a/n: Heyy guys! Sorry for the delay! I've been rather busy, and my sleeping patterns are quite screwed up. Tomorrow the next semester starts, so I can't promise regular updates, but I'll try as hard as I possibly can.
So, I have a question, and I'd really like you all to read this: Do you think that I should go through with her sixth, seventh, and 18th and 19th year, or would anyone be terribly upset if I didn't show those. Because I kind of have a plan, but I don't want anyone disappointed in the story because there are missing chapters. The thing is, I wasn't planning on anything dreadfully exciting happening in those last years, but if anyone wants them, I suppose I can write them out.
Let me know! Hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: Property of J.K Rowling
Chapter Thirteen:
Two and Two
"See what perils do environ those who meddle with hot iron. "
Hermione froze, her body seeming to literally stiffen to the point where she could not move. She wondered momentarily if maybe the Basilisk had gotten her, but she realized that she could still feel her breath leaving her chest in an erratic pattern. Fear pulsed through her veins faster than she had ever felt. She couldn't even bring herself to draw her wand, couldn't even bring herself and turn to face him.
"Hermione."
She shuddered. The way he had said her name-like a lover's caress-was nearly enough to break all her willpower on its own. But she jutted her chin out defiantly, still refusing to look at him.
"Are you afraid?" She called, attempting to taunt him, though the affect was ruined by the prominent tremble in her voice. "Are you frightened-now that I know your secret?"
He chuckled lowly and Hermione realized how close he was; his breath fanned out across the back of her neck. "Should I be frightened, little mouse?" he touched her elbow gently, and she felt the outline of his body against her back-his firm shoulders, his strong thighs, the hard muscles of his stomach. "What have I to fear?"
"I'll-I'll sneak down there!" she told, her voice sounding wild, childish, even in her own ears. "I'll kill the monster while you're sleeping."
He laughed again, the sound vibrating through his chest and onto her skin. "And how do you propose you'd get in?" She faltered, and he brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear with his lips. "Think about it, Hermione."
She peered down at the intricate snake carvings, her forehead crumpling in concentration. Think about what? Why wouldn't she have been able to-
Naturally, the school has been searched time and time again. No such chamber has been found.
"You have to speak Parseltongue."
"Very good, Hermione." He traced down her neck with his lips now, his arms encasing her in his inescapable grasp. "Good girl. Clever girl..." Hermione felt like he had utter control over her, and she didn't like that feeling at all. Every touch, every steamy glance seemed to just make him more and more possessive.
Own or be owned.
Jerking so suddenly that he could hardly follow her movement, she lifted her foot backwards, planting it firmly in his groin area. Tom let out a grunt, releasing her immediately and slithering to the floor, his hands holding his wounded privates.
Hermione's jaw dropped as she realized what she had just done. She hastily picked up her fallen want and sprinted out of the room, but not before immobilizing Tom, just to give her a few extra minutes.
I'msodeadI'msodeadI'msodeadI'mSODEAD
She sprinted up the Grand Staircase, ignoring the bewildered looks people were giving her, and charged onto the seventh floor, wanting to put as much space between she and the soon-to-be enraged Slytherin prefect as possibly.
She turned corner after corner, realizing immediately that she should have just gone outside.
I need to hide I need to hide I need to hide I need to hide...
She skidded to a stop quite suddenly. The wall to her right, which had, before, just been a blank expanse of wall, was shifting, taking on the form of a door. She cautiously pushed it open, finding the room empty inside. The door snapped shut behind her.
Looking around, she could find nothing extraordinary about the room. It was a tall room, maybe 30 or so feet high, and wide enough to hold one of the Gryffindor's raucous parties. The stone floor was cracked and battered, and one of the walls had a curiously red stain on it.
"The Come and Go Room," she murmured aloud. "Of course!"
She looked around the room again, new found admiration clouding her eyes, and, after a moment, she found that the room wasn't quite so bad afterall.
Hermione waited another half an hour before reluctantly leaving the room, hoping that she'd be able to find it again. She carefully noted that it was across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, who was, rather sadly, attempting to teach trolls ballet.
When she arrived back to the common room, Walburga seemed frantic. "HERMIONE!" shrieked the younger girl, throwing her arms around her neck. "Wherever you been? Tom said that the monster dragged you down to its lair!"
Hermione peered curiously at Tom, but immediately lowered her eyes at his frosty glare." Well it would've been a shame," he supplied, and she winced at his tone of voice. "I looked for you."
"I was hiding," she told him honestly. "I didn't particularly feel like dying today."
Tom didn't seem amused. His lip curled up into a snarl and every other member of the room seemed to wince in fear.
Except Hermione.
She strode past him, her nose in the air, and disappeared into the girls dormitory, taking special care to slam the door particularly hard behind her.
So now Hermione spent every moment she could with Tom. She was near him every class they had together, stayed by his side at lunch, and the few times when he would disappear, she would hurry to the second floor, standing guard in front of the sink.
Tom didn't seem to mind her constant presence. He had gotten over the bathroom incident fairly quickly, although in Potions, when Slughorn was rambling away, he had traced his fingers along her thighs, lewdly suggesting that she kiss it better.
A few evenings later, Hermione lie in bed, wondering how on earth she was going to go through with Druella's advice; how could she make a point strong enough to get it through the head of the most obstinate boy she had ever met in her entire life.
Actually, strangely enough, there hadn't been another attack lately, and she wondered, cautiously optimistic, if he had lost his fire.
From across the hall, she heard the boys coming back, laughing boisterously at some joke that Myles had just made. She crept across the floor, trying not to wake the girls, and cracked the door open. Abraxas seemed to hear it, because he turned and shook his head reprimandly at her. "He's not here."
Hermione was more worried than she let on. "Who?" Abraxas gave her a knowing look and she sighed. "Fine. Well, where is he?"
"He went to go deliver some more crystallized pineapple to Professor Slughorn." At Abraxas' eye roll, she knew that he found Tom's arse-kissing just as ridiculous as she did.
"Very well. Thanks, Abraxas. Good night."
"Good night Hermione."
She slipped back into her room, crawling back into her bed and drawing the covers up to her chin. She wasn't as gullible as Abraxas, of course, and she was almost positive that Tom was nowhere near where he had said he would be.
Go to sleep, she told herself wearily. Deal with it, tomorrow.
It wasn' t that difficult for her body to obey her mind, and soon, she was drifting off into a comfortable slumber.
Yessssss, sssssllllleeeeep little mouusssse. Giiiiive meeeee youuur heeeearrt.
Just a dream, she told herself without opening her eyes, attempting to bury her ears in the pillow.
Ssssleeeep, little sssseerrrpent, and I SSSSHAAALLLLLL FEEEAAAASSSTTT!
Hermione sat up sharply, her hair sticking to her forehead. Her breathing was coming quickly, too quickly, and as she eased herself back down onto her bed, trying as hard as she could to stop her heart from hammering its way right out of her chest, she couldn't stop the argument going on inside her mind.
It was just a dream, she told herself uncertainly. Just a dream.
Finally, Hermione was able to fall back asleep, though she was awoken what seemed like only moments later by Walburga's early morning screech of, "Three days till exams, ladies!" Simutaneous groans could be heard around the room, but Hermione just sat up groggily, massaging her temples and resenting the killer migraine that seemed to be eating away at her brain from the inside out.
"Nervous, Hermione?" Druella fell into step with the girls as they made their way to the great hall. "Apparently the exams are supposed to be a bit harder this year, with the more complex curriculum and all."
Had the curriculum been more complex? Hermione had hardly noticed. But she listened to Druella idling chat all the way to the Great Hall, grateful that, unlike Victoria or Walburga, Druella possessed the keen knack of being able to tell when someone didn't feel like talking.
Just a dream Just a dream Just a dream Just a dream
The two of them sat at the far end of the Slytherin table. Walburga and Lucretia were gossiping away happily, and Hermione felt her stomach turn a bit at their indifference. Although, she supposed she couldn't blame them. There hadn't been an attack in quite a while, now, and everyone's spirits seemed to be lifting.
Hermione uneasily pushed her food around on her plate, nibbling a bit on the eggs. The hall was loud this morning, everyone seeming to be cheery, despite the upcoming exams, and the noise was doing nothing for her head. She was just about to excuse herself to go to the Hospital Wing when the Great Hall doors flew open. A group of three girls shuffled in. The one trailing behind the other two had her face buried in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. Her two friends both looked extremely pale. It was as though they had just seen a ghost...
Hermione dropped her fork. Along with the girls, an ominous cold feeling seemed to have drifted into the great hall. The chatter had dimmed down as more and more people noticed the distraught trio, making their way towards the heads' table. Druella and Hermione were sitting close enough to hear what they said, but Hermione knew the words before they left her mouth.
"Professor?"
Dippet turned towards her, his great moustache rippling as his lips curled into a frown. "Um...yes...what...Miss Grippie?"
"Grove, sir," she corrected. "Sir...there's...there's a dead girl in the bathroom." Her voice broke on the last syllable, and Dippet jerked away from her as though she had announced that she had the plague. He looked dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. Dumbledore, next to him, rose to his feet.
"Students! Classes are cancelled for the day. Please go immediately to your common rooms."
Nobody cheered. There was a stiff sort of silence in the air that made it hard to breath. Hermione felt Druella tugging on her sleeve, urging her to move, but Hermione didn't seem to have any control over her limbs.
"Hermione, come on," the blonde girl muttered frustratedly. "There's nothing you can do."
There's nothing you can do. Her words twisted at Hermione's insides like no other. There was nothing Hermione hated more tha not being in control, and she felt helpless as she watched the teachers sweep the students towards their common room.
"Go on," she said finally, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "Head down to the dungeons. I'll...I'll be after you shortly."
"Hermione, no!" Druella argued, and Hermione winced, the desperation in the younger girl's voice hitting a nerve. "Just...let it be."
She shook Druella off, giving her a gentle, yet at the same time very demanding look. "Go back to the common room, Druella. Now." Only after the girl had left did Hermione realize, with a jolt, exactly who she sounded like.
She moved towards the second floor, sticking to the shadows. Up ahead, she could hear the frantic voices of teachers shouting back and forth, argumentative in their astonishment. Her eyes searched for him, straining against the dim light of the bleary morning. Perhaps he was assisting Dippet, as the noble Prefect that he was-
A hand shot out quite suddenly, pulling Hermione into an alcove. Before she had the chance to scream, a hand cover her mouth. She lit her wand, illuminating her companion.
Tom looked down on her with such an intensity in his gaze that she nearly looked away. His eyes, like burning fire, swept over her, pulling her closer still, as if this breadth of space, this marginal distance, was too far, as if he needed to be closer.
"You think me a monster."
Hermione nodded, and was horrified to realize that she was crying.
"You are more afraid than you have ever been in your entire life."
She didn't both given credence to his statement, even as his hand traced over her face, even as his long, elegant fingers danced across the bare skin of her neck.
"And yet, oh yes..." she looked up at him as a cold sort of triumph seemed to seep into his eyes. "Regardless...I am a monster. I am a murderer," she nodded again, nearly blind was the extremity of her tears. "You want me."
"I don't!" she insisted in a whisper, pounding her small fists into his chest. "I don't! You're sick!"
"Shhh," he cooed softly, gripping her wrists as he pulled her closer still, his wiry arms encasing her small figure. "There is no shame, Hermione. We all have our secret indulgences. I am yours."
There seemed to be a double meaning to his words, because she looked up at him, her brown eyes wide, cheeks flushed and hair bursting free of its plait.
Tom thought she had never looked more beautiful.
He seemed to sense her hesitation, because he leaned back, drawing her arms around his neck, and lifted her so that she was pressed against the cold stone wall, tying her legs around his waist. "There is no good and evil, Hermione. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."
Their current position made it difficult to respond-actually, it made any thought processing in general nearly impossible-but she swallowed thickly, trying not to notice how his eyes flickered to her neck at the movement. "If there was no good and evil," she started, cursing how utterly breathless her voice sounded. "Then there would be no boundaries. If we always did what we wanted, this world would be a sick place indeed."
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "What do you want, Hermione? What do you desire?"
Her cheeks flushed at his choice of words, and for a moment, Hermione's mind flashed through her deepest desires, her most desperate wishes. She wished, so secretly of course, but none the less vehemently, that Pureblood's could just get over themselves. She had never seen a flaw in the prejudice before, but Tom's actions had proven to her that if one has opinions, dangerous opinions, they will reflect into one's everyday life.
What did she want? She wanted infinite, a library larger than London. She wanted success on a platter.
She wanted to see her father smile, to laugh again. She wanted to see the light, which had been gone for so long, find its way back into his eyes.
"I want you," she answered honestly, her words seeming to resound like a bell in the small alcove. "I've always wanted you. But, as I said, if we always took what we wanted, this world would be a sick, twisted place."
He regarded her carefully. "How so?"
She shifted, and she couldn't help but notice that all through their conversation, he had not once made a move to put her down, and she could feel him against her, solid and safe. "I remember, I was a child, and my mother and father took me to a candy shop. There were hundreds of different types of candy, but mother and father said I could only have two. I could hardly choose only two, so while their backs were turned, I slipped four different assortments of candy into my pocket." She paused. "They never knew."
He blinked, not seeming to understand her. She sighed, deeply inhaling his scent as she lifted a hand, absently threading it into his dark locks. His hair was soft underneath her fingers, and she found her unconsciously leaning forward to brush her cheeks against it, and then her lips. After a moment, she pulled away, though her hand lingered near his face. "If we always did what we wanted, the world would be a sick mess of lying and cheating and stealing. You, of all people Tom, admire loyalty. You would not have your Knights betray you, would you?" After a moment, he gave a sharp jerk of confirmation. "Exactly. How would it be, to never be able to trust anyone? Brothers would turn on brothers, friends on friends. It would be war, Tom."
"You do not think we should ever take what we want."
"There's a healthy balance."
"I should not have you?"
"You shouldn't," she conceded, not meeting his eyes. "I am...I do not have the strength to fight you. You need someone who can convince that you're wrong, someone who can make you a better person." She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She seemed to deliberate her next words. "I don't...have the...strength...to stay away from you anymore."
"Then don't." His hands moved to her shoulders, tracing over her collar bone, making her shiver. "Stop fighting me."
Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "I'll never stop," she promised. "I'll never stop fighting you, because I'll never agree with what you've done. You'll always be this sick fantasy in my head, that, no matter how much I try to convince myself is wrong, I can't stay away from. I will trip, and I will stumble, and I will slip into your game, and I will be yours, and you will be mine, and we will succumb to our darker desires again, and again, and again, but I will never stop fighting you."
His eyes seemed to darken at her speech, and as she stared down at him, chest heaving, he nudged himself further between her legs and buried his face in the skin of her neck. Hermione shivered as his breath danced across her skin. His lips finally found their way up to hers, and she sighed in relief as he kissed her, in such a way that she knew she was totally hopeless. She tightened her arms around him, reveling in the way that his lips whispered her name, the excited thrum in her stomach igniting as he moved his hands to the opening at the front of her robes. His eyes met hers for one piercing moment, and Hermione, even without trying, could read them well enough to know that she was, in a sense, doomed.
Hermione
a/n: Hope you all enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I really enjoy playing with Tom being a very sexual creature...hehe;) Make sure to tell me whether or not you want the extra years ^ or else I'll just have to go on my own whim:)
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All my love!
xoxo