed and had fallen asleep over her school reading. He couldn't blame her for being more exhausted than usual after this day at school. Still, he wished she was still awake.

She hadn't spoken a word to him after the duel. They had spent the rest of the day in icy silence and he had practically had to drag her behind him by the arm so that she would accompany him to his room. There she had unceremoniously sat down on his bed, pulled out a textbook, and started reading.

Tom knew that the right thing to do would be to apologise. He had done something he shouldn't have done, and instead of betraying him, Hermione had kept quiet. He owed her an apology. The part of him that studied social norms and conventions knew that.

But that wasn't the problem. What really bothered Tom and what kept him from talking to Hermione was the why. Why had he done it? He remembered exactly how, at the beginning of the duel, he had been surprised at how unladylike she had attacked him, but he had taken note of it with grim pride and attacked her seriously afterwards. He had watched her cast her obvious curses and dodge his, inwardly complimenting her on how long she kept it up.

And then she had suddenly changed her pattern. Her wand stopped moving and he was no longer able to respond to her curses with magic. Suddenly he too had to dodge inelegantly. That was when it had started. Anger had risen up in him and swallowed everything inside him bit by bit until there was only one goal left for him.

Hermione had to suffer.

Cursing, he sank down onto the bed next to her. Something like this couldn't happen to him. His carefully cultivated mask would shatter if others saw this side of him. He had to be in control of his actions at all times. Only then would he be able to realise his vision. He needed control more than anything else.

Once again, his thoughts returned to the Horcruxes. He had never thought about his soul because he had only associated it with concepts such as a good heart or charity. Why did he need a soul if he was striving for true greatness? Yet time and again this year, he felt an instability within himself, uncontrollable emotions that made him doubt. Were the Horcruxes to blame? Had he unwittingly destroyed something within himself by splitting his soul?

Why did the ancient wizards have to guard their secrets so well? Why were there no records of them? Why were there only rough instructions on how to create Horcruxes, but no record of the consequences?

Tom ran his trembling fingers over Hermione's back. Her wild hair lay around her face, some strands almost knotted around her fingers, while her skirt had ridden up, revealing her thighs. This girl was definitely different from any of her peers, and she was his. She had almost beaten him today. Just thinking about it made the flames of anger flare up again. If he were normal, he should feel proud now. Wasn't it the case that partners were proud of each other's achievements and always encouraged and supported them? So why did he feel the need to make her suffer for the fact that she could almost hold her own against him?

"You are good and strong and powerful, Hermione Dumbledore," he whispered as he continued to stroke her up and down her back. "But I can't let you be better than me. You can never be better than me. If you're better than me, then..."

He broke off and turned away. The words had formed inside him of their own accord and he almost said them out loud. It was a good thing he had just caught himself. If he had spoken it, it would have become reality. That couldn't happen, not ever.

Hermione belonged to him, only him.