AU! Tom hasn't made Horcruxes. Hermione and Tom are of the same age. This is NOT a time-travel fic.
WRITTEN FOR QLFC, RESERVE LEAGUE
SEASON 7, ROUND 9
CHASER 2: Who Wants To Live Forever
Word Count: 2693
Hermione sat on Tom's bed in the Slytherin dorm room, a large book in her hands. Tom sat beside her, his homework spread out in front of him. He glanced at her sporadically, silently wondering if she would mind if he touched her hand. It wasn't like he hadn't held her hand before; it was just the thought of touching her that made him feel all warm and tingly inside.
When they had first met on the Hogwarts Express, Hermione had taken one look at him and decided she would befriend him. She had followed him around like a shadow, annoyingly cheerful all the time and so chatty. Tom, on the other hand, had done his best to shake her off by ducking into empty classrooms and alcoves, but she had clung to him like a flea on a mangy dog.
Despite the fact that she was a Hufflepuff, she still sat at the Slytherin table with Tom, making sure to talk his ear off. At first, he had even tried to subtly hex her, but she had dodged his hexes at every turn. As the years had passed, her presence felt natural, and his feelings for her had turned more overwhelming.
Now, Hermione was the only one who could calm him down when he was furious at his followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, which was most of the time. She knew how dangerous he was—though he now tried not to scare her off—yet she still stuck to him like glue.
Hermione put her book down after a few minutes and asked, "All right. What's wrong?"
Tom shook his head and said, "Nothing, why?"
"You keep on looking at me like you want to say something, but you stop yourself…"
"Oh…" Tom glanced down at his hands nervously. "Was that obvious?"
"No, not to the others. But to me, yes." Hermione smiled at him.
Tom nibbled on his lower lip, thinking whether he should tell her what he wanted to do or not. He finally committed to telling her because he knew she wouldn't judge him for it; she was his best friend, and she had always accepted him for who he was.
"I want to hold your hand," he admitted truthfully.
Hermione beamed at his admittance and entwined her fingers with his. Tom felt his shoulders relax at the touch; he swore her touch was magical. He wondered if he could wrap his arm around her shoulders and get away with it.
"What else? Just say it, Tom. What's going through your brain now?"
"I… don't know how to say it..."
"Open your mouth and let the words flow out," Hermione teased as she squeezed his hand.
Tom rolled his eyes at her suggestion but took a deep breath in. They were just two words, but it was so difficult. "Come closer," he choked out.
Hermione snickered, but she immediately leaned towards him. Resting her head on Tom's chest, she opened her book again.
A small smile appeared on Tom's lips as he went back to his homework. A few minutes of peaceful silence later, Tom began to fidget. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and bounced his leg.
"Do you want to cuddle, Tom?" Hermione suddenly asked him.
"I don't cuddle, Mine. That's not something I do," Tom gruffly replied.
"Do you want me to cuddle with you? My book's finished," she said lightly.
"If you wish to," he grumbled under his breath, not wanting to admit out loud how much he liked it when she clung to him like a baby koala.
The first time she had done it, he had stiffened and stared at the top of her head, thinking he should hex her arms off. The second time she had done it, he had still stiffened, not used to the affection, but he hadn't said anything.
Hermione lay down on her side and pulled Tom down in front of her. She adjusted her skirt before she wrapped her legs around Tom's waist. Tom snuggled back against her, secretly loving the way she held him so close to her. He loved the warmth she emanated, the feel of her chin on his shoulder, the way she sweetly kissed his temple absentmindedly, and the way her arms seemed to fit perfectly around him.
"Do you feel better now?" Hermione asked him curiously.
"What? How did you know I was—"
"We've been friends for seven years, Tommy," she teased him lightly as she nuzzled the side of his neck. Hermione was the only one allowed to call him that; anyone else would be Crucioed on the spot.
Tom's breath hitched at the intimate touch, and he desperately hoped she would do that again. To his astonishment, she rubbed her nose against his neck again. "Did you read my mind or something?" he wondered out loud.
"You're just so easy to read," she said with a soft laugh, tightening her arms around his chest.
"No one else can do that…so it's still a bit difficult for me to comprehend," he muttered, flipping through the pages of his Charms book. Hermione laughed at his comment.
Suddenly the drapes around Tom's bed were yanked to the side by an excited Abraxas. "Tom! Tom! T—" he trailed off when he saw the two of them. His eyes widened when he saw their position, and he stumbled back in surprise.
Tom stiffened at Abraxas' sudden appearance and calmly sat up. Abraxas swallowed as he visibly panicked, obviously having no idea how to react to the scene he had just come across.
"What do you want?" Tom gritted out through clenched teeth, his hands fisted by his side, his eyes dark with rage. How dare Abraxas interrupt his talk with Hermione?
Abraxas nervously wrung his hands and stammered, "Pokey brought the letter from…home."
Tom cocked his head to the side and demanded, "Where is it?"
Abraxas pulled out the letter from his pocket and handed it to Tom. Tom coolly handed it to Hermione and said, "Mine, will you please hold this for me while I have a small conversation with our dear Abraxas here?"
Hermione nodded and said, "Of course, Tom. You go chat with Abe. Bye, Abe!"
Tom gave her a soft smile and then walked out of the room with a terrified Abraxas trailing behind him. Once Tom found an empty classroom, he locked the door behind him and hissed, "How many times have I told you to announce yourself before barging in on me?"
"I'm sorry, my lord…I apologize. I was in a hurry to get the letter to you," Abraxas stammered as he stared at the ground.
"Crucio," Tom growled as he pointed his wand at him.
Abraxas fell to his knees and cried out in agony, "I'm sorry, master!"
Tom sneered down at him and snarled, "Do you swear not to interrupt me again when I'm with Hermione?"
"I swear! I swear! Please, don't hurt me!" Abraxas wailed as Tom increased the strength behind his spell ruthlessly.
"You needed a reminder, didn't you, Abraxas? Be thankful I'm in a hurry or else I would teach you some manners," Tom drawled as he pocketed his wand.
"I won't do it again, I swear," Abraxas whispered shakily.
"Very well. Do I have to remind you not to tell anyone what you saw?"
Terrified, Abraxas shook his head and cried out, "I didn't see anything!"
"No one will believe you anyway," Tom said as he sneered down at him. He pivoted on his heel and walked out of the classroom, leaving Abraxas to calm himself down.
Tom returned to Hermione and lay back down on the bed, this time wrapping his arms around her waist. She handed him the letter and asked, "Will you tell me what this is about?"
"Let me read this first," he mumbled, ripping the letter open. He scanned the contents of the letter, his smirk widening as his eyes trailed over the page. When he reached the end of the letter, he drawled, "This was too easy."
"What was too easy?" Hermione inquired curiously.
Tom looked down at his best friend, Hermione, his dark eyes shining with excitement. "I found a way to become immortal, Mine."
Hermione's eyes widened at his boastful declaration. "What do you mean?"
"This means that we're going to be immortal soon," Tom whispered as he dropped an absentminded kiss onto her riotous curls.
"Tom…I'll support you in whatever you decide to do, but could you explain to me what's going through your head right now?" Hermione leaned back to look at him.
Tom grinned, deliriously happy, and replied, "I wrote a letter to Grindelwald to ask him about the Deathly Hallows. I wanted to know if they were real…This"–he waved the piece of parchment Abraxas had given him a few minutes ago–"is his letter. He said that they were very much real and he had wanted to become the Master of Death, but Dumbledore got in the way."
"Why would he tell you that? You're Dumbledore's student! Surely, he wouldn't—"
"I told him I was too young to have joined his army, but I agreed with his philosophy," Tom admitted. It was a lie, of course, but Tom had learnt how to decipher what he needed to do to gain people's trust.
"Ruling over Muggles? You think that's right, Tom?" Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at him.
"Mine, I—"
Hermione shook her head as she pulled away and sat up. "Tom, I'm Muggle-born…Do you really think I don't belong in the Wizarding World? I know the others call me a Mudblood behind my back and—"
Tom groaned loudly and wrapped his arms around her waist. He dragged her back down onto the bed and buried his face in her neck. "Never say that again. Never call yourself that. If you do, I'll punish you," he growled threateningly, tilting his head to look at her.
Hermione's face reddened at his insistence, but she continued her argument, "But, Tom…"
"Shut up and listen to me, Mine…" Tom pulled her closer to his chest, his heart aching at how casually she had called herself a Mudblood.
Where did she overhear someone calling her that? He would kill anyone who made her feel inferior. She was his queen, and she deserved to be treated like one. He had set his Basilisk on Myrtle Warren back in his fifth year because he had heard her mocking Hermione for her buck-teeth and unruly hair, and he would gladly do it again.
"Okay, what do you want to say?" Hermione grumbled, fidgeting with her hands.
"I don't want to rule over Muggles, Mine. I hate Muggles, yes, but I don't want to rule over them. Neither do I think Muggle-borns are lesser than purebloods…You are a Muggle-born and you're more powerful than every witch in Hogwarts. You're better at magic than Abraxas and Orion—and they're purebloods!"
"You're only saying this because I annoyed you so much and wore you down," Hermione argued. "You wouldn't have chosen to be my friend if it weren't for me following you around."
"Mine, I wouldn't have chosen to be anyone's friend. You're not just my best friend—you're my only friend. And I'm so grateful you didn't give up on me." He gazed at the soft colour blooming on her cheeks, and his heart longed for something he couldn't put his finger on. He really hoped he didn't need to read those self-help books Orion had given Abraxas as a gag gift; Tom knew he was above such things, after all.
"Okay, then…" Hermione asked, "So, why did you tell Grindelwald you agree with his philosophy?"
"Mine, you know me…I like to skillfully handle people," he pointed out.
She knew how much of an expert he was at handling people. Tom was a consummate actor, but he had never played 'pretend' with Hermione. She was the only one who could see through his lies and manipulations—and Tom was amazed by how loyal she was to him still.
"Just say 'manipulate', Tom. Be honest," Hermione said, her lips twitching at his words.
"Skillfully handle people. Not 'manipulate.' That word sounds very harsh," he said with a small grin.
Hermione laughed and hugged him tightly, gazing up at him. The sound of her laughter was so bright, so sweet, that it never failed to lighten Tom's mood; it always made him feel like he was on top of the world.
She batted her lashes at him and murmured, "Okay, I'm sorry for thinking the worst of you, Tommy. Forgive me?"
Tom gazed down at her wide brown eyes and the slight pout of her petal-pink lips, and he was suddenly hit with an absurd thought. 'Would she let me kiss her if I ask?'
He swallowed and shoved the thought away, deciding to analyze it later when he was alone. "Always, Mine."
Hermione beamed and tilted her head to kiss his cheek, the small action warming Tom's cold heart. He knew she didn't understand the effect she had on him, though. She was so naive, so innocent. Tom often wondered what it would take for her to see that he was a monster. How far would he have to go to show her that?
Hermione broke him out of his reverie by asking, "Now, tell me what would the Deathly Hallows do?"
Tom explained his idea to her: how he would search for the Hallows after graduating from Hogwarts, how he would be able to control Death, and how both of them would never have to grow old at all.
Hermione listened patiently before nodding and asking, "Why don't you want to grow old, Tom?"
"Growing old means imminent death, Mine. How can you not understand that? I don't want death; so…will you help me?"
Hermione nodded again and smiled. "I will. I'll always support you, Tommy…but…"
"But what?" Tom looked down at her cocooned in his arms, and another bizarre thought ran through his mind. 'She's right where she belongs.'
Before he could think too much about it, Hermione said something that shook him to his core. "Maybe I don't want to be forever young…"
Tom was taken aback at her reply. What did she mean she didn't want to be forever young? Didn't she wish to spend her life with him?
"Mine, what—what would possess you to say something like that? Don't you want to be immortal? We would have the freedom to travel the world, explore Old Magicks together…we could change the world!"
Hermione cupped his face in her hands and whispered, "Tom, I want to grow old. I want to have children one day and watch them grow up. I want to travel the world with you, yes, but I don't want to be immortal."
Tom was shaken to his core by her honest declaration. "But then, you'll die! I won't let you die! No, you're mine! You can't die, I won't let you!" he stammered, fear overwhelming his usually rational mind.
"Tom…listen to me…I will support you. It's just that I don't want to be immortal. That's all. I'll still be by your side, won't I?" She tried to reason with him, but Tom's mind was still stuck on her words.
"But I want to live forever…" he whispered, his shoulders slumped. Confusion ran rampant through his mind as he tried to figure out a way to make her see what he wanted.
"You can live forever, Tom. I'm not stopping you," she said.
"I want to live forever…with you," he amended his wish, and Hermione's eyes widened at his honesty. "What will I do without you by my side?"
"Tom…I…"
"Just think about it, please," he requested, his gaze locked on hers.
"I'll think about it, I promise," she whispered.
Tom nodded, content with her answer for the time being. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, and she snuggled closer.
Tom did his best to ignore the warmth in his chest and the strange knots in his stomach. Maybe he was coming down with something. He made a mental note to go to the infirmary soon.