A/N: One chapter left :D

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.
Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

Tom stepped away from the door, fist tightening around the key as Hermione went wild on the other side, battering the scarred wood with a desperate wail. He set his jaw and turned swiftly, striding down the hall until her broken pleas were a faint murmur, easily ignored. The scream which interrupted them was clearly inhuman. But even without the tell-tale death cry, Tom knew his creature was dead. He'd felt the connection break the moment the life drained from her mangled form.

Such a waste.

He emerged in the ballroom, shoulders level as he pondered how in the hell the idiot boy bested his great hunter. And adding to his growing frustration was the unsettling fact Nagini had yet to return. His familiar was far more intelligent and strategic than the malformed beast, but he couldn't quell a tremor of unrest until his serpent appeared.

Scorched walls blurred past as he made quick work of the corridors, their swirling patterns mimicking lapping flames. Sometimes, after a night of exhaustive research, he could still smell the smoke, still hear the screams. But now all he heard was the pumping of his heart and the echoing clip of his footfalls. His sole concern was cleaning up this mess before it spread any further, before he lost control entirely and brought the ruins crashing upon all their heads. So he forced a steadying breath as the entrance hall drew near.

No, he wouldn't lose focus now, not before the ritual was complete. And nothing —nothing— would get in his way. But time was of the essence; he harbored no doubt the village would come looking for her. Hermione was a diamond in the rough, a treasure to be coveted. They'd most certainly bring the cavalry galloping in on white steeds… but it mattered little.

Tom had no intention of letting her go, no matter the fallout.

He rounded the archway and started down the final sodden corridor, a shiny trail of blood staining the clumped leaves. His eyes blazed, shadows rising from the corners and racing across the floor, chasing at his heels as he breached the entrance hall.

Harry staggered over jagged rocks and knotted roots, boots slipping across the damp grass as he trekked up the hill, collapsing at its summit and struggling for breath. Every muscle burned with white-hot fire, nerve endings seared raw as venom flooded his veins, the numbness in his injured limb his only reprieve from all-consuming agony. But he separated his mind from the ever-growing blaze tearing through his body and lapping beneath the skin, turning his focus to the ominous Castle ahead, situated within a ring of dead trees and scorched earth.

Dark clouds hovered above the ruins, unnatural in their stillness, as though awaiting the proper command to begin a torrential downpour. Electricity danced all around, crackling through the air like static. But there wasn't time to contemplate the disturbing view. He didn't have long before the venom took him over entirely, and his scenic excursion back to the Castle certainly didn't help matters along. The more he moved the faster the black ink spread, propelled by the rapid thrumming of his heart. Harry knew the fate awaiting him but felt no fear, merely a sense of mounting frustration. He refused to drop dead before finding Hermione.

And then a feral scream tore through the air, launching birds from their branches in a flurry of wings and screeches. His pulse hammered painfully as he pushed upright, swaying like a drunkard before starting down the hill as fast as he could, losing his balance after the first few steps and tumbling headfirst through the tall reeds, landing with a thump and a groan at the bottom. He didn't bother taking inventory of his injuries, a few cuts and bruises the least of his worries as he hauled to his feet and charged the dark treeline.

"Hermione!" He yelled, clenching his teeth and trudging on. His leg dragged like a dead weight, unable to provide stability for more than a few seconds at a time. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging his vision.

By the time he crossed the barren earth and reached the Castle doors he was panting like a racehorse, slumping against the iron barrier and clinging to the handles for dear life. He inhaled sharply and dug deep, pulling hard as he could, tendons bulging against the strain. The door slowly gave way, hinges grinding through centuries of rust. He released the handle with a gasp and squeezed inside, promptly choking on a dust cloud. Puddles glistened across the floor, beams of sunlight illuminating the rubble and decay. Water dripped from the holes in the roof, pittering across hanging vines.

"Draco!" He shouted, leaning against a crumbling pillar. "Hermione!" He held his breath, light-headed with panic. The silence was broken by a faint scraping from above, movement on the second floor. He watched the landing with rapt focus, a shadow appearing on the wall—

"Harry!" A feminine voice called from outside, spurring him into action.

"Mione!" He screamed, pushing off the stone and stumbling to the doors, wedging through with another pained gasp.

"Harry!"

He limped around the side of the fortress, searching the green landscape in a frenzy. "Where are you?"

"Up here!"

He halted in place and turned his gaze on the Tower, blood draining from his head as one simple thought came to mind. "Oh my god."

Draco stared at fissures in the ceiling from his graceless sprawl across the floor, dizzy with ebbing adrenaline. His pulse had finally begun to settle when he heard the foreboding scrape of metal across stone, dried leaves scattering as wind swept into the entry hall below. He pulled his gaze from the mapwork of cracked stone to the doorway as something shuffled inside the Castle.

Dear God, what now?

"Draco!" His heart stuttered at Potter's voice. "Hermione!" He scrambled onto his hands and knees, only to come face-to-face with the gaping hole and the aftermath of his gruesome trap.

"Harry!" He stiffened in shock as Granger's voice echoed from another direction, entering the bedroom from the busted window. He staggered to his feet and lurched to the opening, bracing his hands against the ledge and peering out, seeing nothing beyond mud and shriveled weeds. But he could hear the murmur of voices around the wall. She was alive.

Holy shite.

He raced for the hallway, mindless of his injuries or the blood trailing his wake, reaching the landing in a thundering gallop, nearly tripping against the loose bannister. He veered for the wall at the last second, clipping his shoulder with a groan. The broken staircase taunted him in ominous silence, beckoning him into a neck-breaking fall. He'd managed to make the upwards leap while running for his life. Now that his enemy was skewered like a kabob, he felt like a wrung mop, hardly able to walk a straight line. He slumped against the chipped stone, dragging a hand through his filthy hair. "Bollocks."

"Indeed," a deep voice responded from the shadows.

Draco stood on alert, feeling a shift in the air a moment before footsteps entered from the adjoining hall below. A tall figure emerged from the darkness, the intensity of his gaze driving Draco flat to the brick. Shadows moved across the floor and bled down the walls like hot wax, collecting at the strangers back in a monstrous silhouette. Draco swallowed thickly, helpless to suppress a tremor. "Who are you?"

"Does that really matter?" The stranger mused, pacing forward with a casual step.

"Did you hurt her?"

The man stopped at the bottom of the broken staircase, tucking his hands into his coat and tilting his head, considering Draco with unsettling interest. "Hermione is in excellent health, I assure you. Unlike my precious Annabelle. Dare I ask what you did to her?"

"Annabelle?" Draco swallowed thickly, the pretty, benign name feeling corrosive on his tongue. "What was it?"

"An unfortunate experiment gone awry. I was doing my utmost to reverse the tragic effects but it seems my efforts were for naught. Do you have any idea the years of painstaking research you've so carelessly destroyed?"

Draco's body pulsed in terror, clawed flesh stinging as the creature's feral screams rang through his head. "That was… a person?"

"Once upon a time," the stranger replied, pacing up the bottom portion of the stairs.

"You turned her into a monster?"

He laughed shortly, stopping before the gap. "Monster." His amusement faded as quickly as it came. "She was beautiful. And you destroyed her." The shadows deepened, sharpening his features. Draco's lungs deflated, heels locked in place by some supernatural force. The gaze below took on a sinister glow, embers trapped behind the pale irises. "Now, what to do with you?"

"I'm getting you out!" They both glanced at the iron doors, voices filtering in from the narrow parting. "Harry! Be careful!"

The stranger clenched his teeth, shoulders rolling with tension as he strode down the stairs with clear and hostile intent. A bitter taste filled Draco's mouth as he pushed off the wall and crossed the landing in a single bound, charging down the steps and leaping the gap with a feral battle cry.

Hermione buried her face against her knees, damp skirts muffling broken sobs. Her heart was heavy and her head was clear, neither of which got her any closer to opening the door. "I'm awake," she whispered miserably, "I'm awake."

Good girl.

She closed her eyes, willing the voice away.

"Draco!"

Hermione straightened, glancing at the winding staircase in shock. "Harry?" She muttered, unfolding slowly.

"Hermione!"

She sprang to her feet and bolted up the steps, clinging to rough stone as her feet slid clumsily, impatience warring hysteria. She reached the top in a breathless flurry, nearly tripping in her mad dash to the narrow window. She collided against the ledge and gripped it tightly, searching the sopping landscape with wide eyes. "Harry!" She cried, nails pressing crescent grooves in the sandy mortar.

"Mione!"

She nearly collapsed, boneless in her relief as a mop of wild black hair rounded the retaining wall. "Harry!"

"Where are you?" He shouted, inspecting the barren grounds.

"Up here!"

He rocked to a stop, tipping his head back. Oh my god, she heard him mutter, tears flowing freely down her face. His features blurred but his complexion remained unchanged, pale as a ghost. Her relief drifted out the window with her next breath. "Harry, what happened?"

"I…" He swayed, stumbling in place. "It doesn't matter, we need to get you down!" He carded a hand through his hair, slicking it back from his creased forehead. "Can you open the Tower door?"

She shook her head. "Tom has the keys!"

"Tom?" He echoed, turning rigid as a plank.

"He's inside—"

"I'm getting you out!" He declared, storming to the entrance with bristling fury.

"Harry! Be careful!" Her heart seized as he disappeared around the wall.

Tom will kill him.

She staggered back, releasing the ledge as though burned. What can I do?

Let me help you.

She swallowed tentatively, long past questioning her sanity. "How?"

Put on the locket.

The words inspired a twinge of panic. Then she thought of Harry's bloodless visage and spun on her heal, racing for the spiral stairs.

Blaise dragged a hand over his face, sweat pouring down his nape and thighs burning in protest as he trudged the steep incline. Dead foliage crunched underfoot, slick weeds tangling around his boots. He shook them off with a groan, eyeing his sodden tracks through the mud.

"You're certain this is the route you came?" Potter asked from the top of the hill.

Blaise faced forward. "I…" Heat burned a treacherous path along his neck as he earned the undivided attention of the group. "... don't know," he concluded reluctantly, casting a sweeping glance across the leafy landscape. Green stretched in each direction, beads of rain glistening beneath the sunlight until every branch and stalk looked identical to its neighbor. And then his gaze fell on the watchful faces of the search party, ending with the beleaguered Mr. Granger. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Hermione's father blinked as Blaise looked away. "It was raining so hard… I thought I remembered but…" he toed aside a dandelion head, smearing the pollen across the grass. "I got separated from the group at one point. I think it's got me turned around."

His shoulders tightened with disappointment until Black stepped forward, clapping him on the back with a sigh. "It's alright, kid. These woods are a maze. You did your best." The patient reassurance only made Blaise feel twice the failure.

"You got us far enough," Potter added, turning to the group. "Now's a good time to split."

"Split?" Lucius parroted sharply. "We're heading to the same place."

"We need to comb the woods as well."

"The ruins are our first priority—"

"The children searched the ruins for Hermione, she wasn't there," Lupin stated. Blaise fought back a cringe at being referred to as such.

"She was last seen at the ruins," Lucius argued, "that's where we should start."

"You can head to the Castle, Malfoy," Potter relented, no doubt inferring the man's eagerness to find his son as soon as possible. "Take a few men with you. The rest of us will scour the woods. I'll lead a group west, Sirius can take the rest east."

Black nodded. "We'll converge on the ruins from either side."

"Fine," Lucius snapped. "As long as we do something beyond standing around talking." He began stalking in the direction of the Castle, deaf to Hagrid's sigh.

"I'll tag along. The rain loosens the stones, might need some heavy liftin'."

"Good thinking, Hagrid," Potter agreed, standing aside as the giant trudged forward, leaving deep tracks in his wake. Goyle followed with a silent nod, insistent on coming despite his father's strict disapproval.

Theo stepped up next, face void of concern, always the most practical of young men. He nodded to Blaise as he passed. "Be careful."

Blaise repeated the gesture. "You, too."

"Alright," Potter sighed, scrubbing a hand across his jaw as their group thinned out. "Remus, Richard, why don't you head out with me?" Both men nodded while the Weasley twins grinned mischievously, standing front and center of their flaming-haired clan. Potter's gaze narrowed. "I think we need to split you lot up."

"Take one of the twins," their elder brother offered. "They're harmless apart, but together they'll burn the entire forest to the ground."

"We take that as a compliment," the spoke in unison, as though the wild gleam in their identical stare wasn't unsettling enough.

"Tossers," Ron muttered.

Black smirked, tipping his chin at the pair. "Georgie, you go with James. Freddie, come with me." His astute gaze darted to the edge of the group. "You too, Zabini."

Blaise couldn't hide his horror, fumbling to salvage the slip. "Err… come to think of it, I'm pretty sure we came from the west, I should head out with Potter's group—"

"Nice try, kid." Black stepped close and slung an arm around his neck, propelling him east. "You're coming with our merry band of misfits."

Blaise peered sideways to find the youngest Weasley scowling at him. The remaining twin looked delighted, likely plotting something awful, while their big brother remained focused on the task ahead, offering Blaise a simple nod before leading their party downhill. "Consider yourself an honorary Weasley for the day," Black announced, releasing him as Potter's group disappeared from sight.

"I can't believe I'm missing Longbottom's company," Blaise muttered.

Black's laughter sounded like a bark as he slapped Blaise on the back a second time. "Your secret is safe with me. Come on." His long legs strode forward, showing no signs of fatigue despite being twice the age of his party members. "We have a lot of ground to cover."

"Fantastic," Blaise sighed, struggling to keep up. As they breached the dense treeline a cold wind swept past, a disturbing sound carried with it. Unintelligible murmurs weaving through the trees like white mist. He stumbled over a root and peered around anxiously, seeing nothing beyond the endless flicker of leaves and broken sunlight. But he couldn't shake the sensation of eyes upon him, watching, waiting—

"Oi! Pretty boy!"

Blaise jolted, facing the snarling speaker as the low-spoken voices dissolved on the breeze.

"Sightsee on your own goddamn time!" Weasley Junior scathed, offering his back and storming ahead. Blaise shook his head, stalking after the annoying prick.

Draco collided against the stranger in a blur of limbs, breath shoved violently from his lungs as they hit the ground with a jarring thud. No sooner had he made painful impact with the ground than he was being flung across the slabs by a powerful gust of wind. Electricity pulled at his skin, sharp as hooks, as gravel sliced across his palms and elbows, leaves and sticks piling at his back as he hit the opposing wall with a crack, ears ringing with the crash.

The stranger stood with effortless poise, brushing the dirt from his dark sleeves and straightening his coat. "Not bad," he mused idly. "Most run screaming. I didn't take you for a fighter." Draco swallowed thickly, the lump sticking to the back of his throat as shadows raced across the floor and collected at the stranger's back like massive wings. "Tell me something," the haunting voice continued, "are you risking your life for her… or for him?" Draco halted his attempt to push upright, mind stuttering as the unsettling entity stalked closer, dragging darkness with him like an aura. "Think carefully. The answer could spare you."

"What are you?" Draco asked breathlessly, pressing flat to the crumbling bricks.

The stranger sighed, reaching him in another step. "They never think carefully." He leaned down and grabbed Draco by the throat, ripping him off his feet in a torturous death grip, the following words as chilling as the murderous gaze they were paired with. "Does she love him?"

Draco sputtered and gagged, clawing at the steel trap to no avail. The man bared his teeth and squeezed tighter, causing Draco's vision to dim as his muscles screamed for oxygen. "It's a simple question. Does she love him?"

Draco opened and closed his mouth, face blistering red, lips pale blue, barely able to croak a broken "w-who?"

The stranger rolled his eyes, releasing him without warning. Draco landed in a heap, gasping desperately. "Harry," came the scathing response from above, the name spoken like a curse.

Draco shuddered at the sound, vision blurred as his lungs struggled to operate. "Go to hell."

"Look at where you are, foolish boy," the stranger began, eyes gleaming like a nocturnal creature. "This is hell." Draco swallowed thickly, cringing at the sting it induced. And then a bizarre sensation took hold, a flood of energy encasing him like a warm blanket, turning his limbs pliant. "And I'm its Ruler." The stranger seemed to grow before Draco's eyes, stretching taller, wider, filling every corner of his vision. And then he snapped his pale fingers and Draco bolted upright, pulled by invisible cords. "Now answer me," he demanded in a low growl.

Draco's lips parted, words tumbling free beyond his control. "Yes, she loves him." He saw the flare of rage his answer induced and his senses returned in a staggering rush. The demon turned for the doors, hands curled like claws. "But not like you're thinking!" Draco called desperately, knowing Harry's life hung in the balance.

The man stopped, rocking in place before glancing back sharply. "Go on."

"He's like a brother to her. A friend. Nothing more."

The stranger studied him for several skin-crawling beats, expression tense but otherwise unreadable. "Thank you," he offered at length while Draco's heart played his ribs like a war drum. "And if it's any consolation… I promise to make his death quick and painless."

Draco trembled, a cold sweat saturating his bones, locking his limbs in place. He fought the intangible hold, joints rattling with the internal battle. And then to his greatest horror yet, the Castle door began to slowly open, a familiar face appearing from the other side. Harry staggered in, face marred by blood and sweat. Draco's veins bulged as he broke through the dark curse with all his strength, tumbling forward like a drunk and shouting desperately, "Run!"

Hermione stumbled down the steps, leaping the bottom stair and falling into the door with the locket clasped tightly in hand, the silver casing pulsing warm and ominous in her palm. She stared at the scarred wood for several moments before unfurling her fingers to stare at the gleaming trinket, the pendant beating like a heart. Despite her many reservations, she released a sharp sigh and wrapped the chain around her neck, fingers trembling as she hastened to secure the clasp until the locket rested heavy atop her chest. Warmth sank into her flesh, tracing along her neck like fingertips as wind swirled around her, a charged vortex tugging at her skirt.

And then everything settled, still and silent as death.

Alright, pretty one. Are you ready?

"Yes," she whispered, pulse throbbing at the low-throated laughter that followed.

We'll find out.

Hermione braced for cataclysm, a mighty explosion, waiting breathlessly. Alas, the barrier remained solid and unchanged. She blinked, peering down at the glittering bauble. "Is… something supposed to be happening?"

An aggravated huff filled her skull. What, you expect me to do everything?

"You said you were going to help."

I'm trapped inside a piece of jewelry, how do you expect me to unlock the door?

Hermione tossed up her hands. "Then why did you say—"

Relax, I'm still searching.

"Searching? For wh—" she gasped as an electrical current pulsed through her body, racing through each limb until it sparked across every finger and toe.

There it is.

She staggered back, clutching her chest and middle. "What… what did you do?"

Helped you find the thread. Now pull it.

She blinked rapidly. "I don't understand."

You're a clever girl, I've seen inside your mind. Surely you realize what Tom's done to you?

"He had me…" her thoughts spun, tipping her sideways, "under some sort of…"

Say it.

Hermione exhaled sharply. "Spell," she muttered at last. The locket hummed, sending rhythmic vibrations along her skin. "That's impossible. Magic isn't real."

The sooner you accept the truth the sooner you can help your friends. If they're still alive, that is.

"Okay," Hermione relented. "Magic is real. Now how do I get out of here?"

You've been drawing on your powers all night to combat his hold. But you're far too young to best his abilities.

"My powers?" She paled. "I don't have…" The whirling images calmed, settling over her mind like a heavy blanket, memories freed at last. She recalled all the disturbing encounters comprising her night. The sensation of electricity dancing around her, smoke rising in Tom's eyes as flame and shadow reacted to his every word. She remembered the book, its pages turning of their own accord as she levitated over the bed. She recalled running, screaming as the darkness chased her, caught her, dragged her under—

"The book," she whispered, wiping the fallen tears from her flushed cheeks.

Why do you think you selected it above all others? It called to your magic.

"This is madness."

Madness or not, you must harness it to escape.

She took a steadying breath. "Show me."

I'll tug the thread again. This time, hold onto it.

Hermione had no idea how to go about such a task but nodded just the same, shoulders drawing level as her eyes drifted shut.

Get ready.

But the simple warning could never prepare her for the power surge to come, adrenaline hitting her like a bolt of lightning, filling her vision with white-hot light. Her spine locked tight as the brightness warmed to a golden hue, dazzling to behold. She bit her tongue in concentration, waiting for the thread to manifest, searching for control. Energy pulsed beneath her skin, a sense of weightlessness taking hold. She was floating, heels lifting off the ground—

Something tugged at her ankle, a rope tethering her in place. Hermione gasped, following the sensation up her calf and over her thigh, finding it centered in her chest, just behind her rib cage. The moment she identified the thread it sparked to life, sparks showering behind her lids.

Good girl, now aim it at the door.

Hermione opened her eyes and staggered forward, guided purely by instinct. She places both hands to the barrier and pushed, watching light gather beneath her palms like flame, crawling along the knots and grooves in the wood and sinking in deep, spreading to the hinges and heating the metal to red-hot orange. The bolts sizzled and snapped, melting before her eyes as the door creaked loudly, wood buckling outward before falling away, hitting the stone floor in pieces.

She swayed back, losing her handle on the thread, powers folding in like a dying flame, drifting away on a tuft of smoke. "Holy shite," she whispered, slumping against the wall.

Excellent work. I knew you could do it.

"Thank you," she muttered through bone-deep exhaustion.

Think nothing of it. Now get to the kitchen, you can escape through the garden door.

"No," she limped forward, escaping the Tower in a dizzying rush. "I need to help my friends."

You can't face him in this state.

"I have to try."

Think with your head, not your heart! Tom will lock you away again and this time you won't escape. Trust me, I speak from experience.

She clung to the wall for balance. "You were once like me?"

Yes. And you will soon be like me if you don't get out now.

"I couldn't live with myself," she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she entered the ballroom. "It's better to die fighting at their sides."

And here we thought you were the one.

She paused halfway across the room, gazing at the locket. "The one?"

To free us.

The realization yawned and stretched, bringing forth the memory of Tom's pride as he showed her his priceless antiques. "The Collection." Her stomach turned violently. "Oh my god," she whispered, and then a distant scuffle caught her attention, followed by low voices. "I have to help my friends," she declared, pacing through damp leaves. "Then I'll help you."

The locket sighed anew. My dear, you're going to regret this decision with your dying breath.

Harry heaved the door open with a fresh surge of adrenaline, propelled by his newfound rage. Someone had locked Hermione in the Tower and he had every intention of tearing the bastard limb from limb, but when he entered the main hall he was distracted from his crusade by the unfolding chaos. Draco's pale head pulsed like a beacon in the waning light, blonde hair clumped with blood and sediment. But a darkly clad figure drew the entirety of Harry's focus. Time stood still as their eyes locked, something sinister lingering in the air. It was like facing the snake all over again, pinned beneath the suffocating weight of a predator's gaze. And just as suddenly as the dark spell took hold, it was shattered by Draco's desperate plea.

"Run!"

Harry bared his teeth and lurched forward, cursing his deadening limb all the while. The man inspected him with careful precision, stare lingering on the make-shift tourniquet. "Where is she?" The stranger asked, voice deep and sinister.

"In the Tower, where you imprisoned her," Harry hissed, muscles coiling for a brawl.

"Where is Nagini?" The man elucidated, air pressure rising swiftly.

Harry didn't have to ponder the name, red slitted eyes and gleaming scales flashing through his mind. "Dead," he replied simply, finding great satisfaction in the stranger's mounting rage.

"Then I must break my promise to your friend. Your death will be slow and agonizing."

"Harry, get out of here!" Draco yelled, staggering in from the opposite end of the room.

Harry took in the sight of his haggard appearance as he emerged from the shadows, deep wounds peaking through shredded fabric. "Not without you and Hermione," he vowed, charging ahead. Draco darted forward in the same beat, reaching the man first. The stranger turned, delivering a powerful punch to Draco's gut that sent him skidding into the staircase, toppling against the broken steps. Harry lurched to a halt, realizing with stunning clarity unnatural forces were at play. He didn't bother questioning the insanity, accepting the situation and drawing the simplest conclusion. "Draco, you have to get Hermione out. Promise me."

The blonde cradled his middle, ribs likely fractured, face twisted in a grimace. "We'll get to her—"

"You're going to leave without me."

"What are you talking about?"

The stranger grinned, teeth gleaming in the beam of sunlight cutting across his face. "Harry is on borrowed time and he knows it."

Draco struggled upright, breathing labored. His eyes clouded with misery as he caught sight of Harry's dragging foot, color draining from his face. "No—"

"I'm afraid so," the devil stated plainly. "Nagini's venom has a paralytic effect. Once it reaches his heart your friend is as dead as Annabelle."

"Annabelle?" Harry muttered, trying to place the name.

The stranger sighed. "We've already been through it, and I refuse to partake in these childish games any longer." His grey eyes flashed, lips curving with sinister pleasure. "I must get back to Hermione." The words were spoken in challenge and Harry knowingly took the bait, releasing a feral growl before charging anew, dark laughter echoing all around him as he threw a powerful uppercut. The man easily dodged the hit, darting out of the way faster than Harry's eyes could track.

"You'll touch her over my dead body!"

"As we've already determined, that's only a matter of time."

Harry roared in response, nearly tripping over his useless foot as he swung wide. The stranger twisted out of reach, coat shifting to reveal a flash of silver at his hip.

The keys.

Harry set his jaw with determination and glanced at the busted stairs, meeting Draco's eye. The blonde nodded, following his train of thought and staggering to his feet, gritting his teeth against the agony in his battered side. The laughter ebbed as they charged him as one, the mysterious interloper remaining perfectly still until they were nearly upon him, only to drop low and slip between their reach like an ice-cold wind. Harry felt the energy crawling over his skin like spider legs. Draco seemed similarly affected, shaking his head as though to dislodge the sensation. And then the stranger snapped his fingers and the blonde hit the ground in an unconscious heap.

Harry reached forward, gripping the keys at the man's waist and ripping them from their hook, staggering back with his hard-won prize gripped tightly. The stranger's jaw twitched, eyes blazing like coals as he faced his prey, shadows bleeding down the walls like dripping paint. "You won't get away with this," Harry panted, trembling as his knee threatened to buckle. "The entire Village knows we're here. They'll tear the Castle apart."

"That won't be necessary," the man replied succinctly, stalking forward. "I'll leave your bodies in the entrance hall for them to find. Hermione and I will be long gone by the time they dig your graves."

Harry's step faltered. "You're taking her?"

"Of course." The bastard looked at him as though the answer was obvious. "No woman is content living within a stone Tower. Haven't you read your fairytales?"

Harry blinked quickly, vision turning hazy. His limb no longer burned with searing flame, now it felt cold and dead, numbness spreading across his hip and side. "Hermione will never leave her family. She'll give you hell until she's free. You won't know a moment's peace."

"The only peace I've known has been in her company." The admission seemed to take them both off guard. The stranger quickly recovered, darkness solidifying in his gaze. "And once I take the memory of her past, she'll be quite settled."

"That's it then?" Harry panted, lungs strangled by his mounting debilitation. "You plan to strip and manipulate her mind for the rest of her life?"

"I plan to show her the world, pleasures far beyond the lackluster wonders of your pathetic Village. She'll experience everything and want for nothing."

"Because she won't be Hermione anymore." The man halted, expression seizing as Harry pressed on, wading backward through debris. "You're going to erase the parts that made her who she is. Whatever's left over won't be real. You'll be in love with an illusion."

The cold and handsome face twisted with a cruel grin. "Love?" He laughed bitterly, "This has nothing to do with love."

"I'm well aware. But I don't think you've caught up to that fact."

His amusement died with a dark hiss. "You're a child who knows nothing of life."

"Perhaps," Harry conceded, pulse turning sluggish as his shoulder blades collided with the wall, impeding his retreat. "But I know everything about Hermione. She could never be with someone capable of such evil. If you think otherwise, you're deluded by your own dark magic." His knees gave out at last, vision swimming as he collapsed.

The man tilted his head, watching his struggle with chilling detachment. "I see the venom has reached your spine." Harry pushed at the ground, unable to find his footing. "I'd ask if she's worth dying for," the stranger continued, closing the distance with a methodical gait. "But I already know the answer." He leaned down, taking the keys from Harry's lax grip. "You can meet your Maker knowing Hermione is well taken care of."

Harry's lips parted but only strangled breath escaped. Darkness swept across the floor in a rippling wave, crashing overhead and dragging him under. And as he sank to its murky depths he was certain he heard Hermione's desperate sob, begging Tom to spare his life.

"I've been dying to know something, Weasley," Blaise drawled, stepping over a rotting log. "How the hell did your brother avoid his Initiation?"

"None of your business."

Fred flashed a wry grin over his shoulder. "Don't mind Ronniekins—"

"Don't call me that."

"—he's just upset you were Mione's Initiation ceremony instead of him."

"I'm upset she's missing."

"Whatever you say."

"Fred," Charlie warned. "Stop riling him up. We're here to search."

"I'm an excellent multitasker."

Blaise peered sideways, watching Ron's shoulders slant with guilt. He knew the feeling well, burdened by the same weight since letting the search party down. "It's not your fault," he spoke lowly, praying his friends would never find out he'd attempted to console Ron Bloody Weasley.

"I know," the man scathed, only to flush redder than his hair and glance away. "But I should have been there. I might've heard something. I could have helped."

"You couldn't hear an avalanche over your snoring."

"Fred," their elder brother snapped from the head of their brigade, "shut up." He broke apart a hanging vine. "Or better yet, make yourself useful. Get up here." Fred rolled his eyes but increased his pace without argument.

"You see something, Charlie?" Black called forward.

"There's a trail."

Ron stood at alert, running ahead. Blaise followed, eager to see for himself. Alas, when he reached the gathering he saw nothing but the same grass and mud caking his boots.

"Trail?" Black muttered, stopping before the dense cluster of wet leaves. "You sure?"

"I don't see any tracks," Ron said. Charlie lowered to his haunches, rubbing his jaw.

"He's right," Fred attested, crouching beside his brother.

Ron blinked. "Who's right?"

"You both are," Charlie explained, examining a bent stalk. "It's a trail without tracks."

"Bloody hell," Sirius breathed, dropping low. "I see it now."

Blaise shifted awkwardly, too embarrassed to admit he still had no idea what the hell they were talking about. "What could carve this sort of path?" He asked instead.

"A wagon?" Ron suggested.

Fred shook his head. "There's no wheel trenches."

"I don't understand."

Charlie tossed the splintered reed aside as he took to his feet. "Neither do I." He turned to Black. "Follow it?"

"It's gotta lead somewhere."

Blaise glanced between them. "And what if it leads to something we don't want to find?"

"Don't be scared, Zabini," Fred goaded, rising swiftly.

"I'm not scared."

"You sound scared."

"Don't listen to him," Charlie offered, starting alongside the supposed trail. "He only picks on you because you remind him of Ron."

"Oi!" His youngest brother yelled.

"Honestly," Blaise replied, "there's no need for mud-slinging."

"Quiet now, children," Black instructed. "Best not to advertise our location while hunting."

Blaise's heart thrummed at the ominous word, though the others appeared completely within their element, weaving between brambles and branches with effortless stealth. The Weasleys were renowned for their trapping abilities, the twins creating one-of-a-kind snares and camouflage gear while Charlie obtained rare pelts for specialized buyers along the coast. The entire family seemed more comfortable in the woods than the Village, made ever more abundant as they navigated the rugged terrain like a pack of wolves following their leader.

Charlie finally halted, holding up his hand to signal a stop. His eyes were focused on a patch of dark grass ahead.

"Shite," Fred hissed.

Ron drew back as Blaise stepped forward. "Is that…"

"Blood," Charlie confirmed, lowering before the glistening blades.

Blaise cringed as Black followed suit and reached down. "Are you sure that's a good—" he watched the man swipe his hand across the stain, lifting red fingertips to his face "—idea."

"Whatever left this is in bad shape," Black stated, wiping his hand clean on the nearest tree. "That's arterial blood." Everyone fell silent with the weight of the statement.

"It's probably just a deer," Charlie said at length. "The tracks got covered by the rain."

No one said anything else, falling into step behind Sirius as he led them around the crimson puddle to a wall of branches, wet leaves blocking view of whatever dwelled beyond. He withdrew a large hunting knife from his belt and sliced through the overhang with ease, revealing a small clearing. They carefully stepped through the jagged opening, only to stagger to a halt on the other side.

"Holy shite!" Blaise yelled, the last to cross.

"It's dead," Charlie said, circling the massive serpent.

"How do you know it isn't playing dead?"

Ron edged back. "He makes a valid point."

"The massive gash in its neck is a pretty convincing decoy," the elder Weasley mused.

Blaise breathed a heavy sigh. "Oh. Right." He straightened his jacket. "Carry on then."

Their resident beast-expert lowered to his haunches. "Careful, Charlie," Fred warned, tone void of its signature grating humor. His brother nodded, lifting the cover of his satchel and extracting thick leather gloves.

"I had no idea snakes could get that big," Blaise muttered.

"They don't," Charlie replied, examining the creature with covered hands. "Not around here."

Ron tilted his head. "Looks like a grass snake mated with a stag."

"Thanks for the mental image," Fred clipped. "Also, that doesn't even make sense, there's no antlers or fur—"

"Obviously I was referring to its size."

"Then choose another reptile—"

"Enough!" Black demanded, silencing the squabble. "Charlie, how the hell did it get here?"

The man in question shook his head, gleaming scales reflected in his eyes. "Great question." He glanced at the blade. "May I?" Black followed the man's gaze and nodded, extending the weapon handle-first. Charlie flipped the knife with deft skill and turned to the snake.

Blaise reared back. "You're not going to—" he jolted as the blade plunged into the coiled body with a wet squelch. "Fuck, you just stabbed it." His stomach turned as the knife was dragged down, dark blood spilling across the grass. "And now you're gutting it. Awesome." Charlie wiped his forehead with his sleeve and stabbed the blade into the ground, returning to the wide gash. "Jesus Christ," Blaise muttered, bile rising in his throat, "you just stuck your hand inside it. Why is your hand inside it?"

"Hey, Zabini?" Charlie peered up, forearm hidden between the glistening folds. "Stop talking, yeah?"

Blaise nodded. "Yes. I'm fine with that." He turned away before losing his meager stomach contents across the scenic clearing, closing his eyes but unable to block the sounds of organs splashing the grass in a slick pile.

Charlie sighed. "Two lungs," more rusting, "and a residual pelvis… it's definitely a python."

"Python?" Black echoed. "Bloody hell. Don't tell me that thing slithered over from the goddamn Amazon."

"That would be quite the jaunt."

"Someone brought it on a ship," Fred suggested.

Blaise glanced over his shoulder in time to see Charlie rise, gloves dripping. "Given our proximity to the coast, it's a possibility," the hunter stated. "But her markings aren't Amazonian. She's from Asia. It's just as likely she escaped an exotic peddler traveling between markets."

"Who the hell wants a pet that can swallow them whole?" Ron asked.

Charlie removed his gloves. "Me."

"Yes," his youngest brother glared, "I remember you feeding poor Scabbers to your bloody cat."

"For the last time, I didn't feed Scabbers to Yuki, it was an accident—"

"An accident?"

"I told you to keep that ancient rat in its cage!"

"And mum told you to keep the damn lynx outside!"

"It was winter, he slept in my bed for warmth."

Ron scoffed loudly, preparing to say more. "If we can get back to the topic at hand," Black interrupted. "What killed this thing, Charlie?"

"She doesn't have any natural predators in these woods. The marks on her neck match the ones I just made." Charlie leaned down, extracting the weapon from the wet soil and studying the serrated edge. "A knife."

A muscle in Black's jaw twitched. Ron shook his head, stepping forward. "That doesn't mean—"

"I gave Harry one of my blades," their leader muttered gravely, complexion turning grey. "If a hunter made this kill he'd have taken her skin as a trophy. The wounds are defensive… and the trail we followed is hers." He met Charlie's eye. "She was stalking her prey."

Fred cleared his throat, drawing the group's attention. He stood a few meters away, staring at something in the grass. "... guys?"

Black wasted no time marching to his side, shoulders drawing tight. Blaise and Ron arrived next, Charlie closing their formation. A trail of blood cut a striking line across the green, leading to the edge of the clearing. Black inhaled deeply. "He's going to the Castle."

Blaise didn't bother asking who. Only three people were missing from their Village, only one of whom stood any chance at taking down a bloody python.

"Why wouldn't he head for the Village?" Fred asked.

Blaise saw the rigid set of Black's spine and answered for the man. "The ruins are closer."

"But if he's hurt—"

"Harry doesn't care," Ron stated, voice distorted by dread as he stared at the gleaming trail. "He'll look for Hermione until he bleeds out." He started forward, muttering the rest. "We have to hurry." And then he launched into a dead run, swallowed by the thicket. The others gave chase. Blaise didn't hesitate to follow.

Hermione turned the corner in a clumsy stumble, heart rioting out of her chest as she came upon specks of red on the ground. "Oh my god," she whispered, pressing a hand to the wall and following its trail, the locket burning against her flesh all the while. The droplets led to a portion of the Castle she wasn't familiar with, taking her under crumbling archways and over fallen beams. She held her breath as the trail ended at a large doorway, busted pews and shattered windows littering the room beyond. A massive organ took up the back wall, ornate and ancient, cobwebs draped between the pipes—

She gasped and stumbled back, colliding with the opposite wall, eyes affixed in horror to the limp body draped overtop the instrument, skewered through the chest by brass spires. At first glance it appeared to be a naked woman, but then Hermione caught sight of its elongated feet and clawed hands and breath evaded her entirely.

The locket hummed against her sternum. It's not too late to run.

Hermione blinked, jolted from her shocked reverie. "No," she croaked, pushing away with trembling hands. "I'm not running." She turned from the sight and discovered another trail of blood leading down the adjoining hall. She followed it towards the front of the Castle, clutching the walls for support. Blasting open the Tower door had drained her beyond reason, exhausting her mind, body, and soul. The only time she'd felt so fatigued was after staying up for three days straight to treat patients with yellow fever. The remedy had been an entire day's sleep, decidedly not an option at present.

As she rounded the corner a faint scuffle met her ears, followed by a familiar voice that made her heart leap and step quicken. Harry!

Not for much longer.

She sprinted down the last corridor, face flush and head swimming as she beached the entry hall, gasping at the scene unfolding before her eyes. Tom hovered over Harry's prone form, shadows pooled beneath them like dark water. His eyes blazed with hell flame, too consumed by his fury to notice her abrupt arrival. He raised his hands, air bending around his palms as though gravity itself was distorted. She felt the energy crackle on the atmosphere, electricity lifting the ends of her hair.

"No!" She screamed, heart shattering as Harry slumped sideways, limbs splayed in a messy sprawl. Tom froze, head snapping up. "Please stop," she begged, stumbling forward and catching sight of Draco's body behind a pillar, blood streaking his face and chest. Her stomach clenched in agony, praying he was still alive.

Tom blinked, hands slowly dropping. "How…" The flames calmed, grey returning to his eyes as they swept her from bottom to top with careful calculation, taking in her hazard state and dawning with revelation. Something feral overtook his features, there one moment and gone the next, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. "Don't be afraid," he rumbled, voice thickened with latent bloodlust. He swallowed heavily, throat bobbing as he made a concerted effort to correct his tone. "I won't hurt you." The last four words curled through the air like smoke, caressing her skin like fingertips, lingering at her throbbing pulse.

She shook her arms to rid herself of the sensation, hands balling in the fabric of her skirt. "It won't work, Tom. I'm awake."

His answering smile was filled with dark promise. "At last you are."

"You don't have to do this," she implored, fighting back a tremor, unsure if she was reacting to his magic or him alone. "You have no reason to hurt them—"

"They're standing between me and what I want."

"They don't know about your lab—"

"I'm not talking about my work."

Her heart skipped a painful beat, truth dripping down her spine like cold water. "You were never going to let me go," she muttered.

He lifted his chin, features sharpening. "You said you'd return and I believed you. But your friends pushed my hand. This is their doing." Flames rose anew, heat emitting from his tall figure in searing waves.

Hermione raised her hands in a staying gesture, edging closer if only to place herself between him and Harry. "They were just looking for me." Tears burned behind her eyes. "Please, let them go."

Help me.

The locket's sigh rang off her skull. I told you this would happen.

I need to find the golden thread—

You haven't the strength to fight him with magic. You'll have to use your wit… and your wiles.

Hermione blinked. I don't have any wiles.

Deep laughter filled her mind. But of course you do, darling.

Tom lifted a brow, stepping away from Harry and closer to her. "Am I intruding on a private conversation?" The locket pulsed in warning.

"What do you want, Tom?" She asked, collecting all her courage to stand firm as he began a slow and methodical approach, each movement sensuous and predatory.

"I should think that fairly obvious by now." The gravel in his voice made her knees quake.

"But I'm No One from a small village," she said quickly. "I have nothing to offer you—"

"We're long past that now, luv." Her breath stalled in her lungs as his shadow stretched across the floor, reaching for her. "You know of your ability, it's how you escaped the Tower."

"I don't… I didn't…"

Your wit is failing you, dear.

Her fists tightened, nails indenting her palms. "You want my magic?"

"I want you," he stated with hunger, pupils expanding as the darkness enveloped her in a suffocating embrace. Her entire body throbbed, the pressure painful against her arteries. "Just as you want me," he whispered, stopping just before her, breath ghosting across her lips. "And together, there's no limit to what we shall accomplish."

She tipped her head back to maintain his gaze. "You said you were curing the sick—"

"I am," he stated, brushing the hair from her face before skimming his thumb across her jaw, erupting chills down her spine. She swayed with the contact, pressing her hands to his chest to stay upright. "Everything I showed you is real, everything I told you is real. I merely withheld information that may frighten you." She exhaled swiftly as he gripped her hips, steadying her against his body. "I can show you how to channel your powers, Hermione. You can heal the sick, the dying, the desperate. You'll eradicate disease and stop death in its tracks. Think of all the good you can accomplish."

She blinked, heart fluttering. "Really?"

Don't fall into his web, little moth.

She stiffened, glancing away. He grabbed her chin, stealing her attention back as his arm slid behind her waist. "Come with me. I'll show you the world, just as you've always dreamed."

Her pulse skipped erratically. "If I go…" Her fingers twitched, framing his steady heartbeat, hard muscles tensing beneath her touch. "Will you leave my friends alone?"

He searched her gaze. "Of course. I only want you." His voice was barely above a growl, drawing her in with an invisible net. She leaned into the wall of his body as the shadows rose around them, circling them in a dark vortex. His head lowered, eyes fixed firmly to her mouth as he claimed her lips with his own. The kiss sent tendrils of heat down her neck, gathering at the hollow of her throat before flooding her veins with hot oil.

"Draco!"

She gasped, rearing back as the voice echoed in from the outside. Distant but unmistakable. Lucius.

"Mione! Harry!" Hagrid called, booming brogue bouncing off the stone and plunging her into chilling reality. She twisted away and peered over Tom's shoulder, staring at the iron doors with unbridled longing. She parted her lips and attempted to call out—

But no sound emitted.

She staggered sideways as Tom released her, grasping her throat and screaming silently, vocal cords frozen. He tilted his head, watching her rising panic with gleaming eyes. "I hope you don't mind, luv, I've borrowed your voice for the time being."

Fear seized her with sharp talons, triggering a flood of muted tears.

Foolish girl.

He reached forward and ripped the locket from her throat, clicking his tongue in admonishment. "Consider this your first lesson. Never trust an enchantment. They're wicked things, concerned only with vanity."

She released her neck and dashed for the exit, every step like wading through tar. Tom didn't give chase, his calm stillness more unsettling than anything else she'd been made to encounter. She was nearly to the doors, sunlight cutting across her vision when Tom released an exasperated breath and snapped his fingers.

Then all she saw was darkness.

Tom sighed as she hit the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. The locket burned against his palm, demanding his attention. He unfolded his hand and glared at the jewelry. "I'll deal with you later." He pocketed the irritating pendant and started forward as the outside voices grew louder, the search party nearing the edge of the wood.

He stopped beside her still figure and lowered, sweeping curls from her face before running the pad of his thumb across her lips. "I really was going to let you go, Hermione. Because it made no difference either way." His eyes darkened. "Whether you returned of your own free will or I came for you in the middle of the night, you became mine the moment you passed through these doors." He worked his arms beneath her dead weight and rose swiftly, staring at her downturned lashes as her head lolled back. "And after the ritual is complete… you'll feel it, too."

He started across the hall with a steady gait, her long hair grazing his thigh with every step. The shadows descended at his silent bidding, gripping the two young men by their ankles and dragging them across the floor in his wake.

Deeper into darkness. Back into the Tower.