Chapter Seven: A Promise is a Promise


The last Saturday before returning to Hogwarts was to be spent as a family day, their parents had said. One last day together before the new term started. As much as Tom yearned to be at Hogwarts, he had to admit that he always enjoyed his summers off with his family. His family.

It was still a somewhat foreign concept to him - being part of a family. He'd always assumed that he would live his life being shifted from foster home to foster home until he was eighteen, and was forced to be on his own.

That had been what he'd assumed, anyway.

For once, in his entire life, Tom was glad that he had been wrong about something.

He glanced at his parents, who were currently appreciating an old painting of one of the most unfortunate looking couples Tom had ever seen. It was of a man named Arnolfini, and his wife. He had tuned out the docent – who was a middle-aged man with an obnoxiously posh voice – almost as soon as he'd opened his mouth. He glimpsed at Hermione, and noticed that she didn't seem to be that interested in the painting, either.

He nudged his elbow against her arm to get her attention. Once he had it, he pointed to the painting with his chin, and said with a mischievous whisper, "Think their children ended up as ugly as they are?"

Hermione let out an undignified snort to hide her laughter; which earned her curious looks from the other visitors in their group, and a sharp look from the docent. She covered her mouth, and mumbled out an embarrassed apology.

Once the attention was off her and back on the painting, she gave Tom a disapproving frown. "Behave yourself," she whispered.

He just looked down at her, and smirked. "Never," he whispered back.

She rolled her eyes, and then the group moved onto the next painting. This one, Tom had to admit, had far more attractive people as the focal point. There was a half-nude man asleep next to a beautiful woman with dark blonde curls, who was watching over him. He also took note of the child-like satyrs playing with what looked like some sort of weapons and armor. The sound of the docent's irritating voice making noise again made Tom grimace.

"Ah, the story behind this is quite possibly one of my favorites here. This piece, titled Venus and Mars, was painted by Sandro Botticelli around the year 1485. It depicts Mars, the God of War, and Venus, the Goddess of Love. Now, some of you might know the story of these two. Venus was betrothed to Vulcan, the God of Fire, but let's just say that Venus found Vulcan a bit…dull," the man said, and had tried to pause for dramatic effect. Tried, at least. Tom nearly rolled his eyes.

"Mars, on the other hand, was anything but. Mars was chaos; Mars was disorder; Mars was exhilaration that breathed life into Venus – what she'd so desperately craved in a lover, but never received from Vulcan. And, so, a forbidden love formed."

"Venus was the opposite side of the same coin – she was calm, merciful, and vigilant. She was everything that Mars wasn't. Now, what Botticelli captured so beautifully was the aftermath of their love affair. Notice how Mars has succumbed to sleep, and notice how Venus watches over him. This may seem innocent enough, endearing even, but it symbolizes something much bigger. Venus is the Goddess of Love, and Mars is the God of War – he is telling us that, no matter what, love conquers war – that love conquers all."

"Oh, that is so beautiful," Jean whispered to no one in particular. Others in their group agreed with her sentiment. Tom bit back his annoyed sigh, and tried to be respectful of his mother.

"Oh, you might also be interested to know that from their affair, a daughter was born – the Goddess of Harmony, Concordia. What is interesting about this, is how the Romans used the unity of deities representing Love and War as allegory. In most other paintings of the pair, Mars is always seen as being at ease in Venus' presence," the man finished, and started answering questions from the group.

Tom frowned as he looked at Mars' face again. It looked like he was catching flies. How idiotic. At first, he had been somewhat impressed by the painting, but now? Now, he was bored and disappointed. Why did romanticists always ruin things?

"I doubt their daughter turned out unfortunate looking."

Tom glanced down at Hermione, who was wearing a playful smile. The corner of his mouth curled up at her statement, and he looked back up at the painting. "You never know," he said thoughtfully, his eyebrows raised. "I've seen plenty of good-looking people produce horrendously ugly children."

Hermione shook her head, and laughed quietly. "You're terrible."

Tom shrugged lazily. "It's not my fault that it's true."

"Doesn't mean you have to say it," she whispered.

At this, Tom turned on her, and smiled sardonically. "The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes it's not nice to be hurtful," she retorted.

"Are you saying that I should lie instead?"

She faltered. "Er – well, no."

"Oh, so you meant to say that I should only lie if it's to spare someone's feelings," he pressed.

"You're putting words in my mouth now," she said with a slight frown.

In the blink of her eyes and the beat of his heart, he saw an opportunity to relieve his boredom. "No, I'm not. You're spewing them out all on your own. Nothing new there, though. Just another serious bout of verbal diarrhea," he grinned wickedly, and wanted to play their little game.

She glared at him. "I do not. Stop being an idiot."

His wicked grin turned into a half sneer. "But, sis. You just told me that I shouldn't lie."

He watched in giddy excitement as her nostrils flared, and her jaw set. "I know what you're doing, Tom. Nice try," she told him.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her, then sighed dramatically. He turned his head away from her and glared at the painting on the wall. His attention focused back on the sleeping Mars and he secretly wished that he could take a nap, too.

He was annoyed, but he knew everything would be fine. School was starting in two days, which meant they would be riding the Hogwarts Express.

The corner of his mouth curled up in triumph, because he knew what that meant.


The day to leave for Hogwarts had finally arrived and Hermione felt anxious. She didn't mind sitting with her brother, if it was only her brother, but it wasn't. His friends, for the most part, left her alone at school; but it always felt awkward and forced when she was around them. She felt disappointed that she wasn't sitting with her friends, but a promise was a promise.

In the compartment with Hermione and Tom were Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. She'd briefly wondered where the two dumb ones were, and almost felt a little bad when she couldn't remember their first names. She knew one was Vincent and one was Gregory, but she couldn't remember who was who. Honestly, it probably didn't even matter that she couldn't remember their names, anyway. They didn't say much.

Hermione shifted in her seat next to Tom awkwardly, and had to remind herself why she'd agree to sit with him to begin with. It was the only way to stop herself from standing up, and walking out of the compartment. The air was thick with tension, and only Tom seemed to be comfortable one. She was glad it wasn't only her that was uncomfortable – his friends were, too. They kept shifting their gaze toward her before averting it elsewhere.

They didn't care for her and she didn't care for them. Gryffindors versus Slytherins, and all that tosh. Not that she bought into the house rivalries often, since her own brother was in Slytherin, but that didn't mean that they liked her.

Her friends weren't entirely thrilled that she wouldn't be sitting with them this year, but they had understood once she explained why. Well, Harry, Neville, and Ginny had understood, at least. Not Ron, though, but he'd live. Hermione knew that Ron didn't like her brother, but he never vocalized it.

Hermione let out a sigh at the thought.

"What's the matter?"

She looked at her brother and said, "Oh – nothing. Just thinking."

Tom raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a few seconds before turning away. "Your friends will live without you for a few hours, I'm sure. There's no assigned homework yet, after all," he drawled.

The three other boys in the compartment sniggered at his statement. Hermione glared at them, and then at Tom. "I do not do their homework," she bit out defensively.

"Of course, you don't," Tom said.

Hermione silently fumed, and was suddenly regretting agreeing to sit with him. She should have known that he'd be a show-off in front of his friends. This definitely was not a fair trade-off; at least Tom got to watch a Quidditch game – Hermione was stuck staring at their stupid faces. It really wasn't fair.

While she sulked in silence, Tom had decided to ruffle up the top of her hair affectionately. "Doesn't my sister look so adorable when she pouts like that?"

Her eyes went wide, and face went pink in embarrassment when the boys laughed again. She quickly smacked his hand off her head, and tried her best to smooth her wild curls back down. "That's it, Tom. I'm leaving," she muttered, and moved to get up; but, before she could, Tom had slung his arm lazily over her shoulders to pin her back to her seat.

"Oh, come on, sis," he said in an amused tone, but his eyes looked at her threateningly. She knew he was trying to silently remind her of her promise. "You know I'm only teasing you."

Hermione didn't like the way Tom was when he forced her to be around his friends. He always managed to end up making her the center of attention and she didn't like it one bit. Thoroughly annoyed, Hermione decided to do her best to ignore him by pulling one of her textbooks out to read.

It was difficult, though, considering he'd kept his arm over her shoulders, even after she'd tried to shrug him off three times. He had just given her one of his warnings looks again, but said nothing. She'd rolled her eyes, and had continued reading.

For the most part, she'd tuned their conversations out during most of the ride as she read. Dull topics, mostly. Quidditch, the latest broom models, gossip, classes, girls. Honestly, she was surprised her brother was contributing to the conversations at all. None of them were things that truly interested him, but maybe he was just being polite.

Hermione quickly threw that thought out of her head, and almost snorted out loud. She knew him the best and she knew he wasn't being polite for their benefit.

She snuck quick glances at the boys, and nearly shook her head at the admiration in their eyes. She'd always known that Tom was a bit popular; what, with his looks, his grades, and his charming personality.

Hermione wasn't sure if she liked this Tom. He was always different around her – more relaxed. Probably because he didn't have to act around her. She'd already accepted him as he was, even though he could be a complete arse sometimes.

Maybe he was afraid that not everyone would be as accepting of the real him.

She was about to go back to her reading when her brother's smooth voice cut through the compartment. "So, Malfoy. What was it that you wanted to tell me? You said in your letter that your father heard about something interesting at the Ministry…" Tom trailed off, and tried to not sound too interested. Hermione knew better, so her ears perked up. If Tom was interested in something enough to ask, it had to be for a reason.

Draco went to open his mouth to tell him, but stopped. He glanced apprehensively at Hermione. Tom frowned at Malfoy's reaction.

"She won't tell the other Gryffindors, Malfoy," he told him. Then, he turned his head to look at her, and idly twirled one of her curls hanging off her shoulder before giving it a small tug. "Isn't that right, sis?"

Hermione swallowed, and nodded at him. "Yes."

Tom stared at her and a slow smile spread across his face - his charcoal eyes attempting to suck her in, and swallow her whole. "Promise me."

"You already know that I won't te-"

"I said promise me, Hermione," he interrupted in a sing-song voice.

At this, she couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes at him. "Ugh, fine. I promise. My God. I'm sure it's nothing worth repeating, anyway."

Tom, Theo, and Blaise laughed at Draco's expense, and the boy's pale face reddened in embarrassment and anger. "It actually is worth repeating, thank you very much," Draco said, and managed to straighten himself out. He leaned forward, and spoke in a hushed voice, "My father says that there will be a tournament held at Hogwarts this year. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be coming to Hogwarts for a chance to participate in it."

Hermione was pulled forward slightly by Tom's arm when he leaned in closer to hear Draco. "A tournament? What kind of tournament?" Tom asked, his voice sounding covetous.

"The kind where there will be three tasks that the players will have to complete to move onto the next round. Very dangerous," the blonde boy said eagerly, seemingly enjoying the fact that his information had grasped Tom's avid attention.

Tom hummed to himself, leaned back again, and brought her with him. She felt herself getting agitated rather quickly. She needed a break from them, even if it was for a few minutes.

"Tom?" she asked, interrupting their conversation.

He looked down at her questioningly. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Can you get your arm off me, please?"

"Why? Planning on leaving?" he asked. She felt his arm get heavier.

"No, but I do need to go change. We'll be arriving soon," she said, and felt somewhat embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of his friends. She heard Draco let out a quiet snort, and could see Blaise smirking his stupid head off. She was beginning to think he was going to give her a difficult time, but felt relieved when he lifted his arm.

"Be quick," he told her.

She jumped up, and grabbed the bag with her uniform in it. "Yes, my Lord," she said sarcastically, and with very little humor. She felt annoyed at being bossed around by him.

Tom pursed his lips in thought, and tilted his head to the side. "Lord," he tested the word slowly, then a wicked smile curled on his face. "I quite like the sound of that."

"I'm sure you would, you egotistical arse," she deadpanned. Tom's mischievous smile widened at her words and she couldn't help but notice how the other boys seemed to freeze at her words. Perhaps they just weren't used to goody two-shoes Granger swearing.

Hermione left to go find a free restroom to change in, and thought about the looks Tom's friends had on their faces. They were all Pureblood children, so they probably already thought they were better than her. She knew that wasn't the case, though; and, honestly, she didn't care what they thought of her foul language.


The Great Hall was filled with the irritating noise and chatter of the aftermath of the Sorting Ceremony.

Tom glanced over at Hermione, and saw that she was chatting with her friends excitedly – a permanent smile plastered on her face. She never looked like that when she was in the company of him and his friends. An irrational jealousy hemorrhaged through him when he thought about how eager she looked when she went to ride with her friends on the carriages earlier. He'd tried to convince her to ride in his carriage, but she wasn't having any of it.

A promise is a promise, she'd said.

He knew that she had been right and he knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In the end, though, he had let her go without a huge fuss. He didn't want to be seen as clingy in front of his friends, because he was definitely not clingy.

Friends, Tom thought as he examined them surrounding him at the Slytherin table, could be considered a loose term in this situation. The only two that didn't completely irritate him were Blaise and Theo, but he wouldn't consider them friends, per se. More like…stepping stones. He did have to admit that Draco was slowly getting better, but he still had his moments.

Tom had thought how he'd always felt somewhat aggravated that having talent alone might not get him what he wanted – it was all about having the right name that helped nudge open that door the rest of the way. All the students he surrounded himself with had those last names. They didn't deserve them.

While Tom had been busy being bitter, Headmaster Dumbledore had brought himself to stand behind the podium. Tom did well to contain his excitement. If what Malfoy had said was true, then there was a chance at getting the recognition he so rightly deserved.

"Attention, attention!" Dumbledore called out, and magicked his voice to resonate throughout the hall. "I'd like to make an announcement: this year, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a very special event – the Triwizard tournament! In case you've never heard of it, the tournament brings together Hogwarts and two other magical schools – Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Delegates from both schools will be arriving the day before Halloween. A single student from each school will be chosen at random as a contestant to compete."

Tom's heart thump, thump, thumped as he hung on every word the old man spoke.

"Let me warn you now: this tournament is not for the faint-hearted. There will be dangers that you will face that you have never faced before. Eternal glory is what awaits whoever wins, but it won't come easy. There will be three tasks, and whoever is chosen must survive those tasks to be named the victor."

Tom felt himself practically salivating at having such a beautiful opportunity.

"Unfortunately, the Ministry has decided that, for safety reasons, there should be certain rules set in place; one of them being that no student under the age of seventeen may enter the tournament - no exceptions," Dumbledore finished.

And, just like that, his beautiful opportunity was thrown into the mud, stomped on, spat on, and then promptly set on fire. He wasn't the only one, apparently. There was booing and hissing coming from all four tables. The Headmaster bellowed out for the students to be silent. They listened.

"Any student age seventeen and older who wants to enter the tournament will have a chance to do so the night before Halloween, but we'll talk about all of that later. For now, let's eat," Dumbledore said, and with his arms opened wide, the start of the Welcome Feast began.

"My father didn't tell me that rule," Malfoy muttered.

Tom picked up his fork, and stabbed at a boiled potato irately. "Yes, that would have been nice to know. Would have been much easier to avoid that disappointment," he said harshly.

"You would have put your name in?" Blaise asked doubtfully.

Tom chewed his food slowly as he thought, and caught Hermione's amber eyes with his. She smiled at him.

Tom swallowed his food, and then told Blaise, "I would have won."


It was the first Thursday in the school year and Hermione could barely contain her excitement. Thursday afternoons was a double period of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Black. She wasn't bad at Defence, but it wasn't her strongest subject. Professor Black made class very stimulating, and preferred hands-on teaching methods.

She'd arrived at class a few minutes early to set up her desk, and noticed that she wasn't the only one. There were several other students from both Gryffindor and Slytherin who had already arrived – her brother being one of them. He had already claimed a seat in the front row, and wasn't surrounded by his usual posse, so she decided to plop down in the chair next to his.

Tom looked at her in mock surprise before he smiled. "Oh? Sitting with me instead of your friends today?"

Hermione had started pulling her things out to set up before class started. She paused in the middle of leaning over to grab her things to look at him. "I felt like sitting with you today, but I can leave if you want-"

"Oh, shut up," he said in a bored tone, and leaned back in his chair as he looked down at her. "So, how do you feel about the whole Triwizard tournament thing?"

At this, Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Idiotic, if you ask me. Pretty much every male in Gryffindor who is under-age has been griping and complaining about it since it was announced that they couldn't enter," she muttered as she continued to rifle through her bag, and then dug out her quill. She frowned at it as she twirled it around in her fingers, then looked up at Tom. "It's quite irritating, really."

Tom raised his eyebrows as he mulled over her words.

Once she was finished setting up, she asked, "How have the boys been in Slytherin? Have they been complaining?"

Tom let out a quiet snort. "Quite the opposite, actually. Us Slytherins are all about self-preservation, you know. Most of us aren't willing to risk our safety for eternal glory," he drawled out sarcastically.

"I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right," he whispered in a playful tone.

Hermione said nothing, and shook her head at him. The rest of the students started filling in, and class started once Professor Black came out of his office.

"Welcome back, students! Welcome back," he greeted boisterously. "Now, unfortunately, we're stuck in this classroom together for the next two and a half hours! Hopefully everyone is wearing their antiperspirant. Hah! I jest, I jest. Oh, don't give me that look, Mr. Finnegan. Where was I? Oh, yes! We're here together for the next two and a half hours, but when have I ever made a class feel like it lasted two and a half hours, eh?" Professor Black asked enthusiastically, and most of the students sniggered.

"Actually, on second thought, maybe you shouldn't answer that question," he added offhandedly, then waved his wand. Several different diagrams unfurled themselves from the boards – most of them about the same magical creature. Hermione recognized it immediately.

"Erklings," Hermione and Tom whispered simultaneously. Their heads snapped to look at each other quickly and they both wore knowing smirks before looking back up at Professor Black.

"These little gremlins are called Erklings. Nasty creatures, they are. Does anyone know why?" he asked.

Tom and Hermione didn't raise their hands. They'd promised Professor Black back in second year that they would give the other students a fair chance to answer first.

"Mr. Thomas?" Sirius called on Dean.

"Aren't they dangerous because they lure children into the forest to eat them, sir?" Dean asked bluntly.

The professor's tone and look became grim. "Yes, you're absolutely right, Mr. Thomas. Five points to Gryffindor! These creatures are dangerous, because they will actively seek out human children. Thankfully, they're mostly found in the Black Forests of Germany and the Ministry there has put strict regulations to help control their numbers, so an attack hasn't happened in nearly two deca-"

There was a sudden crash that made everyone jump, and several people scream. Hermione instinctively darted her head around the room to look for the source of the noise.

"Don't worry, kiddies! Professor Oh-So-Serious will protect you!" chirped out a voice that was the equivalent to nails on a chalk board.

"Peeves," Tom growled out. He let go of her wrist, and put away his wand. When had he even grabbed his wand? Or her wrist, for that matter? She hadn't even noticed.

"Peeves, you're disrupting my class. Leave," their professor said firmly.

At this, Peeves floated over Sirius on his back. He grabbed his ankles over his belly, and shook his rump at the class. "Oh, no! Oh, no! Professor Oh-So-Serious isn't being any fun! Looks like the mangy mutt won't be able to protect you from being eaten, kiddies! Write your mummies and daddies good-bye! Send them all your love, because you're going to be gremlin food in the morning!" he teased in a sing-song voice.

"PEEVES!" Professor Black bellowed.

Peeves floated back to sitting cross-legged, and blew a raspberry at Sirius. "You used to be more fun when you weren't an old fart!"

The little poltergeist zoomed out of the classroom with a cackle, and left a mess of falling books and flying parchment in his wake.

Hermione looked down to see her supplies an utter mess. So much for being early to prepare for class.

"I'm not an old fart," Professor Black said unhappily.


The weeks at Hogwarts had gone by and the weather had grown colder. As the weather grew colder, the anticipation built. It had been nearly two months since the initial announcement of the tournament, but not even time had stunted the flow of conversation about it. Everyone was excited about it, even if they were pretending not to be; and today was no exception.

All the students of Hogwarts had been on the edge of their seats when the students from Durmstrang were announced. In they came, all extravagance and show, with their back flips and fire magic tricks.

"Do you know who that is? That's Viktor Krum!" Theo exclaimed in a hushed voice. Why was that name familiar to Tom?

"Why would he be here? Doesn't he play for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team?" Blaise asked.

"He does, but he's still a student. This just keeps getting better and better," Draco said as he craned his neck to get a better view.

That's when Tom remembered how Ron Weasley kept going on and on about Viktor Krum after the Quidditch World Cup. How could he have forgotten? Oh, yes. Probably because he didn't care. That's right.

Next, the students from Beauxbatons made their entrance in a somewhat similar fashion. Showy, and rather irritating – like they were trying too hard. He had been wondering about how the delegates from Hogwarts would have made their entrance had the tournament been hosted at one of the other schools. He couldn't imagine them making any kind of entrance that would make them look so ridiculous.

He looked on in wonder when a large metal box was brought forth. Headmaster Dumbledore waved his hand over it and the metal melted away to reveal a large, wooden cup. The cup had a crackling white-blue flame inside. Tom couldn't take his eyes off it.

"Anyone who wants to enter for a chance to compete in the Triwizard tournament only has to drop their name on a bit of parchment into the flames. You will have from tonight after supper, until before the Halloween feast begins tomorrow night to enter you name. Remember: only those ages seventeen and older may enter. No exceptions!" Dumbledore reminded them.

Tom was still somewhat bitter over it. He wasn't feeling willing to risk his safety, but the very thought of winning something as big as this was just so…tempting. He knew the Daily Prophet would probably be covering it, which would mean recognition. It would mean his name might be known throughout the wizarding community, even if for only a little while. It would be a start, at least.

After the feast, Tom had found himself sitting with Hermione on the benches as they watched people enter their names into the goblet. He kept an inventory of each person who had entered from Hogwarts, while she read quietly.

At first, he had been curious, but it had gotten dull rather quickly. The only form of entertainment had been when the Weasley twins thought they tricked the age line Dumbledore had drawn, and had been sorely mistaken. He watched on with a giddy sort of delight when his bossy sister told them that it wasn't going to work. She had been right, of course. It hadn't worked and he was glad for it. It was far more entertaining to watch the boys grow into old men, and wrestle around on the floor.

"Idiots," he muttered. Hermione hid her laugh behind a cough. Tom smirked.

The double doors of the room opened with a bang and the group of Bulgarian students marched in, with Viktor Krum in the lead. The entire room had gone silent. Even the Weasley twins had stopped their arguing. The older boy went to drop his name into the goblet, but when he did, his eyes wandered over to their direction.

Krum's dark eyes landed on his sister. The corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile – a small smile that had been meant for her.

After that, the Bulgarian turned, and walked out of the room.

Tom's lips formed a thin line and his eyes narrowed at the older boy's back. Tom glanced at Hermione, and saw her cheeks stained pink and her eyes shyly averted back down to her book.

Tom closed his eyes, and breathed in and out unsteadily through his nostrils. He opened them again, and watched Hermione turn the page of her book.

He didn't like the way Krum had looked at his sister. He didn't like it one bit.


A/N: This chapter is more subdued, I know. The calm before the storm? I expect updates to be once every two weeks after this until December. I have another Tomione story for a competition I'm working on that is due at the end of December that I need to finish, plus it'll be the end of the semester. Yay, finals! Not.

Thanks to Radiant Innocence and VinoAmore for always being there to help me with this story. Also, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed! It makes me smile when I read them. Oh, my heart.