authorsnote: hot damn
okay, so *warnings* this shit is getting steamier by the day but also darker and darker. I literally cannot emphasise this relationship is toxic with a capital T. stuff is getting darker, and will continue to do so, if this were on ao3 it's tagged 'dead dove = do not eat' google it, cause rly.
anywho, if you're still onboard with that (and do feel free to stick with it if doubtful, there will be fluff and plenty more plot/feisty hermione but don't if uncomfortable), do enjoy below! oof I steamed up writing this!
do enjoy, and follow/fav/review, all that jazz!
songrecs: dark horse - sleeping at last
The next morning, she feels sore, but happy. In fact, the smile on her face won't be rubbed away, it's persistent as she dresses, hurries down to breakfast and sits herself down next to Harry, a little grin that won't be wiped from her face.
The night before is playing like a video tape in her head, the reason for her smile. Tom's touch, his lips, his kiss, but also his words, his words, so pretty, so kind, so … loving.
'I wanted to make it special'
He thinks she's special, it's the most encouraging sign in their relationship … or whatever it is, so far. It wasn't arguing, or throwing words at one another, or anything insincere. It had felt real, loving, tangible, and nothing can stop her smiling, not this morning.
As she reaches for the marmalade, she has to force herself not to look at the Slytherin table, but of course she fails, and her grin grows as Tom catches her gaze and looks back, a grin on his too (though of course his isn't full of sunshine like hers, more sharklike, as with Tom). Her cheeks heat and she drops her gaze. She doesn't want to seem needy, but her happiness won't abate, she doesn't want it to.
"Good morning?" Harry asks, and his cheeks colour just a touch. She'd snuck in last night, waking after a few hours with Tom, a tad cold. They hadn't spoken about the night on their way back, instead had debated the Runes homework, and then he'd left her at Gryffindor tower with a kiss, the Fat Lady snoozing.
'Goodnight Hermione' He'd said, smiling, well as close to a smile as he could get, which she'd only seen him do for her. 'Sleep well'
'I will' Like a promise, and then she'd stepped forward, kissing him, catching him by surprise, a hard thing to do. But then his grin had deepened, becoming more of a smirk, but still, a grin.
He'd strolled back to the Slytherin dorm, and even the Fat Lady complaining at 'What time do you think it is young lady?!' hadn't ruined it.
It had been as close to a perfect night as she'd ever had.
"Good night" She said with a grin and couldn't help but laugh as Harry squirmed a touch.
"I don't want to know" He mumbled, and she nodded, managing to stop the teasing but not her smile. She knew Harry didn't quite approve of Tom, but he wouldn't interfere. She glanced at Ron, chatting to Dean and Seamus, no she wasn't ready to tell Ron yet, she knew he'd take it poorly.
'Fraternising with the enemy'
For once Ron might be right about that, because as much as she likes Tom (and she does, more and more everyday), she knows he's no innocent, already leading his own little Slytherin gang. She isn't worried, but it does make her a touch uneasy, those people he hangs out with consider her to be a second-class citizen, she knows Tom doesn't think that way, does he?
She feels her smile die a touch as she looks back over at them, Tom turned away from her now. He's chatting to Malfoy who's lounging back, the epitome of arrogance, Theodore Nott next to him, quieter but listening intently, then there's Blaise Zabini, drinking coffee, chipping in. The four of them have been joined at the hip in classes, all scoring better marks than before, Malfoy always nipping at her heels is getting closer, though neither she nor him can match up to Tom.
Her lips twist, and she knows her shoulders slump a touch, her sparkle dying. What does Tom think of her blood-status? He's in the house most aligned with blood purity, he hangs out with the people that call her 'Mudblood'. Does he care?
"Everything okay?" Harry leans in, noticing her abrupt change in mood, she manages a nod, but his gaze follows hers, and so she speaks.
"Just thinking" She says, her smile more strained now, though she feels a touch warmer as Harry slips his hand into hers, in comfort, a comfort she suddenly finds herself needing.
"I can kick his ass" Harry says with a grin and she manages a laugh, and as they stand to go to class, she slips her arm through his, and Ron comes up on her other side, she does the same, there friendship even a touch easier now he's with Lavender, and her crush on him is long gone. In that regard there's only Tom.
But then, she looks over again, and he is looking back this time, a touch annoyed, it's not hard to guess why.
Still, she drops her gaze, he's with his cronies, standing up as she'd looked over, said cronies who consider her blood dirty. Does he think the same? She presumes he's a pureblood. Would he compliment her the way he does? Have made love to her like he did last night? Does he call her mudblood behind her back?
He'd called her his, 'Mine', had he meant it? Did he think her his equal? Or a mudblood for him to own?
Her smile is long gone, and instead there's a hollow feeling in her heart, a pit in her stomach, and both Harry and Ron start cracking jokes, noticing her downturned mood.
This is her mind with him, happy then sad, elated then stressed, on a high and then crashing back down. Why did she think she could be something as simple as happy? There's never anything simple with Tom, never.
She's thankful for once that in Defence she's not sat next to him, no pairs in this class, only 2 chapters to read, and then their new teacher (curse long broken), a still very grizzled Mad-Eye Moody (now actually teaching), hurrying them to their feet to start casting, non-verbal hexes today.
Usually they pair up themselves, but today Moody ushers them into pairs based on proficiency, last night she would have been pleased to stand across from Tom, to get some more time with him, but now? Now she wishes she could be with Harry, Ron, even Neville (love Neville she does but any partner of his there is a risk they'll end up in the hospital wing), but no, instead Harry faces across from Malfoy, Ron to Seamus, Neville to Lavender, and then she's opposite Tom.
His eyes are harder than normal, he's annoyed too … but then she knows it's because he doesn't like her closeness with the boys, hers is much more valid.
She feels an anger stir in her veins, and as Moody lectures them, throwing about 'Constant Vigilance' and the importance of not shouting your hexes, her gaze hardens too.
Mudblood. Does he call her that behind her back? Harry knows about them, has he told his friends? Has he bragged about bedding the swotty Gryffindor mudblood? Has he laughed about her? Her cheeks heat, but not from blushing, and she grips her wand hard, hurting her hand, not that she notices, as she readies it.
She doesn't hesitate as Moody calls on them to start.
The hex flies from her wand towards him, and she only feels madder at the shield charm he throws up, easy, too easy. Her eyes narrow as she flings another, and then another, and then two more, each deflected with apparently no effort.
And yet he doesn't fire back.
As her wand arm grows tired, as she casts and casts and casts, as she chucks stinging hexes, body binding curses, jelly legs, leg lockers, slug vomiting, even a bat bogey. And yet nothing hits, again and again she throws, each one non-verbal, no indicator that ones coming. As people around her whisper or strain to get them across, she keeps firing and firing, nothing gets past him, and yet he throws nothing back.
She knows he could, she knows perhaps he even wants to, his eyes hard, and dark, but hers are worse, the same worries running over and over in her head…
Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood. Does he call her that? Does he think of her that way? Dirty blood, second class, less than worthy? The anger in her veins intensifies, her hands itch as they always do when she's mad, and she sees red.
Mublood.
"Bombarda" She shouts then, anger taking over, forgetting to go non-verbal, the curse raced forwards, she got a fraction of Tom's eye widening, and then darkening further, before he deflected it, again, easy, not any indication she'd lost it at him, but she can see he hadn't expected that, something so …violent. She feels a mixture of angry it didn't hit and remorseful that it almost had.
"Non-verbal Miss Granger" Moody growled, and she nodded, raising her wand again, aware her Professor was watching now.
Before she could lift her wand further it was yanked out of her hand. The first spell he cast something as simple as Expelliarmus, and her defence was out of her hand and in his before she could even think to throw up a shield.
"Sloppy Granger" Moody shook his head, "10 points to Slytherin Pevel"
But Tom didn't look at their Professor, his eyes stayed on her, dark, mad, he tossed her wand back to her without a word, and when they were dismissed, Hermione didn't go to him, didn't apologise, didn't say anything (no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much she should), she just turned on her heal and left.
Mudblood.
He didn't deserve an apology.
She doesn't make it far.
She is gone before anyone can stop her, before Harry and Ron can catch up to her, and before Moody can berate her about dropping her guard. Her bags even forgotten, wand only in hand, as she rushes out, needing to be away, needing to be away from him.
She has absolutely no evidence for her thoughts, but they won't stop playing over and over and over.
Tom laughing about her, bragging about her, calling her Mu… that name, mocking her. She can see Malfoy laughing, Blaise's lips curled in disgust, Nott quietly agreeing. She can see them all disparaging people like her, plotting to hurt them. She can see Tom, leader as he is, at the head of them.
'Fraternising with the enemy'
Perhaps she is.
She can't stop seeing it, and any good thought, any bliss from yesterday, any stirring in her heart, hurts, it hurts. She's no fool, she knows she's half in love with Tom by now, and yet he eats with the people who think of her as a second-class citizen, he socialises with those that call her Mudblood, he laughs with the boys that hate her and have made her life hell for years.
What else can she think?
He doesn't give her long to think though, and she has no idea how he got in front of her, but one second she's hurrying away, heading for the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, and in the next she's being yanked, bodily pulled into the nearest broom closet, the grip on her arm none too gentle.
"Get off" She demands, and even as she turns and can see it's Tom who has grabbed her, Tom who backs her into the wall, presses her against it, slides his palms either side of her head, Tom who is glaring at her, she doesn't relent.
She should, if she had any survival instincts, she would recognise that Tom is mad, far madder than she remembers, but she doesn't, she's far too bull headed for her own good, and only matches his glare.
"Leave me alone" She demands, and then Tom is stepping closer, his nose almost brushing hers, and then one of his hands is grabbing her hair, yanking it, and she lets out a whimper, some self-preservation rushing to her (though not enough), as she tilts her head back, to keep her gaze on him, and those hard, dark eyes.
She feels a horrid urge to apologise, and it's only her pride that stops her … just.
"What's the problem?" He asks, his tone clipped, so far from his soothing words last night, but then, they've come far since then, in less than a day.
"Get off of me" She demands, but he just grips tighter, her eyes widen, and she gulps down some fear. Tom is not to be trifled with, and she is well aware she holds a special place of getting away with any kind of back talk, but … she can't bring herself to be docile, to do as she's told, not now.
"Answer me" He demands, and when she looks at him, to see something in his gaze, that he is far too close to losing any patience left, only then does she realise it's time to be a touch more obedient, just a touch.
"I…" She stumbles, how can she explain all of this? She can't, and so she starts differently, "What do you think of my blood status?"
He has the audacity to fucking roll his eyes, and all that anger comes rushing back, all that fury, as he scoffs, and she forgets any level of submission, and shoves him, hard.
He stumbles back, but only because he's allowed it, and he scoffs, actually scoffs, and she rushes forward, brings up her hand, and slaps him, hard. This time she strikes, his cheek blooming red.
She's taken it too far; she knows that the second his gaze meets hers.
He steps forward, and then his hands are on her wrists, and he's backing her up to the wall, planting her hands above her head, crowding her, his leg nudges between hers, forcing them apart, and he plants himself there, his knee rubbing against her, his nose almost brushing hers, as he looks down at her, and he looks furious.
She wishes some self-preservation had kicked in earlier, she wishes that, and wishes she'd got a better hit on him … though, his cheek is still pink.
"Let me make something crystal fucking clear" He says, his tone is harsh, and she knows that means trouble. "Crystal"
She's never been scared of Tom, not completely, and yet she knows he's scary, she's seen people flinch away from him in the corridors, she noted how his Slytherin cronies were deferential to him a day after he'd arrived, she knows he comes from Durmstrang and is extremely powerful. He is scary, he waltzed them into the Forbidden Forest without a concern, he does as he pleases, and yet he's never been scary with her, not really.
Until now.
"Let me make it clear that I despise muggles" Her heart is beating hard against her chest, she feels a mixture of terrified and extremely angry, and as he says that she struggles against him, but she can't budge him, "My father was a filthy fucking muggle, and I hated him" She doesn't even register that he was supposed to have moved here with his father, in her ears she can only hear him and her heartbeat, her mind full, "I hate muggles, I always will, no matter what I feel for you won't change that"
"But, let me make you understand completely what happened when Draco Malfoy called you a mudblood" He growls, and her cheeks heat, this time for something different.
"I held him down, I levelled my wand and I made him piss himself with how scared he was before I even started" He says, and her breath hitches, "I then caused him so much pain he is likely to never forget it, on his death bed he will remember the agony I put on him for calling you that word" She shouldn't be pleased, she shouldn't be…
She is.
"Crabbe and Goyle tried to defend him. They're still taking pain potions for what I did to them" He says, and she isn't imaging that he grinds her knee to his centre, and she fucking likes it, she's breathing heavily now, terrified still, but something else too. "Zabini and Nott were smart enough not to follow suit. But then Pansy Parkinson spoke up, she was in the hospital wing for three days, Bulstrode only laughed, so she got two days, but then there was an arrogant 6th year, don't know his name, he called you it, he's still there"
His hands leave hers, and she near falls, has to grab his shoulders to steady herself. One hand finds her hair again, tipping her back, the other is slipping beneath her skirt, and were she even remotely in control of herself she'd stop him.
She isn't. She doesn't.
"I will never, ever tolerate anyone treating you as anything less than a fucking goddess" He growls, and she whimpers then, whimpers as his fingers find her there, right there, and he's pressing, swiping, pinching, and in seconds she's trembling against him, tucking her head into his shoulder, her lips pressed against her neck, her moaning disgustingly loud.
"Silencing charm…" She manages to get out, in response he pinches her there in response, a touch too hard (not that her needy whine would say that), he makes no move to grab his wand.
"Don't' you dare doubt me" He growls, pulling her head back again, "Don't you dare doubt my devotion to you Hermione" He seems furious, and she is nodding, nodding furiously, she can't, she won't ever doubt him after this.
"You are mine" He says it with such certainty it almost feels like reverence, and she is nodding, nodding again, this time she doesn't hesitate, not for a second, "I will never let anyone disrespect what's mine" She doesn't even care that he's almost calling her a possession, she just nods and grinds against his hand.
She hates herself for how pleased she feels, for how he's defended her, it's wrong, she should feel mad, feel sorry for those he hurt. She doesn't, she just feels adored.
"I'm sorry" She hiccups out, as he slips one, then two fingers inside of her, thrusting them back and forth. He isn't gentle, and she's glad he isn't. "I'm sorry Tom" She is near sobbing now, as his thumb presses to her clit, as he brings her higher and higher, and higher, she is so close, right on the edge, clinging to him, babbling, apology after apology, she was wrong, so wrong, how could she doubt him? "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry"
He pulls his fingers away just as she's about to crest over the edge.
She scrabbles for his hand, pulling back, eyes wide. He knows how wet she is, her tights are soaked through, she is desperate, shaking in his arms, and she near sobs with relief as he puts his fingers back on her.
And then he's pulling away again, just as she's about to see stars.
He does that four more times before she's a mess, begging, her mind fogged over, not seeing this for what it is, not seeing just what he's doing. She's never been so stupid in her life. She is just babbling, begging now, shaking, clinging to him, wetter than she's ever been, needier than she should ever be.
"Tom, please, please, please" She sobs, not even caring that anyone walking past can likely hear her, not even realising that is what he intends, the door locked but not silenced, "I'm so... so s-sorry" She hiccups, "I'm s-s-so sorry"
"Don't doubt me" He demands and she's nodding, nodding quickly, so he knows she believes him, that she shouldn't have doubted him, how could she? "Ever"
"I'm-m s-sorry" She whines again, and apparently satisfied he's lifting her skirt again, his hands are on her, three fingers slipping inside this time, the pressure on her clit sending her over in seconds, a scream leaving her lips, this time he muffles it, placing a hand over her mouth, as tears streak down her cheeks, as she's reduced to a mess in his arms, worse than before, clutching at him, as though he's her lifeline.
He's made sure he is.
"I'm ssorry-y" She keeps repeating, and then he's kissing her forehead, holding her close, and she's never needed anything more.
"It's okay" He's saying then, soothing her in a way she didn't know she was craving. Her mind still feels foggy, she has no idea how she started the morning furious at him, and is now cuddling into him, needing to be closer, closer, "It's okay Hermione" She nods, as he tucks her into him, "You did so well" Praise sparks at her brain, and she turns to mush, completely.
They skip classes for the rest of the day, his dissolution charm good enough to get her back to the Tower, she doesn't question how he gets to the girl's dormitory, only mumbling the password to the Fat Lady as Tom cradles her in his arms and nudges her to do so.
She's barely coherent as he tucks her into bed, climbs in next to her when she pulls him close, and then she's fast asleep, tucked into his chest, dazed and even closer to be completely devoted to him. As he intended, smirking ear to ear as he holds her tight, as he always intended.
sooo thoughts?
BOI WE A FAR THROW FROM THE MEADOW. hopefully this serves as a reminder just who tom is.
I do hope you enjoyed, hermione is falling further and further down the rabbit hole, shits fucked up.
as always follow/fav for reviews, please tell me watcha thought of this chapter, I love your feedback!
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