June 30, 1942

The summer started off with a bang. Quite literally. When Hermione met Tom on the platform after leaving a red-cheeked Abraxas, several things happened at once in quick succession. First of all, Hermione's eyes had been following her boyfriend as he made his way to his family, and she couldn't help but meet his terrifying mother's eyes and read the disgust positively oozing out of them. Surprise surprise.

Secondly, Hermione noticed that the platform was mostly empty and that her final goodbye kiss to Abraxas must have been a bit longer than they intended it to be, but she couldn't have just given in to the You-Leave-First-No-You-Leave-First game.

And thank Merlin that it was mostly empty, because the third thing to happen eclipsed both of the other things.

A loud BANG erupted out of the wall by Tom's head. With her eyes awkwardly locked on the current Mrs. Malfoy's eyes, Hermione didn't note that it was right by Tom's head until she swung her head around at the loud noise.

In true form for the hero of Hogsmeade, Tom had his wand whipped out before Hermione had completely turned her neck. Before she could even process her worry and gratefulness that whatever had made the bang hadn't actually hit his head, Tom was muttering over the wall and waving his wand in loopy circles, his wrist fraught with tension.

Quickly though, he stashed his wand.

"What are you doing? Don't put your wand away!" She said as her own wand shook a bit in its perfect form for dueling. "What if they attack again?"

But Tom looked resolute. "He's not going to attack again here. I know what this is."

Hermione gazed at him expectantly. When his words were not forthcoming, she bit out another question. "Well? What is this? What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. Just... not here." He said, eyeing the stragglers from the train hurrying off to their final destinations. For all that Hermione had thought a freaking bomb had gone off, on her second look at the magical wall between the Muggle train station and the Wizarding one, she could see that a hole barely the size of her own fist had been smashed into it. While not very threatening, the loud impact and the dust from the bricks caused more of a panic than the actual explosion. Perhaps a stunner from the other side? Risky in Muggle London.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her off, "Let's get out of here. Take us to Dumbledore's."

Running along behind him, Hermione shouted to make him hear, "I'm not supposed to because I don't actually have my license yet, but I'll just apparate us. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to." She had plenty of other reasons to back up using illegal magic (Having a valid license from 1998 not being one of them) but Tom didn't wait to hear them, already on board with her plan.

"Good idea. Do it."

And in the split second between their heart beats, she did just that. You don't spend months fighting a war where you might have to apparate in a split second just to forget how to do it.

The squeeze through the tube feeling, on the other hand, she was glad to have forgotten... or repressed.

Suddenly they were sprawled out on a green lawn (her landings might have become a bit spotty in the fifty years between then and now), and looking up at Dumbledore Manor.

Albus' personal home was bought in his lifetime from his hard earned royalties that came with discovering the twelve uses of Dragon's blood. It was a large house with about fifteen different bedrooms to choose from. The most spectacular part of it, at least in Hermione's opinion, and she had spent more time here in the last six years than even Dumbledore had, was definitely the lake.

It looked like what the idea of a lake should look like. Sometimes when people talk about something being so great and the idea of it gets built up to the point that confronting it for oneself makes the whole experience upsetting and the object itself anticlimactic... well this lake is about the complete opposite of that to Hermione. For her, the lake was like the one thing no one could ever get right on paper, descriptions of it, photos of it Muggle and Wizarding ones, none of them captured this lake like truly being in front of it.

It was this lake she retreated to in her mind. Her Occlumency came straight from her memories of it, the calm water, the smell of water and fecund soil, all of it calmed her—centered her.

She forgot her queries about the platform in her joy at returning to her lake. After a few seconds of basking in the sights and the smells, and promising herself a good swim in it after the sun went down, Hermione turned back to look at her friend to find him already looking at her, his gaze like an x-ray.

"You really love this place, huh?"

"Just the lake." She replied. "The house is just a house—a superior library, to be sure, but just a house. This lake, on the other hand, has some sort of magical property to it that I haven't… I haven't been able to put my finger on in all the time I've been coming here." She shook her head, the light from the setting sun falling onto her face and making her feel majestic.

They were silent a minute, and then Tom ventured a thought forward. "This is the lake from your mind, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm glad you caught that."

"I thought you had just made that up."

She smiled sweetly, "I'm clever, but not creative enough to invent an entire lake as perfect as this one."

Hermione wouldn't let Tom prolong the upcoming conversation any longer, however, and so she got down to business. "So what in Salazar's name was that?"

He sighed. "Inside first. Then we talk."

Even knowing there was no way anyone could eavesdrop on them out here by the lake, Hermione bit her lip and let him have a few more precious seconds to come up with the perfect way to explain what just happened.

He followed her into the house. They took a few minutes for Hermione to greet the house elves, especially Pinkie who loved Hermione the most, the elves' excitement bringing life into the empty house. Eventually she extricated herself from their hugs and frog marched Tom up to her usual bedroom, the closest to the library.

When they entered the room, Hermione gave his chest a hard shove, pushing him onto the bed. "Explain."

"Grindelwald has been trying to make me his new protégé since the Hogsmeade Incident."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"He keeps owling me. I've been blowing him off—I'm not interested in being a Dark wizard." Hermione did another mental pat on the back. "And I figured he'd stop, that he'd get the hint."

"But he didn't."

"No," he confirmed. "He didn't. Or rather, he didn't like my answer." Tom pulled his wand out and started twirling it.

She put his words together quickly. "And his answer to your refusal was... what happened at Platform 9 ¾?"

"Yes."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a beat. "Well you can't be safer from him than where you are now." Hermione said, upbeat. There wasn't really anything they could do about the situation at this exact second. Could they go to Dumbledore? Sure, but that would just lend more paranoia to the old man about Tom's true intentions. They were only here and together because the Headmaster forced this. "There's no way he can get to you here. Uncle Albus has this place under every security measure known to wizard kind."

"That's true."

"Did you keep his letters?" She asked.

"Of course." Tom enlarged the trunk he pulled from his pocket and removed a pile of letters bound together at the bottom of the trunk. Hermione poured over them. They got increasingly dark, like Grindelwald thought he could lure Tom away from Hermione by appealing to the dark side in him that Hermione replaced. It was the last one that shook her the most.

"'Say yes or watch your back.'" She read aloud.

"Yeah. Not very eloquent there is he?"

Hermione agreed. "Especially not in comparison to his earlier work. The passage about disembowelment in the second letter was especially nice in my opinion."

"No, I completely agree. Of all the passages about cutting someone open and ripping their organs out—it's definitely the best. Easily in the top five, at least."

Hermione huffed a well needed laugh. "So what do we do?"

"Don't you think I've been thinking about that?" He asked quietly, but with conviction. "There isn't really anything to do. I sent a respectful letter declining his offer and now he's threatening me. It's not like I have anything to tell the Ministry or whoever. I have no idea where he is, or what he's doing."

Hermione conceded the point. Tom had four months to think of something better. "I guess there's not much to do right now, but I'm going to search the library anyway."

"Of course you are." Tom teasingly rolled his eyes. "For now, let's focus on making as many new potions as we can, build up our royalties. It'll be easier to combat him if we have more resources." Hermione nodded, not liking the idea of letting it go without doing anything about it. "Besides, like you said, I'm safer here than I am anywhere else."

"That is true."

"Of course it's true. Would I lie to you?" She cocked an eyebrow, asking herself the same question. "Okay, by omission, perhaps, but never to your face."

"So anyway," she changed the subject, "what's your first idea for a potion? And did you read those books about Potion Making I told you to read?"

"Yes I read them. The point Bulbadeer made in Babbling Potion-Making dovetails perfectly with my best idea..."

And they were off.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Hermione,

Mother was not happy about the scare on the Platform, but luckily that kept her from making any snide comments about you for a while. I rather don't think she likes you, but I'm not sure if that has more to do with who your uncle is, or the fact that she watched me stick my tongue down your throat. Alas, we shall never know.

How has your summer been so far? I know we just parted, but I already miss you so much. This is going to be the world's longest summer, I can already feel it. Will you write to me and let me know you got to your uncle's safely? I'm trying not to worry too much about you. I know you're a strong witch, but no one has ever attacked the Platform before.

Stay safe, and in the meantime, tell me a secret. I miss you.

Yours,

Abraxas xxx

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

That night Tom and Hermione merely talked about their ideas, rattling them off so quickly that Hermione had to charm her quill to keep up because her hand certainly couldn't. Tom focused more on potions that would give the user extra powers. He seemed fascinated with the idea of having an advantage over other people. Hermione tended to lean towards healing potions and potions that would help a war effort. It was very subconscious, but luckily Tom overlooked it.

By the time Winnie served dinner they had a nice long list to start from and had ranked the potions into which would give them the most revenue. A proper potion master would probably have a fit in them creating potions based on money alone. Her mind conjured an amusing picture of Severus Snape's aghast face, his hair turning colors like in the potion they decided to work on first.

She chastised herself for finding amusement at Snape's expense. It was his hard work that allowed her to come this far and in the young, de-aged body of hers, after all. He found the recipe in the bowels of the Ministry while spying and tweaked it just enough to de-age someone back ten years. Between the precious few people left in the Order at the time, Hermione was the only person who would have been of age to attend Hogwarts, and it just so happened that it would put her in her first year. Dumbledore and Snape, the two most senior members of the Order had made the decision together, with Hermione's input, to send her back in one last desperate attempt to right the wrongs that Voldemort had inflicted upon the world.

She didn't like dwelling on things, that was a lifetime ago and she would never be going back. Why think on what was when what is now is so different? Hermione ate another bite of her corn chowder and met Tom's eyes across the table. It was so good to share this with someone else, especially Tom.

Hermione knew that she and Tom were the only two students who didn't look forward to the summer break. For one, Hermione spent the majority of her summer worrying constantly about how Tom was getting along in his summer. Tom, on the other hand, dealt with bombings from the Muggle war, rationing of his food, and nothing keeping him tethered to the people around him. Hermione worried that if there was any time that he would draw ever closer to that dark place in his soul, that it would be during the summertime when he was surrounded by those inferior to him. She had nightmares that he would forget her, see the horror going on in the Muggle world and give it up as a bad job.

Happiness crept up her spine as they made their way into the main course. He was here to stay with her. All summer. They would never be forcefully separated again. He wanted to share a flat after they graduated, they were going to start a life together.

Hermione ignored the small voice that dared to ask what she would do when he decided he was going to start his real life, with a wife and 2.5 kids and perhaps a dog. She hushed herself. Tom didn't even like dogs. He wouldn't abandon her to this world alone. They had clung tightly to each other for six years now, they weren't about to give that up. Tom wasn't her brother, he could never be her brother, but he was her family. He was her entire support system and she was his. They had made it through rough patches that would destroy friendships lesser than theirs, and they were closer for it.

Her heart sank. The only real threat of their separation was him leaving of his own volition. When he turned eighteen, and that was only six months away now, he might see what was hidden in her head and break off all ties with her, with that monster version of himself that now only lived within her memories and greatest fears.

They ate their meal silently, until Hermione, so caught up in her fears now, couldn't take the quiet anymore. "I can't wait to tell you, you know. When you're eighteen."

His spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. "I know, Mione."

She couldn't just leave it at that though, not this time. "I would have told you already. I know you can handle it, and I just hate having this hanging over our heads. I can't quite be certain how you'll react—I have high hopes, but in the end, this is the kind of news that will make or break you and… as much as I want to get it over with, I can't help but be a bit happy that Uncle Albus is forcing us to wait so I can have you longer."

He stared at her in silence. She didn't blame him. Without knowing what she was blabbering on about, he couldn't properly reassure her.

"Because what if it's so bad that you leave? What if I overestimated you, and you can't handle it and you leave me? I can't… I can't be alone, Tom. I can't. I can't."

He came around the table, dropping his napkin to the floor to bring her into a hug.

"Hermione. Hey, hey, Hermione. It's okay."

"No it isn't. It isn't okay. I just hate this."

"I know, and I hate it too, right? At least you know what it is and are just imagining the fall out. I've been coming up with the worst scenarios since I was thirteen, and now I have to worry about the fallout as well. You've obviously got the better deal here." His big arms made soothing circles on her back, and Hermione found her face pressed against a muscular chest.

"Maybe you're right."

He snorted. "Why do you always have to put 'maybe' or 'perhaps' in front of the sentence that tells me I'm right? Of course I'm right, I'm always right."

She pulled back to give him a look. "You're always right?"

He smiled unabashedly, a bit of cockiness making its way onto his face. "Well, except when you are. Which is always."

She giggled at his ridiculousness and she figured that was the whole point anyway. "Just promise me one thing, Tom."

"What's that, Princess?" He asked, still holding her lightly in his embrace next to their still warm dinner.

"When you find out, let me know what you're thinking. If you're going to leave, I'll respect that, just tell me before you go. Let me say goodbye."

"Easy. I promise. I can definitely do that." He pulled back, "Now can we finish dinner? I'm not used to eating so much anywhere that isn't Hogwarts and this is quite amazing."

"Merlin, you're such a boy sometimes."

Now he looked truly offended, and the fact that he even looked offended tipped Hermione off that he wasn't serious at all. "A boy, Hermione? You wound me."

"You're not going to start calling yourself a man now are you?"

Tom pouted at her teasing. "I am a man. I'm of age. Man." He thumped his chest like a caveman, drawing more giggles from his companion. "Food. Sleep. Ugga Ugga. Pretty woman."

"Salazar, you're something, you know that?"

He grinned back at her from his side of the table once more. "I've been told." He winked.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Hermione,

Mother still has not shut up about you, but Father agrees with me on your beauty. That just gave Mother more motivation to hate you, sadly. How have things been? Have you heard from Natasha or Cygnus or anybody? Do you even get letters there?

I guess I'll figure it out in a few days if you don't get post and I just keep sending owls like an idiot. Until then, though, must assume you're reading this. I haven't heard from you. Please just send a quick note saying you're alright.

Abraxas xxx

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

After the emotional dinner, the two Slytherins parted ways in the ultimate Gryffindor's house, Tom taking the bedroom on the other side of Hermione's. She would be flattered, thinking he wanted to be close to her, but she knew in reality that he chose that bedroom for the same reason she chose hers—proximity to the library. They were cut from the same cloth, she and Tom.

Hermione discovered two letters on her bed upon entering the room. The elves had barely had time to take their luggage up and prepare dinner. Who could possibly have written her twice?

She saw the Malfoy crest on the seal and immediately felt guilty. She hadn't even wondered if Abraxas was okay after the bombing earlier that day. Sure, she'd assumed he was because she had insider knowledge. Grindelwald was after Tom and no one else. Plus, Abraxas was with his parents and the Malfoys were many things, but they were all of them talented wizards.

Still, she couldn't shake a lingering sense of guilt and duty and quickly read his missives. That did nothing to assuage the guilt, though writing him back and sending poor Winnie to send the letter did help to make her feel better about the situation.

She went through her nightly routine, getting ready for bed. She read two chapters in two different books and tried to go to sleep. When her eyes were no closer to closing than they were an hour before, Hermione gave up. She wouldn't be able to sleep until she'd had a dunk in the Lake.

It wasn't really a tradition, per se, but the first night of Hermione's stay at Albus' place, she's always somehow wound up in the cool water. By night the water was freezing, the early summer sun still not warm enough to heat the water, but Hermione felt a connection to nature there that she couldn't replicate anywhere else.

It called to her like a siren. With a sense of excitement, Hermione threw her bathrobe on over her nightgown and made her way as silently as possible. She could shift into the fox, but that felt like cheating for some reason.

Closing the front door behind her, and grateful that Albus had extended the wards passed the lake after the first time he found her there in the middle of the night, Hermione slipped easily onto the path that ran to her favorite spot beside the calm waters. Between her third and fourth years, Albus erected a dock along the spot to make it easier for her to swim there. More likely, the elves nagged him into it, but Hermione enjoyed it all the same.

She walked around the last bend in the trail, excited to see her haven when she noticed a dark head already making himself at home on the dock. Tom's slim ankles dangled above the water. His face was looking up, like one might look at the sun while sun bathing on a beach, like he was soaking in the rays of the moon.

Hermione slowed her pace, hesitant to disturb him. She decided in the end that he knew she would likely be here and so must have anticipated that he might not be alone for the evening. Perhaps he even wanted the company.

She stalked silently towards him, took her bathrobe off and folded it gently to sit on. He didn't look away from the moon when she finally sat down and figured he must have heard her coming down the path.

The two of them sat silently for several minutes, basking in the moon and in each other's calming presence. Hermione wasn't going to let him keep her from the reason she came down. Without glancing at Tom, she began to take her nightdress off.

She didn't hear him faint or anything, so she figured he was fine. She looked out over the moon-lit water, small crystals skating across the surface of the lake, and she dove in.

Hermione wasn't kidding about the water being freezing. Her toes already felt like they might fall off. She used her legs to hold her up while she pushed her hair out of her eyes. A splash landed over to her right and seconds later, Tom's dark hair was bobbing along next to her.

They shared a smile, still not talking. She briefly touched her mind to his, just to check his overall mood. He allowed her to see his contemplativeness, his confusion about the summer, his cold body. His desire to remain silent reflected hers and she was glad once again for finding a friend so similar to her in this world. Not many people had a second chance to find someone who truly complemented them. She was lucky to have found such close friends in Harry and Ron, but the connection with Tom was something she wouldn't trade for the world. Even if she could go home right now to the '90's and have Harry and Ron be alive—she wouldn't take the chance.

A stream of water hit her square in the face. She caught Tom's eye—he wasn't even trying not to laugh. Oh, it's was on! Hermione dove under the water with the practice of one who does this often, and felt around her with hand until she grabbed Tom's foot and pulled him under. They both broke the surface and the fight began. She splashed him back, right in the face, and they water wrestled until they were both breathing hard and having trouble keeping themselves afloat.

Uncle! Hermione capitulated, and Tom let her go. She didn't realize they wound up so close, but when she eventually recovered her breath, she was surprised to find his face so near and his eyes not looking at her own. She followed his eye line and blushed for a second. But he wasn't looking at her breasts.

One of his hands came delicately out of the water and reached for her chest. He bobbed along less controlled, but the strength of his arms allowed him to tread water with little noticeable difference. Those long admired fingers clamped around the necklace she never took off.

You still wear it. His mind brushed against hers like an embrace. She caught his eyes, their noses almost brushing they were now so close. He was smiling shyly at her, that damned vulnerability he hid so well on full display. She knew it would make him uncomfortable for someone to see him like this, even her. His pleasure at his gift being on display did not go unnoticed.

"Always." She took off, swimming a bit away, needing to get away from that moment. She didn't need to explain to him that the snake necklace with the purple eyes was her most treasured possession in this timeline. The first gift from her greatest friend, the first gift he'd ever given anybody, she treasured the thought behind it almost as much as the actual gift.

Hermione took a deep breath and leaned back to look up at the stars and moon, floating on her back, her breasts visible under the night sky. She was free here.

A disturbance in the water to her left alerted her to his new position. He joined her, copied her movements until he could float as easily as her. They stayed in those exact positions for what felt like hours, just looking at the stars and synchronizing their breaths, not speaking.

His hand brushed hers when he got a bit too close. It didn't bother her, it felt like an extension of her own body. "Are you happy, Hermione?"

She answered without hesitating. "Yes."

His hand brushed her again. "How long have you had that scar on your chest?"

She contemplated what to say for a second and decided on the truth. "Since I was sixteen."

"But a scar like that came from dark magic, you would have to have been in the hospital wing for days. You didn't get it from the Hogsmeade Incident, did you?"

She read between the lines clearly and soothed him, brushing her hand deliberately across his to help calm him down. "No, Tom. You protected me just fine. I got this scar when I was sixteen and that's all I can tell you until you're eighteen. You'll understand then, I promise."

His frustration hummed out of his body, his tensed up shoulders now forcing him lower and lower into the water.

"Come on, let's go in."

They swam back to the dock, dressing with their backs to each other. Hermione shouldn't have looked, she knew that, but she'd heard the girls of Hogwarts talking about Tom Riddle's bum for well over three years now and she just had to know. With just her nightgown, it took her less time to dress than him and when she pulled the hem over her head, she turned her body sideways, enough to allow her to rove her eyes over his backside.

She hated to admit that his fan club was right. It was a mighty nice arse, if you were into those kinds of things. Which apparently Hermione now was. As nice as that arse was, it was the back that had her slightly drooling. When did he develop those muscles? He hadn't worked out a day in his life, as far as she knew.

"Are you done ogling, Hermione?" Tom asked, amusement clear in his voice.

She blustered. "I wasn't ogling. I was checking to see if you have leeches on your back. You're fine and you're welcome, by the way."

Leeches. Those were animals that lived in lakes and ponds, right? But probably not in England. Oh damn. She punished herself internally for her obvious cover up and didn't feel him sneak up next to her to breath in her ear.

"Does that mean I need to check you too?"

He was pressed against her, his body one long, hot length against her. "I know what you're doing, Tom Riddle. It doesn't work on me." She pushed off away from him, and started up the trail to the house, her dressing gown flying behind her like a flag.

His footsteps were never more than a few feet behind her, no matter how face she went. "Oh, I think it works a little bit," he teased her, "what with the ogling and everything."

"Oh shut up, you arrogant arse."

"Yes and did you enjoy this arrogant arse?"

That brought her up short. Her mind whirled for seconds while she studied his stupid, prideful face. Finally it clicked, and she felt a small smirk take over her lips.

"Perhaps about as much as you enjoyed staring at my scar and necklace. Were you happy to have excuses for why you were staring at my breasts, Tom?"

His grin didn't fade one bit. In fact, it grew larger like he was proud that she got back at him. "It's not my fault you gave me two—well, four—things to stare at."

She rolled her eyes in what seemed to be her natural reaction to him these days. "Once again, you're such a boy."

This did make his smile slide off. "Hey!"

"You're not a man yet, Tom."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his bare chest. He had roughly pulled his trousers on in his hurry to keep up with her. "Are you an expert on the subject, Hermione? Because I feel very much like a man." To exacerbate his point, he pulled her hand up to his chest, placing her palm on his pectoral muscle. "I have the muscles of a man," he continued, moving her hand to his abdominals that stood out proudly from his stomach. He slowly began to pull it lower, "the cock of a man—"

"Okay," she called, pulling her hand back faster than a firebolt.

Tom flashed his teasing smile and in that second she hated him a little bit. "'Okay, you're right, you're a man, Tom?' or 'Okay, I admit I'm wrong, Tom?'" She hated him a little more for that.

They were equals, he was the only one who couldn't be steam rolled by her and vice versa. He wasn't allowed to have this power over her—let alone use it! They were equally matched in everything, they were—Oh! They were equally matched in everything. Once again a foreign force took over her body, because the next thing she did was definitely not her or something she would ever think about doing.

"Okay, I admit I'm wrong, Tom. You are a man. A big," she pulled herself back to his chest, pushing her breasts out to mash them against the chest he was so proud of, "strong," she rolled her hips up into his, "man." She felt the stirrings of his reaction before he pulled away.

"Yeah, two can play that game, sweet heart," with that, she turned tail and made her way back up to the house, calling over her shoulder one last thing, "See you in the morning."

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow, but long enough to hear the lack of the door opening and closing in the room next to hers.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Hermione,

I'm so glad to hear you're alright! Did you hear about the Tornadoes? Four from the team are on England's national team for the World Cup. Isn't that amazing? I bet Falldozer and Fallon are going to….

(Three unread paragraphs about Quidditch)

You just have to come for a visit. Say you will. I'll keep Mother in line, don't worry. Her bark is worse than her bite. Write back and tell me everything. I miss you.

3 Abraxas xxx

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Abraxas' next letter came with breakfast, and the guilt upon reading his letter (or, not reading some sections) doubled from the guilt of yesterday's. Sure, yesterday she'd completely forgotten to check if he was safe and that was bad enough, but after she wrote back to her boyfriend she still used her feminine wiles to win a silly argument with Tom. She was a horrible significant other.

To make up for it, Hermione wrote a long letter back, detailing her room and what project she was going to be working on first, decidedly leaving Tom out of the entire thing. She wrote a quick line about Abraxas' precious Tornadoes, just enough for him to know she recognized that he wrote about them, but hopefully little enough to discourage more talk of them.

Thirty minutes into breakfast, Tom appeared, haggard and sleepy. By mutual silent agreement, they did not talk of the night before. After his hearty breakfast of bangers and mash, Tom retreated to the laboratory on the second floor, awaiting Hermione so they could start their first potion. She hastily scrawled out her name on the bottom of the letter, handed it to Winnie and went up to meet him. Potion creating trumped annoying boyfriend any day. Surely he would understand that.

If either Tom or Hermione were surprised at how well they worked together creating potions, neither of them showed it. Their innate ability to read one another, let alone each other's minds, allowed for an easy partnership while brewing. They talked a lot in the early stages of the process—what their goal was, how it could best be accomplished, which ingredients would be needed and in what order and amount. However, by the time they arrived at the trials, they were so aware of each other's thoughts and processes that they rarely needed to say more than a few words. They had been brewing since first year together, after all. This was just a bit different, more volatile, but still just Tom and Hermione brewing a potion together.

It was no small feat that they had their first working potion by the end of the first week. Two more, the week after that. With three under their belts, Hermione and Tom decided it was time to send an owl to the Ministry about their discoveries. If they just sent in one potion, they might not be taken seriously, as Hermione Dumbledore was known to be just seventeen and still at school and Tom was seen in the Ministry as a vigilante who had no respect for the letter of the law.

By sending in three at once, they showed their seriousness in the business, that they were accomplished potion makers and had the talent and drive to put these on the market—either through legal channels or not.

Hermione insisted on just using the name Riddle for their label and company name. She didn't want to see her false name on their hard work, nor did she want Uncle Albus to get credit for her labor, let alone Tom's. Those two did not need one more thing to come between their very tenable peace. Tom accepted the decision pretty easily and Hermione put it down to him coming to the same conclusion. Plus 'Riddle' sounded like a proper company name, and an intriguing potion label. As a consumer, Hermione would find the name on the label interesting.

They congratulated themselves later that night as they watched their owl fly off in the sunset. At the periphery of the property, a black owl hooted. Hermione saw it and Tom's shoulders tensed up. They didn't speak of it, just went down to dinner, both of them quieter for the reminder of Grindelwald still lurking in the background.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Hermione,

Sorry I haven't responded to your letter until now. Mother has me helping her in the garden like a common house elf. I know house elves are important to you, and I support that, but I don't exactly want to be doing their work for them.

Anyway, I'm disappointed you can't come for a visit, but if you're (Hermione bristled at his incorrect grammar) uncle would be more comfortable with you there, then who am I to oppose his wishes?

Hope things are going well wherever you are.

Abraxas

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione!

Hello darling. Things are tediously boring at Nott Manor right now. My lovely sister refuses to acknowledge me outside of meals when she needs the salt. But luckily Cygnus and his family have issued an invitation for me to visit them for the rest of the summer. I'm so thankful that we've become friends, he's such a dear. I hope you got that new hair potion I sent to you—though I hate that it's named 'Riddle.' Isn't that something Tom would take offense to, someone using his name on their products? Oh well, I hope you're less bored than me, but with that library you talk about in your sleep, I bet you're anything but bored. I miss you.

Your friend,

Natasha

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione did indeed get Natasha's package and she was not surprised in the least that the Nott twins were one of the first to have the new must-have hair product out on the market for less than a week. Although, Hermione knew that their mother had connections in the top fashion firms around the world—Milan, Paris, ect, so she must have been one of the first to get word about it's amazing effects.

Little did the world know that Hermione knew first. Natasha would believe Hermione capable of brewing it, but she would have trouble believing that it had been Tom's idea and Tom's work that made it possible. Hermione was responsible for testing it, what with her hair and all, but it made her giggle to herself when she remembered Tom's proposal of the idea. Hermione knew by the tone of his voice that he was just teasing when he brought it up, but at her glare he tried to pretend like he'd been serious all along and before she knew it, he was calling out ideas about ingredients and they had a working plan.

The next day, they'd tried it out on a transfigured dog first, and then her later when the test was a success. Riddle's Easy Slick Potion for Wild Haired Witches was their most commercial success: the royalties off that potion went through the roof. Already they had enough for a comfortable flat for three months and the potion had only been on the market for three weeks.

Moreover, the potion was giving them a strong foothold in the Potion Brewing community. After Riddle's Easy Slick's success, the chances of witches and wizards using more of their products was skyrocketing. Hermione and Tom's promise to themselves and their customers to give quality potions that worked every time was going to make them rich. Hermione started to question if she would even need a job in the real world, they made such a good team and such good products—perhaps she could retire young and see the world. Then Tom could just work his way up in the Ministry to being the minister and she could support him and be his campaign manager or something. Did the Wizarding world have campaign managers? She needed to look that up.

With only a few weeks left in the summer and dozens of potions now on the market under the Riddle line, Tom and Hermione decided to take one day to enjoy themselves and the beautiful lands around them. They spent a quiet morning on the dock reading books for pleasure, quite a break from dusty potion tome after smelly potion textbook. After mutually agreeing to go inside for a quick lunch, they spent the afternoon swimming in the lake, this time with their bathing suits, although Tom did protest that they needed to wear them. Hermione just had to ask him if he wanted the house elves to see his privates and tell Uncle Albus and the protesting stopped.

They spent the day laughing and relaxing, basically taking a vacation or as much of one as they could get without being able to leave the premises. After supper they took coffee out to the dock to watch the sun go down, Hermione put a charm on the dock to scare away the bugs.

Once again they both saw the black owl hooting from the trees just outside the wards, and without speaking decided to go back inside. Hermione could feel Tom's tenseness, could see it in how he held his jaw and practically taste it in the air. She didn't know what to do.

They had to head back to Hogwarts in a short while. They would be safe once they got there, but just like the trip home last year, they were vulnerable on the platform and on the train. Hermione brainstormed ideas—it wasn't like they could pull a Ron and Harry and drive a flying car back to school. For Merlin's safe, they were to be head boy and head girl, they couldn't give that kind of negative example to the younger students. Dumbledore was counting on them. Well, on her.

They would just have to be extra vigilant, constantly vigilant, even. Perhaps there was a spell or charm she could place on Tom to add an extra layer of protection. He couldn't even board the train as a tiger because that was too noticeable and all of Hogsmeade knew that was his animagus form.

Hermione almost made herself sick with worry and trying to find a solution. In the end she decided they were going to need help from Albus, and she knew Tom was going to hate that.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I hate to do this, because I know how you and Tom feel about each other. But, I'd like to remind you that he is not the man you think he is or will be in the future. Unless we can keep him out of Grindelwald's grasp, which brings me to why I'm writing. Tom is being courted by Grindelwald and after we were attacked at the Platform on our way home earlier this summer, I had hoped there would be a better solution to getting us to Hogwarts.

I am terrified that he will try something again on our way to school. Do you have any suggestions on how we can safely get him to Hogwarts? It's not that I don't think Tom can't protect himself, quite the opposite, in fact. But I do worry about him using and defending himself against Dark Magic.

Please let me know what I should do.

Thank you,

Hermione

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The night before they were set to leave, Tom surprised her with an extravagant dinner in the library. The elves had set up a long table, longer than necessary, right next to the window that overlooked Hermione's Lake.

"What's all this?" she asked him, already pulling a chair out for herself to sit down, taking in the beautiful centerpiece of hyacinths.

"Just a little thank you," Tom told her, sitting across from her.

She raised a brow at him. "A thank you for what, exactly?"

"For letting me stay here." He returned, trying to hide that damned vulnerability again. She got it, he couldn't say thank you to Dumbledore—his pride wouldn't allow him to, so he was saying it through her and the elves who would no doubt pass the message along to their boss.

"Well, you're welcome. We certainly had a productive summer, haven't we, Tom?"

"I'll say cheers to that," he replied, filling the two champagne glasses that Hermione hadn't noticed at first. "Cheers," he said cheekily, touching his glass to hers with a light clang.

They shared a wonderful dinner together, full of their favorite items noticed and made with love by the house elves. After they finished, Pinkie brought in dessert.

"Pinkie," Hermione exclaimed, "you made me tiramisu? You know how much I adore it, thank you so much." Pinkie turned red as she blushed.

"Miss does not need to thank Pinkie. Pinkie is just bringing miss her favorite."

"Still," Hermione said, feeling warm with the champagne she consumed earlier, "I appreciate everything you do for me. I always have."

Pinkie perked up. "Then miss will enjoy this as well!" She snapped her fingers and a music box appeared out of nowhere, playing an upbeat tune. "The miss and little master should dance." Pinkie said excitedly, her huge green eyes hopeful. Hermione couldn't bear to erase that expression.

She looked over at Tom who had already wolfed down his portion of the tiramisu. What? He asked with his mind, his mouth currently occupied.

"Let's dance." He looked stricken. We have to, look at Pinkie's face. Please? She added silently.

Tom gulped, swallowing his mouthful of dessert and got up out of his chair. Hermione felt her face relax, he was going to go along with it. "Of course, milady. Shall we?"

"Merlin, Tom. This isn't 1842. Calm down." She said as he took her hand and pulled her to him.

"Hermione, I have something to confess." Tom said just as Hermione began to wonder why they hadn't started dancing yet. "I don't know how to dance."

Hermione smiled at him, raising a hand to cup his cheek. "That's okay. I'm not all that good, but we'll manage." We just need to make Pinkie happy, she added silently.

Tentatively, Hermione grabbed Tom's hand and placed it on her waist. It felt incandescent. It felt like she was leading him to touch her everywhere. It felt like the sweetest of sins, and yet… nothing was wrong with dancing. This was more innocent than that night at the lake, but it felt significant. It felt like change.

She slowly slid her fingers off his hand on her waist and slid her hand up that chiseled chest up to his shoulder, purposefully avoiding his eyes until the last second. When their eyes did finally meet, the air was charged, like all the electrons had left or more had come or something that she couldn't quite remember from chemistry class so many years ago in her past life. His eyes flickered between blue and gray, like they couldn't make up their mind as to what color to be for the occasion.

Hermione licked her lips and cleared her throat. She'd been this close to him before, many times. She'd been this close to him naked earlier this summer, even, while they were wrestling in the lake. But she'd never been affected like this.

"Just follow my lead, okay? Until you can pick it up and take over the lead," she whispered without knowing why. Maybe it was respecting the charge, but even a normal speaking voice would sound like a scream right now.

She moved and he followed, a little wobbly. They danced around the room in a dream. When Hermione noticed the change in lead, Tom pulled her even closer so that he could whisper in her ear, "Am I doing it right, Hermione?"

He caressed her name when it came out of his mouth and straight into her ear, his lips just barely touching the shell of her ear. "Yeah," she spoke into his neck, the most she could manage. She was overwhelmed with his presence, and that never happened. This was just Tom, she told herself. Why was she having this reaction?

"Missy!" Pinkie's voice broke her out of her spell.

She stepped out of Tom's arms a little too quickly to be strickly polite. "Huh? I mean, yes, Pinkie?"

"Yous going to miss tiramisu if you don't be eating it now."

"What?"

"Miss's tiramisu. You should eat it now."

Hermione felt so stupid. "Right, of course. Thank you again, Pinkie."

Tom herded back over to the table, and almost as if the spell were not completely broken, pulled her chair out and pushed it back in as she sat. He took his chair across from her and sipped the rest of his champagne while she ate the truly decadent dessert.

"This stuff is so bubbly," He said out of nowhere. "I didn't expect it to be bubbly when I requested it from the elves."

He turned the now empty glass upside down and one drop rolled down the flute and flopped onto the table.

"Dear Merlin, Tom. Are you drunk?"

The fact that his face showed his surprise told her the answer. "Am I?" He asked her, himself, and the world at large. And burst out laughing.

Hermione put her head in her hands and she laughed as well, big belly laughs. "You are so wasted!" She accused, unable to keep the giggle out of her voice.

"So I am." He said back. "I am so glad I spent this summer with you, Hermione. I almost don't want to go back this year."

"I know," she responded, "I feel the exact same way. So many things are coming to a head. Your birthday, Grindelwald, N.E.W.T.s, and graduating—it'll be a tough year."

"Yeah and you have all those things, plus your boyfriend."

Hermione felt a chill run through her body. Oh yeah, her boyfriend. Abraxas.

"We better get a good night's sleep before tomorrow," she said, "Something tells me it's going to be bumpy."

And Tom was certainly not going to like the plan Dumbledore had come up with. She dreaded telling him.