As Tom Riddle is hunting for the diadem in Albania, he stumbles across a strange artifact he's never seen before. Hermione Granger is a lowly Ministry employee on vacation in the mountains of Albania. She's found the perfect cabin for a week of rela...
A/N: Welcome to my newest Tomione! I've been writing this for months, uploading it to the A Year With Tom Riddle Fest on AO3. It just went live, and I have 4 more chapters to write in this story and it'll be done. I won't be posting any additional chapters on AO3 until I'm finished crossposting it here and on Wattpad. I'll be cross-posting every Tuesday until I'm finished. The story will be 18 chapters long.
Please heed the following warnings: smut, so much freaking smut, sex rituals, violence, death, Horcruxes, dark!Hermione, dark!Tom, and major character death are all depicted in this story. If this isn't your cup of tea, please go ahead and turn back now. This will be the only warning you get.
I would be entirely remiss if I didn't thank my alpha brownlark42 and my beta RachaelLA26 for their hard work over the last few months. So many thanks to them!
If you liked this (or hated it) please let me know about it in a review! I make a new mood board for each chapter of this story, find them on my Tumblr crochetawayhpff or my facebook Shan Crochetaway!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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August 2002
Valbona Valley National Park, Albania
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Boredom. It was a state that Hermione Granger wasn't sure she'd ever contemplated as much as she had in the last week. Currently, she was lounging on the only chair on the front porch of a very remote cabin in the Albanian mountains. It was a gorgeous August afternoon, with the sun shining through the forest of pines that surrounded the cabin. A dust mote caught her eye and she watched as it traveled through the air currents, her fingers trailing across the skin of her thigh in a mesmerizing pattern. The chair wasn't very comfortable—a homemade wooden sort—and there weren't any cushions for it. She'd probably have been more comfortable if she sat in the chair properly, instead of sitting with her back to one arm and her legs draped over the other. But there wasn't anyone around to see her, so Hermione decided she could sit however she liked.
When Hermione was younger, she'd thought it was silly to be bored. There was always something new to read, something new to learn. She felt as if she'd lived her life at a breakneck pace for years. Until the end of the war really. And now? Now Hermione found herself bored quite often. Maybe she wasn't cut out for a life not lived on the edge? During the war, all she wanted was the war to be over. For her friends to be safe. To live a normal life.
Normal life was boring. Hermione had a job in her dream department in the Ministry and she estimated she put about sixty percent effort into the job on any given day. At Hogwarts, Hermione had almost killed herself to make the best grades, to learn and know everything, to keep Harry and Ron from death or expulsion. As an adult, she was rapidly coming to terms with the fact that she just didn't care. She couldn't care.
