Chapter 29
In times of war,
In times of love,
We live.
Hermione stood at the door of the dining hall as she observed the large number of people gathered there. It was evening time. Lucia had left her there to fetch food for both of them and had directed her to seat herself wherever she thought fit. She looked at the faces of the people who ate silently. It was as if the war had taken away their speech. She could recognise a few of them from Hogwarts. They were the youngest ones. There were older people as well, mostly men, but a few groups of females sat clustered here and there on the stiff wooden benches. They talked in hushed voices as they ate. Laughter at the tables was grim and sad. Many picked at their meals, hungry but unwilling to eat.
It was the time of war, after all.
Hermione hadn't been able to locate Tom since afternoon. She had returned to the hospital ward but the nurse had already discharged him. She had wandered around, aimlessly, in the vast grounds that harboured the large number of shelter houses and training centres. She had caught sight of many groups, relentlessly struggling to learn how to fight and defend themselves. A few of them were good, many average and most abysmal. She had roamed around the entire day, going without lunch for her appetite had seemed oddly lost, until she had found Lucia. She had insisted that Hermione eat and had led her to the dining hall in the wooden establishment where Hermione had spent her previous night.
And so she stood there, scouring the hall for empty seats with her eyes when someone whispered in her ear,
"Hey."
Hermione jumped in surprise and jerked her face to see Tom standing right behind her. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You startled me," she said and ran her gaze over his side to confirm that he had healed.
He was perfectly fine. Her eyes lifted to his handsome face.
He was perfect.
"Blame your lack of perceptiveness for that," he said as he ran his hand over her knuckles and raised it up to kiss it. She hesitated and looked around. Everyone was busy. Nobody had noticed Tom's gesture of affection.
For now.
"I needed to speak with you. Where were you all day?" she spoke and crossed her arms. She had felt so lost without him. He observed her for a moment and then shook his head.
"Outside. I need to talk to you as well," he said as Lucia walked to the two of them with identical trays of food in her hand. "But first, you should eat…"
"Hey Tom," Lucia greeted him and handed Hermione her tray of food. "There are a few seats over there, in that corner. Let's hurry before they are taken." With that, she nudged Hermione towards the vacant corner. Hermione looked back at Tom, baffled at her friend's behaviour. He gave her a small nod before he said, "Go ahead. I'll get my dinner and join you. Save me a seat." He winked at her and gave her a small smile as he turned towards the long line of hungry men and women.
"It's a long queue. I could get our dinners quickly because I told the serving lady that you were the Chief's wife and you were waiting," Lucia spoke as they sat down. Hermione didn't hear her as she looked back at Tom's queue, but she couldn't see him. He seemed to have vanished. Lucia noticed where Hermione's eyes lingered and drew her attention to herself by pressing her hand. Hermione turned to look at her in question. Lucia seemed to hesitate, a few emotions flickered in her eyes and she seemed to decide something.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked.
Hermione nodded and picked up her spoon. Now that the food was there, she felt rather hungry. She could feel the baby squirm a bit as well. It had remained quiet all day long and for that she was grateful.
"Is there something between you and Tom, Hermione?" she asked as she forked a few peas in her plate. Hermione's hand stopped moving. She stared at her dish, not willing to answer the question.
It was times like these when she hated people.
She did not want to answer her, of course.
"Lucia…" She put her spoon down and looked at the girl. "I'd rather not talk about it."
Lucia nodded, fingering the forkful of mashed potato, before she said, "Joseph will be here soon."
"What?" Hermione was surprised at her statement.
Surely, not here.
"He was in the line beside me," Lucia mumbled. Hermione turned the fork in her own plate and waited. "He wants to see you, Hermione."
Hermione felt a little guilty that she had not given any thought to her friend since the day before. It wasn't like her to ignore them. She cherished her friends more than anything in the world. Of course she wanted to see him. But in the light of Lucia's revelation, she wasn't sure of his reaction.
But there was one consolation, no matter how Joseph behaved.
Come what may, she would have Tom for solace and support.
He always knew what to do. He could always handle every situation. He'd help.
"There you are, Luce." Hermione heard Joseph's voice behind her before she heard his footsteps.
She felt a wave of warmth cross her heart as she saw him.
She had missed him.
She had missed the mess of jet black hair, the familiar face and the air of gallantry that Harry always carried around him as well.
What was she afraid of?
"Hey, Hermione," he said and flashed her a grin as he sat down on the opposite side. There was nothing out of place with the expression on his face. Maybe Lucia had been wrong… "I have wanted to come see you ever since yesterday but I wasn't let off."
Hermione smiled back at the boy who resembled Harry so much. His face was a bit more drawn than she had seen the last time she had met him. His eyes had lost their lustre and his messy black hair was dirty. She could see a number of injuries on his face and arms but he seemed indifferent to them. He had that strange look in his eyes that comes from having seen horrifying things and having survived them. He looked tired as he beheld her and Lucia. She noticed his eyes travel to her half-hidden stomach but no expression of surprise seemed to cross his face. He frowned, though, in thought as he gazed at her. She noticed the corners of his mouth lower a little but he drew a breath in and shrugged his shoulders.
"So they are true then. The rumours in my group… I heard them talk about you… The Hogwarts guys, you know," he said and picked at the mashed potatoes in his plate. "I had hoped it was a lie. I heard…"
"Heard what?" Tom's voice came from her right side as he reached the small group of former Gryffindors and took his place beside Hermione. Hermione froze, her spoon midway to her mouth as she realised the precarious situation she was in. She looked back at Joseph in panic. Not now. Not yet. He seemed to gaze at Riddle for a long while before he nodded to the boy in acknowledgement.
"Heard what, Joseph?" Tom asked again. Hermione's palms began to sweat and her heartbeat escalated as she saw Tom finger the knife in his hand. Tom couldn't learn about her marriage from Jospeh.
No.
She had to be the one to tell him.
"You managed to get your portion of the food quite early, didn't you?" she turned to him and spoke. "I noticed there was a long line…" she said but her voice trailed off as she saw Tom raise an eyebrow at her flimsy attempt to divert the conversation. He turned his neck to look back at Joseph and placed a warning hand on her wrist. Hermione felt her palms grow colder as she swallowed the dryness in her mouth. She didn't know how he would react. She wasn't afraid of him, no, but still…
"I didn't know you had survived the attack as well, Riddle," Joseph commented as he looked at Hermione's pale countenance. She felt Lucia's gaze on her as well.
"Hermione and I escaped together," Tom said as he picked an apple and took a small bite. Hermione noted that he did not remove his hand from her wrist. So she settled for another tactic, another manner in which to waylay the path where this conversation was headed.
"Why were you in the Hogsmeade that night?" It was a genuine query. She had meant to ask Lucia but somewhere in the haze of panic and confusion the day before, the matter had slipped from her mind. Joseph took a quick look at Lucia at her question before he drew out a golden box from his pocket and placed it on the table. Four pairs of eyes stared at it.
"I… I went to get this for you," he said, sheepishly. "Back then, I had no idea of… your situation. I…"
Damn him. She had almost managed to skirt around dangerous waters and now they were back on the topic. She saw Tom reach for it and hand it over to her. "Thank you, Joseph…" she mumbled, not willing to meet his eyes. She put it in her pocket. Any time now, the proverbial swords would fall on her head.
Well, that was a bit too dramatic.
Even for her.
"What was the situation, Joseph? You're not alluding to her pregnancy, I'm sure…"
She saw Joseph eyes travel from her to Tom and back again before he shook his head slightly.
"Tom… could I talk to you, please? Outside, if you don't mind…" she muttered out of the corner of her mouth as she pushed her tray away from her. It was a last resort, desperate effort.
"In a minute, darling," Tom ran his fingers over her wrist softly before he withdrew them. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She noticed Joseph's lips part in surprise and… anger?
His face had taken on a curious expression and she couldn't quite place it in any category she had known before.
"So what were you saying, Joseph? I would like to hear about any rumours regarding my girlfriend, of course…"
No.
This wasn't happening.
What the fuck!
"Y… your girlfriend?" Joseph looked at Tom, confused. "Do you mean to tell me that you got her into this state? That you knocked up my friend?"
Tom tilted his head, an unreadable expression gracing his handsome features and it was a long while before he replied.
"Yes."
"But… I heard that…" Joseph looked back at Hermione in uncertainty. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Why did he lie?
This wasn't happening.
Not now.
Not here.
Beside her, she saw Lucia fidget in her place. She, of course, knew of Hermione's predicament.
"What did you hear?" Tom asked, indifferently, as he collected the remaining peas in his plate to one side and pierced them one by one with the end of his fork. His grip on Hermione's hand was tight and she sat there in shock.
"I… I suppose you're right. It was only a rumour, after all," Joseph breathed out, apparently relieved. "It was ludicrous. The idea that Snape was married to Hermione was laughable at best. They were talking about how she turned up yesterday and how he said that she was his wife…" Joseph said and let out a shaky laughter. "I mean she's too nice to have anything to do with a man as ruthless as him. Still, I hope that you would do right by her, Riddle…" Joseph's last words were a growl as he stared at Tom's blank face, awaiting an answer.
There it was.
Hermione felt Tom's shoulders go still.
In that rigid posture, he flexed his fingers as he laid down his fork.
Oh Joseph…
"It's true, Joseph," Hermione said as she stared at Tom's stiff body. He seemed to have turned to ice and she could feel the chill radiate from him. His grey eyes were solid and they shone no more as he turned them to gaze at her.
"But… Riddle said…" Joseph stammered, obviously flabbergasted at the behaviour of the pair of them. A muscle moved in his chin and he looked… demented.
"I think Hermione and I need to have a chat, don't we?" He pressed her hand in an indication for her to get up and follow him. They would have a row, it seemed. Hermione got up from the bench and Tom offered her his hand so that she could climb over it. She saw the expressionless nothing in his silver orbs as he helped her up.
"I promise I'll talk to you about this, But please, for me, don't… say another word to anyone," she muttered under her breath so only the two of her friends could hear it before she felt Tom's insistent tug drag her away from the crowded dining room.
"Tom!" Hermione whispered shakily as he dragged her out and they turned corner after corner, slithering through the corridors. She could feel the cold, iron hold of his hands begin to dig into her skin but she didn't resist him. It had to be done.
She had wanted to talk.
The universe had a funny way of providing her with the chance.
She didn't address him after her first attempt and followed him. His footsteps made an odd sound against the dusty wood. She was thankful there was no one around.
Thankful?
"In here." He stopped and threw open a smallish door that hit the wall beside it and made a loud noise. It was a cupboard. Barely big enough to fit the two of them but he pushed her, a little roughly, into it and closed the door behind him, locking and warding it without lifting his wand.
Why the fuck was he so adept at wandless magic?
His eyes were grey and hard. She could see crimson flicker through them now and then.
Their piercing gaze hit her like shards of ice.
His eyes were emotionless crystals of grey and crimson.
Like fire and ice.
Frozen fire.
Burning ice.
She stepped back from him.
"Tom, I…" she began as her back hit the rough wall behind her but he cut her off. He clamped his hand on her mouth and shook his head. He put his other arm on her side against the wall, trapping her.
Trapped.
Trapped?
"No, Hermione. You will not speak," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck.
His eyes met hers before her removed his hand and drew back.
Just a bit.
Suddenly, he rammed his own lips against her with brute force and she cried out, whether in pain or surprise, she couldn't tell. He invaded her small mouth, rapaciously sliding his dry tongue in and out as it battled against her wet one. She responded, willingly or not, she did not know. She knew her lips would bruise when they stopped but she couldn't stop even when his teeth bit into her lower lip and she felt blood crawl down them. She felt the coppery taste of the red liquid on her tongue, intertwined as it was with the liquid taste of his forked tongue. He gripped her shoulder with one hand as his other one went down to her waist and he pushed into her roughly against the small shelf. She would have fallen if she hadn't gripped the sharp edge of a handlebar that was latched to the wall.
And still he kissed her, desperately, voraciously, without stopping, without relenting. Hermione felt an alien smouldering heat spread in her chest as she grabbed his shirt for support but he clamped his hands on her wrists and brought them up against the wooden wall. He pressed against her body, painfully, even though there was a hurdle between them and he didn't stop.
He didn't stop.
He didn't stop and she felt like the back of her cloth was caught on a nail and would tear apart the moment her released her. She felt like she was caught on the piercing nail and her limbs were on fire, like if he let go she would burn and crumple into a useless heap of ashes.
"You know me, Hermione…" he whispered, dangerously, ominously as he grabbed a clump of her bushy hair and pulled back her head so that she looked at his hardened face with glazed eyes, still overcome by his insistent kiss, still wanting, needing more... He trailed his finger over her swollen lip and wiped off the blood that trailed down it. "You have seen the worst of me…"
"I will not let you go, not now…" His voice came out in short stumps of desperate breaths.
More something, something wicked and wrong pooled in her underbelly and spread through her lower limbs.
Gods!
She didn't want him to let her go…
But what about…
He looked frenzied, felt demented and for a moment, Hermione felt uncomfortable.
Not afraid, no, she couldn't feel afraid of Tom anymore.
But…
"I…" she began but he hissed and dug his nails into her shoulder, causing her to yelp as she tried to push him away.
Half-heartedly.
"No. You do not speak." He caught her hands once more and trapped her smaller body against his once more. "Not unless I ask you to…"
He flicked his wrist and she was divested of her robe. Her heart beat loudly in her ears and she felt like maybe she should put an end to his delirious ranting and run out, that someone might know they were here, that her lip was hurt and she had a few scratches on her back as well, that this was too fucking insane and dangerous. That she should run.
Run away.
That perhaps it was wrong, despite the barrenness of her vows to the other man.
But he was Tom.
She could never run away from him.
Not now.
Never.
He yanked her close to himself and began to tear off her dress, his finger creating slits in the fabric wherever he touched and the ripped cloth fell about her in pieces. Finally, he tore off the last shreds of her under covering and pushed her to the floor. She landed on her back, somewhat surprised at the stony expression on his face and her own responsiveness to the same. She felt fucking aroused.
What the hell was the matter with her?
He looked at her with the same steely gaze; she was lying naked on the floor, sensuous, desirable and willing despite his rough handling of her. She closed her eyes; she knew he was seething within and that there was a storm he needed to calm. She had felt the same way a while before. She could sense it in the shifting dark aura of magic around him.
He looked at her for a minute. One entire minute which seemed to stretch and collapse with every expectant beat of her heart and she felt no shame…
"Fuck it!" he hissed and she heard him undo his zipper and his pants were thrown off as he grabbed at her hair once more and dug his nails into her back as he claimed her mouth. She whimpered; the lingering pain aroused her and filled her insides with a burning desire for him. She wondered why that was.
It made no fucking sense!
He bit into her tender neck with the ferocity of a wolf, her soft pearly white neck that had never been devoured thusly. His hands dug into her bottom as he jerked her lower portion towards himself, entering her with much force and she cried at the strange sensation of satiety that his rough handling of her provided. He thrust into her, quickly and viciously, without stopping and groaned above her as he moved her, roughly, getting faster as her cries of pleasure rocked the wooden enclosure.
It felt violent and yet it was something she desired.
She felt like the storm raged inside her and she needed him to quell it.
"I don't give a fuck whom you're married to!" he gasped above her, panting between his hard thrusts as Hermione's nails clawed at his neck. "You don't get to leave…"
She trembled and cried as ecstasy made its way through her and light tremors rocked her petite form.
He shuddered and gasped as he reached his conclusion inside her.
And then, everything stopped.
Suddenly, as if sanity had returned to him, he closed his eyes and his lips parted. He looked at Hermione's flushed face in the darkness for a long while, remaining silent and ran a caressing hand over her face. He then laid his head between her breasts, kissing and tasting her sweat beads as she ran a hand through his hair.
"Tom, I…" she said but Tom's strong hand on her mouth made her shut up once more. He removed his weight from above her and looked into her eyes, his silver gaze softened now but it still had crimson around the edges. She could see the front portion of his neck bob in and out as he struggled to catch his breath. He lowered himself once more and placed his forehead against hers, caressing her cheek gently as he stared into her brown eyes.
"I'd kill him for you, Hermione… You know I would," he murmured into her hair as he kissed her jaw line. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she felt the tingling sensations of fear run down her spine. She shuddered against him.
She knew he wasn't lying.
She was terrified at the implication of his words.
She was terrified of how safe and comfortable she felt under him.
She was terrified that a single step of hers might tip him over the edge and turn him into… Voldemort.
She closed her eyes and let out a breath against his chest.
"Don't give me a reason…" he whispered as he kissed her neck and ran his tongue, his rough tongue against the hardened buds of her chest. He encircled her waist possessively with his stronger arms and raised her to a sitting position so that her back rested against his chest. "You're mine…"
"You're mine…"
He heard himself utter as he placed his chin on the top of her head. The air around them was heavy with the musky smell of sex and desire. He ran his fingers over her arm and her back, healing the few scratches slowly and steadily with the pulsating rhythm of magic that seemed to be bubbling within him. She leaned against him, tired and sated and it didn't matter that the little cupboard was dirty and dark. It didn't matter.
They sat there in silence, each pondering the implications of their closeness.
The insanity, the delirium that had claimed him a few moments ago was… a mistake. He had lost control.
So she was married. That explained why the former professor hadn't been overjoyed at Tom's presence by her side. He could understand that. The terrible stinging rage of jealousy that had coursed through his own veins a while ago was what had led him to take her in such an unceremonious manner. It still thrummed in his blood but he had controlled it.
For now.
The marriage… could be detrimental to what he had planned. Her… husband, he snorted inwardly, wasn't someone he could ignore, he knew that much. He was powerful, he thought as he placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder, and Tom would have to be prepared to face him. He wasn't doing this only for a girl, he told himself. His carefully laid designs had to come to fruition and in that regard; her husband could be a problem. He would have to be eliminated.
Besides, Tom had only just realised something.
He wanted her.
Gods, he wanted her badly.
He had meant it when he had said that he would kill him.
He would.
Because he couldn't let go of her now.
The madness that had arisen within him would not let him. The wild, frenzied actions of a while ago were madness.
What… what had she done to him?
What had he done to himself?
But it didn't matter, did it?
"I'm sorry I hurt you…" he said as he ran his hands through her hair. He liked doing that. He remembered how girls at his Orphanage would play with their dolls nonstop and brush their hair. He had found it ridiculous and had burnt some of them for fun. Oh, how they had cried afterwards… He could understand their fascination now, though. She was his perfect doll.
"No. I wanted it… I wanted you, Tom," she replied and turned to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He felt himself calm down at her words. Perhaps she would provide him with answers now.
He could try.
"Tell me about it. Your… marriage…"
He noticed her head lower itself for a moment before she closed her eyes.
"It… wasn't love, if that's what you're thinking. We were both forced. There was no other alternative, no choice. It wasn't… pleasant," she sighed as she ran her fingers over his wrist. "I didn't want to be bound. I still don't, but wizarding marriages are indissoluble and that's that…"
That's that…
He could hear the resignation in her voice.
That's that, he thought, for now..
Tom took in every word she said, committing all of it to memory so that he could produce it at a second's notice when he began his designs for eliminating the Chief.
Know thy enemy…
"What is it that bothers you…?" he asked, savouring the smell of her in his skin…
"I'm not sure what I'm going to do, Tom…" she whispered, her soft voice a mysterious melody to his ears as he leaned his head against the wall. What was that supposed to mean?
"I don't understand..."
"He… my child… I don't know what I'll do. I'm scared. I want to be here, near you and I doubt he cares very much about my actions but…" She ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I've always been afraid of him. I don't know how he'll react. I don't know what to say… I'm so afraid, Tom… but then I think that I have you and everything seems alright because it works for us, you-you're not like him and you don't hate me but I feel so fucking guilty. It's only been two days, two measly days since I found out that he was alive and can you believe that it wasn't relief I felt at his being alive… That for the tiniest of seconds, I wished he were dead…"
Tom could hear the desperate edge in her voice and he wanted her to stop. He wanted her to stop or he would squeeze her into a crushing embrace and not let go.
He wouldn't let go.
"I was afraid, I've always been afraid of him, even while I was at school trying my hardest to get the best grade but he never even acknowledged my efforts. He always ignored my existence, like I was a being unworthy of his fucking notice, like I was beneath him and it was alright then, it was fine because I didn't consider him worthwhile either. He was fucking demented and mean; I didn't care 'cause there will always be nasty people in this world and you simply overlook their existence to keep your self-respect intact and that's what I did… That's what everyone did…"
She had sworn twice, Tom noticed as a small teardrop landed on her cheek. He wiped it off with the end of his thumb and ran soothing circles on her neck. She didn't know, but she was revealing too much. His mind was alert and keen as he took in every detail that she relayed to him. It would be important, he knew. He would use it.
Not… not against her, though.
"I was happy with Ron, he… I loved him so much… we were going to get married, a grand wedding and all, you know… Harry would've been there," she spoke, her voice choked and harsh. Perhaps it was the tears that turned the soft sounds from her throat hard and guttural with every breath she took. "But that didn't matter, did it? I was forced in to this sham of a marriage with my fucking professor. A man twenty years older than me, it hurt! Oh Tom, I can't tell you how much it hurt that I had to wed soon after Ron died… Pain isn't a good word, no, I have no adequate word for what I felt or how I was wrecked. Every time he touched me, with derision and loathing on his face, I felt like I was being eaten alive by venomous creatures under my skin. I felt like someone was plunging a sharp edged knife incessantly, that every gash drew enough blood to fill the bathtub and I was surprised that I was still alive…"
Tom closed his eyes; a sharp stab of hitherto unknown pain crossed his own chest as he held onto her. She was saying too much… And much of it didn't make sense.
"Hermione, calm down…" he crooned to her gently as he pressed her against himself.
Yes, that felt right…
She belonged with him…
"He poisoned me, he poisoned my spirit and hopes and I didn't realise it for a long time. After all, I was a mere girl, how could I have withstood the full blown assault of his scathing tongue and derision? Sometimes, I just wished that I would die in my sleep and every day I would wake up to be disappointed, it fucking hurt to be alive, to see everything around you shudder and collapse and have no one to turn to… And as if that wasn't enough, I got pregnant… I was all alone, I couldn't possibly tell anyone, could I? He hated me and there was no reason why he would feel differently for any child of mine, all his thoughts went to grave with his beloved Lily… Lily!" she barked out, laughing as she cried, both at the same time. "Oh, she was the one fucking name he clung to, haunted and torn by the guilt that he had caused her death and never remembered that there were other people around him, alive people whose lives would have been so much better if he could just have been less… cruel. It wasn't like I had asked or wanted to be saddled with him… But it hurt, it stung to be so alone… It hurt that he didn't even bother to answer my desperate pleas for help when we were being attacked at Hogwarts. Can you believe it, I would have been more at peace if he had died because I would have known that he couldn't have helped me then, but then I landed here and found out that he was alive and he doesn't tell me why he didn't come for help. You helped me! But then I realise that I was fucking deluded, and it is better for me to realise that and live with it rather than bemoan the fact that he, the one person who should have been there to help, wasn't."
She wasn't coherent anymore, he noticed as he ran his hand over his cheek in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The tugging ache in his heart continued to bother him…
"And then I met you… you hurt me physically and I took it, I had faced that before, I hated you anyway so what difference did a Cruciatus Curse make," she mumbled to herself as she drew up her knees and hugged them. Tom felt a small shiver of guilt pool in his chest as he remembered the day he had cursed her. "I despised you anyway, so it didn't matter… But then you changed and everything turned upside down and I couldn't make sense of the senselessness that had grappled me. You weren't supposed to be nice to me. You were supposed to hurt me as well, you were just another face in the long line of countless many who had reduced me to this pathetic state… I thought it was a trick, a plan so that you could lure me into something sinister and finish me… I knew you too well… But you proved me wrong… The world wasn't black and white anymore, things had changed and I was fucking insane for trusting you but I did it anyway 'cause you were different and you, the epitome of evil, had changed… And I fell for you, the one person responsible for all my agony and sorrows…"
Tom's eyes widened at her words.
What did she mean by those words?
She had known he was evil?
She had known and despised him?
That he was the reason for all her misfortunes? How the…?
Was she slipping into delirium again?
"Tom…?" He shoved all these cogitations into the back of his mind, determined to analyse them piece by piece later when he was alone and looked back at her tear stained face.
"Why did… why did you change?"
"I… I don't, I…" He hesitated.
He didn't know why.
He had changed, that was true.
What had she done to him?
What had he done to himself?
Was the soft ensnare of her warm embrace worth anything in the world, he wondered as he wiped off another tear from her face.
"You were right before. I do know you… I know the worst of you, Tom, and I am afraid of you…" She closed her eyes and ran her hand over his eyes. He closed them, relishing the gentle warmth of her small palm against his skin. "And yet, I know you are different from how I have known of you… I don't want to leave, no, I don't think I could leave even if I tried… But I am terrified of what it means to stay with you… I can't imagine he'd be very happy with the prospect of my running away with you but I want to do it… Even if I feel guilty for breaking my meaningless vows, even if I am afraid of being on the receiving end of his wrath, even if…"
For the last time that night, he clapped his hand over her mouth and shut her up…
"Shh…" he intoned and pressed her against himself. "Don't… don't… say…"
They stayed in that same position for a long time, each relishing the scanty comfort that the other one provided. Tom felt the strange sensation of bliss surround him while, at the same time, he was painfully aware of the acute sting in his chest.
After a long while, he drew back and looked at her. The tears on her face had dried and she looked more composed than ever as she gave him a sad smile.
She'll be fine, he told himself as he conjured a set of robes and inner wear for her. He handed them to her and realised that she hadn't blushed or felt shy at her unclothed state. Her nakedness had provided her with the courage to bare her soul to him…
"We can't leave yet, Hermione…" he spoke as he Scourgified his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head.
"I know."
Tom nodded and stood up, pulling her up with him and embraced her for one last time before they left. He breathed in the delightful smell of her skin, it felt heavenly in his nostrils, and smiled against her neck.
"You can't tell him yet… He holds too much power over here," he warned her, not wanting to engage in an inevitable battle before the right time. In fact, if he played his cards right, he wouldn't even have to worry about that part. But it was too early yet.
"Right."
He saw her gaze despondently at an empty can and scratch its surface absently. He didn't want to leave but they would have to. Besides, he had a long night to ponder over everything she had revealed to him. So many words…
So little time…
"We should go. Where do you sleep?"
"I think I'll bunk with Lucia today but I have to find her first…"
Tom brushed his thumb over her soft upper lip and pressed her against his chest.
She drew back and ran her fingers over his chin. "You've got some stubble… It feels rough."
He smirked at the innocent remark and kissed her forehead once more. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
Severus paced the length of his room, his dark eyes drawn in concentration. Smith sat in the vacant chair, observing his progress in confusion. Five minutes later, Severus stopped and sighed. He ran his hand through his hair and quirked an eyebrow at Smith.
"So what do you think?"
He saw Smith shrug and frown at the same time as he leaned back.
"It might work. But Marcus is vehemently opposed to it, isn't he?"
"He's being foolish."
"I agree to an extent but I can see his point too."
A dark scowl marred Severus's features as he contemplated. Yes, he could understand why Marcus was being difficult, but it wouldn't make much of a difference, really. He'd come around.
"His daughter would have a better chance of survival if she could defend herself and he knows that. He's just… unwilling to see it," Severus said after a long pause.
"I know."
"Maybe… maybe if he were to see that it was for the best, he'd be more amenable to the programme…" Severus raised his eyelid at a small spot on the floor. Yes, it should work.
"How do you mean?" Smith asked.
"Hermione… she's been through this before. She has had to fight… I… she's going to stay here for some time; I thought it might take her mind off things. She'd be able to help…"
Smith looked at him in surprise, Severus noted.
"Weren't you going to get her transferred to the safe house?"
Severus nodded and closed his eyes.
"That plan cannot take course now."
Smith looked at him in confusion, his shrewd eyes trying to figure out the meaning behind Severus's words.
"They'll need to start at the earliest and I think she'll be willing to help."
"I'm not sure if I can offer an opinion on the same," Smith said.
"I'm aware of that. I need you to tell Marcus to get things ready and announce the same to the people. It will be better for them to know of it before we begin, of course. I think that will be all."
Smith nodded ponderously and left the chair, giving Severus an understanding look before he exited the room. Severus took a breath in and slumped into the chair behind the desk. The events of the day came rushing into his consciousness once more as he stared at the papers on his desk.
The former Minister had probably gauged from his conversation that his marriage wasn't a happy one. He was a very perceptive individual and even though Severus had found him to be somewhat cowardly and diplomatic, he wasn't a bad individual. He was good company for silence. He wasn't wrong. What had taken place during the day had cemented his belief in the fact Hermione wasn't… where he was. He hadn't meant to come off as intimidating; he had only meant to do what was the best course of action for her and their child. But she had resisted it. He had felt a surge of anger course through him, it was all too familiar and he had had to make some effort to restrain it. He hadn't wanted to frighten her or anything. He had believed that she would see his point.
But she hadn't acquiesced. She had acted with the same stubbornness he had seen in her during her days at school in the original timeline. No, she had seemed changed, and dare he say… for better? He had seen indignation flare in her eyes at his words. True, he should have discussed it with her beforehand but… he hadn't thought that she would resist.
But she had.
She had changed.
In a few months.
He was still concerned for her well-being but she was safe enough for now. He would make sure of it. The barracks were well protected, their wards were keyed to him and any antagonistic forces would alarm him first. No, she would be fine.
But he was bothered by the vehemence with which she had defended Riddle's behaviour. How could she…? He was the damned Dark Lord! It had caused his blood to boil for a moment but he had managed to overpower his darkness for the time being. He had pledged to treat her well, with respect and consideration, and he would not break the vow. He could sense the fragility of her emotions, though. He hadn't employed Legilimency to sense her thoughts, no, that would have been an unforgivable intrusion and his wife certainly did not deserve the indignity of being subjected to the same. But he could sense the emotions around her when he had paid attention and they were predominantly one of instability. She had changed. But she needed distraction, something to occupy her so that the deplorable bond of friendship between her and Riddle could be broken. Something to do would keep her mind off things. To this end, he had thought she could help in the war effort. She was very skilled with a wand and would be able to help, especially now that he had decided to take all measures to make sure they had the upper hand in the war. She could help the women out there. It had to work. He had no plans of staying around after Grindelwald's threat was eliminated. No, he would make sure that the war was won and his debt would be paid.
He would leave with her and their son; he had no inclination to indulge in any sort of relationship with the society at large. They could settle down somewhere, somewhere far from… this place. He was weary, for too long had he struggled and balanced his life on the edge of a knife and he was ready for a change. He knew that Hermione was probably still… struggling, he had never given much thought to her state of mind before now, but he knew that she wouldn't mind. It would be a relief for her as well.
Relief?
She was so… young. Even now, when he had come to accept her as his wife and was willing to put an effort into their life, he could feel his own reluctance. How could he be a husband to her? It wasn't what she wanted… he knew that. Her response today had shown the same. What had possessed him to do… that? It wasn't proper at all; he hadn't meant to… touch her. And the manner in which she had cringed from his proximity had stung, the way in which her eyes had widened and her voice had reached a hysterical pitch was most distressing. He had felt like he was taking advantage of her in her weakened state, like his father had done so many times with his mother. He hadn't meant to touch her. He hadn't meant to do it.
He hadn't.
Why would he do it?
There was no love…
Love…
He let out a small bark of laughter and reached for a cigarette packet in his drawer. Lighting it with the end of his wand, he let out a few whiffs of smoke. He felt… strange. He felt like he had put a thick veil over his eyes whenever he had looked at her before and now that the veil was lifted, he wasn't sure of what he was seeing. She was far too young to be burdened with the likes of men such as him, he knew that, but there was no alternative to it. And in all honesty, Severus was determined to do the right thing, if only for the sake of their progeny… He would not be like his father, he could not…
No.
That couldn't happen; he'd never turn out like… him.
He would take care of her and their child and that was that. He didn't know what else he could do. But he would keep the promise.
And he hoped that with time, things would be fine.
I'm sorry but everything's such a mess right now. This chapter feels alien and stuff. M just really in a bad condition.
I'll reply to the reviews in the next chapter, I've read them all and I am really grateful for the continued support.
Dont hate me for this.
