Viperidae, Viperinae, Crotalinae

To anyone other than Harry Potter, or the shadowed figure bent over a desk writing, the sounds of the viper would have made no sense in the process of thought other than your brain registering that it was a hiss.

As it was however, the figure understood perfectly.

"She is here, master. I have brought her, just as you asked."

Tom Riddle turned toward the light and smiled.

It was time.

**************end of part 4*************

She was asleep. Tentatively, he made his way past the bed curtains to hover over Hermione's sleeping form.

A triumphant gleam made his eyes almost glow in the darkness.

She was really quite lovely; he reflected. Especially when she slept.

For only in sleep could one ever glimpse the vulnerability that she'd never show when she was awake. She was unguarded, her face portraying her every feeling.

Hermione sighed and rolled over, her face now opposite his, she was in the middle of the queen size bed. It gave a slight dip as he stretched his form out along the mattress, his body mirroring hers, he could feel her warm breath on his face as she exhaled.

He reached out with long, elegant fingers and gently stroked her cheek. Sighing softly, her face arched toward the caressing hand.

He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to have to use force or trickery, but if necessary, he would. He hoped she would play nicely, she really was precious to him.

Staring intently at her sleeping form, he noted the helpless look. She seemed so innocent, untouched.

A mudblood. One of Dumbledore's brilliant ideas no doubt. When she fled a few months after their graduation, he had vowed to go to any lengths to find her again. They had been a couple since fourth year, and both loved one another with a fierce passion, Head Boy and Head Girl. King and Queen of Slytherin they had joked.

Of course, she had not known that he was serious. She did not know of his darkness, of his power, of his plans, or of his name. He had planned to tell her that night. However his plans had taken a drastic turn when she had come to the Malfoy Manor early and walked in on a little 'gathering'.

She had never shared his politics. No matter how he presented his arguement, no matter how persuasive he had been, he had never been able to change her mind on that.

Caleb Malfoy had provided the gathering with 'entertainment' in the form of two female muggles. The first one already lay dead, her life's blood fanning around her when she had arrived.

She had not taken it well. She had fled.

And he had never been able to find her.

The youngest Malfoy, Draco, had come to visit the manor, during the christmas break at the end of fifth year. He had brought with him the prefects year book, which listed each year groups selected prefects, Head boy and Head girl and their respective duties.

He had not been the slightest bit interested, but had indulged Lucius' rantings about how Draco would be able to monitor the school's defence and discover the weak points . The moment Lucius had opened to the page where his son's photograph was displayed and profferred the little book to him, his whole being had felt alive in a way that was so foreign to him now.

Hermione.

Dumbledore had obviously sent her soul to the future to be reborn. And had, partly for her safety and partly, he was sure, as a way of saying 'up yours', seen to it that she was reborn to muggle parents.

As unfortunate as it was, he would make an exception. He would have her back in his arms and back in his bed, no matter what.

She wouldn't escape what was coming wouldn't escape him, he'd see to that, he could not take her just yet, she wasn't ready, but soon. When the time came, he would use whatever means necessary to secure her.

**************end of part 5*************