Hermione made a huge mistake.
She didn't know what came over her, really. She tried to think back to exactly what it was that had taken hold of her usually logical mind and cause her to make this colossal mistake, but she couldn't even begin to wonder what made her think, for even a moment, that this would be a good idea. It's just that lately she had been so confused and nervous and she just wanted to talk to someone about it, and then she made the mistake of just blurting it out—
She sat straight-backed, jaw clenched, staring into the wide blue eyes of Lavender Brown and honestly she hated herself for her inability to keep her big mouth shut.
"You're dating Tom?" Lavender practically shrieked, her eyes almost popping out of her head and the dress that she had been holding up against herself falling from her fingers. Hermione didn't even have the strength to wince at this point, too humiliated by the fact that she had just told Lavender—
"Uh…" She sputtered, her fingers curling into her knees, "Um—sort of?"
"Sort of?" Lavender echoed, her voice deafening as a wide grin spread across her face, watching as Hermione hurriedly stood from where she had been sitting in order to pick up the dress Lavender had dropped, hanging it back up on the rack and then writhing her hands in front of her while Lavender stared at her with wide, excited eyes.
"It's—complicated—uh—" Hermione was internally beating herself over the head for having said anything, especially as Lavender took her hands in hers and started bouncing up and down like a lunatic, "Stop it—Stop it—We just, we're not telling anyone yet—"
"Am I the only one who knows?" Lavender asked, her face suddenly going quite serious. Hermione nodded, but before she could say anything else Lavender seized her by the wrist and was dragging her out of the shop into the cold. She pulled her hand away so she could shove it into the pocket of her denim jacket, but still followed after Lavender as she excitedly led her to a bench at the side of the pavement. "Oh my god," She said, pulling Hermione to sit down beside her, "Tell me, tell me, tell me—"
"First of all, calm down," Hermione snapped irritably, and a bit more of an aside, she added, "This is so humiliating,"
"Humiliating?" Lavender laughed, "You're the one who brought it up—"
"Yes, well, I didn't mean to—" Hermione tried to defend herself, her leg bouncing in irritation and her hands still shoved in her pockets as she turned her eyes to watch the traffic go by instead of meeting Lavender's eyes. They were supposed to be shopping for a dress for Lavender on account of her and Ronald's anniversary or something, and since Parvati was out of town, it had fallen upon Hermione to accompany her. But then Lavender started prattling on about her lovely relationship with Ron and Hermione was such a bundle of nervous energy wherever talk of Tom was concerned, and when Lavender had nonchalantly asked how Tom was, it had just blurted out of her without her consent.
"Well, you did." Lavender said, both her hands settling on Hermione's arm and shaking her, "Come on, it's not as if I didn't see it coming—"
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked cuttingly, turning to eye Lavender shrewdly at her side. She rolled her eyes.
"Oh please," She scoffed, "You two were always together—"
"Because we're friends," Hermione argued, but she was ignored.
"You have these weird moments where you like stare at each other and like read minds or something—"
"You're being ridiculous—"
"You wear his clothes, for god's sake—"
"I do not!" Hermione snapped, affronted, staring at Lavender incredulously as the latter raised her brows in a disbelieving expression. She lifted a hand from Hermione's arm to point at her jacket but she didn't say a word. Hermione rolled her eyes. "This hasn't been his for like, two years, it doesn't count."
"Doesn't count, my arse," Lavender said, "Come on, you can't just say that you're dating and then refuse to tell me about it—"
"I didn't mean to say anything," She snapped, "Just drop it Lavender—can't we just go shopping for your dress?" She turned her pleading gaze on her friend, but she already had her eyes narrowed into that expression she always got when she didn't like the answer she'd been given. Hermione turned her eyes to traffic again.
"Do you not want to date him?" She asked bluntly. Hermione was genuinely shocked at the question, glancing quickly at Lavender before averting her gaze to her knees. When she looked down she noticed her leg was still bouncing, so she made a conscious effort to remain still.
"Of course I want to date him." She muttered.
"Then what's the problem?" Lavender pressed.
"There is no problem—" Hermione started, but at the sound of Lavender's scoff she raised her head to glare at her and continued, "It just all happened rather quickly, is all."
And it had. She had been agonizing over the sudden changes in their relationship for months, and the closer she got to Tom's return home to more ill at ease she felt about everything. Keeping it secret had made it worse—neither Tom nor Hermione had necessarily agreed on keeping it secret except from her mother, but she still found herself refraining from telling any of her friends, and especially not Viktor, who would still text her now and then to see how she was doing, to ask if she wanted to get a—purely platonic—coffee, though she always said no, thank you.
Her mother didn't notice anything, which wasn't much of a surprise. Her mother wasn't an easy woman to lie to, certainly, but it was extraordinarily easy to hide things from her. Both her parents had always been workaholics—always ready to drop work for their daughter if needed, but workaholics nonetheless—and now that Hermione was old enough to virtually take care of herself, they spent much of their time at work. It was easy to hide her long-distance boyfriend when they were almost always out of the house.
(Of course her mother still, somehow, always managed to interrupt her at the most inopportune moments)
"Quickly?" Lavender asked carefully, as if she wasn't quite sure what she meant. Hermione took a deep breath through her nose.
"I don't know," She muttered irritably, "It's just—one moment he was just my best friend and it was normal, and all of a sudden we're—" She cut herself off, remembering the way he had felt, and the way he had tasted, his hands in her hair and his teeth at her throat and his tongue—
She felt her cheeks flame, and she hoped the cold May weather was enough to keep it from showing. She hesitantly met Lavender's eyes and instantaneously regretted it, because Lavender looked like she was so excited she might implode. "Did you two have sex?" She whispered conspiratorially.
Hermione sputtered for a solid fifteen seconds before she was finally able to snap out a furious reply. "No," She seethed, "No, we didn't, we just—kissed and—uh—"
"And what?" Lavender pressed.
"We—" Hermione didn't know why she was having this conversation, mostly she just wanted to run and hide at this point.
"Did you give him a blow job?" She asked with a shrug, as if she didn't understand why Hermione could possibly be uncomfortable with the conversation. Hermione flinched, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone overheard, even though she knew no one could possibly be bothered to listen in to the conversation of two teenage girls.
"No." She said firmly, then with much less confidence, continued, "We just—uh—well he…" Her leg was jostling again. "Oh, this is so humiliating,"
"I can talk about Ron, if that helps—?" Lavender started to offer, and Hermione reacted as if slapped.
"No!" She cried, "No, no that's—not necessary, please don't," The last thing she needed was to hear about Lavender and Ron's sex life. "We just—we've kissed, and…I didn't" She gestured vaguely with her hand, "But he…"
"Oh my god, he ate you out?" Lavender at least had the good sense to whisper it, but it still sent Hermione's cheeks flaming. "When he was here over break?"
"Uh—"
"You date for like a week and he already eats you out, you lucky bitch," Hermione felt a bit thrown by the words, but they obviously weren't meant meanly. Lavender was smiling widely while she said them, and Hermione would never understand Lavender's love for talking about stuff like this. She just wanted to crawl under a rock. "Ron literally did that for the first time, like, two weeks ago—"
"Oh god," Hermione gagged, "Would you stop?"
"I bet Tom really knows what he's doing, too—"
"Oh god," Hermione groaned, burying her head in her hands, "I am begging you, please stop."
Lavender laughed loudly, wrapping her arms around Hermione's shoulders in a friendly embrace, "Oh come on," She said, giving her a light shake, "Didn't you like it?"
Hermione didn't answer purely because she hated this conversation, but Lavender seemed to misunderstand. She pulled away slightly, her hand resting on her shoulder. "Did you not like it?" She asked worriedly, "Did you not want him to, or—?"
"Of course I wanted him to," Hermione sighed, "It's just—weird. I don't know. Once on the phone I think we almost—" She stopped, hesitated and met Lavender's eyes again. Whispering, because it felt strange to say it too loud, she said, "I think we almost had phone sex?"
"Oh my god," Lavender laughed, "Hermione you harlot—"
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, "I am going to leave if you don't take this seriously," She warned.
"What is there to take seriously?" Lavender asked, "You're in a relationship, you're allowed to do whatever you want," Then pointedly, as if she still wasn't sure if Hermione had told the truth before, "If you want to."
"It's not as if I ever want him to stop in the moment," Hermione muttered, "It just all happened so fast, and…I don't know. He says all these nice things," She sat back, dropping her hands from her face and watching the traffic go by. It was easier to talk when she didn't have to look at her. "It's just strange. It all feels…different."
"Different good?" Lavender prompted.
"Different…unreal." Hermione clarified.
There was a brief pause, before Lavender asked—quite rudely, as if she still thought Hermione was being ridiculous—"What, like he's faking?"
"No," Hermione snapped irritably, immediately, more of a knee jerk reaction than anything else. The truth was Lavender's comment hit quite a bit closer to home than she cared to admit.
The whole situation was just too strange for her to stomach. She had never imagined Tom would ever be romantically interested in anyone, but she especially hadn't expected him to be sexually interested in anyone. But he had somehow effortless assimilated into the role of the perfect boyfriend—still him, still difficult and curt and a bit distant—but he was borderline affectionate, he was complimentary, he was candid and forward and Lavender hadn't been wrong when she said he knew what he was doing—
In the moment, it always seemed perfect. When he had been home for the holidays, it was overwhelming and a bit scary sometimes how much she wanted him, how out of control she felt when he kissed her, but it was still perfect. It wasn't until he left and she had time to herself to think how oddly sudden it all was, how simple it was. And Tom was never simple.
It was paranoid and ridiculous, but she couldn't help but question his timing. He finds out she has a boyfriend so he comes home for the holiday and immediately becomes this suave, flirtatious something, and she always saw through him when he lied, when he was pretending to be something he wasn't, but its just that she liked it so much when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he spoke to her like something other than just a friend. She felt blinded by her want for him, caught up in the rush of their newfound relationship to the point where she wasn't thinking about who he was when she was with him.
But she couldn't expect Lavender to understand. As far as Lavender or anyone else was concerned, Tom was the perfectly polite, handsome and mysterious boy from the orphanage. She couldn't possibly understand why Hermione was panicking.
And she was, a bit. Panicking. She loved Tom, well and truly, at the very least she loved him as a friend but she wouldn't outright deny loving him more, because she had always sort of differentiated her friendship with him from her friendship with anyone else. Lavender probably had a bit of a point when pointing out the inevitability of their relationship. Hermione had, in some way, felt the same. She hadn't ever expected Tom to want her that way, but she had still always saw a future with him, no matter what. And she had been thinking and thinking and thinking about him for months, thinking about him when she was with Viktor, dreaming about him, fantasizing about what it might be like if Tom was just a bit more normal, a bit more interested in her.
And now he was, and she was panicking. Because it didn't seem real. Everything he did somehow felt contrived, planned, like he was carefully considering the consequences of his actions before he did anything with her, and part of her knew this was just the way he was. She was always fighting his tendency to fake his way through situations he found distasteful, uncomfortable, or unfamiliar, his tendency to adopt that false persona he had with everyone else. And she had no way of knowing if he was truly acting, or if she was just panicking because she was afraid that this new step might be the downfall of their relationship, might be the thing that finally proves too much for them to weather.
She threaded her fingers through her hair. "I'm being ridiculous." She mumbled.
"Yeah," Lavender agreed. Hermione sent her a half-hearted glare and Lavender shot back a cheeky smile, linking her arm through Hermione's. "Can we go back to shopping?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, secretly a bit grateful that Lavender seemed content to drop the subject. "Yeah," She said, "Yeah, let's go back to shopping."
Lavender had never been particularly good at giving advice, but she was always good at providing a distraction. So Hermione helped her find a dress for her anniversary and tried not to think about the whole Tom situation.
She didn't know what to think, anyway.
Hermione had never been particularly fond of shopping for clothes. It was alright, sometimes, if she liked the particular shop, but as a whole she would rather spend her time in a book shop rather than a clothing shop. And Lavender was exceptionally picky, so everything Hermione offered was immediately set back upon the rack without a second thought. Sometimes Hermione felt like there was no point for her to even be there, because Lavender didn't seem to trust her input at all, but it kept her busy, and for all of her oddities Hermione had come to sort of like Lavender. Which was good, considering how often her and Ron were together.
(And how often Harry made her accompany him when Ron brought Lavender alone so that he wouldn't be a third wheel to their ridiculous amount of PDA. She told him he could just bring Ginny, once, but he went bright red and was decidedly off for the next thirty minutes and then pretended she hadn't said anything at all)
They had gotten even worse in Ron's final year of school, which was a bit ridiculous because it wasn't as if he was planning on leaving London. He was going to train to become a police officer with Harry, so it wasn't as if they had any reason to be acting as if their lives were going to change at all.
They met up with them later, Harry and Ron. After Lavender had found her dress for the weekend, they met them at the pub, Ron having already started day drinking since he was of legal age now.
"Honestly Ronald," She griped when she saw he was already three pints in, "It's barely four o'clock," He rolled his eyes and pressed a sloppy kiss to Lavender's cheek as Harry pressed a much more polite kiss to Hermione's cheek in greeting. She glared at him, "Do you ever act as his impulse control?"
Harry laughed loudly, "I'm not his mum," He said.
"And I am?" She challenged, her gaze pulled away from Harry's smile when she heard Ron's loud laugh, his arm curled around Lavender's waist.
"Yeah!" He agreed, "You're the mum-friend, out of all of us."
"I am not," She started insisting, but something mischievous flashed in Lavender's eyes as she interrupted her.
"Would that make Tom the dad-friend?"
Hermione glowered at her.
"Tom?" Harry laughed, at the same time Ron commented, "Tom is more like the estranged-uncle friend."
"Lavender," Hermione warned quietly, "Stop it."
"Why would Tom be—" Harry started, seemingly oblivious, but Lavender's smile was devious and she said—
"Because Tom and Hermione are dating!"
"Lavender!" Hermione snapped, "Honestly, I'm never telling you anything again—"
"Oh, it's not as if that's a secret you were planning on keeping forever," Lavender said lightly, smiling in the face of Hermione's rapidly darkening expression.
"Whoa," Harry laughed a bit unsurely, his brows drawing together as he turned to fully face Hermione, "Uhh—what? When did that start?"
"That doesn't mean that you get to decide when I tell them," Hermione fired back, ignoring Harry's input. Ron, too drunk to notice she was angry in the first place, laughed and offered his entirely unnecessary opinion.
"We're friends!" He said, "Friends don't have secrets—"
"Oh sod off, Ronald," She snapped, "If friends don't have secrets maybe I should tell Lavender that she did leave her jacket at your house, but you said she didn't because you threw it in with your laundry and it shrank—"
"Mione!"
"You shrank my jacket?" Lavender practically shrieked, "That was my favorite—"
Harry's hand at her back distracted her from the havoc she had caused, and she hesitantly turned her eyes to her friend at her side. Harry was always irritatingly perceptive, and the way he was looking at her so closely now put her on edge. He looked concerned, worried. "It's not a big deal," He said lightly, "You and Tom were always something, we aren't going to give you hell for it. We didn't give you hell for Viktor."
"I know," She said quickly, not quite snappishly but something close, "It's just new, is all."
Harry shrugged, "Well, we won't make you talk about it. I think Lavender just liked knowing something we didn't—you know she's always been a bit of a gossip," He smiled, leaning in to say quietly enough that the other two wouldn't hear. The movement was probably unnecessary, considering Lavender was still complaining loudly at Ron, who was drunkenly babbling his own excuses. "Probably not your brightest idea, telling her."
"Believe me, I won't be telling her anything else, any time soon."
"You can talk to me if you need to," He offered lightly. But she knew she couldn't, not really. Not about this. She wasn't sure there was anyone she could talk to about this situation who would understand, who wouldn't assume the worst or become angry or protective or ridiculous, who wouldn't jump to conclusions and assumptions. Nonetheless she smiled and nodded, and Harry pressed a quick, perfunctory kiss on the top of her head. "You want a drink?" At her look, he added, "Ron's legal, he can buy them."
"No," She said, shaking her head, "I think I'd like to remain sober, lest I end up punching Lavender." Harry laughed and nodded, and it seemed that Lavender and Ron had reached some sort of stalemate. Lavender was staring up at him with pursed lips and her hands on her hips but had otherwise stopped yelling at him, while Ron was staring back at her with an apologetic expression on his face. His eyes met Hermione's.
"That was low, Hermione," He grumbled. She rolled her eyes, too distracted to answer because of the ringing of her phone in her pocket.
"Excuse me," She mumbled when she saw who was calling, "I'll be back in a moment—"
"Is it your boyfriend?" Lavender asked excitedly. The casual use of the monicker set Hermione off.
"Shut up, Lavender," She snapped with much more animosity than what was probably necessary. She briefly noticed the girl's smile quickly fall of her face, but she had rounded the corner before she could feel too happy about the expression.
"Hello?" She sighed into the receiver, leaning against the wall of the pub, far enough away from those sitting outside that she wasn't distracted by the noise.
"Hello," He returned, and she found herself a bit inordinately happy to hear his voice. She always felt that way when he called, the soothing timbre of his voice settling in her mind like a happy memory, "Are you with people?"
He must be able to hear to ruckus of the pub. She moved a bit further away, "Yeah, Harry and Ron and Lavender," She said, "Lavender's being…well, Lavender." She stopped herself from complaining too much about her, lest she round the corner of the pub and overhear, "Anyway, what about you?"
"No, I'm packing," She felt a smile stretch across her lips at his words, wide and unreserved.
"That's right, you'll be home within the week," She realized. "Did you have any finals today?"
"Just one," He said, and because he knew she would ask, he continued, "It went well."
"You probably aced it," She said easily, smile widening at his scoff.
"Probably," He echoed, as if the word offended him, as if there was no doubt he had aced it.
"And people call me an insufferable know-it-all," She joked, leaning against the wall of some store a little ways down from the pub, much quieter than where she had stood before.
"Who does?" He asked.
"What?" She responded a bit dumbly.
"Who calls you that?"
"Uh—" She sputtered, laughing a bit, "Um, everyone?" Tom was quiet. "Oh come on, Tom. I annoy people, this isn't breaking news." He hummed in response, a distracted sort of tone that suggested he didn't care much for what she was saying but was opting not to disagree with her anyway. "What are you going to do, anyway, start threatening everyone at my school?"
"I could," He pointed out.
"You're ridiculous," She muttered, changing the subject because she never liked dwelling on Tom's ridiculous protective streak, "When are you coming home?"
"Wednesday," He answered, and Hermione balked for a moment.
"Three days?" She asked, "You're all done by then?"
"Yes," He answered shortly, as if he hadn't been telling her he would come home the weekend after finals for months, as if she wouldn't have to face the wrath of her mother as she hurriedly tried to get the house 'ready' for him to come home.
"Okay—uh—I'll have to tell mum, then, she's going to—"
"I'm not staying at your house." He said shortly. Hermione froze, feeling confused but especially feeling a bit annoyed, because of course he throws this all at her now, three days before he comes home. She furrowed her brow, shoving her hand that wasn't holding her phone into her pocket.
"Well—where on earth are you going to stay then?" She asked irritably.
There was a brief pause. "Outside of London."
She gritted her teeth, something disquieting spreading through her chest. Was he not coming home at all, she wondered? Was this his way of telling her he wasn't going to come back to see her? "Outside of London?" She echoed.
"Little Hangleton." He answered plainly.
"Uh—"
"My father died."
Her breath left her lungs, for a moment, the shock of his statement making her chest feel quite tight for a moment. "Uh—" She sputtered, "Wow, I—how did he die?"
"Heart attack," He answered, and for some reason she felt relieved when he did. She didn't know what she expected, didn't know why she had felt so suddenly afraid.
"Christ," She muttered after a moment, "Well, good riddance I guess," She offered lightly, because she hadn't really liked Riddle Sr. to begin with. There was a long moment of silence on the phone that had her wondering if perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, if she had offended him. But Tom certainly hadn't liked him either, so she couldn't imagine why it would matter to him.
"Yes," He agreed after some time, "Good riddance."
"Are you—is there a funeral, or—?"
"Wednesday, yes. It's why I'm coming back early. I'm finishing my exams tomorrow," She worried her lip for a moment, thinking over the situation and picking at the inside of the cotton pocket on her—his—jacket.
"Maybe…" She started, "Maybe you could still come back to London? Just for a couple weeks. I know Harry would love to see you—" She wasn't entirely certain this was true, but Harry liked nearly everyone, so she was certain he would be happy to see Tom, "And—you could stay at my house for those weeks before you go back to Little Hangleton,"
There was a pause. "I could stay somewhere else." He offered.
"That's not necessary, though—"
"I have the money," He insisted, "And we wouldn't need to hide from your mother."
She didn't know what to say, for a moment, because for some reason that thought terrified her. "Right," She agreed, "You're right—mum will be gutted you aren't coming, probably, but—yeah, I'll tell her."
She knew that Tom had wanted to get a place outside of London—she knew he had wanted the estate his father had—because he hated London and wanted a place of his own that wouldn't be in the city he grew up in. It's just that she had thought it would be a few years yet before he got it, she hadn't expected his father to pass away so soon. She thought that maybe she would be able to figure out just what the hell was going on before they took any step forward, she thought she would be able to make sense of this new whatever-it-was before—
She shook her head and took a deep breath, "Do you," She started, a brief pause before she forged on, "Do you want me to go to the funeral with you?"
A hesitation, and then, "I would like to see you, yes."
The words warmed her. The even, steady, almost flippant way in which they were said sounded convincing, truthful, and even for all her wonderings at his behavior as of late, she couldn't help but think that this was unquestionable. It was comforting, knowing that he wanted to see her just as much as she wanted to see him. "Alright," She agreed, "And then you can come back to London with me?"
"Alright," He agreed.
"I should—" She started, because the thought of seeing Tom in three days had her feeling equally excited and terrified, "I should get back to my friends, I—I'll see you Wednesday then?"
"I'll text you details," He assured her.
"Alright," She said, pausing for a moment. She didn't know why she was so nervous. "Uh—see you then. Bye."
She hung up quickly, and when she returned to her friends, her stomach was still in knots.
That feeling remained.
—
Her mother and father were at work the morning Hermione would board the train for Little Hangleton, which was probably a good thing because she was a bit of a nervous wreck that morning.
She was excited to see Tom, she really was. She wasn't sure if she had been this excited about anything since he had last come home. But she was also going insane with worry. Everything she had expressed—and refused to express—to Lavender remained in her mind, her worry over their relationship, over Tom, over everything, over how it all felt like it was inevitably going to crash and burn—
She put on a modest black dress, picked up her book bag, locked the door behind her and headed to the train station. She pushed the nervousness from her mind and reminded herself that this was Tom, and for all his unpredictability, she knew him, and she had nothing to be worried about.
She brought her copy of Neruda, the one Tom had meticulously annotated with translations to the poetry, and read that on the train to calm her nerves.
As it turned out, she didn't need to bring anything as a distraction. That much was clear when a striking, wild-haired woman took the seat opposite her on the train. Hermione glanced up from her book momentarily, just to see who it was, and was momentarily stunned to see Bellatrix Black smiling at her, painted red lips stretched into a sultry sort of grin.
"You're—" She started.
"Bellatrix Black," She introduced herself, "You can call me Bella, of course, and you're Hermione Granger. Fancy seeing you here," Hermione just balked at her for a moment. "Are you going to the funeral?"
After a brief hesitation, she asked, "Are you?"
"Well, I was visiting family in London," She answered easily, "And my fiancé is going to a funeral in Little Hangleton, so I thought I would see him," She paused, giving Hermione a long glance head-to-toe, then added, "I have to admit, I felt more compelled to go when I heard you would be coming."
Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. "Lestrange is there?" She asked after a moment.
"Yes," She affirmed. Hermione thought it was odd for Lestrange to be there. Out of all of Tom's friends, he seemed to be the one he hated the most. But then she supposed she never quite understood the social circle Tom had integrated into, nor the niceties that they all had to adhere to.
"Oh," She said after a moment, because it looked as if Bella was waiting for her to say something. Bellatrix looked awfully pretty, wearing an expensive looking black dress that Hermione thought might be a bit revealing for a funeral, but it looked nice at any rate. Her long legs were crossed in front of her, their seats close enough that she had to sit at an angle so that her legs weren't touching Hermione's.
"So—you have family in London?" Hermione asked politely. Beatrix smiled, her eyes drifting to glance out the window as if the conversation bored her, offing a hum that Hermione thought was supposed to be a 'yes,' but she wasn't sure.
"You seem nervous," Bella said instead, her dark eyes focusing on Hermione again. "May I ask why?"
"I'm not nervous," Hermione denied. Bella tilted her head, her lips pursed together in an almost-smile that made Hermione feel decidedly small. She bristled immediately, but remained silent.
Unexpectedly, Bell didn't push the subject, and instead said in a casual tone, "I must say, Tom has never seemed to be the type to date," She shifted in her seat, un-crossing and re-crossing her legs in one fluid movement and Hermione couldn't help but examine the motion, "But I especially never expected him to date someone like you."
Hermione's eyes snapped up from Bella's legs. "What does that mean?" She snapped.
"You're too good for him." She commented offhandedly, and Hermione immediately rolled her eyes. She ignored the fact that the way Bell had said it seemed different, more significant somehow, like she didn't mean it in the common way most people said it. It felt very much like when Bella said good, she meant it quite literally.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione muttered. Bella grinned.
"It's not." She challenged, and Hermione felt somewhat flustered by the response.
"Stop it," She said.
"Stop what?" Bella pressed.
"If I'm too good for Tom, then who am I supposed to be with?" Hermione snapped instead of clarifying, her book finally shut and in her lap now that her attention was solely fixed on the woman in front of her. Bella's shoulders lifted in some ridiculously graceful imitation of a shrug.
"I wouldn't dare to presume," She said lightly. Hermione glared.
"Then who is Tom supposed to be with?" Hermione asked instead.
"If not you?" Bella clarified, "I can't imagine anyone." Hermione felt herself oddly gratified by the sentiment, and felt the intensity of her glare falter immediately.
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized after a moment, "I'm being rude—"
"No, no," Bella said, "I rather like it." Her lips curled into that smile again, and Hermione felt her cheeks warm once more.
"Stop it," Hermione said again.
"Stop what?" Bella challenged.
"Stop flirting with me." Hermione clarified.
"That's an impossible thing to ask," Bella offered lightly, smiling wider when Hermione's cheeks flushed. Hermione tried not to show that she was flustered, but the heat of her skin made that near impossible.
"I know why you're doing this," Hermione observed quietly. Bella's smile slowly disappeared but she still looked no less pleased, "I know you like to cause drama. I suppose nothing you've done thus far has been able to get as far as you'd like under Tom's skin, and you think I'm the way to do that," Bella's expression had narrowed, in a way, still vaguely pleased but decidedly more intense. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Perhaps I just find you interesting," She offered, her brow cocked up as she spoke.
"Whether you find me interesting or not is irrelevant," Hermione said lightly, "If you want to deal with Tom, that's your prerogative, but I certainly do not want to deal with Lestrange."
Hermione was mildly surprised when Bella laughed, "Do you know him?" She asked.
"I know of him," Hermione clarified, and with a small smile added a bit jokingly, "My condolences," In reference to Bella's engagement to him. She didn't laugh this time, but she was smiling, and her eyes were dark and focused on her. Hermione, in an effort to distract herself from the disconcerting look on Bella's face, added, "Why are you with him, anyway?"
It worked, and Bella turned her eyes from Hermione to gaze down at her nails, "I'm sure you know of the Lestrange family," Bella said, raising her eyes to meet Hermione's in a way that was almost conspiratorial and, if Hermione wasn't mistaken, she even seemed to be testing her in some way when she said, "And he's the heir for quite a prestigious position in business."
Hermione felt herself sitting up straight, her jaw set before she even realized what she was doing, "You don't need that, though," She said a bit snappishly, "You go to Hogwarts, which is one of the most prestigious universities in the world—you don't need Lestrange's fortune to get a good job—"
"Are you offended?" Bella laughed. Hermione paused for a moment.
"No," She said.
"If I were to go about it the way you were suggesting, I would be forty before I was in charge of anything."
"But you would have done it yourself," Hermione insisted.
"I'm still doing it myself," She shrugged, "If I want to use a man or two to make the process quicker, than I will."
Hermione wanted to disagree, everything inside of herself screaming, but she bit her tongue. She didn't know Bella well, and she had no right to be lecturing her on anything. A year ago she probably wouldn't have been able to stop herself, and she thought it was a testament to her age that she was able to hold herself back at all.
The conversation flowed quite easily with Bellatrix while they sat opposite each other on the train. Hermione eventually slid her book into her bag, since she had company and didn't need anything to distract herself with. Bella turned out to be quite a nice distraction, even if most of the things she said, she said in order to deliberately rile Hermione. Once Hermione noticed this, she made sure not to react to anything she said that was obviously only said to be contrary, and when faced with that Bella would just say something outrageously flirtatious, which—
"Stop that," Hermione would snap.
"Stop what?" Bella would ask, as if she didn't know exactly why Hermione was annoyed.
"Flirting with me."
But overall Hermione found herself truly enjoying her presence. Even if Bella was a bit…morally ambiguous, to say the least. She had a rather cruel sense of humor and seemed to enjoy whenever Hermione was made uncomfortable, especially if it was because she was flirting with her. But she was also intelligent and interesting and she made the time on the train go so much faster.
But of course, Hermione was still teeming with nerves about seeing Tom again, and when she was nervous she never really thought clearly, so when Bella casually asked her quite a personal question Hermione hadn't really meant to reply but—
"Oh no, we haven't—" Hermione started after Bella made some casual reference to sex with Tom as if Hermione should have some sort of answer, and then like an idiot, she added, "I mean we sort of almost—but we haven't—"
"Oh my, " Bella practically purred, looking far too excited, "You are nervous now, aren't you?"
"No," Hermione snapped, "I'm not, I'm just—you asked, so I'm only clarifying—"
"Did you want to?" She asked, "Was he not into it?"
"No—" Hermione started, intending to explain, but Bella interrupted her. By the look in her eyes, Hermione could tell her interruption was fueled more by the knowledge that it would irritate Hermione rather than genuine excitement.
"Did you not want to?" She asked, "Did he try to force it—"
"No!" Hermione insisted, continuing before Bella could interrupt, "It's just—I said stop, and he stopped, but I just—I don't know if I wanted him to stop—I don't know."
Bella tilted her head, examining her closely while Hermione internally lectured herself and her complete inability to keep the details of her relationship to herself. Bella looked much too pleased. "Did he hurt you?" She pressed curiously.
"No," Hermione snapped, then fidgeted a bit in her seat, "He just—well, he did, but—not in a…bad way?"
They sat in silence for a moment, Bella staring at her in overt fascination, her gaze heavy and heady and when she spoke it was with some sort of regret, "Oh, it kills me that you're straight."
"Stop it—" Hermione started.
"Stop what?" Bella drawled cheekily.
"Shut up!" Hermione snapped, glowering at Bellatrix as she laughed lowly.
"It's alright, you know," Bella started, waiting for Hermione to meet her eyes again before she added, "If you liked it."
Hermione felt very hot, suddenly, remembering exactly how much she had liked, and she snapped back, "I know," Because she did. She had long since come to terms with the fact that what many found unsavory she found quite the opposite, and she certainly wasn't going to sit there and talk to Bellatrix Black about it. "I'm not talking about this with you," She said firmly.
"But if you liked it why would you stop?" She pressed, as if Hermione hadn't spoken.
"Why won't you stop?" Hermione muttered.
"Oh come on," Bella rolled her eyes, sounding for the first time quite a bit irritated. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Who else are you going to talk about this with? Who else knows the side of Tom that you know?"
Hermione felt instantaneously jealous, "You don't know the side of Tom that I know." She snapped. Bella grinned.
"Well, no," She agreed, "Not that side."
Hermione felt a bit ashamed at the spike of jealousy, because considering as obsessed with Tom as Bella seemed—and for the small amount of time Hermione knew her, obsessed did seem the correct term—she didn't necessarily seem interested in him. And it wouldn't matter if she was, Hermione told herself, she was not a jealous person and she didn't want to start now.
And Bella was right, too, because Hermione had no idea who she could ever talk to about all of this.
"You won't tell Tom?" She asked carefully. Bella smiled and drew her lower lip between her teeth before she spoke.
"I would love to keep a secret from Tom with you."
Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored that, watching the scenery pass out the window so that she didn't have to see Bella's expression while she spoke. "It's not that I didn't like it or didn't want to," She said slowly, "I mean, I don't think I would have wanted to have sex anyway, because…we were only dating for a week—"
"Do you have a schedule?" Bellatrix interjected, one dark eyebrow raising slowly up her forehead.
"No," Hermione snapped, "But I just—I don't know—he makes me feel really overwhelmed sometimes and I just feel—" She struggled to put to words the feeling that came over her when he kissed her, and in the end she settled on, "Out of control."
"And is that a bad thing?" Bellatrix asked.
"Yes," Hermione said firmly, meeting Bella's eyes again.
"Is it?" She asked again.
Hermione hesitated this time. "Yes," She said much more unsurely.
"Don't you think sex is all about losing control?" Bella pressed.
"I have to admit," Hermione said quietly, "I don't know much about sex in general." There was a moment of silence in which Bella simply watched her before she sighed rather dramatically.
"What I wouldn't give to ruin you." She murmured. Hermione felt her cheeks flame.
"Stop it." She said sternly.
"Stop what?" Bella asked, hooking the toe of her foot—she had long since kicked her heels off—around the back of Hermione's ankle. Hermione batted her foot away.
"Bella!" She scolded.
"You're not out of control," Bella said, her tone quiet and sure and a sudden change from her teasing tone from the moment before. Her eyes were dark and Hermione couldn't quite tear her gaze away. "There's nothing wrong with wanting something desperately."
"Even if its Tom?" Hermione heard herself asking. Bella cocked her head to the side.
"Have you ever wanted anyone else?" She asked.
"No."
Bella raised one shoulder in a half shrug, "Then what does it matter?"
Hermione wasn't sure it made her feel any better, but something about the way Bella so flippantly regarded the situation did set her at ease in some way. And it helped to be somewhat candid about the way she felt with Tom, to talk about it with someone who understood what Tom was like. And Bella did understand, Hermione knew. Tom had mentioned Bella had known about Tom's bout of violence against her fiancé, whom she apparently cared very little about, and yet she remained his friend of some sort. And Hermione found, in the time she had spent with her, she very much wanted to consider her her friend as well.
"I never would have expected you to give me relationship advice," Hermione admitted, "I would expect you to try to steal me away instead."
"Would you like me to?" Bella asked. Hermione laughed and looked away.
"No." She said.
When the train reached their stop, Bella slid her heels back on and Hermione lifted her book bag and followed her out. She was taller than Hermione thought she was, or maybe that was just the heels. She found she wasn't as nervous as she had been when she first boarded the train, and she couldn't tell if that was because of their talk or because of the excitement that started thrumming through her the moment they reached their stop.
She saw him standing a ways away, and she recognized Rodolphus Lestrange at his side from the photographs she had seen of him plastered throughout magazines. The two of them hadn't noticed them yet, and Hermione took off across the platform immediately as Bella remained behind, apparently content to let Lestrange come to her rather than the other way around. Lestrange noticed her first, and Tom had only just barely turned around when Hermione launched herself into his arms.
He smelled very strongly of cigarettes, but when she buried her face into his shoulder she could get past it, and she was willing to suffer through that horrid smell anyway if it meant she could feel his arms wrap around her. And they did, immediately, without a hint of hesitation, wrapping around her waist so tightly she could feel every expansion of his chest with each breath he took and it was so fantastically familiar that every ounce of nervousness disappeared in a heartbeat. She had the fleeting thought that she probably shouldn't feel this happy moments before a funeral.
"Why was Bella on your train?" He murmured at her ear, and she felt laughter bubble up in her chest at the question. She pulled away just enough so that she could glance over her shoulder where Lestrange had gone to greet Bella, their reunion much more civil, his arms looped loosely around her waist. They both glanced in Tom and Hermione's direction once, twice, once more.
"I have no idea," She admitted, looking back at Tom who was staring at the other pair as if they had personally offended him. "I like her, though, we get on." His eyes immediately shifted to meet hers, narrowing almost imperceptibly, and she knew that expression, the jealous glint in his eyes as familiar to her as anything else in their friendship. "I missed you," She said pointedly.
He nodded, one of his hands raising to cradle her jaw as he kissed her, and she was a bit surprised to find that kissing him, as new as it was, still felt just as familiar as hugging him had. She had long since grown accustomed to holding his hand, had more recently found familiarity in holding him, but she hadn't expected kissing him to feel quite as normal as it did then. She moved her hands from his shoulders in order to wind them through his hair. Something close to a laugh—more like a rough exhalation—let his lips as he reached up to wrap his fingers around her wrists and pull her hands away from his hair.
"Sorry," She apologized lightly, not really meaning it but understanding that while his friends were there he might not be her Tom, not entirely, so the perfect hair would stay. Her hands moved to his jaw, her thumbs swiping across his cheeks. Jokingly, she asked, "Do we have to go to the funeral?"
His lips twitched upwards, but for a moment there was something decidedly odd about his expression. Something excited, and she couldn't for the life of her think of any reason for him to be excited to go to a funeral. "Yes," He said evenly, but he didn't say it as if he was annoyed at all to go. She found it odd, given who the funeral was for. It made her a bit uncomfortable to think that Tom would be happy for a funeral, but considering who it was that died, she supposed that was very much like him to be excited for it. "But afterward we can do whatever you like."
There it was again, his ability to go from the Tom she knew to this version of himself that was somehow still familiar and also extraordinarily different, doting, romantic by his standards. It wasn't as obvious as when he was pretending to be someone else—it was subtle, like he was still being himself but he was trying to distract her from something.
"Should we be on our way?" She heard, and looked over her shoulder to see Lestrange and Bella had approached them. Hermione smiled, mostly to be polite, and turned in Tom's arms—because he did not let go of her, and she had the distinct feeling it was because Bella was present—and stretched her hand out toward Lestrange.
"We haven't met," She greeted, "I'm Hermione Granger."
He smiled, but it seemed strained somehow, and she could only imagine the plethora of reasons he had come up with in his head why she wasn't worth his time. She kept her hand hovering there in expectant silent until he finally moved, his slick, strained smile stuck on his face while his hand wrapped around hers and her shook it twice.
"It is lovely to finally meet you, Miss Granger," He greeted. She didn't like the way he said it, but she couldn't pinpoint why.
"We should go," Hermione said, turning back to look at Tom. She just barely caught the end of his calculative glower in Lestrange's direction before he turned a much softer gaze onto her. "It starts at ten, right?"
He nodded, and as they set off to leave the platform, Hermione felt more at ease than she had all year.
The worst was yet to come.
—
yYOOOOOOO 600 REVIEWS GUYS WHAAAAT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OMGGGGGGGGG
this is honestly crazy. AND WE'RE IN THE DOUBLE DIGITS FOR CHAPTERS NOW crazy. remember that time I said it was gonna be like three chapters or something like lol wow. That was definitely wrong.
ANYWAYYYY shit was gonna hit the fan this chapter, but like this turned out much longer than I thought and I was like damn I don't want to make it too long u know so I let this chapter focus on Hermione's own sort of internal questioning about their relationship because as we all know her and tom went from zero to 100 real quick and obvi thats gonna be a lot for her to deal with so like lol
I FINALLY BROUGHT BELLA BACK. i love her. idk she's a bit ooc but she can't be completely batshit in the real world because she would be in jail so idk but then she's rich af so maybe she wouldn't IDK anyway
I hope you guys liked this update? I've been getting so many lovely messages from people on tumblr asking for when the update was coming and I just! It honestly means so much to me that people still like this story idk I'm surprised that people like it so much I just? And everyone is so so so nice about it and I'm always blown away like I'm honestly surprised idk just thx is my point anyway
Let me know what you think? This chapter was kind of idk boring i guess….Next chapter is the funeral and after the funeral where Tom and Hermione's reunion becomes….not so lovely…and also Lestrange is gonna be a bit of an asshole….because thats just the way it is…..so idk it might be more exciting? I know this chapter is mostly people talking IDK I CANT TELL IF ITS JUST ME BEING HARD ON IT id L
PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I love reading your feedback and I do take what you say into consideration! I love you all so much thank you for all being so nice u r all angels and ilysm ok I'm gonna go now bye ily