Hello everyone!
I hope you are all healthy and well!
Here is the 10th chapter of this story.
Before you start reading, I'd just like to remind you this story is M rated: if you are particularly sensitive to the idea that the Tom in this story is still very young, I suggest you skip the chapter!
For everyone else, just keep in mind that it's a fictional story and no one really ends up psychologically scarred forever!
Thanks again everyone for the reviews and private messages! I am loving making new friends!
Thanks to everyone for the support and for having fun with me!
Hope you will enjoy the chapter!
And now ... where were we? Oh, Right... someone got snitched on! Let's spice things up a bit, what do you say?
Chapter 10: Chérie
His pupils dilated slightly, then shrunk considerably, until they were just two tiny dots in the meadow of his irises.
Hermione saw the muscles in his shoulders flex slightly as he strove to be as gentle and delicate as his large frame allowed.
Her heart was thumping so loudly against her eardrums that when Herbert asked "Are you comfortable, chérie?" in his warm and low voice, making eye contact with her for the briefest moment before turning his focus down low, she feared he may have heard it too.
His glasses were slightly fogged and his forehead and neck, sleek with sweat already.
Hermione hesitated.
She adjusted her legs.
"Yes." She whispered, steadying herself.
"Parfait, alors..." he murmured, "You just stay very still, chérie ... oui? You relax, I put this in… and we're done... we take a break… what is it you say all the time?"
"Easy peasy?"
"Right. Easy peazy. Ready?"
Herbert was an anxious talker.
Whenever he was particularly tense, worried or embarrassed, Hermione had noticed, he would become very talkative. It didn't bother her most of the times, but it could get unnerving when she wasn't particularly calm either, and at the moment she wasn't calm at all.
"Ready." Hermione muttered, without looking up, "Hurry up, I don't know how long I can resist!"
"Oui, chérie... stay... still..." He begun moving closer and Hermione held her breath, "I'll be quick and accurate."
"Gentle… gentle." She commanded, her pupils dilating.
"Ok… ok... here we go. No going back." He whispered, his tongue poked out of the corner of his lips as he adjusted himself.
There was a moment of absolute silence in the room, tense silence, hot and suffocating silence.
Hermione mentally cursed the damn house for forcing them into a windowless room, not quite idyllic in the middle of July.
Then, the silence was broken by the crystalline sound of the sand crystals hitting the containment glass of the Time-Turner.
The cold shiny metal of the jewel shone in Hermione's hands, trembling only slightly in an effort not to cause significant spills.
The sand twisted prettily on itself when it hit the glass that would have imprisoned it, creating microscopic and hypnotic whirlpools, sparkling pink and purple before settling gently on the bottom of the container as if it were just harmless colored sand.
Herbert stopped pouring when the small glass container was halfway full.
As soon as the sand vial in his hand righted back up again, both he and Hermione released the breath they had been holding until then.
Hermione quickly inserted the small golden cap onto the container and gently blew on Time-Turner, to get rid of any possible remnant on its surface.
Herbert put the main vial in its rack and capped it too. A shiver shook him violently as soon as he finished applying a small anti-spill ward around the workstation.
"Are you ok, Herb?"
"Oh, chérie, I think tension affected my nerves. That was positively nerve-racking!" he smiled, raising a shaky hand to show it to her.
Hermione smiled back and took his hand, rubbing it vigorously between her smaller ones.
When her fingers found Herbert's she gasped softly.
There must have been over 100 degrees in that room, and Herbert's hand was frozen solid.
"Woah, Herb, you really need to loosen up a bit! We have two more to fill! You'll give yourself a stroke or something… This isn't the first time you handle the sand!"
"It may not be the first time but still... I find it hard to relax while handling a sand of time that could mess up my entire faculty of conceiving space and time at the slightest mistake..." he laughed nervously.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "When you put it that way… Though, look at me! Tugged nearly seventy years into the past, and I'm a flower! Not a wrinkle nor a dent! As good as new!"
"Except for the runes carved here and there…" He raised a brow smirking, embracing her attempt at lightening the mood.
"Well, yeah, but that was mostly my doing." She grinned.
"Excuse me! I believe I carved several of those on your back myself! You're welcome!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and waved off his smug with an annoyed gesture as she moved away from him and around the desk.
She slipped the time-turner they had just filled into the small wooden box with the Notts crest, lying on the table opposite the workstation, and she pulled out an empty one.
"Anyway," Herbert sat back in his stool, "I'd rather not risk any more undesired time-travelling. It was quite traumatic to have a glimpse into the Middle Ages already..."
They both snorted a laugh.
"Are you thinking about the Notts again?"
"Again?! I'm scarred for life! I mean, chérie, did you see how that crazy old man treated you?"
Hermione frowned, pretending to search through her own memories.
"How he treated me? Must have escaped my attention, I was too focused on the stuffed dragon heads hanging from the living room walls!"
Herbert's jaw dropped theatrically.
"Do you think those were real?!"
"Of course they were real, Herb ... and pure savagery if you ask me!"
"Shit! Then the house-elves heads too?" His eyes grew even wider when his gaze met Hermione's and his nose curled, "Ugh! It can't be! Who the hell would want to stuff an house elf? Is it even legal?"
Hermione shrugged, remembering the several house-elf heads hanging on the walls of Grimmauld place. Stuffing one's most loyal servants was apparently not an unusual practice among families of a certain caliber.
"I doubt Cantankerus Nott cares too much about what's legal and what's not…" she lifted the time-turner so that it would dangle between them, "Unfortunately… that played in our favor… Merlin, I don't think I've felt this guilty in ages."
"Rather," scoffed Herbert, "I never thought it possible to find such magical advancement in such deeply ignorant and retrograde individuals ..." Herbert muttered, cracking his fingers and rubbing them, lost in thought.
It was true.
Visiting the Nott family had been a weird experience and not one Hermione would be eager to repeat.
The Nott family was a living oxymoron.
From the point of view of magical and scientific progress, the Notts represented the pinnacle of the avant-garde of the time.
Their Archamps estate was equipped with more state-of-the-art potion labs than bedrooms.
Whole wings of the house were dedicated exclusively to the storage and study of the most curious magical artifacts; there were so many libraries in that house, that there seemed to be one for every possible subject one could think of; the park, which extended for acres all around the boundless property, was filled with cages and fences housing the most disparate fantastic beasts, and greenhouses and gardens, where the rarest and most precious plants grew and bloomed beautifully.
The men of the Nott household were all quite well versed in alchemy, the art of brewing potions, curse breaking (or making, depending on the need) and working with magical metals. The women of the Nott household were well versed in the arts of healing, herbology and astronomy (and Hermione had a feeling, they would have been well-versed for a lot more, hadn't they had to abide by the limits imposed on their gender).
Of course, Hermione had already had a taste of the family's passion for study and of their innate prowess in the magical arts, thanks to Eurus.
Eurus Nott was in fact, among the most brilliant students of Hogwarts, and Tom's study partner par excellence.
The boy was so quick in learning and mastering complex spells and concepts, that Hermione had often wondered what could have gone wrong in Eurus' lineage to justify the existence of the future Theodore Nott, a boy so little academically relevant to deserve a round of applause whenever he was able to distinguish his wand from an ordinary twig (or his own head from Malfoy's arse...)
Unfortunately, part of the answer to Hermione's quandary came when she and Herbert arrived to Archamps.
As wonderfully open-minded as the Notts were about their studies, they were also the most conservative pureblood family one could ever think of.
The family walked such a fine line between being conservative and being ignorant goats about it, that it became easier to explain how some of its members might have disconnected from the more intellectual streak of the family, to embark on full-time supremacist madness instead.
The examples of how antiquated they could be in that regard were many, striking and not at all concealed.
Indeed, the Notts seemed to have gone to great lengths to ensure that their political and social tendencies would soon be obvious to anyone stepping into their not so humble abode.
To begin with, the house was stuffed with house elves, completely naked house elves, walking around with PHYSICAL chains tying their bony ankles and wrists, ridiculous considering how their very own servile nature would provide a strong enough chain itself.
The walls of the house were covered with trophies of not-quite-legal hunts and artifacts celebrating the superiority of the pureblood race.
Smaller versions of the hideous statue Hermione had seen in the Ministry of Magic under Voldemort's short dictatorship, the one depicting muggles crushed under figures of noble-looking pureblood witches and wizards, were scattered throughout the house and the gardens.
Several books and posters, left in strategic areas, hinted at the family's penchant for Grindelwald's revolutionary ideas regarding the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, others, glorified Muggle persecution to the point that perhaps Grindelwald himself would have been a little outraged, since his propaganda wasn't all that extreme in that sense.
However, if those weren't glaring enough examples of the Nott's fixation for race purity ... looking at how the family had decided to handle Hermione, would have eliminated any remaining doubts.
The Notts had hosted Herbert and Hermione in the name of the good relationship with the Flamels, a relationship based solely on magical research and their mutual love for science, which had often lead to the two families to take advantage of each other's brains and resources over the centuries.
However, from the moment Hermione had been introduced as a Granger, which identified her as a half-blood at best (she doubted the Notts had thought Herbert crazy enough to bring a muggleborn into their home), the warm welcome the Notts had clearly prepared for their guests had become anything but.
Nott's mother, believe it or not the most progressive of the house, had opted to treat Hermione as nothing too different from the creatures she fostered in her luxurious gardens.
Whenever Hermione had tried to strike up a conversation, the woman had simply shrugged and smiled condescendingly, the way one would have smiled at a talking parrot.
Cantankerus, a step ahead of his wife instead, had decided that Hermione (who also came with the aggravating circumstance of being a woman and moreover, not married), would not have spoiled his pure world with her uncomfortable existence.
The paterfamilias solution, therefore, had been to ignore the girl's existence completely.
Child's play for him, since he wasn't the talkative type to begin with.
The couple had been so openly annoyed by Hermione's dubious ancestry, that she had been rather surprised to have received a seat at the dinner table (however, her glimpse of hope would have been soon annihilated when, halfway through the dinner, the hosts had made it clear: Hermione had been allowed to sit at the table only because she was a friend of the Flamels and, alas, Eurus' teacher).
It had been a humiliating and rather gloomy stay.
Herbert had immediately offered to leave, indignant at the Notts' behavior, but Hermione had insisted that they sucked it up and stayed, reasoning that as disgustingly racist and retrograde as they were, the Notts had kept their word and had crafted the three promised time-turners within the promised deadlines.
The least Hermione and Herbert could do was pay off as agreed, and if the Flamels had promised to lend the Nott family Herbert's expertise and his knowledge in the care of magical beasts in exchange for the time-turners, then that was exactly what they would have granted.
Hermione had preferred to be discriminated against and looked down upon for a couple of days, rather than be the cause of a feud, plus, she had not wanted to risk ruining the relationship between Tom and Eurus, considering that the number of boys Tom seemed really fond of, was already quite meager as it was.
As a consequence, Herbert had been in a foul mood the whole time of their stay and Hermione had spent most of her time locked up in their room or ransacking the way too many libraries in the house, trying to be as invisible as possible.
However, when on the third day Herbert had entered the room asking her if she'd rather leave the next morning or that same evening, Hermione hadn't had to think about it twice. She'd been out the door in just under five minutes, all packed and ready to go.
"Should we fill the second one and see how it goes?" Herbert asked glancing at the vial on the table, "I wonder whether it will be enough for the three… it doesn't look like there's much of it left…" he mumbled to himself.
Hermione nodded and begun unscrewing the golden cap of the second time-turner with delicate movements.
"Nasty family those Notts, I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like them..." She added to the previous topic of conversation, "By the way, a real shame for their son! Oh, you should meet their son, a brilliant boy indeed, Herb!"
"Oh yes! A phenomenal boy!" Herbert said enthusiastically.
"Precisely!" Hermione nodded cheerfully as she made her way back to the workstation, "He really is a marvel! He and Tom are just a deligh... wait ... what… how do you know?"
"How do I know, what?"
"About Eurus?"
"The boy?"
"Yes, Eurus Nott ... he wasn't in Archamps ..." Hermione's heart squeezed slightly in apprehension.
She hadn't seen Eurus during their stay in Archamps and had assumed he'd decided to spend the holidays with Tom and the other boys back in England.
It had also been quite relieving!
First of all, Hermione appreciated her student not being present while his parents treated her like a dirty rag.
Secondly, the absence of Eurus, therefore the absence of witnesses, had spared Hermione from writing Tom about her visit to Archamps… which would have involved making up excuses as to why she had gone there to begin with, as well as admitting she had had to share a room with Herbert...
"Of course he was there! Eurus was my ray of light in the dark, if I may say so." Herbert thundered gleefully, failing to notice the life being drained from Hermione's face, "A sensational boy! If it weren't for his help I would never have been able to treat the Thestrals in such a short time! A very curious boy! He asked a lot of interesting questions! Lots about you too! Could it be, he has a little crush on his teacher? Well, we can't blame him, can we?" Herbert grinned as he adjusted his stool, "He wasn't allowed to have dinner with the adults. Some rules, uh? I just don't get all of these ancient etique…"
Finally, Herbert looked up and the words died on his lips as his eyes met Hermione's ghostly complexion.
"What is it, chérie? Do you feel ill? Is it the heat?"
"I ... um ... I didn't know Eurus was at home. So ... he… so he asked about me ... hm? How… nice…" Hermione coughed and gulped loudly, trying to fight the sudden dryness of her mouth.
Fuck. Fuck, indeed.
He knew. Tom knew. Not only did he know she had shared her room with Herbert of all people… he knew she hadn't told him too.
There was no way in hell Eurus had kept his mouth shut… that boy had a lot of good qualities and unfortunately his loyalty to Tom was one on them.
So long for all the trust work she and Tom had done... why did she always fall into the same error pattern? What was she? Stupid or something? Why hadn't she just told him?
Could she fix it now somehow? Could she just write a letter now?
'Oh by the way, I went to Archamps, such a nice and creepy place. I shared my room with the men you gave me hell for in the past year and a half! But no worries, love, no funny business there! Why, mostly because I'm an idiot and I'm helplessly falling for a boy I basically raised myself! Xoxo, love, 'Mione'
Well, wouldn't that have been a fun historical record of Hermione's existence for posterity?
"Hermione, chérie, you sure you're all right? You're shaking…"
Hermione jerked out of her thoughts and Herbert shot forward, one hand cupped under the time-turner, eyes as wide as his round glasses.
Hermione gave him an apologetic smile and laid the jewel into his steadier hands, "I'm sorry, this… you may be right, Herb, the heat must have gotten to me, could we perhaps take a break? I could use some fresh air."
"Sure, let me take care of this mess, you go ahead, look for the kitchen, drink something. Have you even had anything to eat today…?"
"I think there has been nothing edible in the house for a while now... the last thing I remember eating was those stale biscuits we found in that library... was it yesterday?"
Herbert smiled kindly.
"I reckon more than that… look, you may still make it to the baker. There is still a long way to go before the curfew."
"Yeah, I guess I could eat something..." she lied, as her stomach twisted on itself completely shutting down at the mere idea of receiving food right now.
"There's money in my jacket, on the armchair, yes there, do not forget the ration book. I'll be down in a minute and start the tea, we can get back to the second time-turner later tonight, we'll see about the third one..."
Hermione nodded, gave Herbert a peck on the cheek and walked away on wobbly knees.
As the house led her through a ridiculous number of messy living rooms, small armies of cats and rooms carpeted with paintings loudly lamenting Perenelle's artistic additions to their canvases, Hermione worked on lowering her heartrate.
She barely even noticed when the house finally took pity on her, letting her out on the street.
Ok, so… no one likes being caught in lying, obviously, however the strong physical reaction she was experiencing seemed a bit exaggerated.
Hermione frowned at her shaky hands.
This was certainly not her. Panic over such nonsense?
After all, what had really happened?
Yes, she had omitted her visit to Archamps…
Was it really that bad?
Of course it's not that bad, you stupid bint, whispered a sour voice in Hermione's head, after all, it was just the trigger for one of your most furious arguments in the past ... the one that started to radically change your entire relationship... No a big deal, right? Plus… you have the ability to get caught whenever your 'omissions' involve a certain Flamel… good luck with that.
Hermione swallowed hard and clenched her hands into fists.
How many times have you already promised you wouldn't lie to him? Cause, more than once feels like one too many already… good example you're setting there, by the way! Ten points to Gryffindor…
"Agh… I fucked up, haven't I?" Hermione whined quietly to herself as she crossed the road and walked into the shop.
There was no chance that Tom wouldn't be currently furious with her.
Damn, Eurus… no… damn her!
Maybe she deserved it ... maybe she deserved the huge fight awaiting for her back home.
Perhaps now she'd lose the damn habit of lying over such trivial matters! If only she'd told him!
Yeah, he'd be pissed anyway, but not as pissed off as he would have been now ...
"Mademoiselle." Greeted the baker, getting up from a creaking seat and leaning over the counter.
"Monsieur, une miche de pain, s'il vous plaît." she asked the baker for a piece of bread, her French accent uncertain but not enough to arouse suspicion apparently.
"Carte d'Alimentation?" Asked the old man.
Hermione held out the Flamels' ration book, the baker jotted down something on it and handed it back, walking away to get the bread.
Hermione smile faded as soon as the man turned his back on her. Her heart was still beating too fast, her head was spinning slightly.
Had she ever been so upset about such trifles before? She couldn't recall ever feeling like this… It felt so irrational and overwhelming.
Hermione brought a hand over her heart and pressed firmly against it, breathing in and out, slowly.
Maybe she was blowing things out of proportion.
Maybe Tom would have understood that she hadn't told him about Archamps because after all, it had been a short business trip and nothing else…
Yes. She would have apologized and it would have worked out for the best.
He wouldn't have been too jealous of the Herbert matter, because she had already explained to him that there was no need to worry about that.
Besides, why did she care so much about Tom finding out about Herbert?
It would have been much better had Tom thought her involved with another man ... might have even helped restoring the right distance between them.
In fact, despite what she had believed or hoped for, the month in Paris had done little and nothing to rebalance the feelings she had begun to feel for Tom.
Sure, working full-time on the Time-Turners had distracted her from those unhealthy feelings.
In her first week in Paris, Hermione had even deluded herself she'd easily gotten over that silly crush, but then… well, she'd found out why they called it a distraction and not a solution.
Soon she had started having dreams, dreams as vivid as memories, dreams waking her up sweaty and flustered in the middle of the night, dreams that made her ashamed of herself and of what her mind was capable of producing despite the lack of references.
So who knew, maybe a good fight would have been a better solution ...?
Perhaps a nice quarrel would have worked the miracle.
The very thought of having to push Tom away instead of bringing him closer made Hermione's eyes sting with tears.
She felt like she had lost her way.
She had always been so sure of the clear difference between good and evil, right and wrong ... yet ever since she had stepped into the past, ever since Tom had fallen into her life ... she hadn't been sure of anything anymore.
Hermione thanked the baker and walked back to the street with the warm bread under her arm.
She took a big breath of the warm July air and then slowly exhaled.
Her head had started to ache and her fingers tingling.
There was no doubt, all hell would have broken loose upon her return to Hogsmeade, however, she told herself with little consolation, there was still a whole week before she'd have to go back ... so she still had plenty of time to think strategies and apologies...
In the meantime, she really needed to calm down, she couldn't unscramble the eggs, could she?
Someone used to say that all the time… was it her mom?
Hermione blinked several times in the late afternoon sun, which still flooded the street coloring it in all shades of red and orange.
She shrugged. Oh well. She would have figured it out.
She began to retrace her steps, making her way home and taking refuge in her worries about time-turners as a last resort to escape from that stubborn sense of guilt, which continued to haunt her guts despite her resolve to worry about Tom later on.
Hermione walked up the steps to the Flamels' house, she opened and walked through the front door, placed the piece of bread on the console table in the entrance hall, and took off her satchel to hang it on the coat rack in the corner.
She took a look in a mirror and smoothed her wild curls absentmindedly, then turned to retrieve the bread.
She was so engrossed in her own worries that it took her way too long to notice anything.
When she did notice though, her jaw dropped.
"What the hell?"
Hermione spun on her heels, her eyes wide in surprise, her mouth half-open.
The room she had entered was a neat entrance hall, with high ceilings and whitewashed walls.
There were no retouched whining paintings along the walls, but large golden frames hosting precious landscapes, sleeping busts of illustrious historical figures and majestic fantastic beasts.
Huge two-story windows overlooked the street, letting the red light of the approaching sunset through neat and transparent window panes.
There was no trace of the small communities of semi-stray cats that inhabited the corridors of the house, there were no notes pinned to the handrail of the huge staircase in front of her, the mirror was crystal clear and it hadn't cussed even once yet, and the floor was entirely book-free.
The entrance smelled clean and freshly painted.
The idea that she had entered the wrong house crossed her mind, but then again, how many other magical houses could there be in the neighborhood?
"... Herb? Nicolas? Perenelle?" Hermione called out, wincing slightly as her voice bounced across the wide rooms, echoing throughout the house.
Something was definitely fishy about the whole situation... Hermione drew her wand from her pocket and held it at her side as she called for the Flamels again, taking a few steps forward.
"Herb?"
"Hermione!" Perenelle's voice rang through the silence.
Hermione jumped and whirled towards the sound, only to see Perenelle running towards her.
With her sloppy clothes, covered in cat-fur and paint, and hair full of pieces of paper, Perenelle was completely out of tune with the current surrounding environment, as was Hermione to be fair, although the latter retained a slightly less deranged look in her knee length A-line Muggle dress.
"Hermione! Honey! We have a guest!" The woman said cheerfully, grabbing Hermione's wrist to then proceed to drag her in the direction she'd come from.
"Guest? What ... what happened to the house? Where are ... the cats? Where are the others?" Hermione asked in confusion, blinking rapidly and gaping as Perenelle dragged her from an impeccably tidy library to a richly decorated dining room.
"What the…?"
Perenelle stopped short in front of a door.
She turned slowly and leaned towards Hermione confidentially.
"We were all working when the house got reassembled. You should've seen it! Two minutes of raging chaos! It was incredible!"
"WHAT?!"
"Yes! It kicked us out of our labs and sealed them up. All the paperwork, the books, the formulas… even the time-turners, the sand ... all sealed." Hermione gasped, her wand hand raising to cover her mouth.
Before she could ask more, Perenelle smiled widely before adding, "We got scared, then ... well then someone knocked on the door ... you should have warned us, dear!".
"Warned about wh…"
But Perenelle had already opened the door and stepped into the next room, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow and find out what this was all about for herself. So she did.
She followed in and her bewilderment only increased as her eyes landed on the scene before her.
The room was a nice tea lounge, richly furnished with French-style antiques.
In one corner, near a window, Nicolas was awkwardly rearranging some teacups on a tray, his hands were stained with so many layers of ink that he kept leaving colorful prints on the fine china, despite the obvious attempts to do as little damage as possible.
Herbert instead, and that was when Hermione's brain pretty much shut down, was sitting in an armchair in the center of the room, across from a stiff, livid and impeccably dressed Tom Riddle, whose eyes had pierced Hermione from the moment the door had opened.
What was that thing she had been thinking? Something about having time to find a strategy?
"T… Tom?" She stammered, her heart sinking in the depths of her stomach.
Tom parted his lips but was brutally cut off.
"Chérie!" Thundered a cheerful and unaware Herbert, "You didn't tell us the boy would come!"
At the words 'chérie' and 'boy' the vein in Tom's temple throbbed visibly and Hermione saw his Adam's apple bob violently.
Her legs trembled under her weight and she felt herself blushing.
Heck, even in a situation like this, all she could think about was how gloriously handsome he was.
Could he have grown any more in the last month? Or was it just that she hadn't seen him in a while? Perhaps the obvious murderous fury swimming behind his quiet façade made him look bigger?
Something was really wrong with her head…
Thank God her brain started up again after only a few moments of silent ogling and savage panicking.
"Tom!? What are you… doing here!? How did you get… what happened?! Tom! You're here!"
In three quick strides Hermione was hugging him.
In fact, she had crashed into him so fast that Tom, who had just risen from his chair, staggered back slightly before finding his balance again.
Marseille soap, chocolate and mint, home, heat. God, he was tall.
The butterflies in Hermione's belly came to life in a raging riot, threatening to rip her in half for good. Then one by one, they dropped dead along with any hope that they wouldn't necessarily have to fight.
Hermione winced.
She had expected it, she had seen it coming, but it was ominous experiencing it nonetheless: Tom's arms didn't close around her in a hug, they remained rigid along his hips.
The heat emanating from him began to burn, turning into an almost physical barrier pushing against her.
Under Hermione's cheek, Tom's heart was beating to the rhythm of what could only be blind anger. His muscles felt tense and ready to snap.
His magical core was buzzing furiously, almost humming out loud.
"Oh! So, young Tom managed to surprise you too!" Nicolas chuckled, "Well done boy! We are so very glad you decided to pay us a visit! We were extremely curious to meet you! Hermione talks about you constantly!"
Hermione loosened the one-sided hug and took an awkward step back.
She had to get Tom out of there before he'd burst into flames.
Surprisingly, and somewhat frighteningly, when she looked up at him, she found that he was smiling warmly at Nicolas.
"Sir, I assure you, the feeling was entirely mutual. Hermione told me so many good things about you all ..." he took a short pause to stab her with a glare, "That I couldn't help myself from dropping by as soon as the chance presented itself! My apology! I should've warn of my arrival, perhaps I acted too impulsively."
"Don't worry, boy! Carpe diem, right? You did well! You did great! We needed a little break anyway! Tea?" Nicolas cheerfully walked to the table in the center of the room, followed by his floating tray of tea cups.
Hermione saw Tom's eyes linger on the inked edge of the china, he bit his lower lip.
Tea was clearly the least of his thoughts.
"Gentlemen, madam," he said, bowing gracefully to Perenelle, who in the meantime had pulled a large brush from her pocket and was looking languidly at the pristine painting of a hippogriff, looking back at her with sincere concern on its beastly features, "I hope you won't think me terribly rude, but I truly need to have a word with Hermione first, with your permission, of course. "
"Oh! What a polite boy!" Perenelle chirped, "And so handsome too!" She added with a wink, "Of course boy, you can have Hermione for as long as you want! Before you go, can I ask you a favor, Tom?"
"Anything for you, madam."
Hermione saw Herbert grin behind his cup of tea and pierced him with a sobering glare.
"Please, dear boy, if it's not too much to ask, do drop the formality! We're not used to it! I know we just met and this may sound a bit forward, but you are family to us! You and Hermione both. No need to be so formal with your family!"
Tom smiled at the woman and nodded, Perenelle smiled gleefully back at him.
Sweet, naïve Perenelle.
Hermione knew Tom well enough to know that none of Perenelle's affectionate words had affected him positively.
Formality was Tom's refined tool to keep others at the right distance, a distance he needed for more than one reason.
The only ones Tom had ever allowed access beyond his wards were Hermione and Aberforth and Hermione had the distinct feeling that it would continue to be that way for a while, despite the kindness of the Flamels. Bless their huge hearts.
"Off you go, you two are excused!" interjected Nicolas, "Tom, boy, come back later if you please! I'd love to have a chat with you or play a game or two!" He pointed to a shelf, where a large inlaid wooden chessboard lay open, supporting two small armies of carved and painted porcelain soldiers.
Hermione had already told Tom about that board.
Nicolas had built it himself and had bewitched each of the pieces so that the battles were now truly sensational events, both for those who played and for those who observed.
Hermione generally observed, as chess wasn't her strong suit, but she knew Tom to be very good when playing with his friends and she had a feeling that he would have loved that chessboard… had he been in the right mood, of course.
"With great pleasure, sir ... ehrm ... Nicolas." Tom muttered.
Tom gestured for Hermione to lead the way, and Hermione hesitated, fidgeting on the spot.
First of all, she was in no hurry to go and argue with him and in even less of a hurry to be alone with him, as she was still completely unprepared and her heart was basically about to squeeze out of her throat.
Secondly, she honestly had no idea where to lead him, since she too had never seen the house as it appeared now.
"Chérie?" Hermione cringed slightly and leaned over to peek at Herbert, "Think you can share your room, the one on firstfloorsecondontheleft, with Tom? We haven't had time to prepare one for him! Or should we fix him a room right now?"
Oh, thank Merlin, Herbert!
Hermione sighed in relief.
Upstairs second of the left.
"Erhm ... ok, sure Herb. I mean, we're used to share the room anyway, no need to bother, I think… I mean unless… Tom?"
Tom raised a brow at her confused stammering, then turned to face Herbert. It felt surreal to see them both in the same room.
"No need to bother with a second room, Herbert. We'll share. Thank you." Tom spat his thanks between clenched teeth and then motioned for the door with renewed purpose.
Hermione had to make an effort not to jump at the sight of what was supposed to have been her room all along.
This house was way more surprising and magically-charged than she had ever thought.
Her room was beautiful and undeniably… hers.
It was a cozy room, with light wooden floors, white walls and delicate antique furniture.
A nightstand she had never seen before, was covered with the books she had been reading until the night before. The large closet 'had been left' ajar, showing part of her clothes.
In the center of the room stood a huge four-poster bed that looked slightly slept-in; at its feet was Hermione's trunk, locked and devoid of the layer of dust and cat hair that had covered it until that very morning.
Along the walls were four large bookcases, neatly loaded with volumes of all kinds, along with a small desk, on which all Hermione's correspondence had magically materialized along with some of her personal effects.
The room even smelled like her.
This was a fascinating piece of magic right here.
However impressed by it though, at the moment Hermione's focus was on Tom, who stood stiffly near 'her' desk, looking anywhere but in her direction.
"Ok, I… I think I know why you're here…"
"No shit, Chérie." He snarled, still refusing to meet her eyes.
"Just, will you please listen to me first?"
Tom turned his back to her, walking towards one of the bookcases instead.
He ran his fingers over the volumes stacked there, apparently studying the titles with fascination.
When it became clear that he wasn't about to say anything, Hermione broke the silence.
"Tom, I know you've heard about Archamps, Eurus must have told you about it and I swear, it's not what it looks like!"
Oh! Nice cliché, you idiot! She wished she'd had more time to think about this…
Nothing. He kept his back to her, kept browsing through the books.
Hermione moved away from the door she had been leaning against and took a couple of steps towards him, guilt pulling her closer. She needed to feel Tom closer, make sure he wouldn't withdraw.
That need was just as stupid as it was visceral.
"We… went to Archamps to collect some study material for the Flamels, we only stayed a couple of days and... I would have told you! I didn't… I didn't think it'd be such a big deal!"
Still no response.
"I'm sorry... I realized how bad that would've sounded way too late…"
He pulled down one slim volume, leafed through the pages then put it back.
"Tom there was no need for you travel this far, you know? I would have told you all about it next week! If you were so worried, you could've sent a letter or…"
Finally, he turned to look at her.
His eyes hadn't been so cold since the morning she'd found him on that damned beach in Dorset. Hermione's stomach folded in on itself.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Is my presence inconvenient? Is it too bothersome to have to lie to my face rather than hiding behind your scrolls?"
"Don't be silly now! Of course I'm glad you're here! What I meant ..."
"Oh, glad? You're glad I'm here, are you?"
"Of… course I am, Tom!" Hermione took another step toward him and cringed when his eyes followed the movement and his upper lip twisted slightly in annoyance.
"Should've seen your face when you saw me downstairs… You looked many things, glad wasn't one of them..."
"Why… I was surprised! I didn't expect you'd travel this far for something so sill…"
"Silly, right?! I'm the silly one, Hermione, right? Do you even know what would have happened had someone other than Eurus Nott seen you in Archamps, travelling alone, with a man? Had any other student seen you? Someone with more gossip-inclined parents perhaps?"
"This is nonsense, you of all people, giving me the talk? I'm not a child, Tom, I don't need to…"
"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION."
"Don't raise your voice with me!"
He bit his lower lips and took a deep breath, apparently summoning every bit of his scarce patience.
"Answer me."
Hermione hesitated.
They stared at each other for a long moment before she spoke again.
"No, Tom, I don't know what you THINK would have happened! I'd like to speculate though, that anyone else would have figured out we were just two researchers retrieving research material!"
"Well then, fuck me, Hermione! 'Cause you're lying to yourself too!"
He laughed bitterly moving a few steps in her direction.
Suddenly, wanting to get closer to him didn't seem such a great idea anymore.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Means that had anyone else seen you wandering France with a man, alone, and without a fffucking ring on your finger, Hermione, sleeping ..." Tom's voice choked in his throat and he had to cough in order to continue, "sleeping in the same room," his face twisted into a grimace but he didn't give her time to correct him or deny those words, "Your reputation… your reputation would have been ruined. Then what about school? And us and…"
"Oh! Please, now you're being dramatic! Who gives a damn about my reputation!?"
"I DO!"
"Yeah, well how convenient! Worrying about my reputation only when you're not involved in the 'ruining it' part?! We're locked in a bedroom and this is still a pureblood household, ain't it? So when does the rule truly apply then?!" Shit she was giving in to his mood.
Hermione needed to be calm.
Be the calm one.
She begged herself mentally.
"HOW CAN YOU EVEN COMPARE THE TWO THINGS?!" He snapped, "What world you live in?! Do you think I'd ever EVER let anything happen to you! That I'd sully yours and my name?!"
"SULLY MY NAME? I'm not some pureblood daughter, Tom!"
"I'd never, I'd… never!" His chest rose and fell rapidly and his fists clenched to the rhythm of his anger.
"Come on, Tom, this is just another fight over Herbert and our trust issues, I get it, I GET IT, I do, Tom! I know I made a mistake! I should've told you, ok? I'm sorr…"
"I don't give a fuck about your apology! I'm sick of your shit! I'm sick of all of this! Why do you keep lying to me? Why do you keep hiding shit from me?! Why do I feel like we've had this conversation way too many times already!?"
"That's exactly why I wanted to apologize! I know how it looks but…"
"I don't want you to apologize, I want you to come clean once and for all! I want to…"
Tom's chest swelled and the vein in his neck throbbed, he moved forward, then froze on the spot, as if he had just violated some mental rule of his.
He took a deep breath and blinked a few times under her puzzled gaze.
"Are… you all right?"
"I… need to breathe."
"Tom…"
"Shut up. I'm about to fucking die or… explode… or both."
"Tom, just sit down… do you need to…"
"Just shut up. I'm… I'll be damned if I feel sick now. Too fucking mad to… feel sick. Shut up."
She did. She sealed her lips and waited.
It took him three full minutes before he could speak again.
Hermione felt like crying.
How had this escalated so fast?
"I don't care about your apologies," his voice faltered slightly, as if he were about to cry or had a lump in his throat, "But we're doing something about your lying, Hermione, we're doing something about it right now!"
"Fine! I know I fucked up, Tom! I'm not an idiot! I'm just saying, this thing is blowing out of proportion! It wasn't as bad as you're making it and…"
"NOT AS BAD?!" He yelled, "You fucking promised! YOU.."
Tom's hand snapped before his own brain could catch the movement, it was obvious in the way his own eyes widened in surprise when his fingers wrapped around Hermione's neck.
"Don't. You. Dare. Hit me. Tom. Riddle."
And now she knew why he had tried so hard to keep himself in check.
"Let. Go. Now."
He let go of her as if he'd burned himself and stepped back.
"I'm… sorry… I…" his lips moved around empty words.
Hermione realized she really had to calm down now.
Interacting like fire and gasoline wouldn't have lead anywhere anyway.
If he was making an effort not to explode, maybe she could avoid biting back at his every sentence and try to see things from his point of view too, even if his point of view was clearly altered by jealousy.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward trying to take his hand in hers. He pulled it back, she took it once more. Slowly, gently, she closed her fists around his index and pinky and waited silently until he took a breath and decided she could keep his hand for herself.
"Tom, let's… just breathe ok? What is it I can do? How can I fix this? Just…. Just tell me, ok? Let's stop… the fighting. I think we're both losing sight of the point here. I don't want this to escalate any more than this. Just, just how do we fix it? Can we?"
"No… no more lies. I'm… I'm so sick of feeling all of this… this mess. I just…" He looked so lost, drowning in the tide of his feelings, Hermione's heart clenched.
She nodded.
A thick silence settled in the room. For a while the only sound was that of Tom, catching up with his breath.
"I… do care about your reputation… but I… You're right. I rushed here 'cause I was fucking furious about that French arsehole downstairs." He said after a while, breathing heavily through the words, squeezing them out with the calmest tone he could manage, "I just can't stand his existence, not if I'm not around, not if… I don't know that you're… mine. Not if he sleeps in your room."
"Tom! I swear…"
"I came" He cut her off, "because, you won't stop lying to me and that just drives me nuts! And you know it! You fucking know, yet you can't help yourself, and I have no idea why. It's just us… it's just us. Me! Hermione, it's me! And I thought I proved I could take this kind of shit when we argued at the Inn last time… I thought… you'd stop keeping things from me then… thought you knew we could talk about... stuff! I just I don't get it. Why?"
"I know, I know, I get that! I'm sorry about that! I didn't mean to lie… it looks like I do it on purpose but… Tom you're…"
"Stop! Stop apologizing! You're doing that again! I don't need that!"
Hermione sobbed.
"I'm done with the lying, Hermione! I told you the truth, ok? I was honest. It wasn't all about the reputation thing, ok? You were right. Now… Now… I told the truth."
She nodded stupidly.
"It's time you do too."
She shook her head no.
"I don't know what to say, Tom. I don't know, what is it you think I lied about? I told you about Archamps and…"
Oh, there were so many things she was lying about, so many lies she had lost count of them over the years.
There was so much he didn't know, so much he couldn't know, ever.
A fit of sobs shook her and she unconsciously moved closer to him, looking for some kind of shelter.
Tom sighed.
"Did something happen with him?"
"Oh. Not this again, Tom! I'm not…"
"Did it?"
"Tom."
"ANSWER ME." He took a deep breath under her glare, "Please, please, I won't raise my voice, I won't. Just answer."
No more lies. Those words boomed in her head and she didn't even give herself time to consider a strategy before blurting out the answer. So long for using Herbert for distance...
"No, nothing happened, Tom."
"Why haven't you told me? About the trip, Hermione… I mean… you told me about Paris, why not Archamps?"
"I… I didn't think it would be such…"
"Hermione, stop fucking lying or I'll tear the whole house down, I swear."
"I didn't… want you to be… mad at me again, Tom! I had to go, I knew it would be just Herbert and me and I… THIS! I didn't want this to happen again! Didn't want to fight for such nonsense! I fucked up! It wasn't such a big deal to me so I just went! I didn't think… I…" Treacherous tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, "I didn't mean to make such a mess, didn't mean to hurt you, I swear! It just didn't occur to me that you'd take it this bad! I should've… just…"
What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she hysterical? Why was she even crying? What was she, twelve or something?! Yet she just couldn't help herself.
Tom stared at her for a long silent moment, then he seemed to shake out of some kind of daze.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands with a kind of urgency, tilting her head back slightly, so as to level their gazes.
"Hey! Look at me! Don't cry, love. We're done, ok? We don't lie anymore. I'm not… we're not fighting, ok? Just talking. Ok?"
Hermione sobbed and nodded, as far as his grip on her face allowed her.
"There's one more thing, love, one more and we're done." His gaze pierced through hers with renewed intensity, Hermione stared back, perhaps partially aware of what he would ask, "What am I to you, Hermione?"
What am I.
That wasn't the first time he asked.
It was the first time she didn't know the answer to the question though.
She hadn't prepared for this. She hadn't thought of what to say.
Hermione shook her head no, and Tom sobbed softly, his lips mouthing a silent 'please'.
What am I? She didn't know…
No. It wasn't that she didn't know, she just didn't want to admit it.
Saying it out loud… that would have been catastrophic and Hermione knew.
Damn, deep down, he had to know too!
"Tom, please."
"What am I, Hermione?"
"Tom don't…"
"No. We're done with the lying, love. This, this is how you fix this. You stop lying, to me AND to yourself."
"Tom, we can't! Can't you see how wrong..?"
"I've seen how you look at me, I felt the change, I've seen it in you. I'm not mental, I'm not stupid. Perhaps a bit young, I'll give you that…" he almost laughed, but it lasted so little she could've dreamed it.
"Tom, please, just drop it! I won't lie, we'll talk more, I swear, just drop this though. I need… time…"
"Time? Damn it, Hermione, I really wanted to just wait, to let you get there on your own… but… you're so… You're overthinking this! It is so simple yet you're making this so complicated! And it just makes me… makes me feel like I'm walking on the edge of a cliff. Constantly ... I am ... unstable, I cannot think straight, I overreact…"
"I sorr…"
"No. I told you, I don't need apologies, I need you to stop lying. You told me the truth about Frenchie, I believe that… I still hate the fucker but I'm going to ignore that. We cleared the Archamps ordeal, mostly… What am I to you?" he breathed out the last few words, and Hermione felt new tears stinging her eyes.
"Family… you are… just a boy, Tom… I… wrong… this…"
"God, you are so fucking stubborn! What do you want me to do? BEG YOU?"
"I… Tom… I don't know, ok!? I don't know, anymore… How can I just… this is wrong! I'm sorry, this is… my fault… I shouldn't have never… oh, god, I made such a mess… you don't even know how big of a mess! This is so wrong!"
He wriggled his hand out of hers and brought it up, slowly this time.
So slow, Hermione could've moved away and refuse his touch had she wanted to.
However, she let it come to her, she let it against her cheek and down her neck.
He brushed against it delicately this time.
"I'm sorry. If I scared you, I'm sorry. It's just… this anger I can't… handle it and when… It blends with the mess in my head and I… I see red. I'm trying ok? I'm trying to be calm and… lucid… I swear. I would never… never hurt you."
"I know, Tom."
She closed her eyes for a moment when his hand moved to cradle the nape of her neck.
Tom came closer, waking into the heat between them, pressing his forehead against hers.
He took a deep breath.
"This is not wrong." He whispered, his free hand caught one of hers and pressed it against his chest, "This is not wrong, love. This is the only right thing that ever happened to me."
"We can still… go back, Tom. We can go home. But you have to drop this…" Hermione sobbed and shivered, hear hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his frantic heartbeat, "We can… be happy all the same! Together, forever all the same. Anything else… it's just too complicated and…"
"How can you… how can you say that? You feel it too! God, this is frustrating!" He pressed harder against her forehead, "You want this just as much as I do. I don't want to go back to what we were… I've been waiting all my life to move on from that! How can you… please, just say it. Say you feel this too. It's not complicated at all… I'll make it so easy, so fucking easy, just tell me."
"Tom, you… I…"
"Do you feel something else? And if you don't I won't ask again, I swear. I'll be anything you need me to… or… or I'll try… Just don't lie."
Hermione sighed and hiccupped, she looked away, then back into his eyes.
There were so many lies already, would another one really hurt that much?
Would saying "No" really be the worst lie she ever told?
There were darker things she was keeping from him. This should have been a walk in the park in comparison.
She just needed to say no once and for all.
He wouldn't have known immediately, but it would have been so much healthier for him too.
No, I don't feel anything special.
I love you because you are my brilliant little man, my student, my family, my responsibility ... that's all.
You fantasized too much, Tom. You fantasized too much and I was wrong to indulge your fantasies.
We are family.
Hermione wiped away her tears.
His eyes were desperately looking for a sign on her face, when her lips parted his pupils sunk in the depths of his irises and she heard him holding his breath.
No. I don't feel anything. Nothing out of the ordinary. I just…
"Of course I do, Tom. I wouldn't be such a mess if I didn't feel something else."
His heart thumped wildly under her touch, Hermione gasped softly and pressed harder against it, unclenching her fingers to lay her palm flat against his hectic heart rate.
"Tom, are you…"
"You are mine." He exhaled against her forehead.
"Wait, Tom, we can't rush this I… this is… and then what about…"
"You are mine." He repeated, this time firmly, stabbing her with the intensity of his leaden gaze, "Your reputation, is mine to protect just as it will be mine to ruin. You. Are. Mine. That clear? This is right. Look at me, look at ME." He tilted her head up, letting his other one slide in the small of her back, "This is right. I can feel it in my bones. I've always known."
"You don't get it… Tom. I… can't…"
But he stole the rest of her doubts leaning in and sealing her lips with his.
Hermione's hands shot to his shoulders as his mouth opened to tug at her lower lip, sucking it in one, two times as something wild ignited into her stomach with each tug.
Her head spun with the wrongness of how right that felt, her breath shattered, and she kissed him back without thinking to, her palms still pressed against his shoulders.
The kiss was excruciatingly slow for just an extra second, the extra second she could have pulled back and maybe make things right again.
But she didn't, and just like that, the second was gone.
Her palms slid at the push of his tongue, they moved over his shoulders, fisting at his clothes, pulling him in as she pushed herself forward, pressing her upper body against his.
Tom tasted like chocolate and mint and spit, and her heart was hammering in her ears.
He made a small noise in her mouth and the hand, still cradling the back of her neck, tightened the grip on her curls, moving her head against his to allow himself better access.
Hermione's emotions chased away any drop of reason and her blood felt like scorching lava in her veins.
She thought she was going to pass out, and she wondered stupidly, if he'd be able to tell how dry her mouth was at the moment.
In fact, Tom seemed the only source of moisture in that situation, if she had to be honest, also the only reason she was still breathing. He kissed her desperately, sloppily, sucking the air from her lungs and pumping it back with breathy wet little noises.
Their kiss became heat, solid heat, feverish, and mind numbing heat.
They stumbled two steps backwards in the heat of that electrical contact, on the third step Hermione's back crashed into the wooden door and her left leg automatically lifted up against his right, just as his hand spontaneously left her back to hold her thigh instead.
Hermione would have blushed later, realizing that although it was her back the one to hit the door, it was Tom the one to break the kiss.
They looked at each other.
His eyes dark and his lips swollen. His cheeks and neck were just as flushed ad Hermione imagined hers to be.
Hermione's hands came off his shoulders down to his chest, still heaving at a frantic rhythm.
"Are you… hurt?" He asked, releasing a shuddering breath.
Hermione shook her head.
Her mind was completely numb. She couldn't even panic yet. She just stared at him.
So brutally handsome.
She felt her cheeks get even warmer and forced her eyes away from his lips and back into his eyes.
"Good… good." He muttered.
Tom let go of her leg and pulled her in a hug, letting some of his weight on her, some on the wooden door behind her, "I'm… sorry."
"I'm sorry too, Tom."
"You are mine."
"Tom… what… how can this…? I mean…"
"We'll make it work. It's ok. We have time. I just… Enough of the lies."
"What are we going to do now?" Her voice came out so faint that she thought he wouldn't hear it, which wouldn't have been a problem, as Hermione was asking herself more than him anyway.
However, after another couple of deep breaths Tom replied, his face hidden somewhere in her curls.
"Now… now I need to sit… because I'm quite positive I'm about to faint… but then… then we can go back downstairs… and I can teach the ancient man how to play chess… how does that sound? One step at the time."
"Like… faint faint? Or just… like figure-of-speech-faint? Tom? TOM!"
Hermione walked briskly down the stairs and catapulted into a large library, one of the few that could still be accessed since Tom had arrived at the Flamels and the house had sealed all of its secrets.
"Nicolas!"
Nicolas startled, nearly dropping the book he held in his hands.
"Hermione, dear! Good morning!"
"Have you seen Tom?"
"Tom? No ... I don't think so... not today anyway."
"I can't find him anywhere..." she mumbled halfway into the next room, a French-style living room with large French windows opening onto the strip of garden that ran around the building.
When Hermione appeared, Perenelle unfolded from the sofa she had been crumpled up on, scribbling on a large sketchbook, and yawned a very catlike yawn.
"Hermione!"
"Perenelle, have you seen ...?"
"Look! I'm jotting down a draft ... don't you think the portrait of that distinguished gentleman in the hall could use some company?"
"Distinguished gentle... isn't that a portrait of Merlin himself?"
"Oh! You know what? You might be right!"
Hermione suppressed a chuckle.
"Have you seen Tom? I can't find him! There's a huge eagle-owl up in the bedroom and it won't let me get its envelope, I think it's something from one of his friends… the bird surely looks like something a Malfoy would use…"
"Tom?"
"Yes, Perenelle, Tom!"
"He was with Herbert in the garden."
"Ah! Finally! Thanks ... what?"
Both Perenelle and Hermione jumped when Herbert's voice broke in from the garden.
"Come on! Get up boy! Is that all you got?"
"Leave me alone! I'm dying!"
"Stand up!"
"See? I told you they were in the garden!" Perenelle said cheerfully, before hopping off towards the poor portrait of Merlin in the hall.
Hermione's heart leapt into her throat and she rushed to the window, throwing it open with such violence that the glass trembled threateningly.
A gasp escaped her lips as she found the figure of Tom lying in the grass right under the window sill.
The noise caught his eye and despite the momentary concern, Hermione's stomach took a hit as those pools of loose diamonds found her and his pupils dilated.
"Herm ..."
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?" Hermione threw one leg over the sill, using the palm of one hand to hoist herself up and out of the window, her wand already pointed at Herbert, whom she had spotted standing a little further away from Tom.
"No, Hermio ..."
"Chérie! Are you pointing a wand at me? Really?" Scoffed Herbert.
Hermione glared.
"What's he doing on the ground? What have you done to him?"
"Chérie, I didn't do anything to him, I swear!" Herbert raised both hands in surrender and burst out laughing.
Hermione looked at him with dismay, even more dismayed, she turned to look down again, where Tom, still lying in the grass below her, had burst out laughing too, albeit more laboriously, as if he were catching his breath.
Hermione lowered her wand and her gaze bounced from Tom to Herbert once more.
"What the hell are you two up to?"
"Oh, chérie! You are very protective of this young man, I'm impressed!"
Hermione blushed violently and refused to look in the direction of what she knew would be a grin on Tom's face, much preferring Herbert's amused look instead.
"We were just training!"
"Training?"
"Sit-ups ... pull-ups ... Frenchie here ... he was showing me how to do it ..." Tom said.
"Sit-ups ... Herbert was ... showing ... YOU?"
Finally she looked down again, Tom was blushing, sitting in the grass.
"He's training... you?"
Tom shrugged and looked away "He says it's good ... for the body ... or something ..."
"Of course it's good for the body, for the mind too! Let me show him a couple more exercises, and this young man will be all muscle in a heartbeat!"
Hermione had to press her lips together to keep from laughing, which would have been very dangerous considering the blush had spread to Tom's neck now.
Tom Riddle doing push-ups with Herbert Flamel in the garden ... this was one of those times she wished she had a camera.
"Ok ... well ... ok, I guess ... Tom ... there's a ... Malfoy owl in the room ... can you take a break by any chance?"
"Are you laughing at me, by any chance?" He asked as he stood up and patted himself on the legs, to remove dirt and grass.
"Me? Absolutely ... no ... why should I?"
"Oh, I don't know ... but I've heard terrible things happen to those who laugh at Tom Riddle..."
Hermione gasped and started running when, with one lightning motion, Tom placed both palms on the windowsill and pulled himself up and into the house again.
The chase was brief, he had her before she could cross the threshold of the door.
Hermione's breath bounced in her throat, choked by a fit of giggle, Tom's hands yanked her back and she found herself pressed between a grinning Tom and the wall.
He smelled like grass, fresh air and sweat.
"You ARE laughing! Witch!"
"Oh well! You caught me!"
"Nobody laughs at Tom Riddle! You will regret it!"
"Just the fact that you keep referring to yourself in the third person ..." another fit of laughter hit her hard.
"Did you just point your wand at Frenchie to defend me?" Tom purred.
Hermione wiped away a tear of amusement and shrugged but before she could say anything, Herbert's voice came from somewhere under the window.
"Come back boy, we're not done!"
Tom peered over his shoulder, then looked back at Hermione, pressing slightly closer and against her.
He breathed out hard, his warm breath caressing her lips. Hermione's heart began to beat more violently, slamming against her rib cage, sending more blood to her cheeks.
For a moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss her and the very thought shuttered her breath and caused her eyes to seek his for confirmation of purpose.
"Tom! You said not in public ..."
His lips came even closer, almost touching hers, Hermione contemplated pushing him away from her but then, weakly, she closed her eyes, her heart now a rhythm of solid thuds in her ears.
Nothing. Nothing happened at all.
Her eyes snapped open on Tom's grinning face.
"Oh right, I said that!" He laughed smugly, stepping back and abruptly leaving her.
Hermione swayed slightly before regaining her balance on her suddenly weak legs and his eyebrow rose in an amused smug against her glare.
Git.
"Boy, are you coming or not?"
"I'm coming!" Tom yelled over his shoulder, "There's a special treat for Malfoy's owl in the wooden box in my trunk, it'll let you get the letter with that."
"Owl? Ah ... right."
Damn git.
Tom nodded once and began walking away, just to turn around one last time, his hands already on the window ledge from which he had climbed in, his curls followed his movement and fell over his left eye.
His red lips uncovered a row of white teeth, his tongue peeped out to caress his slightly pointed canines. Hermione had to hold back a sigh.
"Hermione, love of mine?"
"What's up?" Hermione asked in a strange falsetto voice, "Ehrm ... yeah?"
"The next one ... you'll be the one asking for it. Just so you know."
"Next? Oh." Hermione coughed and looked around "Well, even better!" She spat," It will be in a couple of years then! "
Tom's grin widened slightly, "Yes? Fine by me! We'll see if it is for you ... Nobody laughs at Tom Riddle!" and with that he disappeared, leapfrogging over the windowsill and into the garden, like a cat.
Smug git.
Let me know what you think!
Love you all,
M.