#tribulations

Chapter Six | Ostara

“Expelliarmus!” she shouted again, before taking a defensive posture.

Alfie again batted her spell aside and it very nearly rebounded back on her. “Hermione? What’s wrong?” he demanded, taking another step into the cottage.

“Impedimentia!” Hermione said, hoping to stop him from getting any closer, but again, Alfie batted her spell away like it was a gnat. She could feel her knees going weak, her resolve even weaker, seeing the concerned look on his face.

“I just want to help you,” he insisted. “I’ve been worried about you. Did something happen?”

She needed to overwhelm him, she decided. “Petrificus totalus! Expelliarmus! Rictusempra!” she called in quick succession. That got a little bit harder for him to handle. “Silencio!”

Finally, a spell actually hit, and a look of annoyance flashed over his face, but he quickly canceled the spell, like it was nothing. “Hermione!” he repeated, exasperated.

But then, she kept up her barrage of spell and finally it seemed like Alfie had to engage in their duel. He was using mostly defensive spells, nothing that could actually hurt her, all aimed at ending the fight as quickly as he could. Spells zinged through her cottage, hitting various furniture, but Hermione couldn’t help but realize that she was losing this fight. Hot tears welled in her eyes as she worried what was going to happen to her.

“Piertotum Locomotor!” she cried, pleased to see her armchair stand up, ready to wrap Alfie up and protect her. “Avis!” she added, pleased to see a dozen conjured birds head in his direction and start pecking at him.

“Enough!” Alfie roared, sweeping his wand around the room and banishing both her chair and the birds. “What is wrong with you? Trying to duel me and using all these childish charms? If you are going to try to fight me, at least respect me and use the dark spells that you know!”

Ugh, I am down to the last section of Tribulations Chapter 6 (Ostara) -- just like 2,000 words left at this point, so it should be out this week, finally. This was a massive, weighty chapter, with lots of moving parts to line up. Here is another sneak peek to tide you by while you wait:

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I am not afraid of a little sacrifice, especially when the outcome can be so rewarding,” she said. “I’ve learned that over the past months. Why even just at Imbolc—” She stopped speaking abruptly, realizing that she’d misspoke.

But Tom was intrigued. Too intrigued, perhaps. “Go on,” he insisted. “What did you see at Imbolc?”

She bit her lower lip, hoping that she wasn’t overplaying her hand. “I saw many things,” she explained, before meeting his eyes. “I saw you.”

“Me?” he asked, hanging on her every word.

“Yes,” Hermione continued. “I saw a future where you are powerful and everyone fears to speak your name.”

Hermione felt like she couldn’t breath for the millisecond that she waited for Tom to react. He was obviously practiced at hiding his true feelings from others, but sometimes there were feelings he couldn’t hide. And, he certainly couldn’t hide the raw, aching hope that he felt.

“Was this a prophecy? Some premonition of what is to come?” he asked, his voice dropping lower. He took a step closer to her and took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

Pulling her hand from his grasp, Hermione took a step back. “I don’t know, Tom. I’ve never been the biggest fan of Divination,” she insisted. “But I suspect there is some path that you could walk that would lead you to that end.”

“How? Which path do I take?” he demanded, his eyes looking wild and dangerous. He looked at her like she held the answer to all of his problems.

“I couldn’t say,” she said harshly. “Everything happened so fast. I found Imbolc very overwhelming. Perhaps if I had been permitted to celebrate with the rest of you, I might have been able to discover an answer for you.”

“You are trying to punish me — withholding vital information,” he insisted. “When I didn’t have anything to do with the choice to leave you out. It was held at Orion’s home. He was the one who argued against you.”

I've written over 10,000 words but still have a bit yet to go, so here is a little sneak peek while you wait.

Hermione had gotten used to life in her cottage, quiet and alone. She spent her days working through the stack of reports that Undersecretary Swift had generously assigned her and her nights unpacking, or brewing, or cooking the muggle way. There was a muggle village only a short walk away and it felt safe enough for her to walk there, even though the muggles treated her with suspicion. They still took her money, though.

She prepared for a small garden in the front even though it would be weeks until she could plant, and thought about Neville. She contented herself with attempting little brews and thought of Professor Snape and Harry. She stared at the wide stretch of back garden, perfect for pick-up Quidditch, and thought of Ronald and all the rest of the Weasleys.

Anything to keep her mind from straying to thoughts of Alfie, though her traitorous mind had often slipped, thanks in no small part to the way that the damned bond ring on her arm would heat up against her skin, reminding her of its presence at the wizard that put it there.

Mostly, she was content in the quiet, biding her time and pondering over her options. She wasn’t naive enough to think that she’d be able to get back to her future, even if she had the original time turner that had brought her here. But, she also wasn’t as stupid as Dumbledore to think that the past couldn’t be changed. She would not allow Tom Riddle to wreck havoc on the wizarding world as Lord Voldemort. 

But not yet. She knew that it would be extremely dangerous and difficult, so for now, she was content in the quiet hours with nothing but her own thoughts for company.

Wrapped up in a report, sitting at her desk, she was suddenly overcome with a feeling that something was not right. She had grown so accustomed to being alone that the instant she sensed some other... presence, the hair on the back of her neck rose. She stood up abruptly, grabbing for the wand on her desk and turning at the same time that she heard the pop of apparition. An invisible hand jiggled her door handle on the outside and, finding it locked, wasted no time in blasting it open.

Chapter Five | Imbolc

“That sounds... permanent,” she said, her heart rate increasing, thinking about what this meant.

“It is supposed to be permanent,” he said, his blue-green eyes boring into her, willing her to understand what he was trying to share. “You would find it easy to remove if I broke my oath, or... or else you would enjoy the ring’s protection until the day that my heart stops beating.”

Hearing the words leave his lips was heady and Hermione found herself almost agreeing then and there. This was insanity, even considering tying herself to Alfred Nott with blood magic, but there was something so...familiar about him that it almost wasn’t a question that she would agree. He felt like home. He felt like belonging. He felt like...a reflection of herself. Together, they were greater than the sum of their parts and now that she’d felt how far they could go together, she was loath to give it up.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as she dared to ask the question that was singing in her heart. “And what oaths are you making me? An oath of protection?”

“Protection, yes, but as I said before, I want to show you my total devotion to you,” he whispered, his eyes dark as he explained. “I cannot offer you romantic words or the promise of an easy life. I can promise you a place at my side — never to be parted from me. If anyone tries to come between us, I will destroy them.”

She whined low in her throat at the thought of such a promise. Godric, she wanted it. Desire was burning inside of her, but still she could not voice the words. How could Alfie suggest that he was not capable of romantic words, when his promise was perhaps the most romantic thing that she’d ever heard in her life?

Feeling his hand on her jaw, his thumb and forefinger spanning the distance easily, Hermione’s eyes fluttered open to look at him. The pad of his thumb rubbed along the soft skin of her neck, before settling on her pulse point. She was practically panting now, her breath shallow and quick.

“Ah, you did not warrant an invitation to the Blacks’ party,” he mused. “Quite rude of my dear friend to leave his witch high and dry.”

“I can’t say that the invitation was missed,” Hermione said, tartly, though it was true. She didn’t exactly want to go to Orion Black’s house or whoever’s home it was at. “But, what has made you scorn the Blacks’ party?”

Tom gave her a conspiratorial look, before leaning towards her. “Well, I suppose there is no reason to lie to you,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and offering her his arm, so they could walk together. “I also did not receive an invitation to the party.”

Thrash me some more there, bro… I think I think I think I think that the site is pretty close to being back in some kind of order.