Even the Stars Can Be Moved

*

"At long last," said Judas, in the tone one would use when speaking to a servant. Tom was distantly annoyed by it, but the feeling quickly passed. After all, the only determinant of status here was magical skill, and he far exceeded the others. After all, he was architect of their surroundings; it was a short way towards the architecture of their little society.

Judas, Jean, Adrian, and Malfoy were seated in earthen chairs he had transfigured for them upon their entrance to the cave. "And what will you teach us today, Professor Riddle?" drawled Malfoy. Tom merely raised an eyebrow at him. He was getting somewhat out of hand lately, something that he would pay for later. For this session, however, he was focused on Judas Rosier.

"Nothing that isn't illegal," he promised. "Where is your familiar, Judas?"

Judas warily withdrew it from his pocket. It was an oversized Egyptian scarab beetle, a beautiful thing really, with a blue sheen and unusually large yellow eyes. Tom extended his hand, and Judas placed the beetle in it.

"This, you all know of, but few, I am sure, have practiced it. So now, we will learn to control the effect of the curse." He drew his wand up to the beetle. "Crucio!"

The beetle went absolutely mad in his hand, its legs flailing so much it flipped onto its back, its wings buzzing against his palm. Judas had risen from his chair, face red, lips set in a firm line. "How dare-"

Tom drew his wand again and smiled. "Oh, do sit, Mr. Rosier. You're interrupting the lesson. You might try drawing your own wand the next time you presume to do so." Malfoy looked unaffected, but Adrian was attempting to exchange a look with Jean, who was only looking on with mild amusement and satisfaction. "That is the curse in its most undiluted form, which is about the effect most people try for when they use it. However, it is quite possible to qualify any curse one uses, so that it is milder or perhaps even stronger. This does have its benefits, as overuse of the undiluted form of Crucio tends to inspire its victim to the very heights of madness. This, of course, is quite unfortunate if one is trying to procure information--" Tom broke off, remembering his diary's suggestion regarding Mione. Just as quickly, he mastered himself. "When one is trying to procure information out of a victim, which is the most common use of this curse, it is best to start with a mild form of the curse. I've heard that it is surprising how many cave early. In any case, a victim is much more persuaded when they realize that the curse affects them more and more each time. It is easier to resist if you already know what's coming. A particularly clever way to do it is to vary the strength of the curse at random, so that the victim doesn't know if it is a strong curse coming or a weak one. One can lull the victim into a false sense of security with a string of weak curses, and them hit them with a nearly unbearably strong one. This way of doing things has a much lower occurrence of madness, of course. However, if one is striving for simple torture, it is quite possible to deliver to curse at an even higher level than its undiluted form. This is what we will be practicing today, of course." Tom proffered his hand to Judas. "Judas, thank you for the use of your pet." He raised his wall to the ceiling and summoned some of his transfigured owls. "We will practice on these. They are not live owls, as you will be able to see if you look closely at them. As technically inanimate objects, they feel no pain. However, I have embedded spells in them so that they register the level of strength of the spell directed at them. Judas and Jean; Adrian and Pendrake, practice together."

The group obediently split into pairs, and Tom smiled. Clearly the group thought they were here to be tutored in the dark arts. For Tom, it was as much a chance to form them into a group of servants as anything. It was a subtle game, inspiring obedience in others, requiring constant improvisation and versatility. It was a game, however, that he enjoyed.

And it made him feel better after the discussion he'd had with the diary. Only the diary could sway his confidence that he was pursuing a course of success. And each of its points had a root of truth. He certainly should have used the opportunity he had with Knauss to discover the bit of conversation that had been blocked from him. And Mione... Tom tried not to think about that particular accusation. He had purposely distanced himself from those sorts of relationships with women, although he knew full well that he could possess a fair number of them. But what he saw others doing seemed too superficial and silly, a sign of weakness. And anything other than that, anything real, he knew quite well would mar his chances at success and progress. So he had eschewed the matter altogether. The diary's accusation, however, had unveiled the long-hidden nature of his growing fascination with the Potter girl.

*

Hermione stepped into the clearing near the unicorn colony, a quarter mile west of the path to Grawp's cave. The moonlight was cold and bright. Somehow, talking to the centaurs made everything crystallize. All the first pieces were in place. Dumbledore was working on creating the fold they needed to get another Tom, and she had come upon an idea of how to enchant the structure she was working on with Professor O'Bleeke while speaking with the centaurs. It wasn't necessary to make the Time machine able to travel to all points in time. Really, all she needed was for it to make the connection between two discrete points in time. A third point in time, if she discovered where Harry had been kept in captivity. However, she needed Tom for that, and she had no idea how to bring him to the centaurs without endangering her mission.

So far she'd also been unable to come up with any hypothesis as to what energy might fuel the time machine. She looked around. It would be nice if the answer lay in the forest somewhere. She made a quick survey of the plants around, more out of habit than anything, and in so doing she discovered a dark figure standing among the trees. He was half-hid to her by a patch of sonorona bushes. Her heart gave an involuntary leap. She readied her wand, cursing herself for not consulting the Defense Diagram. "Step forward and tell me what you want," she commanded as calmly as she could.

A beat passed before the figure responded. He moved forward, past the brush he was standing behind. Tom's face was very pale in the moonlight. A corner of his lip tilted up into a crooked smile.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione finally asked.

"Some would say that I would be in the right to put the same question to you."

"I'm not a student," she pointed out.

"I have meetings at night," he told her carelessly. "It's approved of by Dippet."

"Meetings for what?" she said, before thinking better of engaging with Tom.

"Enquiring young mind, aren't you?"

"Meetings in the Forbidden Forest at midnight? It's just that... surely this can't be a weekly sort of meeting."

"We're improving our magic," he said, evenly. "I'm leading their studies."

Hermione face drained of color as he said it, and suddenly she remembered who she was talking to. Was that how it started, then? Meetings to improve their magic indeed. She nodded automatically, though, and turned to look for that path that forked into the main northeast path.

"And you?"

"What?"

"What are you here for?"

"Plants," she replied.

"I find that hard to believe." She paid attention to him again. She wasn't sure if he was looking dangerous or if she was ascribing it to him.

"Oh?" she managed.

"I could have sworn," he said, slowly and precisely, "that I saw you talking to a centaur."

She held his gaze for a moment, wondering how long he'd been wandering around. "Do you make a habit out of stalking people?" She asked evenly.

Tom smirked slightly. "Only when they have fascinating little habits like wandering around in the Forbidden Forest at night and talking to the centaurs."

"Right, well... I'm approved as well." She turned to the path and started walking towards it. "I should be leaving. You can lurk after me or stay here, whatever pleases you.

"Is it approved of by Dippet?"

"In the flesh," she called over her shoulder. Tom was entirely too aggressive about acting on his suspicions. She starting to be unable to bear the pressure of it, particularly with Pendrake Malfoy causing her an undue amount of stress as well. Rock, meet hard place. And there Tom was, walking behind her, acting as though he hadn't just secreted himself behind a sonorona bush in order to spy on her. "Do you think I need some kind of an escort back?" she asked him as he strode by her.

"Well, you do look like a harmless little thing," he replied, looking down on her. He was a lot taller than her, and it did have something of an effect when he chose to use it.

She stared at the brazen statement. "Looks can be deceiving," she muttered.

"Oh, do tell."

Hermione sighed. "Well, for one, I've got about five poisons secreted up my sleeve, primarily in gas and liquid form."

"And how is it, Miss Potter," said Tom, a bit too casually, "That you come to be so familiar with the particular dangers of the Forbidden Forest?"

She glared at him. What was he trying to catch her at? "I grew up in the woods, you know. Le Foret Sacre, en Provence" she replied, converting fully to her French. "Does my justification appease you?" she added.

He offered her a small smile. "And what do you feel the need to justify?"

She expelled her breath in a frustrated sigh and walked more quickly. He easily caught up. She didn't look at him. She was sure he was looking at her, and she might bet he'd be smiling at whatever game this was. "What reason do you have for questioning me as though I'm one of the students?"

"And are you so different from a student? You're only as old as half the seventh years are, including me, and there are still rules they wouldn't like you breaking."

"Is that your paltry attempt at a threat?" she snapped.

"I'd just like to understand exactly when it was that Professor O'Bleeke felt the desperate need for an eighteen-year old apprentice."

"Since a special project came up-" Hermione broke off when she saw a dark figure cross the trail ahead. She knew that movement from long, horrified descriptions of Ron's. In a moment of incredible stupidity, Hermione let the word "Aragog" escape her lips in a whisper. She stopped, and Tom stopped beside her. They watched the spider cross, and just as Hermione was wondering just how many children Aragog had and just how many places they could be hiding in the forest, she realized Tom was looking at her.

"Hang on," he said. She turned to him, and saw a spider the size of Tom's head on a tree directly behind him. "How exactly do you know that name?" There were six other spiders somewhat near the spider on the tree. They were probably behind her too, all around her in fact. Judging by the sudden distraction in Tom's face, she was right.

The spider on the tree behind Tom leapt for him. Hermione's wand shot up instantly. "Protego!"

Tom's wand was up too. "Repulso!"

"Scutio!" A bluish film sprung up from her wand and surrounded them in a dome. A spider's arm was cut off by its sudden appearance, and wriggled for a moment on the ground. There were spiders all around them, all of them roughly head-sized.

"Well, there's that solved," remarked Tom.

"Not exactly," said Hermione, her wand still upright to hold the shield. A spider was pawing at it, and a strange little tickle went down her spine. "It's not mobile. The shield, I mean" There was a crunch to her left, and Hermione saw Aragog again, this time much closer, and she was much bigger than anyone's head, even Hagrid's. Well, maybe two of Grawp's, to be fair.

The luminescence from the sphere softened and brightened Tom's features. He was looking vaguely in her direction. "Couldn't we keep recasting it and run for it?"

"That seems to have a few too many variables in it, primarily the chance that we might cut each other in half if we aren't going at exactly the same speed."

He considered, and shrugged. "Well, it's plan zed for the moment."

"There's definitely another way. There's got to be. There always is. It just requires a plan." She screwed up her eyebrows. For the second time in her life, brooms came to mind during exactly the situation she didn't want to use them in. "Brooms," she groaned.

"Brilliant. I can just summon them. Can I cast a spell through this?"

"No."

"You'll just have to let it go and recast it, then, won't you?" At just that moment, Hermione noticed peripherally that Aragog's leg was very close. It slammed down on her shield. She dropped to her knees, and the ceiling of the shield dropped with her. Tom bent down before it hit him.

"Sorry," she muttered, and stood up again. Aragog's leg came down again. Hermione winced, but upheld the shield.

Tom was watching Aragog carefully. " Let it go when I say. I'll only need a moment."

The leg came down again. Hermione's knees buckled a bit.

"One, two... now!"

"Finite Incantatem!"

"Accio brooms!"

Aragog's leg descended, and she cried "Scutio!" again, and Tom pulled her away from the descending leg when it was inches from her, and it was cut off as the shield sprang up over them again. The leg, roughly Hermione's height, twitched dangerously. Tom pulled her closer as it came nearer. Aragog was screaming. Hermione watched, repulsed, as the leg slowed and then collapsed. The move had caused the smaller spiders to retreat, and Aragog was throwing a distracted fit. Then, two brooms from the Slytherin team appeared on the horizon and sped to them. They stopped abruptly outside the shield.

"Ready?" asked Tom.

Hermione nodded once, Finited the shield, and ran for a broom. She awkwardly straddled it, and saw that the spiders were no longer distracted. Tom was already five feet in the air. With a surge of panic, she shot up, but not before a spider had managed to tear a long line in her robes. Leaves clawed at her as she rose, to much higher position than Tom was in. He was looking up at her questioningly. Desperately, she heeled in her broom, only to have it start arcing out to the left. She saw Tom shrug and follow her. She veered to the right to make the broom straight, and ended up hurtling deeper into the forest. She broke through the top of the forest, and heard Tom breaking through behind her.

"What are you on about?" she heard him call.

"Back, turn back," she muttered desperately to the broom, and pivoted until she faced the school. Abruptly, her broom turned upside down. Her stomach dropped and her robes fell over her face, and she suddenly realized her grip was more for propping herself up than clinging on for dear life. She started dropping, managing only to circle three fingers around the broom. They slipped off almost immediately, and she shrieked.

She slammed against something that was much too close to be the ground, and a moment later she realized it was Tom. He had her rather awkwardly by the waist, and was holding her against his side. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tentatively held on to his arm. He easily lifted her up so she was sitting more or less on his lap, sidesaddle on the broom. It felt uncomfortably precarious. She tried hard not to think about being so high up, but the increasing wind across her face told her that they were certainly flying, and flying fast. It was a bracing wind, cold and fresh. Tom's arm was still around her, and she held onto it. She could tell when they were level and when they started nosing into a descent. A sudden jerk told her they were on the ground. She stumbled as she felt the ground under her feet, and Tom held her up by her upper arms. She opened her eyes. Tom was smiling at her. A toothless smile, but a smile nevertheless, and not a darkly shaded one. Who would have known he was capable of it?

"Well, you are a spectacularly bad flier," he said. Hermione swayed for a moment, and then shook herself from his grasp.

"Yes, well..."

"But a spectacularly good spellcaster." Hermione looked up at him. He was looking at her rather intently.

"Scutio, that's one I haven't seen before, and I know quite a lot of spells."

"I-- well, I made it up. A long time ago."

"Quite a spell to make up. Gets you out of sticky situations." It might have been a cloud drifting over the moon, but Hermione thought she saw his eyes darken. "And you've emerged from quite a lot of those, haven't you?"

"What?"

"Oh, you know, the spiders just now, and even centaurs, and whatever it was that happened the night you first came here. What exactly was that, that you came from?"

Her throat felt dry and tight. "That's been explained, and doesn't bear any more explanations." She looked back to the castle. "And again, I should be going."

"Not before you tell me how you know who Aragog is," Tom said evenly.

Well, this qualified as a sticky situation, and one that Scutio wouldn't help her with. Fortunately, Tom was right. She was good at getting out of them. She'd have to make a bit of a sacrifice, though. She reached into a cloak pocket for the Defense Diagram. "Because that's what it says on my map."

She offered it to him.

Giving her an appraising look, he unfolded the map carefully and looked at it for quite a few moments. Then he looked up again. "You made this."

"It's why I go to the forest so often," she explained, realizing quickly that she should have simply denied it. "And the centaurs... help me."

"Centaurs don't associate with humans, especially not to give them a hand in cartography."

Hermione sighed, feeling the wash of weakness that came after a rush of adrenaline. "Dumbledore associates with them. Beyond that I've no need to tell you anything."

Tom folded the map into itself again and gave it to her. Was he standing closer? He pressed the map into her hands, and bent so that he was closer to her height, and her heart gave a sudden, hard thump that she was sure he could hear. "That's all right. It's not like I would believe you anyway." His eyes were intent on hers, and she found she couldn't look away. She noticed, vaguely, that his long white hand was extending in the periphery of her vision, coming nearer to her. "You are the most fascinating creature--" the hand cupped her face-- "that I have ever known."

And then his lips were on hers, searing with heat in distinction from the coolness of his palm. All of her strength drained away, her mind muttering incoherently, and she gasped into his mouth despite herself. His other hand was on her waist, drawing her closer, and for a wild moment she thought of giving into the kiss. With great effort, she pushed herself away from him. His hands no longer claimed her, and her hand went involuntarily to her mouth. She felt faint.

"What are you playing at?" she managed, but there was no answer, nothing definable in his face, so she turned away and quickly walked the rest of the way back to Hogwarts.