Just wake me up already
Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Don't sue, you won't get much.
A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the hits and reviews I've gotten on this story. My ego is now almost as big as Tom Riddle's! Weeellll…maybe not. Here's the much anticipated chapter four, and just letting everyone know in advance it might be over a week until I can update again, I'm on spring break with little to no internet access, so I can write, but I might not be able to post it till I get back. I hope this extra-long chapter makes up for not updating that quickly!
To all of the fantastic people who reviewed on chapter three: Evelyns Journey, Baby Seal, Cashbutterfly, Nerys, Charming-Lynn, MioneRocks (favorite story and author! You spoil me xD thank you), Sakura Takanouchi, DesiChica007, and TheCresentMoonWriter.
I hope you all like this chapter! Unresolved tension abounds, so grab yourself a bucket of popcorn and enjoy the show!
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If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that.
No man is worth the aggravation, that's ancient history been there done that.
Who ya think your kidding he's the earth and heaven to ya. Try to keep it hidden honey we can seeright through you.
Girl you can't conceal it, we know how you're feelin' who you're thinking of.
No chance no way I won't say it no no,
You swoon you sigh why deny it uh-oh
Its too cliche, I won't say I'm in love
--I won't say (I'm in love) from Disney's Hercules
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Recap of Chapter Three:
Still angry, she moved from the hard-backed chair to a comfortable-looking couch in dark green fabric. She sank into it, suddenly becoming aware of how tired she really was. Looking out the still-dark window, she knew she had nothing more to do but wait for Tom and whatever the next day would bring.
Chapter Four: Rain and Charcoal
Tom woke up early, suspiciously looking around his room for that irritatingly annoying ghost. He was surprised she hadn't woken him up out of spite, but he supposed she had actually meant her offhanded 'thank you.'
Tom sat back, a bemused smile on his face. Someone had thanked him for something. He decided to savor that feeling before remembering that he had class that day, and Hermione would probably chew his head off until he'd read all the books himself, too.
His dormitory was empty by now, and Tom dressed and headed downstairs to the common room. When he got there, he looked around for Hermione, surprised she hadn't accosted him yet. When he finally caught sight of her, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards, before his telltale smirk replaced it.
Hermione was sprawled out on the couch in what could hardly be called a comfortable position. She had stretched out and her head was resting on a throw pillow, with her ghostly pale arms dangling off the couch.
She was also asleep.
Curious, Tom started to move closer to her, but thought better of it when the girls sitting on the other end of the couch gave him an odd glance. After all, he'd just been caught smiling at what appeared to be an empty section of the couch.
Strange, he thought. She said yesterday that she was unable to sleep. I didn't think ghosts slept either, so what could have changed between then and now?
Hermione rolled over slightly, her ghostly legs and feet passing right through the two girls on the other end of the couch working on what appeared to be Cheering Charms. They must have thought one backfired on him, as they cast him another nervous glance, so Tom instead turned sharply and walked out of the common room, heading for his morning DADA class.
Two hours later, Hermione woke up, feeling refreshed and well-rested. She stretched lightly before realizing where she was, and nearly jumped in shock when she sat up, gaping like a fish out of water as she realized that she had been sleeping.
She squinted at a wall clock, reading the time. Sleeping practically the whole morning, she thought with an embarrassed blush.
She turned expectantly to the table next to her, where the three books still sat. Her curiosity was itching to open up the books and figure out what she had missed, and the other half was wondering if this was what the rest of the book meant when it spoke about 'becoming more corporeal.'
She stifled a yawn, her blush returning. She'd never slept this late if she could help it, but since she'd gone almost 40 hours without sleep, she felt she deserved this nap.
Pshh, more like a hibernation than a nap, she thought as she wondered where Tom was. Slowly, more Slytherin students were walking back through the common room to their dormitories, and Hermione looked up each time, expecting to see Tom among them.
Suddenly, she realized what she'd been doing. Why do I care so much? She huffed, keeping her face impassive as another student walked in. She couldn't help it any longer, and her eyes darted over to the common room entrance, where she saw a familiar blond walking in with an armload of books. Must be a Malfoy, Hermione thought condescendingly. His eyes roamed the room, narrowing as he saw the stack of musty old books. Looking closer, he grimaced when he saw the titles and proceeded back up to his dormitory.
Hermione crossed her legs, resisting the urge to check the clock every couple minutes. She was tapping her foot impatiently, deciding whether or not to go find Tom Riddle and drag him back to this room to read these books and help her decipher them. While on the surface the books seemed deceptively simple, but Hermione refused to give up hope that there could have been some way to send her back hidden in the pages.
Let's face it, Tom's not exactly the best company, she thought sarcastically. She continued musing about the black-haired Slytherin.
He has more mood swings than Lavender on a bad day, she thought with a suppressed laugh. He goes from 'innocent' to angry to confusing to almost bearable to charming to… she trailed off, thinking about the proper word.
Last night he was definitely not charming, she thought, her mood dampened. And she still didn't think she'd even seen a glimpse of the real Tom, the Tom behind the masks and layers he put up around his professors and the rest of the school. And frankly, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know.
The foot tapping increased in intensity, and Hermione contemplated all the various ways she could kill that Slytherin if he didn't show up right that instant. She was currently remembering about the enchanted bludgers when a hand waved in front of her face.
Surprised, Hermione glanced around, glaring when she saw Tom standing next to her, his smirk firmly in place as he ridiculed her. "Why were you glaring at that lamp?" He asked, pointing to one in front of them.
She shot him a look of annoyance, and instead pointed to the thick book on the table. "Page 184. Now."
Tom's eyebrow rose at her tone, and, like it was even possible, his smirk widened further. "Eloquent as always, I see. Pray tell, how did you manage to miss a page?"
Hermione glowered, mumbling something about 'damn page-turning charm' while she avoided meeting Tom's eyes.
Tsk-ing, Tom picked up the book, lifting it in front of her face as he turned, leaning against the wall as he opened the pages.
Hermione opened her mouth in protest when the book sailed right over her head, making a grabbing motion for it as Tom whisked it away from her. "Nope," he said, supporting the heavy book with both
hands. "You've missed your chance. I'm reading it now." She didn't even need to look to see the triumphant grin on his face.
"Give it back!" She cried, jumping out of the couch. He wasn't playing fair, so if it came to that, neither would she. Tom's interest only seemed to fuel her curiosity.
She lunged at him, glaring as he raised the book higher, flipping the pages with his wand till it stopped around a third of the way through.
As Hermione raised her hands to try and grab the book, Tom had to smile at her persistence. Or stupidity, he reminded himself. She knew she couldn't touch it, so why was she even trying? Was it to annoy him?
He grinned down at her, which only made Hermione more aggravated. It wasn't even that hard for him, as the top of Hermione's head could barely brush Tom's chin, and she was standing on tiptoes.
Tom felt the ghostly brush of a lock of her hair against his neck, and stepped aside, unnerved. It didn't feel like how normal hair should, but then again, it felt like something, and that should've been physically impossible.Suddenly, the lock clicked into place. The sleeping, the ghostly shiver-feeling of her hair: somehow, something strange was happening to her. And he now knew that information was contained inside that book, and in the page she so helpfully specified earlier.
"Sorry, dear," he said, earning another squawk of protest from Hermione. "I think I'll just hang onto this book for awhile," he winked at her, then tried to move towards the stairwell.
Unfortunately for him, Hermione blocked the way, crossing her arms as she glared at him.
Tom tried to move around her, but Hermione moved with him, keeping her eyes locked on his. She knew he didn't want to have to walk through her, the thought was creepy enough but with the new added sensation he got from just feeling her hair, he didn't even want to know what walking through her might feel like.
"Move, Hermione," he asked coldly, walking closer to her. He could sense the fear emanating from her small frame, and knew by using her real name rather than some cute endearment he could unnerve her further and give her nothing to be angry at him for, thus taking control of the situation.
Narrowing her eyes, Hermione resorted to glaring at Tom, crossing her arms petulantly as she tried to think of some witty comeback. When Tom took another step closer, all coherent thoughts fled her brain as she stood her ground, refusing to back down for him.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Tom took another step, the book tucked safely under one arm. His chin was now level with her forehead, and her bushy hair would brush his ear if he chose to lean forward.
He smirked again. She had avoided making eye contact with him, and her eyes were fluttering back and forth around a spot to his left. Well, a little intimidation should put her in her place.
Tom leaned down slightly, so his mouth was mere inches away from her right ear. His hair fell into his eyes slightly, but he didn't feel like brushing it away just yet. He let the corners of his mouth tug up in a grin; for once the Gryffindor was speechless.
Tom was about to say something, when he suddenly caught a strange scent. It seemed to be coming from her hair, but the more he concentrated on it he realized that it seemed to come from Hermione herself. The scent was clean like a rainfall, mixed with a dash of something citrus.
Tom inhaled again. Yes, it was definitely lemons. Tom stopped, momentarily forgetting what he was even going to say. One second he was going to say something dashing, whisk past her and read whatever was written on the page of the book she'd missed, and the next he was trying to cover the fact that he was enjoying the gentle scent of her hair.
Rewind, Tom berated himself mentally. I do not enjoy smelling her hair. It's just a little intimidation. Nothing more.
"You know, we should get to Potions class soon," Tom whispered, grinning as all of the built-up tension completely fell apart. He shot her an amused grin at her flustered appearance, before turning on his heel and walking towards the common room entrance, picking up his satchel of books on the way out.
Hermione recovered fast, letting in the gulp of air she'd been holding in since he'd moved closer than a ruler's length away. She grinned, realizing what he just said. If anything, at least she'd have the last laugh.
"We?" She asked imperiously, raising an eyebrow. Tom turned, momentarily confused before he scowled. "And here I thought you didn't want me around," she joked, stepping past him and floating through the common room door.
As soon as she had left Tom nearly smacked his head in annoyance. How did that little 'we' slip out? As long as he knew it had always been just him—just Tom and no one else. And now he had to go and include that ghost in something?
Memory, his brain corrected. He groaned mentally; after that little slipup of the tongue she was going to be insufferable during Potions class. Hopefully she'll have forgotten about the book, he thought before walking out of the common room and heading towards Potions, letting Hermione lead the way and not saying a word to either her or any of the other students he passed in the hall.
They arrived shortly, Tom walking sullenly into class, giving the other Slytherin students nods of his head in acknowledgement as he took his usual seat. Hermione sat next to him in an open seat, drumming her fingers on the table as she stared at him expectantly.
Isn't he going to say anything? She thought in confusion as she tried not to let that same emotion show on her face. What had happened to get him so broody and quiet?
"Speechless, Tom?" Hermione asked, the wicked smile back on her face. She could deal with an angry or evil Slytherin, but a moody one? That was a different matter entirely.
Well, a happy and cheerful Tom would probably be scarier, she thought as her grin widened. While it made a hilarious mental image, if his personality changed even slightly she'd have no idea how to handle him. As long as she only thought of him as 'the future Lord Voldemort,' she was safe. She could continue to yell at him, hate him, despise him for everything he'd ever do in the future.
Well, technically, he hasn't done any of those things yet, a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like her conscience whispered into Hermione's brain.
Hermione noticed Tom had resorted to glaring at her when Slughorn walked into the classroom, waving his wand at the blackboard in the front of the room.
"We're going to be making a very difficult potion today!" Slughorn said like he couldn't be happier. "This is beyond NEWT-level, but I felt you all needed to be challenged a little more," he continued, to the undisguised groans and coughs of the students.
Hermione was slightly interested, but knew a higher-difficulty potion would give her even more chances to distract Tom. She read the list of potion ingredients on the board, instinctively adding them up in her mind to try and figure out which potion Slughorn had asked them to make. There was already a finished cauldron of the potion on Slughorn's desk, and she studied it warily. Hey, this looks familiar, she thought as Slughorn's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Amortentia!" He said gleefully, saying the name himself where he would normally have called on a student to answer the question. "Now, get to work! And don't be distraught if it doesn't come out correctly, this is a very difficult potion to brew!"
Slowly, Tom got up to retrieve his potion ingredients. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to know what Hermione had planned for this class. It had been hard enough the last time, and Tom didn't think he could make it through another round of that.
Back in her chair, Hermione was mulling over her options. Let's see…option one, I can sing more Celestina Warbeck songs, that's surely annoying…option two, I can act like Luna and tell Tom all about the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack. She bit back a snort just thinking about it. There's no possible way I could keep a straight face through that.
Already she was noticing subtle differences in her interaction with the rest of the memory that she didn't have yesterday or the day before. She could feel more, she felt more a part of this time than she ever had before. She could sleep, she could lightly feel the grain of the oak desk before her fingers passed through it, and she could—
She lost her train of thought as suddenly, a dozen different cauldrons all began to prepare the potion at the same time. Already she could sense the presence of the one in the front of the classroom, as an
oversized spoon seemed to happily whisk the ingredients around. Each of the ingredients for the potion was so potent to her that she could barely think straight.
Damn Slughorn, she thought as she clenched the sides of her head in her hands. Damn Amortentia, and damn Tom Riddle.
Speaking of the devil, Tom had returned to the table, and was about ready to start the potion. Either he was a better actor than Hermione gave him credit for, or that dratted potion did not affect him as strongly as it did her.
She had never noticed how her sense of smell had returned to her that morning, but all of a sudden she was assaulted with the heady smell of the brewing potion. After only ever smelling it once in her life, Hermione already knew what it appeared like for her.
Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and something else strange that I can't quite name, she thought as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. How in the hell am I supposed to be getting back at Tom if I can't even keep myself together?
Tom had been keeping a stoically detached look about his face as he went about brewing the potion, inwardly curious as to why Hermione had yet to start interfering with the Potion.
He gave the girl a cursory glance. She looks like she has a hangover, he noted amusedly. Tom continued chopping potion ingredients and adding different plants and roots, stirring the potion halfheartedly. So this is her plan, to give me the silent treatment?
Five minutes later, and he realized that the silent treatment was indeed worse than her constant interference the other day. Now he was wary that she was going to surprise him at any moment, and he didn't know what to expect, from more tongue-twisters to reciting the steps for preparing spinach florentine while he'd try to remember the order of the steps of the potion.
Amortentia is not the freaking strongest potion in the world for nothing, Hermione thought, looking apprehensively at the cauldron barely two feet from her nose. She closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions close proximity to the potion brought on, but found it harder and harder to resist as she fought to stay awake.
Suddenly, the aroma of Tom's nearly finished potion flooded her nostrils. She breathed in the rich scent, frowning at the combination. Grass, parchment, and an odd woodsy smell, like burning charcoal or a cut redwood tree, she thought, inhaling again. She let a small contented sigh escape her lips before her eyes fluttered open again. Coming to her senses, she glared at the cauldron apprehensively. Damn that potion! There's a reason it's illegal in my time!
Her thoughts cleared as a familiar green-clothed arm reached across the table in front of her, grabbing a small vial of Diligo syrup that was shared between everyone at the large table. Tom pulled the bottle back, leaning closer to the table as he slowly poured three drops of the solution into the cauldron.
Tom had gone from being suspicious to curious to just plain weirded-out. The girl hadn't said a single word so far, and he wasn't sure why. When he had reached for the bottle, he was sure she was going to jump out of the stool and scream "boo!" or "merry christmas!" or something else that would cause him to jump or accidentally knock something over. She has these perfect opportunities, so why isn't she using them?
Hermione leaned closer to the potion unconsciously, at the same time battling with her senses to want to get closer to the alluring scent and to get as far away as possible at the same time. She felt a sudden brush of fabric against her cheek and looked up in shock to see Tom leaning over the cauldron again, studying the smoky spirals that were slightly darker than their supposed 'mother-of-pearl sheen.'
"Sorry," she mumbled as she jerked back, her reaction time slowed by the numbing effect of the potion. Hermione moved back in her chair, her fingers gripping the edge of the stool as Tom reached for a spoon to stir the potion.
Suddenly, she caught a whiff of a strange fragrance. Tom's arm was practically brushing her own, and she realized that it was coming from him.
It smells good, she thought, fighting to stay focused through the haze of scents assaulting her senses. Kind of like burning charcoal, a little earthy and woody…
Suddenly she shot up in her seat, uncomfortably aware of the sudden clarity of her mind.
Oh my God.
OH. MY. GOD.
WHAT the HELL is wrong with me?
I can't honestly like it THAT much. It's not possible.
While Hermione was having an internal mental battle, Tom had almost finished his cauldron of amortentia. He was adding the finishing touches, the leaves, petals, and thorns from one perfect rose. He tossed them in, stirring the potion as they dissolved.
It's not like this means anything, Hermione thought again, sneaking a glance at Tom. His back was to her as he rolled a rose petal in his fingers before tossing it into the cauldron.
Yes. It just means that I like the way he smells.
WHAT the HELL does THAT mean?
Her conscience was losing the battle against her mind as Hermione struggled to find some logic in the situation. The scent of amortentia changed for each person who smelled it, and for Hermione, it happened to smell like Tom Riddle.
Vaguely like Tom, she tried to convince herself. It could be something else. And I can still smell the parchment and grass. Tom's scent comes last.
Save the best for last, eh? A tiny part of her brain responded snarkily. Hermione buried her face in her hands, wishing that she could have gone her whole life without ever smelling that potion.
Meanwhile, Tom removed the spoon from his cauldron, satisfied with the finished state of his potion. Smirking, he cast a quick look around the dungeon classroom: his was by far the best.
As always, he thought. Remembering what he had read about the tricky potion, Tom leaned into the rich vapors rising from the cauldron, breathing in the spirals as he wondered what it would smell like to him. The cauldron at the front of the classroom had been too far to get any more than a comforting sensation just from its presence.
Mmm, Tom hummed, breathing in deeply. It smells like a waterfall, or rain coming down on a forest. It's very light and clean, he thought with surprise.
There's a little bit of citrus in there too, he thought, searching through the different layers of the smell of the potion. A bit like lemons—
Wait just one second.
He cast a quick glance at Hermione, who again had her face buried in her hands. His eyes widened in realization while he tried to find any sort of reasoning to explain the source rather than the one in front of him.
Great Salazar's ghost, SHE smells like citrus and rain, he thought accusingly as he tried to resist inhaling the vapors of the potion again. He was unsuccessful, as it seemed to be almost instinctual. Cursing his nose, he half-wished he didn't have one so he would never have smelled that vile concoction.
Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh.
Hermione was still unable to get through the shock of realizing that apparently Tom Riddle smelled like what she found appealed the most to her. She could understand the other scents; she had always taken comfort in the smell of clean parchment, and freshly mown grass always reminded her of her family and summer and the endless afternoons where she could do whatever she wanted.
But Riddle? I can't see that one, she thought sadly.
Unbeknownst to her, Tom was having the exact same conversation with himself.
How in the hell can I find that mudblood attractive? He thought, trying not to let his frustration show on his face.
Wait, no one ever said anything about finding her attractive, he tried to remind himself, searching for any other possibility than the obvious truth that was bubbling away happily in the cauldron in front of him. This just means that she appeals to me for some reason.
Might as well be the same thing, his brain shot back sarcastically.
Well, he sighed, before bottling a small amount of the potion to take up to Slughorn along with every other student in the class. At least she never has to know about it.
At least he doesn't know about this, Hermione thought miserably. She noticed him cleaning up, and stood up quickly, hurrying out of the classroom. She really didn't want to talk to Tom right now, because all she could think about was that stupid potion. She needed to take a walk and clear her head, and then maybe she would confront him again. After all, he still had that book.
Tom was glad when he noticed Hermione leaving out of the corner of his eye. He expected her to follow him, or start talking about the memory book, but he was glad she didn't. He didn't think he could handle talking to her right now, because all he would think about would be that potion. He had probably ran over the sentence 'It smells like HER!' twenty times so far, just in case it hadn't sunk in yet.
Slughorn smiled appreciatively as Tom grabbed his books and headed for the door to the classroom before calling out, "remember about the Slug Club party next weekend! My star pupil has to be there, it'll be the event of the year!"
Tom promised to come, then left, heading straight for the kitchens. He needed some kind of food to clear his mind, and he felt surprisingly hungry after leaving that class. He decided to take an early dinner to-go, and then eat in the room of requirement while he read that book on memories.
Hermione had taken a nice long walk around practically the entire castle of Hogwarts, trying to think about anything other than what had just happened in Potions class. In a situation like this, she wanted desperately to have someone to confide in and ask for advice, but she knew what her friends would have said about the potion's effect.
And now just getting a glimpse of what her corporeal status was made Hermione wish for it all the more. Knowing that she could sleep and smell things made her all the more appreciative of the little things she took for granted in life and how quickly they could be ripped from you and then returned in the strangest of ways. She noticed the rapidly setting sun, and decided that she better confront Tom sooner rather than later. Just like ripping off a bandage, she just needed to get this over with. If she waited any longer, he might suspect something was different.
Well, it is, she mused, biting her bottom lip. I need to act normally. If he knew about the potion's effect to me, he'd never let me hear the end of it. He'd hold it over me and no amount of early wake-up calls could make up for that.
In the room of requirement, Tom fingered the edge of the book while he chewed thoughtfully on one half of a turkey sandwich. He swallowed, then flipped the front cover open, smirking as he remembered how Hermione had volunteered all of the information he needed.
Page 182, 183…here we go, 184, he thought, flipping the pages. He skimmed his finger over the printed text before coming to the start of a new section titled, "Memoryes in Permanence."
Intrigued, he began reading, wondering why this could have been so important to her. The section before was on corporeal assumption, and he knew that she had begun experiencing some of the effects listed in the book. He also knew she hadn't gotten to this page, so he figured she assumed it held the keys to further progressing back to her reality. Memories in permanence, indeed, he thought sarcastically.
There are several different stages in memory preservation, starting with the simple exchange of memories in a pensieve that are very short-lived, and the memory in intact completion stays with the giver and an identical copy with the receiver in the pensieve.
The second stage involves much accelerated preservation. The most common form, the second-stage memories can be stored directly inside a pensieve or apart in separate containers. These are created with much more energy, but the memories inside are more durable and can survive for decades or even centuries without degradation. While the main form of the memory still resides within the giver, they use their magic to create an exact identical copy to be viewed inside the pensieve or stored, so the memory has much greater strength and often holds a higher importance to the giver or receiver in general.
The third and greatest stage in memory preservation is the stage of permanence. These "permanent memories" take colossal amounts of energy to extract, but completely remove the memory from the giver's mind. These memories are immortal and can outlive any human or creature lifetime. These memories are as permanent as magic itself, so they are almost like completely separate entities.
Not many of these memories are in existence because it takes so much energy to extract them and also because the caster would have no knowledge of the memory after extraction. Similar to a self-casted 'Obliviate' charm, the memory in question is permanently removed, but also permanently preserved. While these memories can be again viewed by the person who extracted them, it is not often done because the person has no knowledge of ever extracting the memories so they do not know the significance the memory may have had for them.
Because of limited availability of this stage of memories, knowledge of effects is limited. Further testing is being researched, and further editions of this text will contain updated information.
Ha, further editions? Tom thought, turning the page to find a new section on 'Perspectives on Memoryes' which he pointedly ignored. This book is from the 18th century. If there was going to be another edition, Nightridge must have mastered immortality. Why did Hermione think this information was so important?
He closed the book, keeping it balanced on his lap as he lifted up his half-finished sandwich. He took another bite, thinking back to earlier that day. Surely the girl was plotting something to be avoiding him all day, and he wanted to find out why.
By now Hermione had wandered to the seventh floor, and knew by the frame on the usually empty wall that someone was using the room of requirement. She had a suspicion it was Tom, and passed through the solid stone, coming back into the bright room she remembered.
"Where the hell is she?" Tom muttered, wanting to squish the remainder of the sandwich in his hands.
"I'm not in hell, Tom, I'm right here," Hermione said from across the room. Tom looked up in surprise as she floated across and sank down into a chair opposite from him.
Could've fooled me, Tom thought as he took another bite of his sandwich. You've turned my world upside down for sure. Realizing how wrong his thoughts sounded, he panicked, reassuring himself not like THAT, you gutter dweller!
Hermione watched Tom eat, realizing how long it had been since she had last had food. At least fifty hours, if not more, she thought, staring at the sandwich. I want one…
Tom had noticed that peculiar sensation one gets when they know that someone is staring at them, and cast a suspicious glance at Hermione. Sure enough, she was unblinkingly staring at his mouth. He swallowed, unnerved. What is she DOING?
"Um, why are you staring at me?" Tom asked, trying to project confidence in his voice instead of panic. Sure, I'm used to girls staring at me, he reassured himself. Then WHY does it feel so weird?
"I miss food," she answered matter-of-factly, like that justified everything. "I'm living vicariously through you. Keep eating."
Yup, he was unnerved now. If it wasn't for the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, Tom would've put down the sandwich and walked out of there. Lifting the other half of the sandwich to his mouth, he took a bite, trying to savor the feeling. Instead, the turkey tasted like sawdust and the lettuce stuck to the roof of his mouth. Licking his lips clean, Tom became aware that Hermione's stare had increased in intensity.
Merlin, she looks like she wants to eat me instead! He thought, stricken. Surely food can't be that great, I mean, I'm sure I wouldn't miss it this much!
Fully unnerved now, he hastily put down the sandwich, noticing her downcast pout. Her eyes followed the sandwich instead of him, and Tom didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted. He settled for a combination of the two, and tried to think of something to change the conversation to. Even that book would be preferable.
"So, I've read page 184," Tom said smugly, watching Hermione's eyes darken with satisfaction.
All thoughts of sandwiches and eating vanished as Hermione's appetite for food was replaced with a craving for knowledge. "What was on it?" She demanded, on the edge of her seat.
Tom noticed her anticipation. Like she honestly believes I'll tell her. This could be fun.
"Sorry, dear," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I didn't find it all that useful, I believe it had something to do with memories, and preservation, or something like that," he said offhandedly, watching her hands tighten into fists with amusement.
"It was important," she said with finality, standing up from her chair and pacing across the floor in front of a giant fireplace. "It had something to do with this," she gestured to herself with both hands and resumed her pacing.
Slightly confused, Tom cocked his head to one side. "What about that?" He asked, mimicking her tone of voice.
"I'm…changing," she told him like it was obvious. "I can sleep now, I can…" she trailed off, not wanting to open that can of worms by letting him know exactly how she discovered the resurfacing of her sense of smell.
"My senses are returning," she added. Tom leaned forward slightly in his chair, musing. "I have noticed that you look less…ghosty." He cringed at the last word, but he was telling the truth. Her arms were still slightly transparent, but he could see her more clearly than he had ever been able to do over the past several days.
"And quit your pacing, you're giving me a headache," Tom said, standing up as Hermione spun around, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at him. "Tell me what was on that page and I'll stop," she said as Tom moved closer to her, a glare to match her own.
"I don't think I will," he said with a smirk, his voice low in his throat as he moved the book from his chair to a side table.
"Then I don't think I'll stop pacing," she reasoned, her voice as irritatingly cheerful as she could manage. Hermione smirked back, and turned to start pacing again, making her movements as exaggerated as she could.
She turned at the end of the fireplace and was making her way back towards him when Tom snapped. "Will you stop that already?" He growled, moving forward and grabbing her roughly by her upper left arm.
Hermione's mouth dropped open when she realized what he was doing. Not because of the pain from Tom jerking her away from the track she was boring in the floor, but because his hand felt warm against her skin. I can feel him, she thought, not sure whether to be happy or terrified.
It took Tom longer to realize what he had been doing, and then he glanced back from her arm to her eyes, unmasked shock evident on his face as well. He was still holding on to her arm, and Hermione was about to ask for it back when Tom did something she never expected would ever happen.
He jerked her even closer to him, leaned forward, and kissed her.
Hermione was frozen in shock as Tom captured her lips with his own, her arm still held harshly in his grip. The first thing he can do when he can touch me is kiss me! What…how…why…?
She realized that their contact worked both ways, and she could also touch him in return. She did the first thing that her instinct prompted her to do.
She hit him with her free hand, slapping him as hard as she could muster and ran from the room, passing through the stone frame of the door as she tried not to let the tears stream from her eyes. She kept running, not caring anymore where she went as long as she got as far away as she possibly could.
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…At least out loud I won't say I'm in love.
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A/N: I hope this LONG chapter more than makes up for the wait! I hope you all liked it, I love writing their confrontations and this scene really made me laugh just to write. I hope I'm not taking their relationship too fast, but don't worry, the next chapter will have even more drama. (like that's even possible xD)
I used the song from Hercules to open and close this chapter because I thought it tied in well (and the line, "we can see right through you" applies too xD) I don't own the song or the movie, and I'm not sure if I'm going to do that for future chapters unless I find songs that fit.
I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far (and alerted/favorited!), I've never gotten this many reviews on a story before and every time I get one it literally makes my day. To the reader: if you liked my story, I'd love to know. I can help answer questions if you have any, or clarify certain parts if you're unsure about anything. I'd love to get 30 reviews by the next chapter (It'll help me get it finished faster! xD)
Love, Kako
