Hermione stepped through Tom's room, deep in thought. Nothing here gave any clues as to the occupant. Everything that belonged to him was always carefully stowed away in the wardrobe when he wasn't working on his homework. Just like now. As if she wasn't even there, he was writing his History essay.

They still hadn't talked. After he had used the Cruciatus against her during the duel, she had punished him with an icy silence. Over the course of the week, she had caught Tom trying to say something to her several times, but he had always stopped at the last moment. Ever since she had shown herself to be superior to him in Potions, there seemed to be an ice age between them. Or had he used Slughorn's kindness towards her as a reason to be angry with her after all?

With a sigh, Hermione stretched out on the four-poster bed and stared at the ceiling. How long had she blocked out the fact that Tom had already created at least one Horcrux? How long had she ignored the fact that he was obviously well versed in the book Secrets of the Darkest Art? So much had happened, so much had changed in her relationship with him, that she had simply blocked out what he must have already done.

Despite the current low between them, she trusted that Tom was still fond of her. Ever since he had changed her Dark Mark so that she could call him, she knew how serious he was about her. So why not risk something? She had spent months here at Hogwarts without getting any closer to solving the riddle of her mission. So if the cautious route didn't work, why not just try the direct route?

"What do you know about Horcruxes?"

She asked her question quietly, but the words didn't miss their mark. For a breath, Tom seemed frozen in his chair, his back still turned to her. Then he turned round and was with her on the bed in a few steps. She sat up as he moved close to her, his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

"What did you just say?" he demanded to know in an emotionless voice.

Hermione swallowed, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. She asked the question, now she had to go all the way. "I want to know if you know anything about Horcruxes."

Tom scrutinised her without blinking. As if he was looking for something, he stared at her impassively. His mask seemed to crumble. Hermione thought she could literally see the flames of hatred beginning to blaze behind his eyes. But then, just as quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared again. Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved away from her so that they could sit cross-legged opposite each other.

"Why do you ask?" His voice still sounded emotionless, but Hermione could see his neck muscles working. He was trying to remain calm, but she had obviously hit a sore spot.

"The book," she began slowly. "You know, Secrets of the Darkest Art. You saw me with it a few months ago. That was the first time you asked me how I felt about the dark arts."

Tom made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I remember. What about it?"

"I was reading it and stumbled across a chapter on Horcruxes. I'd never heard of them before and I was... intrigued." Trying to sound honest, Hermione looked at him openly. Even back then, when she had found the book in Dumbledore's office, she could hardly believe that there was a textbook that described such dark magic. She still found it hard to believe that it was just sitting in the school library during this time. What could have been prevented if Tom Riddle had never learnt that Horcruxes existed?

"Intrigued?" Tom sounded incredulous. He seemed to have given up trying to hide his emotions from her, so openly did he display his surprise. "You've read that it's about splitting your soul? That the soul becomes unstable when you do that? Aren't you worried about that?"

Now it was Hermione who stared in surprise. So Tom knew that, he clearly recognised the danger. And yet he was going to create several Horcruxes? How insane was he really already? She licked her lips and shrugged. "Of course I read that. I just thought... Horcruxes could help prolong one's life. Even better than the Philosopher's Stone supposedly can. You can't be killed because part of your soul is bound to an object and you can simply return with a suitable body. What's not fascinating about that?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

The question caught Hermione off guard. She would have thought that he would be suspicious. That he would immediately suspect that she knew about him, about his Horcruxes. Instead, he steered the topic in a completely different direction. She shrugged again to emphasise her composure. "I don't know. Everyone is afraid of death, but I don't think I'm really that scared. If I had a concrete goal. Like you with your plan. Then that would be different. The thought of not being able to realise my plan before I die would be terrible. But I don't have that."

She was treading on very thin ice, she knew that. With every word she spoke, she made it clear to Tom that she knew a lot. Did he realise that she knew too much? Suddenly she realised that her hands were clenched into fists, ice-cold with tension, while her breathing became shallower. Anxiously, she endeavoured to keep her hands looser in her lap.

"Don't you share my plan?" Once again, Tom steered the conversation in an unexpected direction.

She studied his face carefully, but she couldn't find any indication that he was suspicious. If anything, she read curiosity and scepticism there. As if he didn't believe her, but not as if he knew she was lying. She tilted her head and ran a finger over her lips. "I share your plan, Tom. You know that. I'm on your side. But I know that your plan will become reality without me."

She meant the last sentence absolutely honestly. She knew that everything was going according to plan, at least until 1980 - until Harry was born and with him came the prophecy of Voldemort's downfall. And she knew that Tom had done it alone. With his Death Eaters in tow, but without her.

"My heart." Tom's soft voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Surprised, she realised that he leaned towards her and was about to place his hand on her cheek. He looked into her eyes for a moment, then leant forward even further and tenderly placed his lips on hers. With a sigh, Hermione melted into the touch. She had missed this the past week. His tender attention that had become so familiar to her. She closed her eyes with pleasure and lost herself completely in the feeling of his lips.

After several heartbeats, he pulled away from her again, but he did not withdraw completely. Instead, he placed his second hand on her face and looked directly at her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. In my anger, I used an Unforgivable on you, even though I swore I would never harm you again."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she struggled to understand what just happened. Did Tom Riddle really apologise to her? She placed her hands over his and turned her head slightly to give him a kiss on the inside of his right hand. Then she looked back up at him and smiled. "If I thought you really meant me any harm, I would have reported you, Tom. Thanks for the apology."

With astonishing strength, he pulled her onto his lap and buried his face against her shoulders. Unsure of what was going on, Hermione wrapped her arms around him. Why did Tom suddenly apologise? Was he really capable of recognising and admitting a mistake?

Finally, he straightened up so that they could look into each other's eyes again. There was still an intimacy about them that was foreign to Hermione, but she savoured the quiet moment.

"I'm often angry," Tom began slowly as he stroked the back of her neck softly with one hand. "Always have been, but more than ever for a while now. Anger can be useful. It often helps me to see things more clearly and keep my distance. But when it leads me to do things that are so obviously irrational, that's not good. Speaking an Unforgivable against you in front of a professor in class was irrational. An obvious mistake. The fact that you didn't say anything showed me that you're a lot more loyal than I would have thought. That's why you deserve an apology."

Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. A mixture of disappointment and amusement rose within her as she realised that he only regretted what he had done because it had been irrational and he had feared losing her loyalty. Maybe he really meant what he had said about not wanting to hurt her, but that was obviously not what was really important to him.

"Do you think that an unstable soul means that you can no longer control your emotions?"

Now she understood. That was why he apologised so suddenly after the subject of the Horcruxes had come up. He was worried about himself, about his stability, now that he had already made at least one. If he wanted to talk to her about it, however, he would have to lay all his cards on the table.

As if pondering his question, she furrowed her eyebrows and scrutinised him intently. After letting a sufficient amount of time pass, she opened her eyes, took a deep, shaky breath, and then pressed out, "You've already created a Horcrux."

Holding her breath, she waited for his reaction. If he confessed now, she would be a huge step closer. She would finally be where she probably should have been long ago. She could talk to him about Horcruxes and perhaps coax a secret out of him after all. But he had to open up to her and not become suspicious.

She could only see from the twitch at the corner of his mouth that her statement caught him off guard. Like her before, he seemed to be thinking before he finally said, "Of course you realised it on your own, my heart. I really should get out of the habit of underestimating you and your intelligence."

Unwilling to be distracted by the compliment, she followed up, "So you already have one?"

Instead of giving her an answer, Tom pressed her tighter against him again and pulled her into another kiss. This one was different than before, more greedy, more demanding. For a moment she resisted, annoyed that he was so obviously trying to distract her, but when his hands travelled down her back to her bottom, she couldn't suppress a moan. She allowed him to push back until she was lying on her back, him directly above her. For the moment, she gave in.

Again and again, he took possession of her lips, urging her to open up to him further. Heat shot through her body as she clearly felt how aroused he was between her legs.

His hand travelled between her legs and just as he finally reached her centre, he broke off. Breathing heavily, Hermione looked up at him as she unconsciously rubbed against his hand. Tom returned her gaze, lust clearly written on his face, but he seemed to hesitate.

"To create a Horcrux, you have to kill a human," he whispered, sounding strained, as if he had to fight for control. Hermione nodded. She knew that, of course she knew that. From the first moment she had willingly given herself to him, she had realised that he was a murderer. Tom swallowed and took a deep breath. His voice sounded dark with desire as he continued. "What if I told you that I've already created two Horcruxes?"