"Dying is a Delicate Moment"

A fanfic by Agara

"Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."

And he kills her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO : BROTHER

We highly recommend to listen to Future Coda by Luke Howard on loop when you'll see ***

Song : Brother by Kodaline

28.02.1944 :

Gideon Barborter was wandering through Diagon Alley, barely regaining consciousness. His legs were still feeling quite wobbly and he had almost collapsed on the floor twice already. He had no recollection of how he got there. He simply woke up, already walking in the streets. He had red eyes, pasty mouth, and a slurred speech. He was mumbling the same three words. "Mungos in Gellert."

People were looking at him strangely, barely recognizing him as he had been missing for almost three months. He had lost weight, he had no colour in his cheeks anymore and he bore the look of a haunted man. He must have looked like a mad man because people were changing sidewalks when they saw him.

"Mungos in Gellert," the same words were pouring out of his mouth. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, he was walking aimlessly through the street. What Gideon Barboter didn't realise, what that he was not only slurring the three same words but actually yelling them.

An auror finally approached him and helped him stand straight.

"Sir," he said in a stern voice, "if you keep yelling I will be obliged to arrest you for public drunkenness."

Gideon was still swaying as he looked at the auror.

"Do you have your wand permit on yourself, sir ?" The man asked. As Gideon didn't give any answer, the auror began looking for his papers inside Barboter's coat. He took out his identification paper and his eyes widened at the name.

"Mister Barboter ?"

"Mungos in Gellert."

"What happened to you ? What are you talking about ?" The auror was about to call for reinforcement when something happened.

It all started with a large explosion, the ground shaking below the feet of the people walking down Diagon Alley. The shops' windows all blew to pieces due to the force of the blast. Then, a large smoke escaped a few blocks away from where the two men were standing. People were screaming around them, running for their lives, afraid of what this might be.

"Mungos in Gellert !" Gideon's voice was strained from the screams. He had tears in his eyes and he was entirely shaking.

"Calm down !" The auror shouted to Barboter, as panicked as the others were. Suddenly another law enforcement officer arrived by their side.

"There has been a bombing at St Mungos !" He informed them. "We need all the forces there. Quick." He left abruptly.

The other auror, his hands still on Gideon's vest to stabilize him, slowly understood what the financier had just kept yelling for the last minutes.

"Mungos in Gellert !" Gideon said one last time. The auror widened his eyes.

28.02.1944 :

"The bombing happened at 7:45AM precisely at St Mungos, turning into ashes the entire fourth floor. On top of Grindelwald's trademark, sported outside the site of the attack, the aurors have been interrogating a person of interest all day, apparently maintaining Grindelwald's implication in the bombing. Close sources of the Law Enforcement Department are saying this witness to be no other than Gideon Barborter, a major investor in Gringotts, who had disappeared back in December.

"Among the wizards and witches present during this horrendous attack was Justus Pilliwickle, Head of Law Enforcement. After a few hours in reanimation, the wizard succumbed to its injuries late this afternoon. The Law Enforcement Department had made no official statement so far." Hermione finished reading the article before throwing the newspaper on the large wooden table. None of the seven lads around the table were talking. "Why would he do that ?" Hermione asked, still appalled by what had happened earlier that day. "Why did he need Pilliwickle out of the picture ?"

"Maybe he wasn't aiming for Pilliwickle," Edmund retorted, hiding a yawn. Hermione spun on her chair to look at Rosier.

"Of course, he did. Why else would he do that ?" Hermione was looking at the newspaper on the table. "What does Gideon Barboter have to do with that ? Where has he been ? Why has he been released from where he was apparently kept by Grindelwald just before the attack ? It literally makes no sense. What is he telling the aurors right now ?"

This time, Edmund Rosier couldn't hold back a loud yawn. Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Am I boring you, Rosier ?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, "haven't slept well last night." Hermione rolled her eyes before turning back on her chair as Tom cleared his throat.

In front of her, Dolohov grabbed the newspaper, turned to the next page, and slid it to her.

"Barboter has lost his mind," Antonin said, "apparently Grindelwald used the sonnum exteri curse on him. He's of no use to the aurors. He's going to spend the rest of his life in St Mungo's."

"Is no one going to talk about the fact that the Burnsteins are now at the Head of the Law Enforcement Department ?" Abraxas asked.

"Maybe they were the one who orchestrated the whole thing," Milton said.

"Talk when you have something meaningful to say, Milton," Tom reprimanded the boy, "your little comments are of no use here."

Hermione strangely looked at Tom, apparently disconcerted by the way he had just talked to Mulciber.

"Having the Burnsteins as the Head of the Department isn't a bad thing. We only have to join them in our cause. Silas is already close to us." Hermione's eyes discreetly landed on Thorus, who couldn't meet her gaze.

At the end of the table, Tom cleared his throat, once more. He had both of his elbows on the armrests and his fingers interlaced in the middle.

"We will know more once the government makes an official statement about what happened," he calmly said. "In the meantime, Dolohov I need you to collect any information you may have from your father," Tom then looked at Isodor, "Avery, gave me a detailed report of what's happening in France. The last time we heard from Grindelwald, he was there. Abraxas, meet up with Lovegood and you already know what to do."

"Already on it," Malfoy replied.

"Nott, I believe you are acquainted with Silas," Tom resumed. "Remind him of your friendship."

Tom was about to dismiss everyone when Milton spoke up. "What do you want me to do, Tom ?"

Tom looked at the boy. "You're doing enough already," he dismissed him.

Hermione was sensing some kind of tension between the two, however, she couldn't put her finger on why or even what Tom had just said really meant. The lads stood up altogether and most of them left the room. She looked at Tom, still sitting on his chair. She needed to know what the deal with Milton was, why he had been so different in the past months. She was about to ask Tom to talk privately when he cut her off. "Not now Grace," Tom said, "we will talk later."

Hermione stayed still for a few seconds before simply standing up and leaving the room.

28.02.1944 :

They were alone, Dolohov and him. Antonin cast a silencio on the room and Tom stood up to look through the window.

"Have you asked her yet ?" Dolohov asked Tom. Riddle didn't reply right away, he just kept gazing through the window, directly looking at the Black Lake.

"No," he finally said.

"When are you going to ask her then ?"

"When the timing is right."

Dolohov was looking at Tom's back. He stayed silent for a minute before asking the question he had been meaning to ask since the beginning. "Are you sure she'll say yes ? Are you sure she'll do it ?"

Tom turned around and leaned against the window. He crossed his arms upon his chest and kept looking at his fellow Slytherin.

"She understands that things need to be done for our cause. She is aware of the sacrifices this means. She will be against the idea at first but in the end, she will do it. I trust her," Tom said.

04.03.1944 :

Hermione was sitting on the floor next to one of the large couches in their common room, her head resting against Pollux's legs, just sitting behind her on the sofa. He had one hand picking up at strands of her hair.

"What do you think about using a potion on this ?" Pollux joked.

"Fuck you !" Hermione laughed, tilting her head backward to look into his eyes.

"Don't take it the wrong way, kiddo. I like you just the way you are, you know that right ?"

"But ?"

"But you could definitely do something about that."

Hermione slapped his hand away from her hair before lowering her gaze once more on the book in her lap.

Things with Pollux had slowly gone back to normal following that night in Hogsmeade. Hermione had tried to distance herself, not being able to look at him without feeling her heart shattering in her chest. But what she had found out was more difficult than remembering those events, was simply not being around Pollux anymore. When she had entered the common room, before dinner, she had found him, his nose in a law book. She had dropped her bags next to his feet before sitting down and letting her head fall back against his legs. Without even looking at him, she knew he had a smile slowly growing on his lips. They didn't talk at first, they simply read in silence, enjoying each other's company.

"Are we still going to Abe's tonight ?" He asked her after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Only the two of us ?" Pollux tried to broach Cole's subject once more.

Hermione exhaled, closed her book,and put it on the coffee table. "If he wants to join he can Pollux. I'm not avoiding Cole, he is the one avoiding me."

Parkinson's hand went back to Hermione's hair and gently carded his finger through it as he felt Hermione's frustration.

"I know, I know," he said, "but you being with Tom isn't helping."

Hermione spun around on the floor to look directly into his friend's eyes. "What ?"

"Oh come Grace," Pollux chuckled, "you're not as discreet as you think."

"We're not together," she defensively replied.

"You label it as you want, but it doesn't change the fact that something's happening."

She wanted to reply something to this but what could she say ?

She felt Pollux slowly bending to reach her ear. "Plus, Riddle's been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes," he teased her.

She gently punched Pollux's leg and tried to discreetly look at Tom. He was, in fact, looking at the two from the small table at the back of the common room he was currently sitting at. He was apparently not listening to what Abraxas and Edmund were talking about on the other side of their table. Their gaze met and none of them tore their eyes away. They stayed that way for a couple of seconds before she looked back at Pollux.

"Nothing's happening, Pollux."

"If that's the case, maybe you should tell him. He seems to think otherwise."

Her eyes landed one more time on Tom who had gone back to talking with the two lads.

OoOoOo

04.03.1944 :

Hermione closed the door to Slughorn's classroom and walked towards the Great Hall for dinner. Their alchemy private classes had turned out to be far more interesting than what Hermione had anticipated. However, they always ended a little bit later than they normally should. She blessed the elves for the dinner's second sitting. The Great Hall was almost empty, Hermione sat at her usual place at the Slytherin table. She quite liked the silence that brought the second sitting. Only a few students were scattered around the room, mostly seventh-year. She had noticed Cole at the far end of the table but hadn't had the guts to join him.

During those dinners, Hermione could peacefully read as she silently ate her dinner. However, on this winter night, someone disturbed the peace she was in. She heard someone sitting in front of her. Her fork, halfway to her mouth, stilled in the air and she raised her head to look at who had just arrived. Without a word, he began filling his plate. Hermione was simply looking at him, not understanding what he was doing here. But as Tom poured her a glass of water, she came to the realisation that Tom was just always there.

"Still not talking to Woodcroft from what I see," he said. She almost scoffed.

"Still not your business, Tom," she dryly replied. He chuckled at that.

"Are you sure it is not ?"

"What is that supposed to mean ?"

T

hey still hadn't talked. Since that night, the night of Caractarus Burkes' murder, they still hadn't talked. However, they were both aware now of how things worked between them. Inevitably, when they found themselves alone, they couldn't help but be drawn to each other, their lips couldn't help but meet each other. And each time this happened, Hermione convinced herself it was the last time. It was an endless circle.

Tom knew she was internally battling with her feelings and he quite enjoyed it. At this moment, his eyes were flickering between her eyes and her lips. Hermione noticed the growing grin he was beginning to wear on his face and rolled her eyes.

The thing with Tom was that they were not always talking about politics when they were alone. Their conversation topics were diverse and usually really interesting. Hermione hated the fact that Tom was one of the most interesting people she had ever talked to. His mind was sharp and he intellectually challenged her.

They both hadn't realised the Great Hall was completely empty as they finished eating. They were both too invested in the conversation to actually care about what was happening around them. Tom finally looked around and shot her a meaningful glance. He stood up and offered her his hand. Hermione made sure the Great Hall was indeed deserted before accepting his hand.

"No one is here," Tom murmured. She looked into his eyes as she delicately put her hand in his.

They walked in silence in the hallway. It was a comfortable silence, they didn't always need to talk. As they arrived in front of the common room door, Tom gently tugged at her hand for her to look at him. Without saying a word, his free hand cupped her cheek and he began leaning for their lips to be at the same level. Out of habit, she rose herself on the tips of her toes to meet him halfway. Their mouths met, as they did a thousand times before, hidden from the eyes of others. It was soft, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they knew the other's lips perfectly that they didn't need to rush into anything. They lingered for a moment, the soft brush of their lips. They both leaned back, looked at each other for a second, then separately entered the common room, as if nothing had happened. Tom went where the lads were and Hermione joined Pollux.

OoOoOo

13.03.1944 :

Hermione had stayed behind during their last lesson of the day. She had some questions about the assignment Professor Wink had just given them. She gently closed the door behind her before walking through the corridors. They were mostly empty and for good reason, most of the students liked to relax in their common room just before supper. She was descending the stairs towards the first floor when she recognised a voice. The screeching sound that could only belong to Walburga Black. Every time Hermione heard her speak, she couldn't help but picture the painting at 12 Grimmauld Place.

"What ?" Walburga harshly said. Hermione couldn't see her but knew she was only a few feet away. She hurried down the stairs and discreetly looked around the corner to see her roommate and Cassandre Parkinson, alone in the middle of a corridor.

"You're joking right ?" Black spat. Cassandre grabbed her wrist in a hurry, surely for the both of them to go somewhere more private, but Walburga only shrugged out of his hold.

"People could hear us," Cassandre whispered.

"Do you really think I care about that ?" Walburga's chest was rapidly rising. "What the hell happened Cassandre ?"

"We knew it would happen, why do you look so surprised ?"

"You were the one begging me Cassandre ! Begging me to stay and now what ? You've had enough ? You don't get to break up with me with no explanation. It doesn't work that way. We still have a year !"

"Shhh," Cassandre put a hand on her mouth but she simply shoved it away.

Once more, Hermione had stumbled into a private moment between the two. She felt quite bad intruding that way, but she felt there was so much more underlying than what was being said.

"Things are about to change," Cassandre simply said after a minute of silence. He was about to talk some more but didn't. Walburga lifted her hand to delicately brush his face when the youngest Parkinson stopped her, his hand gripping her wrist. "It's over Walburga. Whether you accept it or not, it doesn't change the fact that it's over."

He let go of her wrist and walked out of Hermione's sight. Walburga was still frozen in the middle of the corridor, her eyes stuck on the wall in front of her. Hermione had never liked Walburga, from the moment she had arrived in 1942. However, at this moment, she felt pity for the girl. Her shoulders began to shake and a broken sob filled the corridor. Hermione's heart clenched in her chest at the sight.

She wondered why Cassandre had done that on this night. She knew for a fact, they would never be together in the future, as she knew first hand Walburga and Orion were to have two kids, Sirius and Regulus. However, she couldn't help but not understand why he had decided on doing this, this early. As Walburga said, they still had a year at Hogwarts before she was to be married.

What's up with you, Cassandre ?

OoOoOo

13.03.1944 :

It was one of those nights where Hermione didn't mind being in her dorm, surrounded by the girls she shared it with. Galbanda Greengrass was seated at the foot of Galatis Carrow's bed, her head being braided by her friend. Belone, lying on her bed, the one in front of Hermione's, was casting furtive glances towards her bed. Hermione almost stopped pretending to read a couple of times to ask her friend why she was staring. All of a sudden, the door to their dorm opened and Walburga stormed inside before violently shutting it close.

"Wow," Belone snickered, "what got you in the mood ?"

Hermione knew exactly why Walburga was in this state but decided not to say anything. Walburga simply huffed and stood against the door, her head hanging low.

"Is everything alright ?" Galbanda asked, obviously concerned.

"Do I look alright ?" The other snapped. Belone shot Hermione a knowing glance before getting up.

"Do you want to talk about it ?" McNair offered.

"No !" Walburga let her head fall against the door, her eyes closed and fists clenched at her sides. "Actually, yes ! He doesn't fucking know what he wants !" That was how Walburga's rant began. The three other girls, sans Hermione, had literally no idea about who she was talking about. Belone finally turned towards Hermione and mouthed "who is she talking about ?". Hermione quickly wondered if she was allowed to tell her friend but then decided Walburga would eventually say his name, so she mouthed back "Cassandre."

"Stop Walburga," Galbanda rose from the ground, "who are you talking about ?"

"Cassandre, who else ?" Black huffed.

"Cassandre ?" Galatis was apparently taken aback by the revelation. "I thought you guys broke up like a year ago. What about…"

13.03.1944 :

"Orion ?" Isodor asked. "He had just left, he said something about a game of exploding snaps with Cygnus."

"Good," Tom said.

He was sitting on the windowsill, a cigarette hanging off his lips, looking at the lads. Abraxas was leaning back against the headrest, he too was smoking. Isodor was sitting cross-legged at the foot of Antonin's bed, on which the owner was also seated. The two Quidditch players were in the middle of a game of poker. Edmund lying in his stomach, his head facing the end of the bed, and Edgard seated on the floor. Edmund's trunk was used as a table as they laid the cards upon it. Thorus was casually sitting on his bed, his back against the headrest, letters in hands, reading them carefully. Milton was gathering his belongings and shoving them inside his bag.

Tom was looking at the seven of them.

"Where do you think you are going ?" Tom asked. Milton turned around and noticed the six lads plus Tom looking directly at him.

"Detention," he harshly replied, apparently fed up. The six other lads began snickering.

"Stop," Tom ordered the others before looking back at Milton. "Well, Milton, like always, we will do without you." Milton was about to leave the room when Tom spoke up once more, "also Milton, next time there is a meeting, try not to be…"

13.03.1944 :

"... late. He is never late, I knew something was up," Walburga kept explaining about Cassandre.

"Forget about him already !" Belone said, "you're marrying Orion next year. That is what's important."

"As if you could understand." Walburga sat on her bed and looked at her feet before deciding it wasn't a position she was comfortable in. She gracelessly let her body fall on the bed and put her hands upon her face. She even let out a groan, something that quite surprised the other girls as they had never witnessed Walburga this unladylike. An awkward silence settled, the four other girls looking at each other, silently wondering what they could do. Suddenly, Belone clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. Walburga lifted one of her hands and shot a glance at Belone from where she was lying.

"I have something that'll cheer you up." McNair smiled. Black rose an eyebrow, waiting for the gossip. "I have finally found out who Mister Antonin Dolohov is to be married to."

Hermione became suddenly interested in the conversation, just like the other four. Walburga even rose to a sitting position. "Tell me…"

13.03.1944 :

"...you've done it already," Tom said.

"Yes," Abraxas cheerily answered, "this morning. Didn't we, Thorus ?"

Nott simply hummed in acknowledgment but didn't tear his eyes away from what he was reading. Tom nodded his head and jumped off the windowsill to pace inside the room, the lads' eyes following his movement.

"Have we heard from Zabini ?" Tom asked them.

"Still waiting for his letter. It should come rapidly. Apparently, the government had just sent some spies to France to locate Grindelwald," Edgard explained.

"Good, good." Tom stopped and furrowed his brows before turning towards Isodor. "What about Burnstein ?"

"Apparently, doing a good job. Tuft's pleased with him."

"Good, good. Any news from..."

13.03.1944 :

"...Rookwood." Belone said. "Yes, you've heard me right. Dolohov's betrothed to Rookwood's daughter."

Everyone frowned at this bit of information. None of them understood why this wedding had even been discussed.

"But why ?" Galatis asked, almost disgusted. "We all know what Margaret did."

"What did she do ?" Hermione asked, finally chipping in.

"Well," Belone approached her bed, a small smirk on her face, "Margaret Rookwood had a lover once, Damian Peterson, mudblood." As Belone said the insult, Hermione saw the small disgusted look that briefly crossed her face. "They fell in love at Hogwarts and obviously took things further until Miss Rookwood found herself pregnant."

At this moment, Hermione was glad she had Belone as a friend. She knew every gossip possible in England. Hermione had let go of her book and sat more comfortably to listen to the story.

"At the news," Belone continued, "Undersecretary Rookwood couldn't let his only child marry a mudblood. So he tried to sweep the story under the rug while his daughter got an abortion. Plus, there are some rumours about the intervention being butchered and making Margaret sterile."

Hermione frowned and tried to think about Dolohov in the future. She was almost certain he was not to have any children in the future.

"However, nothing stays a secret here," Belone smirked. "The story got out and no one dared getting affiliated with her anymore."

"So why is Dolohov getting married to her, then ?" Hermione asked.

"That, my dear Grace, is the question," Belone finished as she finally sat on her bed.

"How did you find out about that ?" Belone chuckled at Hermione's question.

"Grace, just like I said before, nothing stays secret."

Belone was looking at her. Hermione saw the way her eyes glowed with playfulness and knew what her friend was about to ask.

"Don't you dare start again about that," Hermione warned Belone.

"Oh, come on…"

13.03.1944 :

"... Grace ?" Isodor asked. "Does she know about Zabini ?"

"No, and she does not need to know yet," Tom answered. Dolohov tried to hide his snicker so Tom spun around to look at the boy. "Something you want to add ?"

"No, no, Tom," Antonin smirked, "I just think she doesn't need to be involved in everything."

"Antonin.." Edmund warned him.

Tom took a step towards Antonin's bed. "No, no tell me Antonin."

"I'm just concerned that now that you're dating her, your judgment might be clouded. You didn't even ask her yet."

"First of all Antonin, learn when to shut up," Tom barked, "second of all," Tom was now towering over the boy, a menacing look on his face. "I am not dating…"

13.03.1944 :

"...him. Tom and I aren't dating !" Hermione repeated what felt like a hundred times this night.

"Sure, Grace," Belone snickered.

"I'm not lying !"

"Grace, come on, I saw you the other night, kissing in front of the common room."

Hermione froze on the spot and felt the gaze of her four roommates on her. Walburga had her mouth agape, apparently under the shock of the news. The two other girls were hiding a smile. Hermione had rarely felt this embarrassed so she decided on fleeing the room.

"I-I need to take a shower," she said before getting up and locking herself in the bathroom. She heard the other girls laughing on the other side of the room. She was leaning against the door, her eyes closed. As long as Hermione wasn't talking about it, it wasn't real.

20.03.1944 :

"How were we not aware of this ?" Tom shouted, his hands flat on the wooden table, in the fifth-floor room. He had violently shoved a newspaper on the table where in bold letters was written : RALPH FOWLETT WIGRAM, MUGGLE SENIOR CIVIL SERVANT, TO BE THE NEW HEAD OF THE TRSGC

The silence was deafening around the table. Since Lovegood had given Abraxas tomorrow's newspaper, a few hours earlier, Tom had been infuriated. He had not been able to gather everyone for a meeting before now, after hours.

"I have asked a question," Tom slammed his hands on the table which made half of the lads startle. "How are we not aware of this ? How are we not fucking aware a muggle is to be the next head of the department of transitional relations and social group cohesion ?"

None of the other dared meet his gaze. None of them knew how this could even happen. How could they have known something no one except Tuft knew about ?

"Nothing ?" Tom kept yelling. "Dolohov ?" The boy didn't answer. "Lestrange ?" Nothing. "Not even you Grace ?"

Tom saw the way Grace's jaw tensed at her name. He had never talked to her that way, and visibly, she didn't like it. But Tom couldn't give less of a fuck right now. He sat back down and slowly turned his head towards Dolohov. "Dolohov," he growled, "your father is fucking working with Winston Churchill himself and you are telling me he knew nothing about this ?"

Antonin gulped and kept his gaze stuck on the newspaper. "Look at me when I speak !" He shouted as he slammed his hands on the wood, once more. He abruptly stood up and grabbed the boy by the collar. He could feel the anger pouring out of his skin, his ring almost burning him.

"Tom," Grace's firm voice reached his ears, snapping him out of his trance. He rapidly turned his head towards her.

"What ?" He barked. "You are taking his defense now ?" He let go of Dolohov. The other boy gulped, heavily breathing. Grace didn't answer, she simply lounged back on her chair and crossed her arms upon her chest. Tom was now looking at each lad individually, the six of them, slowly feeling the anger dissipating. The silence around the room was heavy until Thorus spoke. "What do we do now ? What do you want us to do ?"

"She had the audacity of putting a filthy muggle at the Head of her department." Abraxas spat, obviously disgusted by the idea.

"What do we do ?" Edgard repeated. "We get rid of him ?"

"Rid of him ?" Grace spat. "What does rid of him fucking mean ?"

"What do you think it fucking means ?" Dolohov snickered. "It means killing him."

"Are you out of our mind ? You cannot kill a head of a department like that."

Tom hid his smirk at her sentence. He had expected her to react otherwise at the mere fact of killing someone. She had not said they couldn't kill, but only that they couldn't kill the head of department. Since that Valentine's night, Tom had slowly begun to see the shift in Grace's demeanour. She still had a bit of moral, which eventually was a good thing for them, however, it was less and less there.

Tom felt her looking at his side, surely waiting for him to support what she had said.

"We do nothing for now," Tom said, "we wait for a while, if we have enough luck, Wigram will be out of the picture by himself."

"Since when do we rely on luck ?" Abraxas asked.

"Since none of you did their fucking job," Tom barked. The silence went crashing back.

Then, they heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the door. Tom closed his eyes and exhaled. Of course, on top of dealing with something this big, Tom also had to deal with the Headboy who he knew was on round tonight.

"I bet this is Woodcroft," he said. "All of you, shut up." He stood up and went for the door.

"Let me deal with this," Grace offered. Tom turned around and looked at her.

"Be quiet," he told her then looked at the others, "all of you."

He stepped out of the room and silently closed the door behind him.

"Riddle ?" Cole's voice broke the silence of the corridor. "It's not your rounds. What are you doing here ?"

"I was making my way down the astronomy tower and heard some noise inside this room. It was just Peeves in the end. He went inside through the window," Tom lied.

Cole squinted his eyes. "Cut the bullshit Riddle, what were you doing ?"

Be quick with your answer.

"I was with Grace actually," he cheekily smiled. It was an easy answer, he knew it, but simply seeing Cole's entire body tense at the implication was worth it. "She left five minutes before I did. You did not see her ?"

"Oh, I see what you're doing, Riddle," Cole let out a dark laugh, "you want to get me all riled up because of you and Grace."

"You do not believe me, do you ?" Tom smirked.

"Oh no I do, Riddle." Cole took a step towards the prefect. "But what I also know is that it's not gonna last. It's just a fling. It won't last."

"Oh really ?" Tom cocked an eyebrow, taking a step further. "I think she likes it a little bit too much for it to be just a fling." Tom's eyes briefly lowered to Cole's clenched fist before looking back at his face. Cole had his jaw tense and a dark look in his eyes. "She likes when I grab her by the hips, she even moans in my mouth. She likes mussing my hair when I kiss her neck."

Tom heard a muffled sound coming from inside the room. "Must have left the window open," he added. Cole was sending daggers at him, obviously pissed by what he had just told him.

"And I did not even have to spend 170 galleons on a brooch for her to be mine," Tom cocked an eyebrow. Cole finally shoved him against a wall. If Tom had been anybody else, he surely would have been intimidated by Woodcroft. After all, he was tall and hefty.

"Whatever's happening between you and Grace, it will never last. She's too good for you. You're just too fucked up."

Tom couldn't help but laugh at this. "What is funny ?" Cole growled.

"You think you know her better than anyone else," Tom chuckled, "but guess what Woodcroft ? You do not. She is as fucked up as I am." At the words, Cole shoved him harder against the wall, which made Tom laugh more in the end.

"You'll end up fucking up Riddle, because guys like you always fuck up," the emphasis he had put on the word "guys" didn't leave any doubt about what Woodcroft was thinking about him, "and when you'll fuck up, I'll be in the front row, cheering the loudest." On this, Cole let go of him and began walking away.

"By the way Riddle," he turned around, still walking backward, "detention." He then disappeared in the darkness.

20.03.1944 :

Abraxas was holding her back. He had been holding her since the moment she had gotten up from her chair to stop the conversation that was taking place outside. How could he have said that ? Her eyes were riveted on the door when the six other pairs of eyes were all stuck on her.

The door finally opened and Tom stepped in, a huge grin on his face. Abraxas finally let go of her and in two large strides, she was by Tom's side. In reaction to the anger bubbling inside of her, her right hand rose by itself and went to crash itself into Tom's left cheek. However, the latter stopped her by the wrist seconds before the slap.

"I guess you have heard everything," he smugly said, his left hand still gripping her hand.

"The fuck was that ?" She snapped.

"What ? Was I wrong ?"

She violently withdrew her hand from his hold. She wanted to yell, to scream at him, at his smugness. But she didn't want to do any of that in front of the lads nor she could. So Hermione did the only thing she could, she left.

She needed to find him, she began running through the corridors, hoping she would bump into him eventually. When Hermione realised the probability was too thin, she turned to the paintings which guided her to the third floor, in the Transfiguration corridor.

She arrived, breathless, and saw him from afar.

"Cole !" She said. He looked above his shoulder. "No," he said before continuing his round. Hermione jogged to where he was and settled herself in front of him but it didn't stop Cole from keeping walking.

"He had no right," she said.

"It's your business, not mine." He couldn't even look into her eyes.

"You're right, so why are you mad at me then ?" That made Cole stop and finally look at her. He seemed to be thinking before opening his mouth.

"I don't know, Grace. I shouldn't be mad, but guess what ? I am. I'm mad at the situation, mad at the fact we're not friends anymore, and I know it's my fault. But the fucker is always there riling me up."

Hermione let out a small chuckle and nodded. "He is a fucker."

"Then why ?" Cole asked with a vulnerability Hermione had never seen before. It seemed that he couldn't understand how all of this happened. Neither did she.

"I don't know Cole," she honestly replied, "I have no fucking clue."

In January, in the kitchen, Hermione had made the mistake of making it all about Tom instead of making it about Cole and her. She wouldn't do the same on this night. She shot him a small smile and beamed at the fact he had this little glint in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I disregarded your feelings, Cole. I knew something had shifted in our friendship weeks before you even told me. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, maybe I thought everything could stay the same if I never broached the subject," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't make this about you when it should have been from the beginning."

Cole was looking at her, almost surprised by the words pouring out of her mouth. Hermione felt her heartbeat quickly rising at each passing second without Cole speaking.

"I'm sorry, too. First for making you uncomfortable, for blurting out my feelings on you that night and not even letting you speak. I was so mad you came with him and I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to ask you first and blaming it on you. I don't know if it would have changed anything but I'm still sorry," Cole softly murmured. "We're friends and I just kept avoiding you. This was shitty."

Hermione felt her eyes slowly filling up with tears. The past weeks had been hard on her, always not knowing if she would be friends with Cole again.

"I never stopped being your friend even though it seemed like it," Cole finished.

"Are you hungry ?" She asked him, mildly afraid of the rejection it could bring. Cole's smile widened at the question, well aware of what it meant.

"I could eat some cannelés."

20.03.1944 :

Hermione hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. She briefly wondered why she hadn't laughed in a long time. Cole was just finishing telling her about the catastrophic date he had on Valentine's day.

"... that's how I found myself wishing for death as she counted all the chocolate frog cards she had." Cole popped a small canelé in his mouth. "No one should be allowed to have that much."

Hermione snickered and took a large sip of her beverage. She let her laughter die down before noticing Cole looking at her from the other side of the table.

"What ?" She asked.

"Nothing, I just missed this."

"Yeah, me too." She nodded as a small smile grew on her lips.

He kept looking at her and Hermione knew he was waiting for her to say something.

"What ?" She laughed.

"What about your Valentine's night ? You were all dressed up."

Hermione flushed and dropped her gaze to her steaming cup of tea. "We don't have to Co-"

"We're friends, right ? Tell me then." She looked back into his eyes and saw the genuineness so she braced herself and began talking. She obviously couldn't tell him what they really did so she lied and invented an entire story, about a romantic date, about how she had fun. As the lies kept spilling out of her mouth, she realised this could have been a nice date.

"So," Cole started as she finished telling him the story, "the two of you, it's serious then ?"

In the past two months since Tom had first kissed her, Hermione had refused to let herself think about what all of this meant. But at this moment, sitting in front of Cole, she couldn't help but finally let herself feel.

"I think it is," she said. She almost couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth yet they couldn't feel more true.

"So things with him are good ?"

She didn't reply right away. What did good mean in a situation where their relationship was tainted by plotting and bloodbaths ?

"It's complicated," she finally said.

"How ?"

"Well," she chuckled, "first things off, he infuriates me, all the time."

"Obviously, but you like it, don't you ?" Cole cocked an eyebrow

"Yes," she replied in a small voice, averting her gaze. Hermione played with her ring, something she found out she did quite often when uncomfortable. She looked back at Cole and kept going. "We argue all the fucking time." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms upon her chest. "But we also talk. A lot. Not the type of conversation you could have with everyone. We talk, sometimes for hours, about something so specific that could bore anyone else, but not us." Hermione had her eyes stuck on the ceiling and she recalled every conversation she had had with Tom in the past months. "But then, he does these things that make me so mad that I actually wonder what the fuck I am doing with him."

"But you have feelings for him."

Hermione dropped her gaze to her friend and froze. Everything came crashing back, the talks, the arguments, the kisses, the softness, the desire. Everything came crashing back indeed, and Hermione let out a small exhale. "Yes."

20.03.1944 :

They were in front of the common room, Cole was obliged to go back to his rounds but he had insisted on walking her back to the dungeons.

"I guess I'll have to apologize to Pollux, too," Cole said. "He was right, I was a wanker," Hermione laughed and hugged her friend. She watched the Headboy go before entering the common room. Six of the lads were sitting around the coffee table, either their noses in mountains of books or frantically writing letters. Hermione noticed Tom wasn't with them. She turned her heels and walked to where she knew he was. As predicted, when she arrived at the bleachers, he was there. He was sitting, his elbows resting on his thighs and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was looking at the pitch, apparently deep in his thoughts.

His head snapped up as he heard footsteps coming his way. The moment he saw her strolling towards him, a smirk grew on his face. "Grac-" he started but Hermione's hand colliding with his cheek was quicker. For a second, Tom froze, he had obviously expected a lot of things from her but a slap wasn't one of them. Despite the burning sensation in her hand, Hermione felt good. In a low voice, she said, "if you ever do that again Tom, I swear a slap won't be the only thing hitting you." She turned around, not in the mood to hear what he would have to say. She was already a few steps away from him when Tom laughed. "It is not my fault if he took it that badly that you are mine."

Hermione spun around, astounded by Tom's audacity. "I'm not yours !" She yelled. She approached him and slightly shoved him in the chest.

"Of course, you are !" Tom retorted as he stood up, "as much as I am yours. We are not like the others, you and I both know it. We are so much more." He had slightly raised his voice as he approached her. Hermione had still not moved, unable to take her eyes away from him, only waiting for Tom to talk more. "I will not take you on fancy dates on Valentine's day," he kept going, "as much as you are not going to play the perfect girlfriend. What we have is not something anyone can understand nor have. It requires sacrifices and I know you are aware of that and I know you will make them, in order for us to rise."

Tom's voice had got so low that Hermione shivered as he talked. They were only inches away from each other when Tom put his hands on her cheeks. Hermione briefly closed her eyes at the touch before looking back into his, dark as night. "I will have power Grace, I am willing to share it with you." She felt the first drop of rain on her forehead, then a second and a third before he talked again. "I am just waiting for you to admit it to yourself."

Tom finally let go of her and took a step back as if he was letting her think about it. However, what Tom didn't know already, was that there was no choice to make. She looked at him as the rain began to dampen his hair and drench his clothes. She looked at him as he stared at her, the moonlight illuminating his scar. She looked at him as she took a step closer.

"I did," she whispered.

OoOoOo

21.03.1944 :

She was silently eating breakfast with Pollux this morning. A little bit further down the table, Tom was surrounded by the lads, without Milton. The seven of them were speaking in hushed voices.

Hermione was having trouble keeping her eyes open but Pollux's little comments about the bomb the Daily Prophet had dropped this morning kept her awake. Even though the Parkinsons had always been Tuft's supporters, Hermione would have thought him to be against this decision. However, it seemed that Pollux wasn't entirely against it. He had told her he was waiting to see how this turned out. She had talked enough about that with Tom the night before to know Tuft was within her power to do so. No law ever stated a muggle couldn't be at the head of a department. They were in the middle of a legal vacuum.

Cole finally arrived, loudly dropping his bag on the floor, before sitting next to Pollux on the other side of the table. Hermione rose her head and smiled. She then looked at Pollux, whose eyes flickered between the two, obviously delighted by the situation.

"Abe's tonight ?" Cole offered. Pollux's grin only grew larger.

OoOoOo

04.04.1944 :

They have been having meetings after meetings for almost a month now. On top of Grindelwald's attack, to which the government had promised the population they would catch him, the news of the muggle at the government had been the fatal blow. They were meeting up in the same room on the fifth floor at least thrice a week, every night with new information from one of the lads. Most of the wizards at the government were shocked by the news, not fully understanding how Tuft could have thought this to be a good idea. A small group within the Wizengamot had even started looking through years of wizarding constitution to find a loophole, in vain.

The only solution to this problem had been the following : passing a bill to forbid any government to have a muggle within their cabinet. It was something Hermione knew required a lot of work and more importantly, a lot of bribes. Even though most of the workers at the ministry were against this, some others weren't. Hermione had heard people saying this was the beginning of a new era, where muggles and wizards could work together for the best. Two years ago, Hermione would have agreed, however now, she almost found the idea terrifying.

"Grace ?"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and looked to her right to find Silas looking at her. They were in the courtyard, enjoying the first warmth from the sun, Silas, Thorus, and her. She let out a small chuckled and apologised.

"What did you write down for the third question ?" Silas asked again. Hermione looked down at her homework and gave him the right answer. Thorus, his eyes riveted on his book, hadn't talked since he had sat down.

"What's up with you guys ?" Silas laughed as he looked at the two. Thorus finally met his gaze and Hermione could see the small sleeping bags under his green eyes. He shot his boyfriend a smile. "Just tired," he said. She looked as Silas Burnstein's hand neared Thorus' one but quickly withdrew it as someone walked not far from them. So Silas just smiled, with a smile filled with so much love, Hermione felt overwhelmed. It was delicate and pure.

"Are you sure ?" Silas whispered to Thorus, feeling concerned for him.

"Yes, yes," the other smiled, "still up for tonight ?" Silas nodded and Hermione felt like intruding a special moment.

OoOoOo

11.04.1944 :

They had found themselves in the library, working in silence, at the back of the room, where they both knew no one would disturb them. Hermione sometimes glanced at Tom to find him skimming through several books. She also knew he did the same. She had stopped working for a second and just took in the sight of him, unconsciously playing with his ring.

"I can feel it sometimes," she said. Tom rose his head and looked at her. "The darkness pouring out of it." He understood she meant the ring so he stopped.

"Does it bother you ?" He asked.

"Not like it used to," she honestly replied. Back when she had to wear the necklace for several hours, she would feel almost sick in the end. Now it was different though. Hermione didn't exactly know why.

"In how many pieces are you going to split it ?" Hermione knew exactly how many, but she wanted to hear him say it, hear him try to explain it.

"Seven," he replied. He didn't even think about it, it was obvious. "Six through objects plus still one part within me."

"Why seven ?"

Tom closed his books and leaned back into his chair to mirror her position. He had just understood this conversation was about to be interesting. He put his elbows on the armrests and looked at her. Hermione knew he was thinking about how he could explain, she knew seven was no coincidence.

"It is a lucky number." He opted on answering, cheekily. Hermione rolled her eyes before putting her hands flat on the table and moving closer to him.

"Why seven, Tom ?" Tom looked at her, playfulness dancing in his eyes.

"Our world revolves around the number seven," he finally said, "the seven days of the week, the seven continents, the seven seas, the seven planets in our solar system, the seven days of the lunar cycle, the seven wonders of the ancient world, the seven colours of the rainbow, the seven notes in the diatonic scale."

The seven lads.

"Do you believe in numerology, Grace ?" Tom asked. She nodded. "Then, you should know the number seven is considered as being the most powerful number. Firstly, it is a prime number and many mathematicians persist in calling it the 'most prime number'. Secondly, if you take a good look at the bible for instance, you may notice it is separated into seven divisions. There are the seven churches, the seven angels. The number seven is the embodiment of divine perfection. Isn't the world said to have been created in seven days by God after all ?"

"You're right, Tom," Hermione said. "However, you seem to be skipping the seven seals of the apocalypse or even the seven deadly sins." It was the time Tom met her in the middle of the table, their faces inches away. "Why don't you just tell me that the number seven symbolises eternal life ?" This brought a small laugh from Tom.

"You seem to be versed in the subject," he chuckled. He gently touched her cheek before leaning back into his chair. "So you were just baiting me."

"Why are you so afraid of death, Tom ?" She whispered.

"Oh, I am not afraid of death per se, Grace. I find death beautiful actually. However, the only problem with it is that it always comes too soon. So, no, I am not afraid of death, Grace. I am afraid I would not be able to do everything I plan on doing with a mortal life."

She nodded, she hadn't expected this answer and surprisingly it didn't shock her.

"Are they aware ?" She asked.

"Who ?"

"The seven lads."

Tom laughed at her emphasis. "So you caught on this." He started playing with his ring again. "They do not. No one was supposed to know, to be completely honest. You just happened to be there." He gave her a pointed look, filled with humour.

"You shouldn't talk about death this lightly."

"Why shouldn't I ? I overcame it. Twice already." Her eyes automatically fell on his ring.

"Don't joke about death, Tom."

"Oh no, no, no, Grace." Suddenly every playfulness he had on his face disappeared and seriousness replaced it. He, once more, approached her. They shared the same breath. "I have nothing but respect for death."

OoOoOo

18.04.1944 :

Pollux's patronus was playfully jumping around her. Hermione was spinning on herself to keep looking at the smoggy fox.

"We've understood you know how to produce one Pollux," Cole told his friend off from where he was sitting on the couch.

"I am doing this to help you," Pollux said as he sat next to him.

"How is casting your fox on Grace helping me cast a corporeal one ?"

"Well, it is pretty, it encourages you."

Hermione couldn't help but slap Pollux's head. As the patronus disappeared, Hermione approached them and stood behind the couch they were on. She lowered her upper body so she was at their level and settled her head between theirs.

"You'll cast one, don't worry," she reassured Cole, "you only need the right memory."

Cole turned his head and smiled. "You're right."

"Parkinson !" The three turned around and saw Elias Goyle coming their way, a huge package in his hands. "This arrived for you." The seventh-year dropped the box on Pollux's lap before leaving without another word.

"What's that ?" She asked him.

"I wasn't expecting anything," he replied as he began opening the box. He caught a glimpse of what was inside before suddenly taking the box out of Hermione's sight.

"What is it ?" She asked, keener on knowing. Pollux had jumped off the couch and took a large step away from her.

"It's your birthday gift," Cole told her.

"Shut up you wanker," Pollux shot him a dark look.

"I'm not spoiling anything. You've been gifting each other books since the beginning. It's no surprise."

Woodcroft bore a mischievous grin, obviously delighted by Pollux's anger. He tilted his head back and winked at Hermione.

"Go back to failing your corporeal patronus," Pollux said.

"Hey !" Cole furrowed his brows.

"Don't start please," Hermione intervened. She got around the couch and sat next to Cole. Pollux had not moved since he had stood up, his gaze still stuck on his friend. With a flick of his wand, he cast his patronus and let the fox wander around the room. Cole only rolled his eyes as Hermione chuckled.

"Grace ?" She turned around and saw Tom coming their way. He nodded at Pollux then looked at her. "Ready to go ?" She nodded and rose from her seat. She went by Tom's side, shyly smiled at Pollux, and noticed Cole hadn't even turned his head around.

"Nice patronus, Parkinson," Tom complimented.

She felt Tom's hand taking hers and slowly dragging her to the door. She shot one last glance at the room, and noticed Milton, sitting by himself, at the back of it.

Once again, she knew he wouldn't come. Was he even invited to this one ?

OoOoOo

23.04.1944 :

He offered her a cigarette she gladly took before leaning against the guardrail. Tom lit her up with his wand and sat in front of her, on the bleachers. They had finished talking about Ralph Wigram, about the fact that he wouldn't be in office until September 1944. This gave them time to plan and do something about it. They were immersed in peaceful silence. Hermione was looking at the stars above and Tom was looking at her. She felt his gaze so she slowly lowered her head.

"What's on your mind ?" She asked him. He got up from his seat and took a step forward. He was looking at her so intensely, Hermione almost felt shy under his gaze.

"I need you to take care of something for me," he said, "it has been bothering me for a while. I have put a lot of thoughts into this issue and found only one solution," he explained. "It is getting quite problematic and if we do not do anything about it now, it will come to bite us in the arse in the future."

Hermione knew he was not talking about an 'it'. He was talking about someone, someone they apparently both knew. There was no wind, nor rain, nor other sounds on this clear night. Only the sound of the words coming out of Tom's mouth.

"That is why I need you to get rid of it, Grace," he finished.

"What does rid of him fucking mean ?"

"What do you think it fucking means ?" Dolohov snickered. "It means killing him."

Hermione tried to take a step back but was blocked by the guardrail against her back. She widely opened her eyes. "Are you asking me to kill for you ?"

"Would you be willing to ?"

"No, no !" She went away from him. "Are you out of your mind, Tom ? Hadn't there been enough killing already ?"

"There is no other solution, Grace."

"Are you even hearing yourself ? Murder isn't always the solution."

"Are you willing to lose everything you have worked for ? We have worked for ?" Tom was slowly walking towards her but Hermione kept stepping backward. "We are this close to getting everything we have ever wanted Grace. This close. I know you will not let that slip away."

Her hands were slightly shaking after what Tom had just told her. She couldn't believe him, after everything that had happened, after all the things she had already done. He kept asking for more, again and again and again. But could she even say no ? Would she even say no ?

She turned around to avoid looking at him. She couldn't at this moment, she needed to think with her brain, not putting any feeling into this judgement. She wondered if Tom was really giving her the choice or simply ordering her in a nice way.

What difference does it make ?

None. Absolutely none. What scared Hermione at this instant, was that the absolute horror she experienced a few minutes before when Tom had asked her to kill was slowly dissipating. Hermione was no longer feeling appalled by the request but actually considering it. He had said after all it was the only solution. She had put months of work into this, she had busted her arse off. If someone was to jeopardise all of this, she couldn't allow it.

At this moment, she finally understood the devotion coming from the seven lads, because at this moment she felt it. She finally understood what Tom had given her, power, responsibilities, ownership, purpose. She had joined their cause through spite but no one had forced her to bask in it. She couldn't let all of that go now that she had a taste of it.

"Why me ?" She asked in a broken voice.

"Because one night you have told me you would always provide when I would be in need of help. I need you to do this, Grace. Will you provide ?"

He had taken the last step toward her and she literally felt her last bit of morals slipping away.

"Yes," she whispered, she gulped before saying the words she never once thought she would say, "who do I need to get rid of ?"

"I will tell you in due time."

Yet, Hermione didn't need him to tell her. She already knew. She had known for weeks now, who had been the problem, who had been distancing himself from the others and the cause, who had been the one making new friends, who had too much information and could ruin them.

Milton Mulciber.

OoOoOo

25.04.1944 :

"Alright there, sweetheart ?"

Hermione blinked at Abe and put on her best fake smile. She simply nodded and asked him for one more glass. She hadn't got one hour of sleep last night, nor the night before. She had stayed awake simultaneously blaming herself for having said yes and agreeing with Tom on the problem Milton was.

"Abe ?" She called out for the bartender. The latter approached and waited for her to continue. "If you were asked to do something you knew to be bad but beneficial for you, would you do it ?"

"Is there something I should know ?" Abe seemed concerned.

"No," she lied, "I'm just wondering. Would you, then ?"

Abe stopped for an instant and thought about what she had asked him. "Well, if you know deep inside of you it's bad, why do it ?" Hermione lowered her gaze and focused on the glass in her hands. "Is there something you want to talk about ?"

"Not really," she mumbled, "I just got something on my mind lately, nothing important."

Suddenly the door to the pub opened and Cole followed by Pollux rejoined their seats next to her as they finished the conversation they were having outside, during Pollux cigarette break. "I'm telling you I'll do it. I'll make sure of it," Pollux assured his friend.

"What are you talking about ?" Hermione asked.

"Pollux is convinced he will be the first Parkinson to ever get the unanimity at the Wizengamot," Cole snickered.

Behind the bar, Abe laughed. "I hope you will, Pollux, but keep in mind that it only happened four times in history."

"I know you will," she said to him.

Hermione smiled as she looked at Pollux. First, because she enjoyed seeing him this way, happy about his future role at the Wizengamot. He had finally come to the terms that he was the heir no matter what and that his relationship with his brother wouldn't change. Second, Hermione knew he would be the first Parkinson to get the unanimity. She had learned about it during her second year. She was looking deep inside her brain for the name of the article they had read in class.

What did it say again ?

Pollux Parkinson gets unanimity ?

The first Parkinson to succeed : how did Pollux Parkinson get the unanimity ?

She looked at him with some fondness even when Pollux stood up and put a glass of firewhiskey on his forehead and tried to balance it as he walked across the room. What she didn't see though, was Cole, looking at her, longing in his eyes.

OoOoOo

01.05.1944 :

She was walking down the hallway to reach her next lesson, potions down in the dungeons. Her mind was still rushing about Milton. Lately, she was always thinking about Milton. If she had noticed him being distant in the past, now that he had her complete attention, she realised he was further away than what she thought. He almost never hung with the lads anymore, he almost never ate with them anymore. He was constantly getting into trouble. Was it a cry for help ? Hermione felt bad for not having done anything about it earlier. Would have she been able to avoid this situation ? It was this guilt that drove her to think about alternative solutions. Could she try to get him back into the lads as before ? Could she mend the broken relationship he seemed to have with the lads ?

From afar, she saw him. "Milton !" She almost yelled. The short boy looked at her. "I don't have time Grace," he dismissed her.

"I-I really need to talk to you."

"Later, Grace."

Since when has he stopped calling you Gracie ?

When was the last time you've talked to him, Hermione ?

He had left without another word. And Hermione had just watched him go. Her eyes lingered on his figure and saw him walk past the six lads, without even a glance.

Six.

It wasn't seven anymore. She had just figured it out. Tom had always built everything around the number seven, there couldn't be only six lads. If she were to get rid of the seventh one, she would also have to take his place. Hermione was frozen on the spot.

That's why he asked you, Hermione.

You are the one replacing Milton in his little circle.

She couldn't move, she couldn't talk. She just stayed there, surrounded by the loud chatter of the students around her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Pollux approaching.

"Have you heard ?" He asked her. She didn't tear her gaze away from the end of the corridor. "Grace ?"

"What ?"

"Have you heard ? About Silas Burnstein ?"

"What about him ?"

"He's a faggot."

Hermione's head quickly turned to the right to look at Pollux. "Don't say that word," she snapped. Pollux shrugged. "Where did you hear that ?" She pressed.

"Haven't you seen ? The pictures of Burnstein and some guy kissing are plastered everywhere." Pollux took her by the hand and guided her to the closest photo, only a few minutes of walk away. She stood in front of it. It clearly showed Silas kissing a boy, the latter unrecognizable as he had his back towards the camera. She knew it was Thorus but no other would.

"I-I need to go," she said before running to the library where she knew Thorus was. She saw him, at the far end of the room, almost hidden to everyone. She was slowly walking, not wanting to scare him.

She watched him for a second, she watched as the tears silently fell on his cheeks.

"Thorus.." she whispered.

"Leave me alone," he lowered his head to hide his tears.

"Have you talk-"

"Leave me alone, Grace."

Hermione stayed a few more minutes before realising he indeed needed to be alone. The thing Thorus had dreaded the most had finally happened. They couldn't be together anymore, seen together anymore, now that Silas had been outed. It was over and they couldn't do anything about it. Furthermore, Thorus must have been terrorized about being himself outed. As Hermione walked down the corridor, she made sure of ripping each picture of the wall.

She wanted to talk with Silas, to make sure he was fine. He was her friend after all. She looked for him everywhere, not caring about being late for potions. She finally saw him, walking alone in the courtyard, everyone pointedly looking at him, openly laughing at him. Hermione went to approach him, to defend him but he saw her and he understood what she wanted to do. He simply shook his head no.

Hermione furrowed her brows before comprehending why the Ravenclaw didn't want to be seen with her. Well, it was the other way around actually. Thorus, Silas and her were always seen together. If people were to connect to dots, they would probably find out Thorus was the other boy in the picture. Even entirely heartbroken, ridiculed, and alone, Silas Burnstein was thinking about Thorus Nott.

OoOoOo

07.05.1944 :

"He would never leave his son like that !" Hermione replied, getting more fed up by their arguments. They were on the bleachers, like almost every night of the week since Silas had been outed. The news didn't take a long time before it reached the ministry and such news had triggered an enormous scandal. Being gay in 1944 wasn't accepted, even less for the son of the Head of Law Enforcement.

Salomon Burnstein, since Pilliwickle's death in February, had been doing a great job at the ministry. People were liking him, praising him even. He could have just disowned his son, like a lot of fathers had done in the past. However, Salomon Burnstein was a good man, an honorable man. He stood by his son's side, publicly taking his defense. This infuriated the public opinion even more.

"It is either this or he is out," Tom almost yelled, "there already is a petition against him. He should resign before getting fired. You need to tell Silas to tell his father to resign."

"Silas has other things to deal with now than politics, Tom !"

"Then, why are we having this conversation ?"

Hermione shut her mouth at the same time Tom lit up a cigarette. She walked to the guardrail, put her elbows on it, and dropped her head in her hands. She then felt Tom's hand on her lower back. She rose her head and looked at him. He offered her the cigarette by placing it between her open lips.

"Everything's going south, Tom," she said. "How did everything get that bad ? We had everything perfectly working in January. What the fuck happened ?" She withdrew herself from the guardrail. "First, Lestrange's father, next Grindelwald's bombing, then the Burnstein Scandal. And then I'll-" Her voice broke in a small sob. Hermione was feeling too overwhelmed lately. On top of not being able to sleep properly, her mind was always running. She couldn't get any rest, she was exhausted. Tom saw it. He gently took back the cigarette before putting it away.

"When was the last time you slept ?" He asked her.

"I don't remember," she whispered.

He gently cradled her face and Hermione automatically leaned at his touch. He then put one of his hands at the nape of her neck to tilt her head upward. Tom kissed her very slowly, very softly. It only lasted a couple of seconds before Hermione put her head against his chest, hearing the muffled sound of his heart. She felt at peace.

OoOoOo

14.05.1944 :

Her eyes couldn't avert from the copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the breakfast table. She had read it this already, just like everyone else at the school : BURNSTEIN FINALLY RESIGNED, BALTHAZAR ZABINI TO REPLACE. WHEN WILL THE LAW ENFORCEMENT DEPARTMENT EVER BE STABLE ?

It was bound to happen, either Salomon was to be fired or he would resign. In the end, it appeared he had made the right decision. Hermione glanced above her shoulder to take a look at the Ravenclaw table. She hadn't seen Silas for four days now, he wasn't going to classes anymore, nor any of the meals. She was concerned but couldn't do anything. She also saw Thorus withdrawing into himself a little bit more every day. And she couldn't do anything too. He sat next to Edmund, his eyes focused on the article. He must have read it four times by now.

She finally tore her gaze away and looked at where he would sit if he were there. Next to Edgard, at the end of the table. Milton was currently sitting with some five years, vehemently talking to them. Hermione had never seen him that way, full of confidence.

Tom, for once, was sitting next to her, directly on her right, instead of his usual spot on the other side of the table. He was casually eating as if nothing was going to shit, nothing was going as planned. Too much was happening for Hermione to handle everything. There always was one problem after another. Everything was going too fast. And Tom didn't seem to be affected by any of that. Tom put his silverware down on his plate, withdrew the hand he had on her thigh before getting up. Hermione looked up as he slouched his bag over his shoulder. Before leaving the great hall, he bent behind her, for his lips to reach her ear. "Meet me at 5:30PM behind the old bakery in Hogsmeade."

Hermione blood froze in her vein, her heart stopped in her chest and all air left her lungs. She dropped the toast she was holding and only blinked. She had known this moment would happen eventually, but every day Tom didn't ask her, she still had a small hope, he had changed his mind.

OoOoOo

14.05.1944 :

Her right leg was jumping up and down from where she sat on the couch. Her eyes were frantically flickering between the mural clock and the fire in the chimney. She had gone through all the emotions since Tom had said it in the morning. She had almost been ready to back down, a few hours ago, but knew deep inside she had to do it. She had many days, weeks, to think this through. Tom had been right, there was no other way. Milton had too much knowledge of their operation for him to leave the lads, to separate himself from them. It was all Milton's fault after all, he should have known that the lads were not to be left. He should have known what he was getting into when he first joined. Yes, it wasn't Hermione's fault, right ? He should have done things differently.

Hermione jumped from her seat, ready to go out for a little walk before the afternoon classes began when Pollux called out for her. She saw him lightly jogging to meet her near the chimney.

"Care for a drink tonight ?" He smiled. Hermione looked at him, still too focused on the Mulciber situation. "Grace ?" Pollux frowned.

"What ?" She said.

"A drink ? At Abe's ?"

"No. I don't have time for this," she dryly answered. He groaned in response. "Well, Pollux, it's a Thursday, just stay in. We'll go tomorrow."

She politely smiled at him before he could argue further. She spun around and left the common room.

OoOoOo

14.05.1944 :

The afternoon classes had never been this painful. On top of not being able to focus on any of the course, she was only a few meters away from Milton. She hadn't dared to look at him once since this morning. The only thing she needed at this moment was fresh air. She almost ran down the corridors. When she stepped foot in the courtyard, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The courtyard was mostly empty if not for a couple of second-years. It felt good, the wind on her face, the smell of fresh grass. She felt more alive than she had ever felt in the past. She shot a glance at her watch. She had an hour left. She had to go now.

Hermione looked around her one last time, taking in the sight of this peaceful place before she hurried down the stairs to reach the one-eyed witch. The walk to Honeydukes had never been this long, she had stopped more than ten times on her way. Each time wondering if she was doing the right thing. Her heart was almost beating out of her chest. When she finally reached the end of the passageway, she saw the slab leading to Honeydukes basement slightly displaced. It could only mean one thing, Tom was already there. Her heartbeat just quickened at the thought.

She had expected at least a couple of people walking down the streets, however, they were entirely deserted. There was a strange atmosphere and Hermione pondered if it came from what was about to happen or not. She couldn't help but feel spied on as she slowly walked down the main street. The sun, which had been up in the sky all day long, had now subsided to dark grey clouds. The only thing that could add to the eerie atmosphere was definitely rain.

Hermione could only hear two things at this instant, her frantic heartbeat and her heels on the stoned street. From afar, she caught sight of the old bakery. The abandoned one, where the windows were all bricked up, on the outskirts of the village. She stopped in her tracks. Time went still. There only was her, in the middle of the street, alone, frightened, almost shaking. There were the dark clouds above her head, ready at any minute to pour liters of water down the small village, to wash the dirt away. There was the small bakery and the meaning it had behind it. Hermione closed her eyes, tilted her head backward, and exhaled.

She must have stayed in this position for a minute before deciding it was time. With firm steps, she turned around the last corner and reached the small alley behind the abandoned building.

She had expected only three people to be present at this morbid event, Tom, Milton, and herself. Yet, the first thing she saw as she arrived in the alley was the lads, all gathered in a circle at the end of it, all looking down at something on the floor. They didn't notice her at first, they were all laughing.

Hermione frowned at the sight and slowed down her pace. She could hear faint sobs and ragged breaths. Her throat became dry and she felt a shiver down her spine.

She must have been two meters away from the group when Thorus first turned around, a sneer on his lips. She had not seen him that way in days, if not ever. Dolohov was the next one, taunting her with his gaze. Then the others just kept turning around to look at her : Abraxas, Edmund, Isodor, Edgard, and then him, Milton, laughing with the lads. Hermione froze.

What the fuck ?

"You are finally here !" Tom's cheery voice broke the deafening silence that had settled. Hermione's eyes landed on him. He was smiling, his arms open wide as if to welcome her. Her eyes began flickering between Milton and Tom, still trying to understand what was happening at this moment.

If Milton was standing next to the lads, laughing with the others, who was the person lying on the floor whom sobs she'd been hearing for the last minute ? Who was she supposed to kill if not Milton ? Hermione's heart stopped and rushed to where the lads were, feeling the panic clouding her mind. She was about to push them away but they moved aside on their own.

"Pollux ?"

He was there, his shirt all bloodied, his left eye half-closed from the swole. Hermione dropped to her knees, the sight bringing tears to her eyes. She put a shaky hand above her mouth to smother the broken sob she let out. She wanted to touch him but knew it would hurt him. "Pollux, Pollux," she murmured, her voice shaking. She was crawling on her knees trying to get closer, needing to get closer. She harbored her right hand above his face, not willing to touch the bruised skin. Pollux's eyes were barely open, not able to focus on her face. "What have they done to you?" She whispered more to herself than to the half-alive man on the floor. "What have you done ?" She yelled as she turned around to look at the lads. The smiles they were all baring a few moments earlier were gone. They looked at her, a somber and darker mask on. She looked at each of them, before finally looking at Tom. "What have you done to him ?" She screeched, tears spilling from her eyes. "Why did you do that ?"

Hermione then felt the weak touch of Pollux's hand on hers. She turned around and looked at her friend. She tried to smile, she wanted him to see her and feel reassured. "It's gonna be alright, Pollux," she cried, gently shushing him. "It's gonna be fine," she delicately put her shaky free hand on his and tried to push all the warmth left in her body into his. Tom had taken a step forward and was now standing only a few feet away. She first saw his shoes, then her gaze climbed up to reach his face. "What does all of this mean ?" Hermione asked. "I think you know," he replied in a low voice. Tom slowly crouched down, to be at eye-level with her. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks as she looked, entirely defenseless, heartbroken, at Tom.

"I don't understand," she whispered, entirely lost. "I don't understand," she kept shaking her head no, her eyes finally leaving him to settle back on Pollux. He looked so frail, huddled on himself, the tears of fear on his face blending with the crimson red of the blood pouring out of his mouth. He looked so tiny, like a scared child, breathing heavily from the beating he had just received. Hermione finally let out the breath she didn't know she held. From the moment she had seen Pollux on the floor, nothing had made sense anymore, until now. Tom's eyes bore the truth she didn't want to hear.

"No," her voice entirely broken as she cradled Pollux's face against her chest, "I won't do it, Tom." She must have looked pathetic, silently crying as she held the head of her best friend, of the only person she ever felt being her true self within this timeline.

"Why would you even ask me that ?" She whispered, her head falling against Pollux's hair, and inhaling the acrid smell of blood. "He hasn't done anything to you." Tom's hand slowly reached for her cheek but Hermione stumbled back, tightening her hold on Pollux. She slightly shook the bleeding boy, "Pollux, I need you to get up," she murmured to him, "please." Pollux was still unconscious, his head against her chest. "Pollux," she pleaded, putting her hands on his shoulder to sit him up, "we need to leave now." Hermione's head slowly rose to look at the lads. "Help me !" She cried. "Please, help me !" At this moment, underneath the gaze of the seven boys, she felt like being at a wake. She saw the grim look the lads bore, she saw the dark clothes they all wore. They were the perfect embodiment of death. They wouldn't do anything and she knew it. She kept frantically shaking Pollux, not caring about hurting the boy anymore, she needed him to wake up, she needed him to disapparate far away, she needed him to be safe. "Pollux, wake up !" she yelled, feeling the panic crushing her brain. She then felt two cold hands on her cheeks and the soft voice of Tom, "Grace, listen to me." Hermione shook her head, she couldn't, she wouldn't. "Grace," Tom repeated, "it needs to be done." He said it as if it was obvious, as if it had been planned for months, as if there was no other solution.

"No, it doesn't !" She snapped.

Tom delicately took her by the chin and steered her head in his direction. Hermione almost couldn't see anything from the pool of tears in both of her eyes. She finally blinked and let the water of her tears mix with the first raindrops falling from the sky. The seven lads were all looking down at the three of them, Pollux bleeding on the floor, Hermione cradling her friend, down on her knees, and Tom crouching down, still holding her chin.

"He's of no use for us," a voice said. A voice Hermione wasn't used to hearing when she was with the lads. Hermione looked behind them and saw Cassandre Parkinson, slowly walking to where the other seven were gathered. "The heir of the Parkinson family must be someone Tom can rely on," he kept going, "the heir of the Parkinson family must know when and who to join to thrive. The heir of the Parkinson family must sometimes make hard decisions."

Cassandre's words snapped Hermione out of the trance she was in. She felt the anger slowly bubbling up in her entire body as the fifth-year spoke. "You're not the heir !" She shouted.

"Not yet," he barked.

"He's your brother !"

"Don't you think I know ?" Cassandre yelled back, his voice slightly breaking at the end. "Pollux would never have been a good heir. He's unreliable, he's an alcoholic, an addict. He cares more about the bottle than the future of his family. He doesn't share our political views." Cassandre showed Tom and the lads as he said that. "The Parkinson family is too important not to be involved in this, in the creation of the future of our nation."

She had never put much thought into this, into the Parkinsons joining the ranks, because she didn't want to acknowledge the truth. At least, what she thought was the truth. She knew the Parkinsons would eventually join Tom's ranks, it meant that Pollux eventually would make the mistake of getting involved in all of this. She couldn't bear it.

Hermione understood something at this moment. Tom never had the intention of bringing the Parkinson family through Pollux. He was too unstable, reckless, and far too off politically for him to be interesting for Tom.

"This is bullshit !" She screamed, her lungs burning from the strength of it.

Hermione realised Cassandre had been there lately, whether it was at meals, talking to some lads, or in between classes. She also understood what he had meant when he had said to Walburga things were about to change. He already knew this would happen. He was already aware he would soon be the heir. And this made Hermione beside herself.

"Do you really think being the heir is going to change something for you ?" She barked right at Cassandre. "Do you really think your father is going to love you more ? That he is going to respect you ? The only thing you would get out of this is simply a shiny ring and a watch. You're second, Cassandre, and you'll stay second all your life." Cassandre kept his back straight, his head high and Hermione knew her poor attempt to make Cassandre do something was lost. Her head snapped towards Tom. "I won't do it," she firmly said, "I won't do it. You can't force me," she kept repeating. Hermione's hold on Pollux had unconsciously tightened. Tom just looked at her before slightly cocking his head to the side. "You knew what you got yourself into, Grace," he simply said, "you know what this requires, you had accepted it."

"I won't fucking do it !" She shouted, "nothing you could ever say would change that."

Tom had this smirk growing on his lips which slowly turned into a low chuckle. "You're mental, Tom."

She couldn't believe he was smiling, she couldn't believe he was laughing. Hermione looked at him, really looked and something felt off. Something was missing from Tom's eyes : doubt.

"You think I'm going to do it," she realised at loud.

"I know you are going to do it," he corrected her.

"Don't you think I've given you enough already ?" She asked him in a small voice. "Don't you think I've proven myself enough for you, Tom ?" She said louder this time, harshly around the edges. "Don't you think I've made enough sacrifices for you, Tom ?" Hermione was now screaming at him.

"Do you really think you are the only one who made sacrifices ?" Tom's voice was still soft and calm. Hermione didn't fully understand what he meant at first, but then Tom used the grip he had on her chin to guide her head towards where the lads were silently standing. "Look at them, Grace," she shook her head off of his hold but Tom's hand gripped her by the wrist to pull her up to her feet, abandoning Pollux on the floor. He grabbed her chin right back and forced her to look at the lads. "Look at them," he harshly whispered, the softness he had in his voice, slowly dripping away. "They all gave up something for this."

Tom's hand guided her head to the far left, where Abraxas Malfoy was standing. She looked at the boy, standing proud and tall. She looked at the boy to whom money and power were the most precious thing in the entire world. In December 1943, Abraxas Malfoy, under Tom's orders, had convinced his father Septimus Malfoy to buy a third of Diagon Alley. Something Hermione knew about. However, what she didn't know was that this purchase had no other purpose than to be resold to the Yaxley Family below cost. The Yaxleys currently being at the head of the Wizengamot would be more inclined in passing laws on their behalf thanks to this bribe.

Abraxas Malfoy gave up money for the cause.

Then, Hermione's eyes fell on Isodor Avery. The boy who had always been so cheery had become less talkative and happy lately, as if his last part of innocence had been taken away from him, as if he had given it up. Five months earlier, just after the Christmas Party, Gideon Barboter disappeared. What Hermione didn't know was that he had been under the cruciatus curse Isodor was casting in order to make the paper's about Malfoy's sale at lost disappear, under Tom's order. The financier had then been kept inside Avery's cellar in their summer house in Wales for almost three months, still under Tom's orders. Isodor had then asked for his house-elf to brainwash Barboter thanks to the sonnum exteri curse - an idea Tom actually got from herself after the Dolohov's incident - to implement ideas of Grindelwald and St Mungos in his head. Isodor then asked for the elf to disapparate with Mister Barboter in the middle of Diagon Alley on the 28th of February.

Isodor Avery gave up his innocence for the cause.

Then, Edmund Rosier. He had woken up extra early on this 28th of February. He had got out of the castle by the passageway Tom had shown him - the passageway she had shown Tom - to reach Hogsmeade where a portkey was waiting for him. He had arrived in front of St Mungos, and, after chugging down the small vial of polyjuice he had brewed the month before, he had entered the place. Edmund Rosier had made sure Justus Pilliwickle had indeed been on the fourth floor, an intel they got from Pax Zabini, before putting down the exploding artifact Tom had stolen that night at Borgin and Burkes. He had killed fourteen people on that day.

Edmund Rosier gave up his righteousness for the cause.

Tom's hand steered her head towards Edgard Lestrange. He had always known his father to be adulterous and when he had found out his progenitor had been sleeping with Gemma Montague, Egdard had not been surprised. He had talked longly with Tom about how this bit of information may benefit them as they were both aware the Montagues were financing Tuft. Under Tom's order, Lestrange had leaked to the press the story about his father.

Edgard Lestrange gave up his name's reputation for the cause.

Dolohov was already looking at her when she laid her eyes on him. He had been the first one to make a sacrifice for the cause. They all knew Rookwood was one to always change sides depending on where he would benefit the most from. They couldn't allow that. So under Tom's order, Antonin Dolohov had started an official courtship with Margaret Rookwood. In exchange for the undersecretary undying support, Antonin had promised to marry his sterile daughter.

Antonin Dolohov gave up an heir for the cause.

Thorus Nott was the next. He had fallen in love with Silas Burnstein during their fourth-year, before everything got this serious. Tom had always known about Thorus' sexuality. The lads had always known about it, too. No one cared. However, when Dolohov's senior job had been taken by Justus Pilliwickle, someone they were all aware they couldn't control, they had to find a solution. What could they do ? They needed to know who to put at the Head of the Department. That was where the Zabinis came into place : third in line for the job, they only had to get rid of the first two. Under Tom's orders, Edmund Rosier took care of Pilliwickle and Thorus took care of the Burnsteins. With the help of Abraxas Malfoy, Thorus had been able to take some pictures of the two of them. He had then plastered them all over the castle, well aware the news would quickly reach the Ministry. Salomon Burnstein, being the good man he was, never let his son down. He resigned and the Zabini rose.

Thorus Nott gave up his lover for the cause.

Finally, Milton Mulciber, the boy who was supposed to die. What could he give up ? He had lived his entire life in the shadow of a brother better than him in every way. He couldn't compete with that. Then, Tom gave him purpose by bringing him into the lads, something Milton had never forgotten. He made a promise to himself to devote himself entirely to the cause. Under Tom's order, Milton had withdrawn himself publicly from the lads to get closer to small cliques, usually underdogs always in detention. First, to get some intel. And second, to prepare the recruitments.

Milton Mulciber gave up his ambitions for the cause.

She realised all of that as she slowly put two and two together. One day, she had asked Tom how far he thought the lads would be willing to go for him. He had chuckled at the question. He had always known they would go all the way for him.

Hermione's brain slowly recalled some things she had witnessed, things that may have seemed off at the time, but she hadn't known back then. Hadn't she ?

The first thing that was off was that Abraxas Malfoy had not been cocky about his father's acquisition. Hermione had even told herself so at the time.

Then, Hermione recalled the breakfast following Barboter's disappearance, the way Isodor had acted and had abruptly left. She had thought this demeanour to be due to Thorus' betrothal to his little sister. But now, she realised it was because he had just spent the last two weeks torturing Gideon Barboter and the Daily Prophet headline just reminded him of this.

Then, her conversation with Thorus in the room, before runes. The way he had cried, the things he had said : I'm going to break him, Grace. I know when, I know where, I know why, I know how. It finally made sense.

Then, the meeting where Abraxas told them about Lestrange's story. Actually, the meeting when he told her as they already were all aware around the table about this. Hermione finally understood why she had felt like the one dropping the bomb when she had said Lestrange Senior was sleeping with Gemma. She wasn't supposed to know. Tom had appeared distressed when she had let that out. Of course, he had. Tom had been scared at the time she had figured out they had been the one leaking the information. That was also why he had laughed when she had told him she had heard about it during Slughorn's Christmas party. He had been relieved.

Then, the fact that Tom wanted to do nothing about this story, the fact that Edgard had indeed said nothing about this story. It felt off at the time and she finally understood why.

Then, the night of the 14th of February. Hermione had seen the banners above a third of Diagon Alley's shop all bearing the same name : Yaxley Ltd.

And finally, Edmund's attitude during the meeting on the day of the bombing. How tired he had been. Of course, he had been exhausted, he had been the one doing the bombing.

Hermione's eyes were wide open, slowly dragging themselves from one lad to the other, the rain intensifying by the minute.

"You have always been too smart for your own good," Tom chuckled as he understood she figured it all out. Hermione took a step back, not wanting to be touched by anyone.

"And what did you give up ?" She asked him, her voice hoarse. Tom approached her and whispered. "You well know what I gave up, Grace."

Tom gave up his soul for the cause.

Hermione shivered, disgusted by everything and everyone at this moment. "What are you asking me to give up by doing this ?" She barked, anger rising once again in her entire system. "I have nothing left you can take away from me !"

"I have asked myself this question. What could I ask from you ? The girl who has already lost everything," Tom had started walking around her, slowly and deliberately. "And then you told me at the Ministry Christmas Party that Pollux was off-limits. Of course, at the time, Pollux already was a problem, and Cassandre and I were talking about dealing with it. But you saying this, it simply clicked in my mind." Tom had stopped and was staring right into her eyes. "I know how far they are willing to go. I need to know how far you are."

Everything started spinning around her. Nothing made sense anymore. How could all of that really happened ? How could everything be this fucked up ? She put her head in her hands and firmly closed her eyes, trying to make her mind work, trying to convince herself she hadn't been the one seeding the idea in Tom's mind. She let out a broken cry, coming from so deep within her it resounded in the small alley. Hermione was bent in half, her hands at the temple tightening her hold by the minutes. She tried to breathe but found herself not able to, still flooded by too many emotions to function properly. She straightened and took in the sight before her, before feeling extremely dizzy and almost losing her balance.

She took a small step backward. She could feel herself becoming sick by the second, her entire stomach in knots. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of that. She was supposed to kill Milton, she had accepted it. It took her weeks to finally admit to herself she was willing to kill for Tom. Hermione finally let her hands fall back to her sides and rose her head. She hadn't realised, tears had been flowing on her cheeks.

"Even if I did it, we would never be able to get away with it," she said, trying to rely on the part of logic she knew Tom had. "He's the heir of the Parkinson family. He's important. There's going to be an investigation." The panic went crashing back. She turned towards Tom and he was smiling. "Let me talk to him, please. I can make him support the cause," she cried and reached for him, clutching at Tom's vest. "I'm begging you, Tom. I-"

"There will be no investigation," Tom cut her off, trying to reassure her.

"No there won't be," Cassandre added. He had approached. He was no longer behind the lads, he was at their level, his eyes riveted on his brother, shaking on the floor. She saw Cassandre taking a step towards him. She wanted to push him away, shove him as far as Pollux as possible, but Tom stopped her. "He's an alcoholic and an addict on top of being clinically depressed and suicidal. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it." Hermione let out a broken sob at Cassandre's words. Cassandre was looking down at his brother, his eyes filled with disdain. "No one would be surprised if he were to die alone, beaten up, lying in his own vomit in the middle of Hogsmeade."

Hermione's legs gave up underneath her. She was exhausted, dizzy, sick, and heartbroken. She felt arms stopping her from falling into the ground. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think.

"I used to look up to you," Cassandre said to his brother, he had crouched down to look right into his eyes.

"Cass-Cassand' ?" Pollux just regained consciousness, his voice weak and quaking. Cassandre froze at the sound. "Cassandre, help me. It-it hurts."

"Shhh," Cassandre whispered, "I've got you brother." His voice had slightly changed.

"Why are you crying ?" Pollux asked his little brother.

"I'm not," Cassandre defensively answered. "It's the rain." He then rose to his feet and took a step backward. His eyes had still not wavered from this body, he suddenly stood straighter. "The Parkinson family will thrive from this alliance. It's not against you Pollux, it's only politics."

She had heard this before. On the day Pollux had told Cassandre about his betrothal. Pollux had told him the exact same thing. Hermione was still trying to catch her breath. Tom's grip softened and she tumbled onto the floor. She pathetically crawled towards where Pollux was. She reached his face with her trembling hands. She tried to wash the blood away but only succeeded in smearing it on his face. She then attempted to push his hair out of his face so he could look a little bit more like himself. She needed to see him. She needed to touch him. And then, he looked at her. Right into her eyes. Hermione saw the fear in Pollux' eyes. He looked so far from the boy he usually was, Hermione couldn't fully process what the lads must have done to him. He looked so off, so weak, so far from the boy she knew. Everything seemed so unreal.

"We do not have any other choice," she heard. Hermione didn't know where it was coming from. It could have been shouted right next to her ear that she wouldn't have known. It started slowly at first, the migraine. It was almost imperceivable, almost pain-free. But she knew, she knew he was trying to get inside. She tried, really tried, to keep him out. She let out a strangled cry as she pushed everything she had in her to get rid of him. "You have done so well from the beginning," his voice was resonating inside her skull. It made her cry harder as she dropped her head to her chest. She was tired, she just wanted to lay down next to Pollux and never wake up. "You are magnificent, Grace," he murmured deep inside her brain, "you cannot let me down now." She couldn't do anything but miserably sob. "It is just one little thing," Tom's voice was so gentle it only made her cry more, "one little thing and all of this is over. One little and we will have everything."

Hermione then felt someone rising her gently to her feet. Her eyes had not left Pollux's face for a second. Thanks to the person holding her, she didn't fall right back on the floor. Everything was still spinning, everything was still too much. Hermione wasn't even sure if any of this was real. It didn't feel like it. She then felt someone grabbing her right hand and delicately putting a wand in her palm. Instinctively, she clutched at it. Tom was there, his lips ghosting over her ear. "It is easy," he murmured for her and her only, "you know the spell." The sound was muffled, as if the person talking was miles away. Actually, every noise around her seemed miles away. She suddenly felt cold and the warmth of the body behind her was the only thing she could focus on.

Her right hand rose as Tom lifted it, the wand directly pointing at Pollux below. "Everything will be alright after that," he kept whispering. From the fog inside her brain, she actually believed him. "Dying is not scary, Grace neither it is painful. Dying is soft, dying is easy." Suddenly, Tom's hand left hers and she found herself pointing the wand towards Pollux by herself. She then felt his lips against her ear.

"Dying is a delicate moment."

Pollux's face suddenly lit up in the shade of green.

Authors' Note : Chapter 6, Brother, last thing Pollux says to Hermione. Can we consider this a warning ?