Can't run from time

Hermione's breath fogged the cold night air as she crept toward the Black Lake, her wand tucked beneath her sleeve. 

As she reached the edge of the lake, she stopped and scanned the darkness. No one was there.Her heart pounded in her chest, every sound amplified in the eerie silence—the rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, and the soft lapping of the lake against the shore. She gripped her wand tighter, muscles tense, every sense alert.

"Who's there?" she called into the darkness, her voice steady despite the racing fear in her chest.Silence. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Hermione's stomach flipped as Tom stepped into view, cloaked in black, his face pale and sharp against the night. His eyes glittered with something unreadable.

"Tom?" she whispered, her pulse racing. She hadn't expected him. She wasn't prepared for this confrontation.

"Why are you out here, Hermione?" His voice was smooth, as always, but there was an edge of curiosity to it that made her skin prickle. "It's dangerous to be alone at night."

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "I got a note. I thought that-"

"I know about the note." His lips curled into a dark smile, one that never quite reached his eyes. "I sent it."

Hermione's heart sank, a cold chill running through her. Of course, it was him. She should've known. "Why?"

Tom stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "I needed to test you. To see if you'd come. Alone."

Her breath caught. "Test me? For what?"

"For loyalty," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "There's something off about you, Hermione. Something you're hiding. I can feel it."

Hermione's mind raced. She had been careful—too careful. But Tom was sharper than most. His suspicion had been growing, and now, standing by the lake under the cover of night, she knew he was hunting for the truth.

"Loyalty?" she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. "I've been by your side, haven't I? I've done everything you've asked."

"Have you?" Tom stepped closer, his eyes boring into hers, as if trying to peel back the layers of her mind. "I'm not so sure. I see the way you hesitate. The way you question me."Hermione stood her ground, though her knees threatened to buckle. "Because I care, Tom. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

Tom's eyes flickered, a faint spark of something like doubt crossing his face. He stopped inches away from her, his tall frame looming over her. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you afraid of me, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed hard, the weight of his presence suffocating. She wanted to lie, to say no and hold her ground. But she was afraid—afraid of what Tom had become, of what he was capable of, and of what he was pulling her into.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, Tom's expression softened, his eyes studying her as if trying to understand something deeper within her. Then, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and for a brief second, Hermione felt he was being sincere. 

"You don't need to be afraid," Tom murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "As long as you're with me, no one will harm you."

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. His words were almost comforting, but she couldn't ignore the coldness in his voice. He wasn't promising to protect her out of love or affection. It was about control. About possession.

"I don't need your protection," she said softly, her gaze meeting his. "I need your trust."Tom's hand stilled, and his eyes darkened. "Trust is earned, Hermione. And I haven't decided if you've earned mine yet."

 Hermione forced herself to stay calm. She had to play this game carefully—one wrong move and it would all come crashing down. But before she could respond, Tom's gaze flicked over her shoulder, and a cold smile tugged at his lips.

"We're not alone."