A/N: So the final chapter is here! I am very excited for the conclusion of this story that took me far too long to write. I began this in January of 2014, which is insane, and I didn't even stick to my original plan for the story, thank God, because that ending was bleh, and it's two chapters longer than originally expected. At least I'm finishing this before 2016 rolls around. Crazy, right?

Thank you so much to everyone who clicked on this story, especially those who favorited, followed and reviewed. I hope that you appreciate the ending. Please leave a review, I'd so love to know what you all thought.

Chapter 13

Finality was what Tom promised Hermione, his venom in the war. He reminded her how every piece of his and her lives have led up to this moment: the day when conquest would be granted in finality, lasting forevermore. War would no longer be necessary. Everything beneficial in Tom's life had to be permanent, if not, she knew of the disastrous consequences. Tom lived in two extremes. Either he controlled or he eradicated.

Hermione held onto the hope that this conquest might grant the return of her memories and her entire life. Without them, Hermione knew that she was broken. She did not even know who her parents were or had been. Ever since Tom rescued her, Hermione knew she needed her memories. The knowledge Tom had granted her simply was not enough. He knew nothing of her childhood, and Hermione could not tap into that happy freedom only a child feels or a smile on her parents' faces, something so vital to existence. Without it, people were shells.

Tom gripped her hand in his. His devilish, intoxicating smirk grappled her in. Every time he touched her, she craved more of him. It kept them together. She could have left him so many times since he saved her. She chose to stay. They helped each other.

"Today it ends, my dear. Everything we have done this past year has led to this," Tom reminded, and squeezed her hand. He led her out of the mansion they had taken residence in. It was located in the Scottish countryside and had been owned by some filthy, now dead, muggle. Tom enjoyed such luxurious indulgences, even if it had been touched by muggles, or the type of people who ruined everything.

Outside in the garden their followers were waiting. Many still gave her strange looks as they did when they had first met her. To Tom they looked fearful in the vicinity of his strong, fierce power. Their group of followers was massive, comprised of more than just wizards, witches, giants, and trolls. All of them united with one purpose; a hatred for the new Wizarding World and Harry Potter.

Tom pressed his wand against his neck, so that his voice would boom and seize the souls of those around him: "We strike!"

Everything they had done; slaughter of muggles, burning of villages, usurping any power and recruits around them, striking fear into the shadows of anyone who passed their glory, led to Hogwarts, Tom's true home to be claimed to end this fight. The Order of the Phoenix struggled against them, for their useless forces were being depleted. Tom knew what mistakes not to make.

He no longer had to hide.

Factions disapparated into the air around them, the prime destination and victory in their minds. If possible, Tom held Hermione's hand tighter. She glanced at her iridescent ring on her left hand that Tom continually held. To her, that ring projected their unity, two serpents curling around each other. The ring comforted her.

Once more, Hermione looked up towards him, her eyes shining with ever-growing affection for the mad man who will lead the world, who will destroy Harry Potter.

"Ready?" he prompted, a red glint in his black eyes.

"Thought you'd never ask," Hermione drawled.

Like their army, they flashed away.

xXx

They appeared in the main road of Hogsmeade as evening struck behind their stirring army next to the Hogshead, waiting for their call. Tom had relinquished Hermione's hand and his smirk disappeared. This happened every time.

His wand returned again to his neck and he roared, "Onward!"

The factions moved, their wands and weapons at their sides. Tom did not follow his army, but his eyes lingered on her. He grabbed her sides suddenly and pressed her against him.

"Today we will win. Death is not an exception, you understand, Hermione?" Tom warned.

"Our plan does not require us to fight, our army shall do that," Hermione remarked.

"Does not matter. Show no weakness here or when we're with him. I'll not lose you," Tom countered.

"I'll not die as long as you don't," Hermione promised.

"And I never shall," Tom stated and his smirk returned. He bent down, his lips gentle against hers.

Like a feral animal, his head whipped away and his eyes glared at a figure in the distance. His teeth bared, but he calmed himself and smiled sickeningly sweet at her.

"Take care of that would you, my dear, and if possible, make sure his fellows come running to battle. I'd so love to get rid of them all with one fell swoop as quickly as possible. Our army is far more prepared than theirs, as planned," Tom told her, his head indicated a brush of a cloak not far away, "Do what I told you afterwards and meet me inside. Someone has to control our army."

Tom relinquished her from his grip and stalked away. Hermione never like to watch him leave. So she did not glance his way, but began to trail after the figure Tom took note of. Hermione caught sight of the running person and brandished her wand. She charmed a tree near the figure to break and fall. She smiled cruelly as the figure attempted to cast a spell to stop the movement, but no charm this person cast could defeat her magic. Tom made sure of that. The tree fell on top of the man's leg. He screamed in agony, and reached for his wand which had rolled away from his reach. Hermione slowly approached it.

The figure was a man with sandy-blonde hair and chubby cheeks, but who's eyes were scarred with the vision of war.

"H-Hermione?" The man called out in raw pain, and she flinched. She felt some sort of inclination to spare the man, but Tom told her to take care of him, and she had to obey Tom. She owed him her soul.

"Inform your leaders that we're here, attacking Hogwarts," Hermione coldly instructed the man, her wand pointing at his face.

"Y-you don't have to do this," the man begged, his hand reaching into his back pocket, pulling out marked galleon, and his fingers embraced it. Hermione tilted her head in curiosity at the action.

"I do have to do this, and really, it is none of your business. Nothing will be your business," Hermione taunted. "Have you informed them?"

"Yes," the man grunted.

Emotionlessly, Hermione cast, "Avada Kedavra," and the man slumped, the coin dropping out of his grip. Hermione bent down and picked up the coin. She studied it and cast a charm over it to reveal its secrets. A Protean charm. Smirking, she put it in her pocket to use for reference later. Tom would be so proud. She spared another look at the man she killed. Perhaps she had known him in her other life. Yet, he still remained inconsequential.

In the distance she spotted Tom trailing behind the army just at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the sun setting in the sky beyond the castle.

It was time. Just as Tom taught her, she let the fiendfyre in the shape of a serpent to leave her wand and roar. It shot into the Hogshead and embraced the path the laid out for it as she backed away with each of its movement. Before hitting the shop across the street, it smacked into the fallen tree and man, roasting it.

Then she ran as her fire destroyed the helpless screams in its wake as the army disappeared inside of Hogwarts. Their new home.

xXx

Tom smiled in the courtyard of Hogwarts, and he slowly breathed in the air around them as the army began breaking open the doors to the castle. The Order of the Phoenix were most certainly on their way, running into Hogwarts through the burning Hogsmeade, which would slow most of their forces down.

Hermione gazed in admiration of the castle. She was unbelieving to the fact that she had studied in such a magnificent place. Tom promised her that this place would become their home, and that it would be the helm of the next generation of wizards, under the guidance of wisdom of Salazar Slytherin. Hermione agreed with Tom's opinion that the other founder's knowledge was no longer necessary. Life would be beautiful.

The doors broke open and the giants at the forefront awaited Tom. Tom held up a hand and those around him parted for him and her to break through. The two of them entered the castle, their footsteps echoing against the floor, and the beauty of her surroundings beckoned her forward.

"Welcome home, Hermione," Tom told her.

Hermione smiled, and awaited Tom's next action along with the rest of his army. He once more pressed his wand against his neck.

"Students of Hogwarts, return at once to your dormitories if you wish to be spared. Pureblood, halfblood, mudblood, it does not matter, you shall be spared if you do not bear arms against my forces. Be cunning," Tom announced, removed the wand from his neck and remained still, giving the students time to hide, for Tom did not wish to slaughter the future generation of wizards, he wanted them to be his. "To your positions. Now we wait. Every last member of the Order shall be vanquished if they do not surrender to our new world. But remember, Harry Potter is mine, let his path be clear."

Factions of their army marched to different areas of the castle as instructed. Hermione and Tom watched as they marched, ready to bring a new Wizarding World, one that did not have to hide from the likes of muggles everywhere. Under Tom, the Wizarding World will be the whole world and the culture that dominates.

Two Death Eaters stayed and perched themselves at their sides. Tom began to walk onwards, and headed towards the perch of the Grand Staircase. The halls of the castle were desolate of students or faculty. Hermione assumed that protecting the students became the faculty's main priority. Tom informed her that some faculty members were part of the Order, but none of them could fight alone.

"My Lord, it's the Order," one of the Death Eaters indicated, her head jerking towards one of the castle's windows. Tom glared out of it. Compared to their army, the Order's was miserable, and Tom smiled cruelly.

"And so it begins," he stated. "Come, we aren't supposed to fight this petty battle."

Tom swept away, his black cloak trailing behind him as the colors from wands soared in the sky, the Order's forces already being depleted by their army. He led them up the staircase towards the seventh floor in the wake of piercing screams and dead bodies landing on the floor. Unlike their army, the Order knew the secret passages into Hogwarts, as Tom expected, which was why he flanked his factions at every possible entrance. Surrender or die was the reality for the Order.

The hallway they entered was clear, and Tom began pacing in front of one section of the wall. Curiously, Hermione watched him, determined in this feat. A door appeared in the wall, just as Tom had promised.

Before Tom entered, he again pressed his wand against his neck for his final announcement. "Harry Potter, the time has once again come. I have Hermione. She and the students of the castle shall be spared, and surviving members of the Order granted asylum after the battle if you join me and surrender yourself to your fate that you should have accepted eight years ago. I am in the room of lost things. Surrender yourself and save the others, for you know that victory is mine and I am not above slaughter."

Then he turned and opened the door, comforted by the knowledge that Harry Potter would bolt here, as if none of the others around him matter. He had already lost so much thanks to Tom's raging war, that finality was what he craved. No one wanted a war-torn country forevermore, not even the evil ones.

The four of them entered the room of lost things. The rooms smelt and looked like burnt, crisp edges. It was blackened beyond repair, and Tom's lips flinched at the sight of his once beloved sanctuary.

"It has been so long," Tom uttered, lost in his memories.

He stood still staring at the burnt surrounding, uncaring the battle raging on in the lower levels of the castle. Death of others was inconsequential to him. He never had trouble recruiting others. He never had trouble with her.

Hermione approached him and stood next to him, and the two Death Eaters flanked them as they awaited the so-called Chosen One. Tom's message would strike a nerve within him. Without seeing his reaction, Hermione knew it, for that is what Tom had guaranteed.

As she waited for her victory against Harry Potter, her hand reached into her robe and played with the galleon in his pocket. Its magic felt reminiscent to her own, and it brought her some sort of comfort. It sung against her touch.

The door to the Room of Requirement slowly opened, and Hermione flinched and took her hand out of her pocket. The man from that lone memory entered panting. His robes were disheveled and his face adorned with ashes, from the structure of the building or the dead he ran past on his way here she did not know. His green eyes shone widely from under his dusty glasses when they landed on her as if expecting some happy reunion, but she glared back at him.

"Hermione!" he called, uncaring to anything else around him.

Confused, she looked at Tom for an answer. He paid her no mind and stared at Harry with fury.

"Hold on, Potter," Tom commanded.

Finally looking at Tom, Harry snarled, "I have been waiting for this."

"As have I," Tom remarked. "She's a crutch of yours, and I do love to see you suffer."

"Let her go," Harry said, his wand braced in front of him.

"You know, Potter," Tom drawled, "I believe I'll let my dear Hermione choose."

Both of the men fell silent and awaited her decision. Though Tom knew she had nothing to decide. Hermione had also waited a long time for this, to see the man who took her life from her. It was an easy decision. A decision she made when she first heard of him after her memories were taken from her. This was the only way she could imagine getting them back, and killing such a cruel, evil man would most certainly grant them.

"You took everything from me," Hermione reminded him.

"Hermione, I-," Potter began to plead.

"Everything!" she screamed. "My everything!"

"I-I didn't," Harry Potter begged. "Y-you don't underst—."

"Avada Kedavra," she cast, fire brimming her eyes, her lips twitching with rage for what Potter had done to her. To Tom.

Light was cast out of his green, yearning eyes, but the same green eyes suddenly shook within her, and all she could picture was a happy eleven year old boy with a lightning scar on a train to Hogwarts next to a red-headed boy holding a rat and stuffed to the brim with snacks.

"Holy cricket, you're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger…and you are?"

"Ron Weasley"

"Pleasure"

The memory of these boys had never left her. Not permanently. Death brought back her loss and her real pain to satiate the hunger she had felt for a year. All part of Tom's plan.

Hermione fell to her knees in front of Harry Potter's slumped body, her best friend, and dropped her wand. What had she done? Everything became clear, who she had been soared in her vision. A little muggle-born witch who had been so happy to discover her magic, that it was not merely childlike imagination. She could recall her and her parents' smiles when she was a child learning the secret of the world she lived in, a world that she could not imagine being so dark and distraught.

The horrors she committed loomed in her mind, and she was sickened at who he made her become. All of the horrors she committed were sealed by the ring on her finger, with the man looming behind her and the fires roaring around them.

Voldemort bent down so that his breath tickled against her neck that his teeth had grazed countless times during the past year. The past year that ruined the world. She could sense him pick up her forgotten wand and slip it into his cloak pocket.

Feebly, she reached her hand out to Harry's cold body, caressed his face and now broken glasses. She began panting as his death sunk in. This time, Harry was not coming back. In complete realization, she backed away. Unable to control herself, her hands shot against her face as her breathing became erratic and a pathetic sob left her lips.

"No," she moaned, "Harry. No! I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She bit down on her lips as the sobs tried to rock through her body. Her own Cruciatus.

"Oh, Hermione, it was never supposed to end any other way," Voldemort drawled, a sly smile creeping upon his pale, sharp features, and Hermione could sense the slime oozing out of his mouth.

"No!" she screamed. "Take it back!"

He pressed a kiss against her temple, his salacious lips causing a disgusted shiver to run through her body. He hoisted her up as she fought against his touch, his deathly fingers running along her sides that were familiar to him.

"We must go my dear. He's dead, and it's all because of you. You have to stay with me and you know it. We are forever entwined."

Hermione struggled against his grip as her tears flung around, but his hands seized her forearms as she pulled away.

"You did this!" she scathed. "You foul evil-"

"This is a gift, Hermione," Voldemort attempted to convince her. "I returned your memories. Be thankful for that."

He snared her against him as her hands tried to scratch his disease away. His head bent down and pushed his lips on top of hers, bruising them. Instinctively she bit on his bottom lip, tearing it open, his blood trailing into her mouth. He pulled away, his blood trickling down and in droplets, hitting the floor. Slowly, he released one of her forearms and wiped the blood away.

"You can't take it back," he drawled, and let out a small chuckle, his teeth red with his blood. "And you will never die, my little monster. I'm making sure of it."

Voldemort released her. As he walked away, his wand flicked behind him, and handcuffs appeared on her wrists.

"Your disobedience will not be forgiven immediately," Voldemort taunted as he left the room without looking back at her. "That could take decades, and we have plenty of time. But you will learn not to do that again. Even with your memories returned to you by me I will get you to submit to me, for I do so love a challenge."

With that, the door slammed behind him. Shaking Hermione stood, unsure and afraid. She looked back at the two Death Eaters in the room. One of the masked figures jerked their head towards the door, telling her to follow him. And she would.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered to the cold body on the floor. A body that may never be found. The coin in her robe pocket burned, reminding her of her other murder. Neville. It had been Neville. Poor poor Neville, who's death may have granted her a form of retribution against him. Her sobs were for him, for Harry and all who's lives she had helped ruin. In recognition of its powers that she crafted she sent out a message of Harry Potter's death.

As she left the room, Hermione sent another message wandlessly: I remember and one day He will die.

For Hermione knew what she had to do. No matter how long it takes, no matter how hard it could be, no matter how many times she would have to touch him, she would kill him. Even if it takes killing herself.

Nothing would make up for what she had just done, what she remembered doing in the year she was gone and under his every whim. Revenge could be a sick and long path, but she would succeed in her dying breath.

No war is ever fully conquered.

With a vengeful fire spewing inside her, she followed him, destined to be the venom against him, armed with the coin in her pocket.

The End

A/N: Thanks so much again to everyone who read, followed, favorited and reviewed. It means so much to me, I love all of my readers!

I'm very happy to have finished this story, and as Tom said, it was never meant to end any other way (Even though I had a completely different plan originally).

Thanks again!

Love,

Montley