Interlude: Hermione (II)
When she woke up, it took Hermione a moment to remember why she'd fallen asleep in the Common Room. The moment she did, she shot up, looking around wildly. Then, seeing no one, she cast Tempus and flopped back down. 1:37 AM. She'd definitely missed him. She immediately felt for their bond and wrinkled her nose. His emotions felt muted, meaning he was most likely asleep. She knew, from careful monitoring, that he rarely slept at night, and only once had he fallen asleep before two in the morning.
Ginny was almost certainly up there.
Hermione sighed and stared at the stairs leading to the boys' dorm. She'd gone up there before, when it was just Harry and Ron (and, she supposed, the rest of their roommates, but they honestly hadn't even registered in her mind at the time). Somehow though, going in there now, when it was Tom, felt indecent. She imagined sneaking in (because it was the middle of the night right now). She'd find him sitting up against his headboard with a book in his hands, eyes closed. Maybe his head would be back just a bit, turned away from her, giving her an unexpectedly vulnerable view of him.
She wasn't that brave though, she determined, pressing her hands against overly warm cheeks.
It wasn't as though she was jealous of Ginny. The younger girl had spoken to her and told her about the conversation she'd had with Tom. While it had made Hermione terribly embarrassed, and she'd told Ginny that she very much did not need that information, she could admit to herself that she was more interested in him than she felt was healthy. Intellectually. Mostly.
In any case, Tom might relax around Ginny, but there was something to be said for the reaction he'd had to her hug in the split second before he'd shut down. Remembering the result though, Hermione grimaced. She hadn't meant to do it. She'd just been excited about learning from someone who was as skilled at the subject as Tom must be, and hugs were a part of who she was, normally, and it had just happened. And while she was flattered by what she'd felt from him in that moment, she also thought she'd probably hurt any progress he'd made emotionally in the past month or so. That was significantly less good.
Hermione sighed and shifted her leg, which had begun prickling with pins and needles. As she did, something slithered off her lap and onto the floor, making her jump. When she looked, it was just a blanket, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She picked it up, examining it. She knew it hadn't been there when she fell asleep, so someone must have put it on her while she slept. Her lips curved into a fond smile. Only one person here would have left a green blanket on her, even if it was a silvery shade of green rather than the emerald green of Slytherin.
With a content sigh, Hermione pulled the blanket around her shoulders and closed her eyes. She breathed in a complicated mix of cinnamon, wood smoke, and citrus. Harry had smelt of summer, but Tom smelled like autumn. Without meaning to, Hermione drifted off again, wrapped in Tom's blanket.
When her roommates found her and accused her of having a boyfriend in Slytherin, and subsequently refused to believe her when she denied it, she regretted her carelessness.
AN: Incidentally, I decided that Harry was summer, Tom was autumn, and Voldemort was winter several hours before realizing hey! Those are the seasons they were born in! (Or, in Tom's case⦠created?)
Thank you for the amazing reviews. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy in ways that are totally unconducive to writing from Tom's POV but are also very much welcome :D
