Hello everyone!
I apologize for the time it took me to update, it's been a messy week!
Here's chapter 11, I hope it will entertain, and cheer you up a little in these dark times.
It's not a particularly eventful chapter plot-wise, except for… well you'll see.
Thank you so much for all your comments, feedback and all your support!
Special thanks to Sterling90, who put up with me and my insecurities! You really are something!
Without further ado,
I hope you'll enjoy!
Love,
M.
Please, do let me know what you think!
Chapter 11: He needs us
"Tom?"
Hermione's voice cut into his blissful slumber for the third time in what seemed to have been seconds.
Tom mentally scolded himself for the involuntary movement of his eyebrows, drawing close in a slightly annoyed frown before he could stop them.
As anticipated, the twitch didn't go unnoticed and her voice picked up volume and purpose.
"Tom, you said five minutes, it's been half an hour, wake up."
Tom stretched his arms downwards, trapping his wrists between his thighs and snuggling closer to her side.
He moaned low in his throat, pleased at the warmth he found there.
A small indignant sigh was the last thing he heard before his mind drifted merrily into oblivion again.
"Tom…" She pushed at his shoulder, "The later it gets, the more crowded Madam Malkin's will be. We'll end up having to wait in line! I hate waiting in line… for clothes!" she added, probably remembering all the times they had stood in line at the bookstore without her minding one bit.
Tom grunted at the stream of words, indifferent to their meaning.
"And what was it Abe needed? He said something about a garden tool ... or a pesticide maybe? Tom? Oh, forget it! I'll have to ask him again and write it down before we leave. Perhaps he should make a list for once, instead of just… Tom… I know you can hear me."
"Mhpf..." Of course he could hear her, he'd have had to be dead not to hear her, since her voice was getting more petulant by the minute… he could hear her all too well.
"Your eye is doing that twitchy thing..."
Tom frowned, wishing the power of his glare could stab her through his closed lids all the same.
"It's called a warning..." He mumbled.
"Tom! It's getting late! I need a new set of robes too, it'll take forever! Weren't you supposed to meet Abraxas and Eurus? What about your books?"
Frankly, he couldn't care less right now.
Tom nodded, hoping that would shut her up.
"We'll end up having to run from one shop to the next and…"
Tom focused hard on tuning Hermione's voice out of his world, determined to get back to sleep before he'd be irreversibly awake and irrevocably grumpy.
All he managed was turning her blabbering into a lulling sound ... still better than nothing, he thought.
"yadayadayada…" Yeah.
He could swing right back into Morpheus sweet embrace with that.
Tom's lips curved in a satisfied smile and his arms and brows relaxed.
Bliss.
"TOM!" The voice pierced his eardrums while something sharp stabbed him in the ribs.
Tom growled and grabbed the murderous finger poking at his side.
"Woman, you're killing me!" he whined, still refusing to open his eyes.
He squeezed the offending pointy appendage, still determined to poke a hole in between his ribs, and held tight on it as it tried wriggling out of his grasp.
"Tom, you promised you'd wake up early!"
A long sigh escaped his lips and he snuggled closer.
"Tom!" Hermione pulled her finger free and used her hand to shove him away.
"You know what? I take it all back, let's just break up." he hissed through clenched teeth, rolling on his back and rubbing his face with both palms.
Hermione gasped and slapped him on the head for good measure.
"Ouch! Add mauling to the list of things I hate in the morning!"
"God, you're dramatic! Perhaps we should indeed break up."
"Would I be able to sleep then?"
"Nope."
Tom slapped himself in the face and growled.
She kicked the sheets off of them both, clearly resolved to bring the awakening to the next level.
"So!"
"Mh…"
"I wouldn't want to bother Your Majesty with showering when the planets aren't yet perfectly aligned… Why don't you just go downstairs while I take a quic… ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SNORING?!"
"Wha…? Oh… bugger off, can't you go on your own?"
"It's your school supplies! So no, I can't go on my own, Tom!" The springs in the mattress bounced off Tom's cheek as Hermione sat up abruptly.
"Five more minutes." Tom's hand blindly felt the surrounding space and managed to capture one of hers before she could retrieve it.
He drove the captive hand to his head and released it.
She refused to move it, stubbornly holding it still and making it deliberately heavier just to spite him.
"Tom…"
"Just pet me a bit, will you?!" Tom snorted.
"No. It's late."
Tom grimaced and grabbed her wrist this time, trying to maneuver her limp hand in slow circles, hoping to kick off a bit of morning cuddles.
No such luck.
Hermione kept her fingers stiff and impassive and Tom's maneuvering only caused a couple of his curls to get painfully entangled.
"Mmm ... you're irritating." He mumbled.
"Wake. Up."
"I liked it much better when you just stared at me in awe, willing me awake with the power of your love… feels like the honeymoon phase didn't last much…"
She chuckled.
It was a short, lively sound and it made Tom think of a handful of diamonds bouncing off a stairway. His mouth curved into a smile on its own accord.
"You were staring at me last night."
"I was just wondering how much bigger your head could get." She huffed.
He could tell she was smiling without having to look.
"More like marveling at the sight of such a handsome devil… what a lucky witch you are."
"I'd be more inclined to agree with you if you were less of a braggart and a little more energetic in the morning ..."
"You could wake me up with a kiss for a change, you know? That'd help…"
She snorted and finally her fingers wrapped around one of his curls and she started playing with it.
Tom's smile widened as he imagined her blushing fiercely in the silence.
Since Paris Hermione still hadn't had the guts to ask for another kiss and Tom had refused to make the first move and save her from the embarrassment of having to take that little step towards him.
He had a feeling it was a small but necessary 'obstacle', one that Hermione would have to overcome on her own.
Besides, it didn't seem like he'd have to wait much longer, if the delightful way she had begun to fidget and blush in his presence was any indication...
"Well… you've had your cuddles, will you get up?"
"Fine! But I'll be insufferable, just so you know..."
"Big deal! You're insufferable most of the time anyway."
"That's because you're annoying most of the time."
"It's part of my charm."
"Who said you had charm? Perhaps I just have a horrible taste when it comes to witches…"
"The plural it's nice. It's almost as if you think many other witches would put up with your lazy arse…"
"I'll have you know that witches AND wizards both, would kill for my lazy arse. You're lucky I'm a one-witch kinda guy… and with a horrible taste."
"You're lucky I left my wand downstairs last night… Tom, I'm not leaving you in bed, you'll fall asleep the second I lock myself in the bathroom… just open your eyes and get up!"
"Then don't lock yourself in… in fact, leave the door open. You'd be surprised how fast I can be persuaded to… Aw! Hag!" Hermione released the curly lock she had pulled as his eyes finally snapped open.
"Serves you right." She grinned, "Good morning."
Tom blinked rapidly, frowning against the morning light.
Hermione was sitting next to him, one leg tucked under her butt and the other dangling off the bed.
Tom's eyes lingered on her cheeks, gloating at how red they had turned already. He offered the smuggest smile his drowsiness allowed and reveled inwardly when Hermione blushed six shades darker and diverted her gaze.
"So, what will it be, breakfast or shower?" she stammered.
"What's for breakfast?" he half-asked half-yawned as Hermione pushed herself on her feet, leaving him some room to stretch his legs and arms.
Tom's sleep-numb brain briefly wondered how had the bed shrunk so much over the years.
A satisfied smirk curved his lips seconds later, when his feet, sticking past the edge of the bed as he stretched, gave him the answer.
"Finnan haddie for the slowcoaches…"
Tom glowered.
Hermione chuckled.
"You eat that crap... I need something sweet..." he said, putting emphasis on the 'need', "Since you don't seem willing to provide any sweetness yourself, you cold-hearted witch!"
"Aw! I'm sure Abe will be happy to bake any sickening sweet nonsense you'll ask for, you spoiled brat. Just go already!"
"I want cake…"
"Are you ever getting out of bed, Tom?! Come on! I want to get back in time to drop at Bert's and help him with the inventory. I think I found an interesting spell that could help him with the…"
Tom sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing slightly when his feet collided with the cold floor.
He looked up at Hermione, a snarky comment on the fact that he couldn't care less about Bert and his inventory, right on the tip of his tongue.
But his gaze never reached far beyond her arms, crossed under her chest.
Tom's jaw slackened, the world went out of focus and Hermione's voice became a distant sound, as his eyes got hopelessly entangled in the perky silhouette of her nipples, pressing under the thin fabric of her pajamas, calling him, taunting him with their stiffness.
His witty remark turned into a strange, inarticulate and quite ridiculous guttural sound that managed to make it halfway out of his pharynx before he could clamp his lips together and force his gaze on the floor.
His cheeks flushed red, his stomach dropped.
Tom cringed when he felt every drop of blood in his brain make a quick downward spiral to his southernmost regions.
Nonononono!
Quickly, he fished for the sheet Hermione had kicked away moments prior and pulled it over himself, dropping back on the bed and turning his back on her.
"TOM!" She basically roared, "You must be joking! Get up, you lazy arse!"
"I will! I swear! Just… one minute!"
Her hands clawed at the sheets and she pulled, gasping with outrage when Tom pulled back with purpose, forcing her to bend backwards not to fall on the bed herself.
"What… the… hell… Tom! Get… up!" She tugged fiercely but the odds were against her, as Tom's back was trapping most of the sheet under his weight.
"Just get in the shower, I'll get up!" He squealed.
"Not until you're awake!"
"OH BELIEVE ME, I'm MORE than awake!"
The tugging stopped altogether.
"Are you… you mean…?"
"Please... go... I'm… it shows…"
"Oh?"
"Your… pajamas are very thin, luv… too thin."
Tom squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the message to sink. It took her a couple of seconds more.
"OH!"
He felt her hands withdraw, probably to go cover her chest instead.
Not that she had a reason to, since he was still facing away and had no intention to turn back anytime soon. Not that he didn't like the view, he just wasn't masochistic enough to want to take a second glance knowing he didn't have permission to do anything other than look from afar… yet.
Tom snorted and palmed his pants roughly, in a desperate attempt to discourage his stubbornly growing stiffness.
"I just… I… should… just go… Oh, Tom, this is it! This is the umpteenth proof I was right!"
He pressed his lips in a tight line and rolled his eyes, sensing he was about to lose a battle they'd been fighting since they had gotten back home.
"I told you we needed separate rooms! But NO! You think you have this all figured it out and… and you… well you don't! First you walking in on me…"
"Oh come on, it only happened a couple of times!"
"FIVE!"
"You weren't completely naked!"
"Well, thank God I wasn't!"
"And I've learned to knock, haven't I?" He growled, a lesson he would have had a hard time forgetting, as the imprint of her five fingers was still faintly visible on his cheek, "I'm sure we can figure this out as well!"
"This is just… no! We need separate rooms, this is final! I'm talking to Abe today! We'll pay him for one of the spare rooms."
"We don't need separate rooms, we're hardly ever home, and we'll be separate enough back at school! Perhaps we just need for you to loosen up your rules about…"
"SEPARATE ROOMS!" She yelled louder, the quick heavy sound of her footfalls suggesting she was retreating towards the bathroom.
"Fine! Don't come crying when you can't sleep!"
There was a sharp thud and whatever remark she was about to yell back at him, turned into a growl when she slammed her little toe against the dresser.
Tom winced at the sound of a ridiculous amount of Chocolate frogs dropping on the floor, followed by the infernal croaking chorus of the once that had freed themselves from their wraps in the fall.
"Shite!"
"Are you…?"
"I'M FINE! SEPRATE. ROOMS. THIS. IS. FINAL."
Tom glanced back over his shoulder just in time to get a glimpse of Hermione's back as she limped the last couple of steps and slammed the bathroom door shut.
He glared at the chocolate treats bouncing around the room.
"Fuck."
One of their biggest points of disagreement in defining the details of their new relationship (as far as alternating romantic hand-in-hand walks with days of silent murderous glares until Hermione had more or less admitted theirs was a relationship in the first place, could be considered 'defining the details of one's relationship') had been their living arrangements.
They had been fighting over the subject for days, Hermione arguing that sleeping in separate rooms at home would have helped balance their intimacy and their relationship, or something like that, Tom arguing that she was making a fuss just because she was afraid of a more physical relationship, which by the way he had neither requested nor expected ... just yet.
He'd turned conveniently deaf when she'd asked if he wasn't just scared of changing their routines, deaf and dumb, when she'd accused him of not even wanting to try, out of pure stubbornness.
In the end Hermione had waved the white flag, if only for her own mental health, since a Tom playing contrary Mary was a Tom she could never win against and she knew.
However, Tom had barely had time to gloat about winning their argument.
Their living together, which until then had been the most natural thing in the world, had turned into something else, something awkward, unknown and surprisingly full of pitfalls, and it killed him to admit it, but there was a fat chance Hermione had been more far-sighted than him.
Living together as a couple, especially in that early stage of their new relationship, had turned out to be a little too much even for Tom.
He sighed and rolled on his back.
Perhaps moving to another room wasn't such a bad idea. He wondered how hard his 5 years old self would have scowled at him for just thinking about it.
Tom scowled at the ceiling when he heard Hermione double-lock the bathroom door.
"You're overreacting, by the way! It's not like I would…"
"I can't hear you over those frigging frogs!" The sound of the shower filled the room seconds later.
Tom mindlessly slipped a hand in his trousers, adjusting the uncomfortable erection, still sticking at an odd angle against the fabric of his pants.
Well… perhaps he could at least take care of himself since…
"AND GET UP, YOU GIT, IT'S LATE!"
"I AM UP, YOU BINT!" He lied, glowering at the locked door.
The lock clicked loudly as she quickly turned the key back twice, unlocking the door and slamming it open at once.
"Shit!"
A euphoric laugh bubbled up Tom's throat as he started and jumped off the bed, scrambling to his feet and tripping in two, three chocolate frogs, in his mad run towards the corridor, leaving a trail of destruction behind.
"Good! Run, you coward!" Her laugh filled the corridor.
"I'm no coward, you rogue! It's my morning jog! Didn't you want me to be more active?"
"So, are we all supposed to pretend we're not curious? Or are you going to tell us whether you managed to win Mrs. Granger over during the summer or not?"
Abraxas's spoon slipped between his fingers, falling to the ground in a furious tinkle despite the boy's various attempts to catch it on the fly.
A pretty, blonde witch appeared next to him not a second later, a flirty smile on her lips, a clean spoon between her fingers.
Abraxas took the spoon with a small smirk that inadvertently attracted the attention of three more girls, now leaning over their own table to offer him random pieces of their own tableware.
Druella brushed them all away with a bored wave of her hand and a murderous glare, before returning her focus on Tom's face, as if her life depended on his answer to that question.
Cygnus, sitting next to Rosier, grinned slowly, his dark, playful gaze traveling from Tom to the unsuspecting figure of Hermione, chatting cheerfully with Professor Slughorn across the curb of the ice cream parlor they were sitting at.
"Except you're the only one pretending, Wally." muttered Nott, playing with the melted ice-cream in his cup.
Walburga narrowed her eyes at the tall boy and grimaced.
"The only reason you're not curious is that he's already told you all about it, and may I say, what a bummer this male coalition of yours! We need more female friends, Rosier ... perhaps we should befriend Mrs. Granger ..."
That definitely tore Tom's attention from his ice-cream and gained Walburga a scorching glare.
"As if she would befriend a student…" Muttered Abraxas.
"Well she wasn't supposed to date one either, was she?" Walburga smiled slily, "Oh, Merlin, I'm joking Riddle, no need to crucio me with your sexy glare!"
"But feel free to crucio me with whatever you please anytime, Riddle." Cygnus winked, Orion emerged from the large book he had been reading just to scowl briefly at his cousin.
"May I remind you to keep your voice down? You're still talking about a teacher!"
"Oh, relax Malfoy, nobody is eavesdropping!" said Cygnus, glancing around warily anyway. He smiled shrewdly when he caught the eye of one of the girls at the next table.
"So you really managed to sweep her off her feet in the end..." Insisted Walburga, sinfully rolling a spoonful of ice cream around her tongue and savoring it slowly, "Well... my apologies for thinking you were a conceited flake, I guess."
Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Apologies accepted, though, to be fair, I have neither confirmed nor denied your silly claims, you're just assuming things by yourself." He shrugged, then, as soon as the dark-haired girl parted her lips for her next retort, Tom leaned forward and swiftly swapped his empty bowl of ice cream with hers.
"Well! Excuse you!?"
"Serves you right, you busybody hag, plus you shouldn't have picked chocolate if you meant to eat it all by yourself." He offered, laughing at the girl's outraged expression.
"Who picks chocolate flavored anything when sitting at the same table with Riddle?" Laughed Abraxas.
"Tell me about it…" snorted Nott, glancing meaningfully at his empty bowl of strawberry ice cream, Tom's least favorite flavor.
"Whatever!" snapped Walburga, "You don't really need to confirm nor deny anything… it's written all over your face, plus… I only really need to look at Abraxas to know for sure..."
"What have I done!?" whined the blonde, cringing at the chorus of giggles erupting from the next table following his question.
"You needn't do anything, Axe, you are transparent. Sometimes I wonder how come you didn't end up in Ravenclaw or Gr..."
" Uh! Poisonous, Wally! Watch your mouth!" Abraxas laughed, grabbing his ice-cream sundae and clutching it to his chest before Walburga could steal it for herself.
"HA! You stained your shirt!" She mocked pointing at the smudge on the fabric.
"Fuck!" The chorus of giggles that followed Abraxas' loud cuss deafened them all.
"Mh, I don't know Wally, I'm not that sure Riddle managed to seduce his princess..."
"And what makes you say that, Cygnus?" asked Rosier, a hopeful note in her voice that had the Black siblings' roll their eyes and Tom's lips curl in a grin around his spoon.
"Well! I would argue that Riddle came back from his holidays a little too jacked..." said the dark-haired boy, throwing an appreciative once-over at Tom once his attention returned to him, "Which implies he has had too much free time and plenty of pent-up energy to vent... Not consistent with someone having an affair with an older girl!"
"You rude ass!" Tom laughed, "What if, and I'm purely speculating here… what if I did win her over and I just weren't a tomcat like you are?"
"Pun intended ..." added Nott. Malfoy grinned.
"Oh well, that'd leave me thoroughly disappointed ... both because I would have loved you as a Tomcat and because I'd have no chance of having you for myself! None of us would!" He added the last bit throwing a mischievous glance in Rosier's direction, "I mean, how could any of us compete with the-witch-that-kicked-Dumbledore's-arse?"
"If it makes you feel any better, you didn't have a chance anyway, Cyg... I wouldn't touch you with someone else's wand, you filthy whorehound... no offense Rosier."
"I can only share your sentiment, Riddle." Sighed Druella.
Walburga cackled while Cygnus clutched a hand to his heart, pretending to be mortally wounded by their words.
In the moment of distraction that followed, Tom exchanged his empty cup of ice cream for Rosier's barely pecked one. Unlike Walburga, the girl offered no resistance but a little pout, the one that always managed to catch Tom's attention, if only fleetingly.
"Ugh… how you can eat so many sweets without feeling sick ..." Abraxas sighed, looking at the scene with a disgusted expression and pushed the rest of his dessert towards Walburga's expecting hand.
"So, you did get the princess but are waiting… for what? Marriage?" Walburga's smile faltered and she frowned at the frightening speed with which Tom's ice cream was disappearing past his full lips.
Her grip around Abraxas' former sundae tightened.
"What did I say about the M word, Wally?" Abraxas whimpered, letting himself fall back against the back of his chair, looking distraught.
"Oh suck it up, you! And stop pitying yourself! It was a matter of time before your father picked a girl for you. And what's with all the pouting, honestly, it could have been much worse..."
"It could have been your cousin ..." Tom grinned at Walburga's grimace, Orion sighed audibly behind his book.
"Oh, Axe, the girl isn't that bad!" Druella reached out to give Abraxas a comforting pat on the hand.
"So why don't you marry her?" he snapped.
"The Selwyn girl?" Cygnus's mischievous gaze turned sharper, "What are you complaining about, mate? She's more than easy on the eyes… though bit of a prude… I could wean her for you..."
"Ew! You're disgusting!"
"What? I would gladly sacrifice myself for a friend! You inexperienced girls are only fun up to a certain point, you know? Of course, the offer stands for R…"
"OH, I wouldn't dare finishing that sentence, if I were you." the murderous inflection in Tom's low, menacing tone set both Abraxas and Nott's backs straight and immediately sobered up Cygnus.
"My apologies, Riddle, I stepped over the line. I was merely joking. I would never touch what's yours."
"No, you wouldn't."
There was a moment of heavy silence then Tom reached out to snatch the ice cream from Walburga's hands.
"Only a fool would touch something that's mine ... or forbid me what's his. And you're not a fool, Cygnus ... or you wouldn't be sitting here."
Tom sat back in his chair and shoved half of the ice cream in his mouth with a single spoonful, no one spoke until he finally diverted his gaze from the nodding Cygnus.
"I'd happily marry Selwyn, Malfoy, if it meant getting rid of Cygnus ..." Druella curled her lips in genuine disgust at the boy.
"Too bad betrothals are already signed, you and Abraxas make a nice whining pair..."
Both Malfoy and Rosier turned to give Orion a dirty look.
"Anyway, if you're done with the nonsense about our love life, or lack thereof," said Rosier, blushing under Tom's amused gaze, "We can move on... who are the new prefects?"
"Finally! Of course, we have Alphard and Parkinson, there's Davies and Burton for Ravenclaw, Avery told me last night. No one knows who got the pins in Gryffindor, of course, bloody idiots and their secrecy… as if we won't be told anyway eventually!" Nott snorted sarcastically, "I'm waiting for Mulciber to tell me about Hufflepuff, he's got a new bird among the badgers."
"Guesses on who could it be?"
"Well, if we're talking grades, my bets would be on..."
"Oh, Riddle," Walburga interrupted, an amused smile playing on her lips.
"Walburga we're done gossiping, do try to keep up, let us sort this o..."
The girl ignored Orion altogether, Tom sighed.
"What is it now?"
"You know those rules about not touching your things?"
"Walburga..." Interjected Rosier, a worried glance darting from the future sister-in-law to Tom.
"Just say it, come on, what about it?"
Walburga smiled, her eyes flickering briefly at something behind Tom, before locking with his once more.
"Granted that I am merely speculating, because you have neither confirmed nor denied any of my 'silly claims'…" her grin widened, "Assuming Mrs. Granger officially fell into the category of 'your things'... let's say... recently… like… over the summer!" Tom gestured for her to get to the point, "Well, if that were the case, you'd probably like to explain your no-touching policy to the handsome Hufflepuff Captain too..."
Tom scoffed and hesitated before turning around to glance at whatever Walburga was pointing at with her silver spoon.
"If it is a trick to get my ice-cream, Wally, I swear… Oh! What the fuck!"
Everyone's eyes snapped to the curb, where Mrs. Granger had been standing with Professor Slughorn until few moments ago, except there was no trace of the old professor now.
Mrs. Granger was now chatting with the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, the seventh year seemed to be offering to carry the ridiculous number of bags hanging from the Assistant's arm while his teammates were excitedly nudging each other's in the ribs not too far behind.
Mrs. Granger was shaking her head no, politely refusing the offer. Judging by the way her body was leaning backwards, she didn't look particularly comfortable with the proximity of the boy, towering over her from his 6'5, thought her lips where still curved in a curtesy smile.
"Don't." Walburga said, pressing a hand on Nott's chest to prevent the boy from following Riddle, who had already jumped the small fence separating the ice cream parlor courtyard from the sidewalk and was marching briskly towards the scene.
"But…"
"He's about to make a scene already, Eurus, the three of you would attract too much attention, we don't want Riddle's little secret to spill before school even starts, right?"
Nott nodded and stopped trying to get past Walburga, ordering Abraxas to sit back down with one short glance.
The table fell silent and the small group of Slytherins watched as Riddle approached his prey.
He stepped between the boy and Mrs. Granger gracefully, as if rehearsing the steps of a dance and forcing the boy to step back himself.
No one missed Mrs. Granger hand clutching the back of Riddle's shirt in warning, just as no one missed the vein in Riddle's neck throb in response, despite the distance.
The two boys exchanged a few words, Riddle offered a magnetic smile, a smile that seemed the friendliest of smiles but that hid the promise of a slow and painful death.
A moment later, the Hufflepuff gave little polite bow of his head, gestured to his friends and left.
Druella sighed softly.
"Do you think they're really together? Like… as a couple?"
"Oh, Rosier ... If I had doubts before ..." Walburga trailed off and jutted her chin back to the scene.
Druella blushed and looked away when she caught sight of a livid Riddle dragging a furiously blushing Mrs. Granger towards a side alley, despite the woman's (or girl?) obvious and quite desperate attempts to sink her heels to the ground and wriggle out of his grasp.
"Please, tell me you're going to cry, Rosier ..."
"Shut up, Wally." hissed Abraxas.
"Oh, how cute when you defend her. You do make a cute couple… too bad."
"Walburga." Nott warned, she rolled her eyes.
"I have a feeling it will be a fun year ..."
"May I come in?" She was alone in her compartment, pout still in place, a couple of small ancient-looking books opened on the table before her.
She didn't even turn his way.
"Really? Asking Smith to help you with the trunk? Nice touch…"
Tom leaned against the door frame, her nostrils flared, but she held her eyes on the empty seat in front of her and her mouth pressed into a hard line. He scoffed and moved into the compartment then, pretty much challenging her temper. It worked.
Her glare stabbed him on the second step.
"Are you seriously going to keep that up?"
"Keep what up, Tom?"
"Ignoring me?"
"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just sick of arguing… I'd suggest you get back to your compartment and wear your uniform since you're at it, we're almost there."
"We're almost there indeed. Do you really want to fight until the last minute?"
"Actually, I was hoping not to, but the fact that you're here suggests I don't have much of a choice." Tom rolled his eyes.
"You're acting childishly, just so you know."
"Oh! Hi pot, meet kettle!"
"See? I don't even want to fight anymore but you're just begging me to lose my temper, Hermione!"
"Well then bring your temper back to your compartment and away from me. I'm the one who's mad, so don't you even think on reversing the roles, Tom."
He scoffed and locked the compartment door behind his back, she gasped.
"Open the door, immediately."
"No. We need to talk this out, I'm not having it."
"No, we don't need to talk. I need space, I told you that. Just let me be."
"What is up with you? Can't you just let it go for once?"
"Once!?"
"You're being ridiculous… and you're just using this whole thing as an excuse 'cause you're having second thoughts now that we're going back to school. Oh! I got it right, haven't I? What is it now, Hermione? Is it my age again? Are you ashamed of me or something? Just say it and stop clinging to fucking excuses…"
"Wh… I… That's bullshit and you know it! I'm mad at you because you act like a possessive baboon and have absolutely no trust in me, though, I'd like to remind you, I've never…"
"That happened more than a week ago, Hermione! You've been brooding for more than a whole frigging week! This…" his finger gestured at something between them, "This is not okay!"
"It could've happened a month ago, for all I care, Tom, you still haven't apologized properly!"
"I have apologized, profusely!"
"'Sorry for caring about you' doesn't really cut it, Tom, not when 'caring for me' translates into making a scene on a crowded street just because one of MY STUDENTS, and I'll never stress that enough, was asking about my day!"
Tom snorted, raising his brows incredulously.
"Asking about your day, was he? God, your naiveite enrages me..."
She just huffed, shaking her head in disbelief, before finding the way to speak through her outrage.
"You know what? He could've asked me on a date, and it still wouldn't justify what you did. Believe it or not, I have a brain of my own, I know how to speak for myself! You can't just jump in whenever a boy turns my way, as if..."
"As if I cared about you?" He spat sarcastically.
"Do I strike you as a fickle woman then?"
"Of course not! What does that have to do with.."
"It has everything to do with it, Tom! And if you don't see it, then we got nothing to talk about. I told you I couldn't stand your jealousy rants and we agreed to keep this thing quiet... and not a month later you went on and made a scene in the midst of Diagon Alley, when half the school was there!"
"Christ, again! Nobody even noticed, it wasn't a scene... it wouldn't have been if you'd just followed me, for Christ's sake!"
"AND WHAT ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS?!" She almost yelled, Tom gave her a warning glare and glanced quickly at the door. He knew Abraxas was stalling the corridor, but they hadn't exactly silenced the compartment and the train was crowded.
Hermione's voice lowered sensibly but didn't lose any of the heat, "What about your friends, Tom! Oh don't roll your eyes at me! I know you told them about us, I'm not an idiot! "
"I didn't tell them anything! I swear!"
"Yeah, right..." She crossed her arms on her chest and Tom sighed.
"I didn't tell them! How do you want me to prove it? I'd let you ask them, if that didn't mean letting them know anyway!"
Hermione turned to the window, refusing to even hold his gaze, for she probably knew full well he wasn't being exactly honest.
Tom would have felt guilty had he not been so pissed off himself. So he pulled a 'Granger' instead, and clung to technicalities.
Of course his friends knew about them, they weren't a bunch of complete idiots, but he hadn't said anything about it, that much was true... he'd just let them guess…
"I didn't tell them anything, and even if I did, and I didn't, they'd keep their mouths shut." He insisted.
"Marvelous, are you done now? Is there anything you want me to say?"
"I'd love to know that we're fine." He grunted.
"Sure, Tom, everything is fine…"
He growled, his jaw clicked and her shoulders stiffened.
Ok, perhaps, he should've tried a different approach.
Tom moved in closer and sighed softly.
"Look at me."
Hermione whirled around in a wild bounce of curls, her breath had left a small fogged circle on the window pane.
Tom forced his features to relax, his gaze to soften. He stuck his hands in his pockets, deflated and shrunk slightly under her hard glare, trying to look less threatening, less angry. She blinked rapidly, probably confused by the sudden change of character.
"Come on, luv, we're almost there," Tom pleaded, "I don't want to get to school with you pouting and ignoring me, it's not like we'll get many chances to talk there. I won't make any more scenes… I'll be good." He smiled softly when those words left his lips. I'll be good. It had been his line for her throughout all of his childhood, though it sounded so odd coming from him now.
She must have thoughts so too. Her cheeks blushed slightly and her pupils shrunk before widening again at his smile.
"Let's just... make up, my love… please?"
For a moment there he thought he had her.
For a moment it felt as if she were about to give in.
Her eyes flickered to his lips again, Tom made an effort not to curl them in a smirk.
But she must have seen right through him because the moment passed, her eyes locked with his, her expression hardened.
"Nice try, Tom. Now if you don't mind…" she jutted her chin at the door.
God she could be fucking stubborn. At least Tom knew where he'd gotten that from...
"You know what? I've apologized plenty of times for my jealousy, which by the way, saved you from those fucking morons Quidditch players in Diagon Alley, and if you can't see how they were probably planning on spreading rumors about them picking up a professor, well shame on your gullibility! Also, I've said nothing to my friends and I refuse to apologize just because you think otherwise! I'm asking nicely one more time, Hermione... can we make up before we get to school?"
He knew his ultimatum hadn't sorted the desired effect when pure rage colored her cheeks red.
"What if we can't?" She spat, a defiant glint in her eyes.
"Fine, then. Suit yourself."
"You're flipping the script again, Tom, and I won't feel guilty in your place. Have a nice evening and shut the door on your way out."
Tom smiled mockingly and bowed his head ever so slightly to the left.
He threw the compartment door open.
"Professor Granger."
"Mr. Riddle."
The door closed with a soft clack, but it felt as if he'd slammed it anyway.
Hermione climbed the stairs to the first floor two by two without even noticing.
Being an assistant at Hogwarts officially sucked.
She could have sworn starting school hadn't been as tiring last year, though it was easy to see why. Her amount of tasks and responsibilities had pretty much tripled this year.
Dumbledore, who would not have let Hermione touch his paperwork had his life depended on it last year, had now put her in charge of organizing the Transfiguration curricula for the third and fourth year classes.
Dippet had suddenly decided it was the assistant's job to guide first-year students through the first crazy days in the castle, so as to lighten the Heads and prefects' duties.
On top of those not-so-light and already quite time-consuming assignments, Hermione was now supposed to participate in all of Dumbledore's classes as well as helping any professor who asked to borrow her services, and that mainly to keep at bay the discontent that had generated at the news that Dippet would not yet allow the hiring of more assistants.
The first two weeks in the castle had been so exhausting, that Hermione had already started her countdown to the Christmas holidays… not to mention her recent passion for counting down the hours separating her from the weekend.
Still 135 at the moment.
Of course, it didn't help much that she and Tom hadn't been able to reconcile.
Their prehistoric bickering, dating back almost three weeks now, had evolved into an asinine silence from both parties, with Tom refusing to apologize on one side, and Hermione refusing to admit she had gone a little overboard on the other.
They were currently in a stalemate, which was something new, their fights had never lasted that long, but they had never been 'couple rows' either.
Undecided on how to proceed to resolve the situation, and too busy with work to think about it seriously, Hermione had decided to stick to the stubborn silence policy, spending every minute between one chore and the next, either brooding over how much of an arse Tom could be or trying to come up with the least painful way to reconcile.
Though, that early afternoon, as she climbed the stairs two by two on her way to the library, Hermione was putting together an extensive list of the most effecting methods to wipe the smug from Tom Riddle's face after their recent Transfiguration class.
The brat had raised his hand to answer each of the questions she had asked, just for the sake of letting the name 'Mrs. Granger' roll on his poisonous tongue with each irritatingly correct answer.
Of course, he hadn't even bothered with whatever Dumbledore had asked instead.
Hermione wasn't quite sure whether it enraged her more that he was being so fucking obvious or the fact he was drawing gratification in having her openly reward him despite knowing full well she was still as mad as ever.
All she knew was she had never wished to curse his arse this fervently before.
A manic grin spread on her lips as she added spreading embarrassing anecdotes from his childhood around the castle to her list… although, simply slapping the smug off his face bare-handed held its undeniable charm.
God she had to be tired to be thinking about such nonsense…
Hermione turned into the next corridor and stopped short at the sight of the small group of Slytherins gathered at the end of the hall, right in front of the large oak door leading to the library.
"Oh fun-fucking-tastic." she sighed, spotting Abraxas Malfoy.
The boy's presence constituted a 90% chance that Tom would be there as well.
Could she have somehow summoned him with all her mulling over him?
Her stomach lurched.
She was too tired, hungry and angry to play their little game of glares.
Perhaps she could come back for her books later on… yeah. Though her afternoon was pretty much filled… and was she really going to be chased away by a bunch of Slytherins? Plus… there still was that 10% chance he wouldn't be there…
Hermione squinted slightly at the small army of Slytherins.
Abraxas Malfoy was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets his clear eyes glued to the tip of his shoes, next to him Lestrange and Alphard Black were gesturing animatedly through what appeared to be the commentary of a Quidditch match, which would have explained the blond boy's flamboyant disinterest in the topic.
Eurus Nott was flipping through the pages of a large tome and directing Mulciber into what looked like the wand movements for a modified Exploding Charm, which obviously meant the boys were carrying on with the Charms curricula on their own, as those spells weren't going to be a topic of study for a while more.
Walburga Black was cackling merrily with a blonde Ravenclaw girl, Orion Black stood nearby chatting with s bunch of younger Slytherins.
So far, she hadn't spotted Tom.
Hermione took a deep breath and made up her mind.
Before her treacherous eyes could find him, she moved forward, eyes trained on the library door and nothing else, she could do this, in and out, she'd just keep her eyes on her goal.
It took exactly five steps.
Five steps, to completely lose sight of the target.
Two seconds for her gaze to tear through the small crowd of green ties and find him.
He was sitting on the ledge of one of the large windows, his legs parted and dangling off its edge, the sleeves of his uniform rolled up at his elbows, a mischievous grin on his lips, his wand in one hand, the other hand playfully rolling a lock of raven-black hair.
Straight and shiny raven-black hair… hair belonging to the offensively charming girl standing between his legs.
Druella Rosier had her back to Tom, elbows resting on his thighs, her head under his chin, her feet crossed at the ankles. She was holding a book open, slightly tilted so that he could read from behind her back.
Hermione gulped painfully through the tight knot suddenly squeezing her throat. She involuntarily grimaced when Druella Rosier's amazing lips parted prettily to laugh at something Tom was saying.
His ocean speckled eyes filled with mirth, he leaned in closer and used his wand to point at something apparently hilarious in between the pages.
Hermione forced her eyes away from the duo, she met Abraxas' gaze and nodded in greeting. She didn't miss the way Malfoy's pupils shrunk, nor how his gaze quickly darted to Tom and Rosier, both still too busy chuckling to notice Hermione's presence.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and marched forward, quickening her pace, nodding back here and there at the greetings from the students.
Had this corridor always been this long? And this bright? God, her eyes were burning… maybe she should have asked Dippet to darken those windows slightly… it couldn't be good for anyone's eyes. So damn bright.
"Riddle! Riddle! WhattheffuckRiddle." She heard the whispering, she felt his gaze land on her, she made an effort not to look back.
Was there a chance she had underestimated the situation? Hadn't it been just a normal fight? Had she waited too long? Perhaps he had gotten sick of her tantrums… perhaps he had moved on. Had they ever talked about being exclusive? Wasn't it implied somehow? Perhaps she was just being silly and jealous… and anxious because of what he had told her on the train… The age thing… and and…
Hermione's sight blurred ominously.
Something very similar to an anvil sunk in her stomach and she hickuped, sniffled, but held her head high as she walked past the window he was sitting on.
Deep down she knew this whole situation was something more than just them being stubborn.
She knew Tom was expecting something from her.
She knew this was some sort of test meant to get her off her pedestal, out of her comfort zone.
She just knew there was a reason if he wasn't making it easy for her this once, knew he wanted her to put herself out there the way he had.
Like the kissing thing… she had to learn to ask for things like that, he had been clear about that.
God, it felt like a game of chess and she really sucked at playing chess, but this was her move and she couldn't just refuse to play altogether mid-game.
Hermione's hand pressed on the large handle and she pushed the library door open.
She stopped and turned back slowly.
His gaze was burning a hole through her face, lips parted in anticipation.
Hermione hesitated.
Her eyes slipped on Rosier, still standing between Tom's legs. The girl smiled and nodded slowly in greeting.
Hermione pursed her lips, looked back up at him.
"You should've eaten your pie till you had a chance." His old warning rung through her head.
She turned around and walked through the door.
"Jesus, Hermione…" Tom took a sharp breath, Hermione's mouth traced its way back to bite the spot on his neck that had caused the words to spill. He shuddered under her lips.
Tom wasn't quite sure what had caused her outburst, what had finally triggered her, what had compelled her to push him into that empty classroom, but he certainly wasn't going to complain, not after nearly a month of silence.
Not after more than a whole month without touching her.
She pulled at the collar of his shirt and he smirked, complying to her request, he lowered his head to give her free access to his lips.
Hermione moaned low in her throat and pressed into him in a frantic frenzy, finally showing how desperate she must have been for that touch too.
Her tongue swirled around his in a play of spit and heat, and Tom nearly roared into her mouth when she didn't push his hand away as he squeezed it around her bum, holding her closer to him.
"Fuck ..." was the only word he seemed able to articulate in between kisses.
He repeated it three times in a row, when she rubbed against his obvious erection without complaining, when her exploratory hands ran across his chest and shoulders, when she gently pulled his hair to signal her need to catch her breath.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the semi-darkness of the empty classroom, eyes searching eyes, swollen lips just a breath apart.
Then, Tom exhaled slowly, and let his forehead rest against hers.
"I'm sorry." He breathed out.
"What for?" She asked looking up through her long lashes.
"For caring about you…" He grinned at her glare.
"I'm sorry too." She whispered.
"What for?"
"That you are a jealous idiot and that it makes it difficult to forgive you..."
"I'm sorry you're so proud that you border on dullness."
"I'm sorry you are so stubborn as to border on idiocy…"
Tom snorted and squeezed her bum tighter making her yelp and step closer, her cheek fell against his chest and she let out a small satisfied sound.
"Speaking of jealousy ..."
"Shut up." She mumbled from somewhere under his chin.
"You do know Rosier is betrothed to Cygnus Black, right?"
"I don't see what this has to do with me... or… or us."
"Mh." Tom cocked his head to the side, "Yet I could have sworn that ... mpfh… hey! Hey! Not fair! I won't accept jealousy kisses, I'm a man of pri… mhpn…fcif… ple… oh fuck."
Tom wouldn't have been able to explain how or why but he had known right away that wasn't going to be a good day.
He'd forever remember how, from the very first moment he had opened his eyes, he'd felt that tightness in his chest.
How the distinct feeling that something terrible was going to happen had crushed on him even before he could have formulated coherent thoughts or cursed for having overslept, which might have been an omen in itself, since he'd never overslept on a school day before in his life.
The threatening feeling had followed him out of the green and silver blankets of his bed, crawled under the bathroom door as he washed and dressed in a hurry.
It had haunted him down the dark corridors and made him shiver in the form of the icy drafts whistling through the ancient window frames of the castle.
The feeling hadn't lifted from his chest even when he had finally arrived in the Great Hall, miraculously in time to grab a couple of toasts before the tray could vanish into thin air.
He hadn't said anything to his classmates, but they must have known something was wrong too, because they had been quieter than usual on the way to their classes.
Tom tried to shake off that strange feeling during the first few hours of class with no avail whatsoever.
By midmorning, he was so resigned to the fact that he would not be able to escape whatever was about to happen to him, that he barely even flinched when professor Dumbledore himself came to pull him out of his double Potions class with Hufflepuff.
"Are Mrs. Granger and Abe okay?" Tom asked as soon as he stepped out into the corridor.
The old wizard turned to look at him, a curious light shone behind his eyes at Tom's question.
Tom's heart gave three heavy thuds and skipped a beat under that odd gaze.
He clenched his fist around the wand in his pocket.
Dumbledore smiled at the movement before finally speaking.
"Nothing happened to Mrs. Granger, as per Aberforth, I do believe he is doing just fine, though you'd probably know better than me anyway."
Tom nodded, schooling his expression into one of indifference.
The fucking old man! Did he always have to talk like a tattered book? No wonder even his brother couldn't quite stand him, though Tom had never managed to find out why.
"So... what happened, Professor?"
"I believe Mrs. Granger should be the one to tell you. She's waiting for us in my office."
Tom bit his tongue to refrain from making further comments and just followed Dumbledore down the dark dungeon and then up the stairs leading to the ground floor.
"So, Mr. Riddle, we haven't had a chance to chat much lately, have we?"
Tom didn't know whether to laugh or scowl at the memory of the last time the man had cornered him in the school library.
Part of him would have liked to simply point out to Dumbledore that they were now almost the same height and that he would no longer flatten himself against the shelves, but gladly punch his hooked nose if he ever tried to intimidate him as it had done in the past.
"How's your research going, Mr. Riddle?"
"My research?"
"I thought you were hunting for your biological parents, Mr. Riddle. Perhaps I was wrong…"
"Oh, why, yes I was, Professor."
Dumbledore said nothing for a while, leading the way towards the wide staircase in the Entrance Hall.
"I see, I knew it wouldn't take you long to figure it out. Have you had a chance to meet them yet?"
Tom held his next breath. Meet them. They were alive. How did he know? Why? And why did he even care so much?
"No professor, I'm not quite sure I want to, to be honest." He lied, "I guess I'm still debating whether I shouldn't just be content with the family I got."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
"You prove yourself as wise as ever, Mr. Riddle." Dumbledore paused and smiled condescendingly, "I would also understand the pungent curiosity to take a look at one's roots, however. Especially when they are supposed to be ... well, unique."
Tom nodded, narrowing his eyes to the professor's back as he preceded him into the next corridor. It was time to change the subject.
"Professor ... the book you recommended some time ago?"
"Mhmh, oh! Hogwart's a History?"
"It was a rather intriguing book, professor. I never got a chance to thank you for suggesting that reading."
"Of course, I'm glad it was to your liking."
"I have to say, professor, some of its chapters are rather, well hard to believe... is it all true, professor? What's written in it..."
There was a rather long silence, then Dumbledore clicked his tongue under his palate and spoke again.
"I believe you'd have more evidence about the veracity of some of the topics than I could ever have, Mr. Riddle."
Tom kept his lips shut and said no more. He followed the Professor at a safe distance the rest of the way, so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he failed to see Dumbledore's amused glance.
When they reached the door, the professor stopped so abruptly that Tom almost bumped into him. He managed to avoid the collision but still landed a step closer than he'd ever be comfortable with.
Dumbledore stretched a hand and gently pushed on his shoulder to help him regain his balance as he stepped back.
Tom tried resisting the urge, but failed miserably. He started, recoiled from the man's touch as if a snake had bitten him and gasped softly clutching a hand to his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Riddle, I didn't mean to scare you." something in his posture suggested exactly the opposite of what his lips were saying.
Tom wondered briefly if the man hadn't perhaps read his earlier thoughts about their meeting in the library...
"No ... you didn't scare me, you just took me by surprise, Professor." He growled through gritted teeth, making an effort to occlude his thoughts.
"About that book, Mr. Riddle ..."
Tom looked up, still unable to stop rubbing his shoulder, although he hated the satisfaction this clearly brought to the professor.
"If you don't mind me offering advice, I would avoid discussing the veracity of its contents with Mrs. Granger."
"May I ask why, Professor?" Not that I was going to talk to her about it, or that it's any of your business, you fucking piece of shit... that he didn't say.
"Just a feeling that she would disagree with exploring certain possibilities ... Moreover, I'm sure you'll soon realize that she has quite a lot on her plate as is. It wouldn't be fair to plague her with more worries."
Tom nodded non-committedly, then turned his gaze to the door in anticipation.
Dumbledore pushed on the handle and gestured for him to get in. His eyes widened at the sight before him instantly.
"Tom!"
"Hermione, what ...?"
Her huge golden eyes were red-rimmed, moist and puffy. Her cheeks streaked with fat tears. Her lips red and chapped.
Hermione ran to him, leaving a trail of handkerchiefs in her path. She crashed into his chest, hiding her face in his uniform and sobbing in despair.
"What happened, my l... Hermione? Hermione, look at me, what happened?" But the crying had become hysterical, Hermione was trying to speak between sobs but all Tom heard were inarticulate noises.
Desperate for an explanation, Tom turned to look for clues in the small office, Dumbledore caught the movement of his eyes, and pointed to a letter on his desk.
"Is Abe okay? Hermione? Fu… look at me, is Abe ok?"
"Again, Mr. Riddle, Aberforth is fine." Tom felt himself releasing the breath he'd been holding.
"Hermione?" He tried to pull her back but she clung to his clothes more fiercely, shaking her head against him, muttering nonsense.
Tom gave a quick glance at Dumbledore and saw the man nod, if only imperceptibly, as if knowing what Tom was asking permission for.
"Hermione? Calm down, ok? What happened?" He grabbed her by the shoulders firmly, pulled her off his chest and shook her a little for her to look at him. Finally she snapped out of it, her huge eyes found his and she sobbed miserably.
"The children! Tom! The children!" She cried.
"The ... children? What children?"
"Tom! We have to ... the children! I have to! We owe it!"
"Hermione, will you please calm down? What children? Professor?"
But Hermione didn't give Dumbledore time to explain, she marched to the desk and came back clutching a letter in her fist. She shook it under Tom's nose as if that alone could somehow answer all of his questions.
"Let me see." He tried to grab the paper, but she kept shaking it excitedly.
The letter tore when he tried snatching it form Hermione's fist, she gasped a little, Tom glared at her before glimpsing at the piece of paper that was left in his hand.
'ool.
dren.
times.
That was all that was left on what he'd managed to tore away from her, before he could ask for the other piece of the letter, Hermione spoke up.
"The children at the orphanage... Mrs. Cole ... Tom! We have to ... I have to go!"
"The orphanage?" Tom felt the blood drain from his face.
"Tom, Mrs. Cole, died... the orphanage is being seized!" Hermione staggered dangerously and Tom narrowly took her before she hit the carpet, "She's dead, Amy too… they both… Tom, the orphans are alone! Eric is still there. He won't have a place to go! Tom, Eric! He's not even 13! We must go ... we must go back! "
"I ... Hermione ... I ... what could we ever do? How… who wrote this?"
"Please, Tom, please! He needs us."
"Who wrote the letter?"
"Ch… Charlie." Hermione sobbed, "he's in the army, he can't take care of him ... Eric asked him for help but he ... oh, Tom ..."
"How ... how did he know where to find you? It's… been so long…"
"Mrs. Cole ... I left her an emergency address, Charlie must have found it ... Tom, what does it matter now?" She was confused, large eyes searching his. Tom wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.
"You ... were you still in contact with them?" He didn't know why it was so important for her to answer that, but it was. In fact, for some reason, he felt like their whole future depended on the answer to that question. So he sighed in relief when, after a short pause, Hermione gave the only answer he would've been able to live with.
"No. They had never written before, nor I to them... Oh, Tom… we can't ignore them! We can't!" Hell yes, they could.
"Why?" The question made Hermione gasp softly. Before she could say anymore, Dumbledore cut in.
"I spoke with the Headmaster already, he'd like to grant you and Mrs. Granger a week's leave," he said, "I believe it to be a reasonable amount of time to find accommodation for the child… or children. We could also get you a list of possible alternative orphanages, you could check if they have any room for them..."
"A week?" Hermione asked faintly.
"Honestly, Mrs. Granger, more time than that would be a bit inconvenient for the school and you must consider the Muggle war is still..."
But Hermione had already turned away from the professor, her watery eyes fixed in Tom's, her hands dug in his biceps.
"A week, Tom! One week and we'll be back. Let me make it… up to him. We… I left… Tom."
"I'm… not.. I don't, Hermione, I…"
"Please, don't let me go by myself, please."
"Hermione, I…" Tom's head felt empty and light, his blood on the other hand. His blood was boiling through his vein, he knew she could feel his temperature raising.
"We won't stay anywhere near the orphanage, anywhere near Dorset Street." She blurted out, "We won't! We'll… rent something in Diagon, I saved some money, I... I beg you, he's all alone! I won't… we will just see that he has a roof over his head! Just him… please."
Tom wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and scream. Slap her, push her away and scream even harder.
He wanted to tear the whole room down, to drop on the floor and beg her not to go. Beg her not to care.
He wanted to cuss and slap the odd expression on Dumbledore's face too.
He wanted to implore her not to take him back there.
Especially if it were for the other children. It should've been just the two of them… just the two of them.
Hermione's eyes were still searching his, her breath was stuck in her throat, she kept shaking violently, raising the back of her hand to wipe away snot and tears from her face at regular intervals.
Tom had never seen her so… broken.
No. I'm not going. You deal with that shit on your own. I won't ever step in Muggle London ever again. JUST NO FUCKING WAY. Eric should just fucking die whatever death Muggles die from… possibly, a painful one.
Tom parted his lips, pursed them, parted them again.
"Please." Her voice came so faint, so fragile and his heart melted and he hated her a little for the power she held over him.
He sighed and hugged her closer, pushing her face in the crane of his neck. He nodded to Dumbledore, watching silently as the man began to fill out the paperwork.
He shushed Hermione tenderly, as she sobbed, muttering thanks, whispering how much she loved him, how grateful she was he was safe. Tom rocked her gently when she begun breathing out unintelligible phrases, whose only common denominator were the words 'my fault' and 'abandoned'.
"Shh, it's okay. It's okay. We'll make sure he's safe, ok? Make sure he's fine and then come back…Shh." Tom hugged her tighter when he felt her pressing harder against him, as if he were the only thing she could hold on to, the only safe haven she could took refuge in.
Being the one offering shelter instead of the one looking for it for once, proved oddly comforting, and Tom plunged into that little glimmer of light in the darkness, the ultimate proof that she finally needed him just as much as he needed her.
Was anyone else curious to see little Eric again? I kinda missed him… well enough to want to take a short trip down memory lane for him! Also, I thought it'd be good to have Tom face his past…