Classes, classes, classes. Hermione had never shied away from a few extra classes (with her last year providing adequate testimony to the lengths she was willing to go for knowledge) but getting tutored by Tom was a stretch even for her. It was as Ron might say "mental" amongst her commitments to her regular classes, her SPEW efforts, and to Harry, not to mention Krum, although he was generally content to study with her. Nonetheless it was undeniably worth it; she already felt stronger.

Tom was truly incredible with a wand. She saw in him the same diligence she applied to her own work. He was precise, methodical, and reasonable. Somehow he created the perfect balance of pressure and praise, goading her when necessary, tapping into her obstinate nature to make her want to prove herself to him, but backing off and applauding her handiwork when it was sufficient.

They were starting off small, with variations of spells she already knew. Small tweaks that required just that bit more concentration, just that bit more strength, gauging her competence she was sure, and getting her used to performing harder magic more frequently. Only after he had done this and after she had finished reading the book on wandless magic did Tom demonstrate the practice to her, hand layered atop hers as they chanted together, simple spells, dead simple, but so marvellous to see work without a wand. He had smiled when she levitated her first feather entirely on her own. She had beamed back.

He was learning too, as he taught, recommending books he had recently finished, working with her to refine both their understanding. When he learnt a new spell he would often show it to her, grinning cockily if when her eyes went wide. She had heard of a lot of the spells, they were sixth year, seventh year spells, she knew of them but hadn't thought of learning to use them yet. His practical ability, his actual, raw magic, was untouchable for a teenager. She couldn't help but hold him in awe.

It was only half way through January but he had shown her some truly incredible things. Nothing, however, seemed to resonate quite as strongly as the first spell he had uttered all those nights ago.

Reparo Maxima.

The six syllables hadn't stopped replaying that night. His voice, right by her ear, flooding her senses with…with…magic! It must have been. Remembering how it felt, the warmth of the new spell, the warmth of the power-his power, she was certain, coursing through her wand.

It was ridiculous really. Such a simple spell, when it came down to it. But the way he'd said it. Trilling his –rs, practically drawling the vowels, placing special emphasis on the x. It had sounded so much richer than it was. So much hot-

"Er, Hermione?" It was Harry's voice that recalled her. She stared up at him owlishly. "Have you been listening to anything that I've been saying?"

She paused for a second, regaining reality, before turning on him sharply. "Yes Harry, you've said it several times. The egg just keeps screaming no matter where you open it, but I can't think of anything else. I was sure it would have something to do with altitude given the connection to the dragons but I honestly don't know. At a stretch I would guess it might be an obscure language, something like parseltongue, but I've never read anything about any language as cacophonous as that."

Harry looked a mixture of sheepish and concerned at her outburst, seeming to sink further into the desk. Hermione sighed and settled herself. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you're just worried. I'm just worried. I want to help you, Harry, but I don't know how… I'm scared for you."

"It's okay. I know. I didn't mean to sound so judgemental when I asked. It's just- are you alright? I know you 'Mione. I know that you're probably juggling helping me, and helping Ron with his homework, and acing your own, and romancing Krum."

"Harry!" She held back a grin.

His own smile faded somewhat. "But I can't help thinking that there's something else. You seem…distracted these days. A little more worn. And you've been escaping to library with the cloak a lot recently- not that I mind, I trust you to take care of it but… There isn't anything you aren't telling me because you think it isn't important? You aren't keeping quiet about something that's bothering you are you?" His blue eyes were piercing as he broached the topic. Piercing but soft, merciful. So unlike his and yet so similar. Tom's eyes were unforgiving, they wouldn't allow her to lie, they wouldn't allow her to mask. Thankfully, she thought, as she softened her gaze even further, as she made her voice even more gentle, as she gave him one of her warm, sincere smiles, thankfully Harry's eyes let her lie.

"No, Harry, of course not."


It was not often that Tom felt impressed. His peers did not impress him. His teachers somehow managed to be even less remarkable. There were no wizards without his personal sphere, even, who managed to truly pique his interest. But Hermione. Hermione Granger. He had to admit that she was quite impressive.

He had been worried, after her dramatic exit, that she wouldn't concede. He lingered in front of the mirror the next day dreading that she would simply not show up, making a mockery of him once again. Something in him turned sour at the idea- it wasn't quite anger, more like an anticipatory disappointment. Something cold and grey and sludgy, like churning cement, ready to set once it settled in. But she had come.

And she had been so brilliant since.

Her theory was exemplary for the most part, if a little morally inclined in some cases where it would have benefitted her more to be harsh, the sort of thing that teachers lap up but that merely amused him. He could teach that out of her.

Her potions work too was extremely promising. She claimed to have made polyjuice potion in her second year and, despite its questionable legality he didn't doubt it for a second. What possible use she could have had for it however…? A question for another time, he decided.

Her practical work was difficult to categorise. Exceptional and yet, he felt, somehow restrained. There was about her an obstinate rigidity in her frame, it carried an authority all of its own; power in its unyielding perfection. Yet there was no joy in it, no feeling, only thought.

Her hair did not charge, he noticed, when she cast.

Still she was better than any of his knights thus far. Much better.

He hated to admit it but he was…impressed.

It only grew as he taught her. She was a quick study, mastering the basics rapidly and readily. She never complained, merely worked at something until she had perfected it. It was admirable.

She reminded him of himself in so many ways, so eager to prove, so hungry for the secrets of the magical world. He wondered what made her so interested, for him it had been his escape from the muggle world, something he was reminded of every summer. He wondered if maybe she was half-blood too. There was no way she could be muggle-born, they lacked even the most tentative of magical links and he was surprised they were even able to manage and expeliarmus without hurting themselves. No. She was far too powerful to be a muggle-born. She must be a half-blood, like him. Otherwise she wouldn't be so eager. Otherwise she would be just like the rest of those dim-witted oafs he had had to specially convince of his abilities. Then again, he was an exception to the rule, an heir. The heir. Of Salazar Slytherin himself.

She was special. But not that special.

She was useful too, a perfect guinea pig for testing the mirror. He had found by letting her into his room for lessons that the mirror seemed to be able to cope with extended visitation. He had confirmed that as long as both sides remained uncovered that they could travel between them at will. He wasn't sure yet if could venture beyond the bounds of the Room of Requirement, but he knew he'd be able to coax her out eventually and test it.

All in good time.

She helped him research too, on the founders and their possessions, following up leads on the diadem, the sword, the chalice and the locket. She knew the sword was in the castle. Her friend had summoned it through the sorting hat, apparently, but couldn't guarantee it would always work. Another oddity he didn't seek to question- too much like fanciful rumour. No matter, he wasn't too concerned about that particular artefact. She had brilliant theories about the diadem, of which she seemed most interested, the tragic story of Rowena's love capturing her tragically Gryffindor sensibilities. They had agreed that that was the most promising lead, Tom already had his own suspicions about the locket and didn't so much need help in that respect, but a female perspective, a keener mind, that could be just what he needed to find the diadem.

Teaching her had its other benefits of course, related to his relic hunting. He had his own soldiers, of course, but none so competent, none so useful should there be any complications in getting what was his. Hermione was obedient too, in a begrudging sort of way. The lessons made her feel indebted, and made her more trustworthy, and her innocent little mind seemed to think of it as a treasure hunt of sorts.

She thought he was a kindred spirit.

Knowledge for knowledge's sake.

She thought he was just curious.

So naïve.

He almost felt bad.


"I am glad we could do this." Viktor said, running his thumb over the back of her hand. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on her own.

Hermione turned crimson and started to look at her feet. "Me too." She responded, quietly, nervously.

Why was she still so nervous? The date was over, it had finished, everything to be nervous about had been and gone.

"You are always so busy, my Hermio-ninny. I am glad I convinced you to relax." His hand moved to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear and it lingered, barely brushing against her cheek for as long as decorum would allow. It fell back to holding her hand.

Hermione looked up at the contact, into those steady, warm eyes looking so deeply into her own. "Of course, anytime, for you."

He laughed, deep and rumbling, and his smile crinkled his eyes like a smile should. Not at all like- No she wouldn't think of him right now.

"Anytime you are not studying, or worrying, or working on something, yes?"

It was her turn to laugh, properly, in a way she hadn't laughed in a while. Viktor was so sweet. So understanding. So funny. So cute. So perfect. Why was she so nervous?

"You are so beautiful when you laugh." He said, before she could come up with a retort to his teasing.

She didn't know what to say now. Should she compliment him too? Thank him? There were so many compliments to give, what should she choose? Would he think she was just doing it in turn? Would she sound vain if she thanked him?

She never got to find out.

With a nervous breath of his own Viktor had raised his hand once more, this time to cup her cheek, and gently drawn her towards him, in order to give her a sweet, longing, delicate kiss.

Her first kiss.


Tom shut his book with a loud thwack. "You're late."

"Sorry." Hermione, murmured, looking especially red in the cheeks as she removed her jacket. She dressed so differently from the girls he knew. He supposed it was a symptom of her world, wherever it was.

But he had long grown accustomed to her peculiar weekend wear, what was more concerning to him at present was the lack of excuses, or anger, at his, admittedly unfair, reproach. She was, after all, only ten minutes late. Her compliance made him more agitated.

"Sorry? I willingly give my time to you, to teach you, to elevate you, and you think a simple sorry is adequate to erase the time wasted?" He was goading her on purpose, unsure what her shy, demure demeanour meant. She looked almost guilty, and yet, evidently didn't care that she was late as she threw herself across her chair. He suspected that the only reason she had bothered to lift the curtain was because it had become a force of habit to her as she stared, rosy cheeked, into space.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes finally registered him. "Yes? Oh, yes. Sorry. I did tell you I might be late today. But I've done all the reading you told me to do, and I was able to perform a Patronus Charm the other day for a full minute. Though it didn't look very effective, I've definitely improved." She hurried to take out the books he had lent her from her bag as she rambled on. It never failed to amuse him how quickly she could switch her focus.

"Very well," He sighed, gesturing for her to cross over. "we'll pick up where we left off last time, shall we? Show me what you can do."

Without missing a beat Hermione passed him the book and took a step back into the wider space. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and as she did so Tom couldn't help but notice the blush that rose to her cheeks once more. Whatever memory she was using had to be embarrassing, judging from that face.

"Exspecto Patronum." Immediately a thin silvery wisp sprouted from the tip of her wand, she kept her eyes closed, however, scrunching up her features in concentration. It was perfectly performed, her stance mimicked that in the book to perfection, but she lacked the feeling needed to compress the silvery mist into a corporeal form. No matter how embarrassing her memory was, it clearly wasn't happy enough. She opened her eyes after a few more seconds, her entire face lighting up at the sight, and the patronus seemed to grow a little denser. When she turned with a smile to see Tom's calculating gaze, however, it seemed to crack, and Hermione fell to nervously biting her lip in order to keep it together just a little while longer.

It was no use, Tom thought. "That's enough."

It evaporated. Hermione looked down at her feet. She really wasn't herself today.

"Exspecto Patronum." Tom called, lazily, mockingly. A white snake slithered slowly out of the air. Hermione gasped in awe at its solidity, its perfection. Her bright eyes followed its path with pure admiration. The expression on her face when he performed such spells never failed to produce a smug smile on his own.

She truly loved magic, just like him.

With an arrogant flick of his wand he sent his patronus to coil round her leg and up to her shoulders, expecting her to scream or flinch. Instead she laughed, ducking her head as it slunk under her hair and round the back of her neck. So she wasn't squeamish. But she was ticklish…

Tom docked that information for later before dispelling the silvery snake, though he wasn't sure when he'd need it.

Hermione stared back at him. "Wow."

"Wow?"

"I've never seen a patronus up close before. That was incredible."

"Thank you, glad I could impress- wait. Do you mean to say you have seen a patronus before?"

"Um, yes." She responded, nervously, somehow, as though trying to gauge how much to say. "My friend Harry, he learnt how to cast one last year."

What possible use could a third year have for the patronus charm? "I thought he wasn't particularly adept." She frowned. "From what little I've gleaned of your occasional rants."

"Oh, right. Well actually he's brilliant at defensive magic, has a unique knack for it." Something about her tone suggested that was where that strain ended. "But anyway, I'm not quite sure what I'm doing wrong. How do I make something like that?"

"Nothing, really is wrong. You pronounce it correctly, your wand work is brilliant. However it could be the memory you're using. It needs to be as positive as you can make it. Are you certain it's the happiest one you've got?"

Hermione coloured again, reverting back to the state she had only just gotten out of. "Um, I think so. I've tried lots of different ones, but that's the furthest I've gotten."

"Well what is it?"

"I'm not telling you!" She snapped. Then, noticing Tom's suggestively raised eyebrow recalculated her response. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"A trade? I don't know, might not be worth it. Although it does seem quite sensitive… You didn't lose your virginity, did you?" He grinned spitefully.

Hermione fumed. Merlin, there she was!

"You vulgar git! You actual prick! How dare you cast aspersions on my sex life! You know absolutely bugger all about me and you want to shame me for something that I haven't done- that we are both far too young to do? You're really sick you know that. And you should be ashamed of yourself Mr. I'm too brooding and mysterious to give you my last name." She started to wordlessly levitate pillows and fling them at him. Tom could barely contain his laughter at her anger, at the fact that the articles on his shelves- no the very shelves themselves- were quaking in the wake of her anger, as he lazily undid the damage she was doing to his furniture. "Even my own friends don't have the right to make such a disgusting joke, but you with your smug face, and your arrogant, flippant personality, and your gloomy, depressing aesthetic, you dare time and time again to be an utter pig! Mark my words Tom, if you don't learn to behave like a gentleman I will leave, promises and wand be damned!"

With a huff she finished, displeased to find that her work had been entirely reversed by the boy who still sat smiling amusedly at her.

Without a word he stood, taking only two quick steps to meet her. Before she could step back one of his hands had wrapped round her waist and he used the other to tilt her chin up to face him.

"I apologise." He said, simply, sweetly. Hermione was frozen in his arms, suitably taken off guard if the rate of her breathing was anything to go by. He couldn't quite read her eyes, though. They weren't frightened, nor angry, just wide and waiting. Waiting for what? Probably not what he planned on saying next. "You're much too prudish to have lost your virginity."

"You arse!" She exclaimed. And suddenly she was struggling against his hold, eyes losing their anticipatory sheen and turning feral.

"Come, come now." He chided, using her wriggling against her to turn her round in his hold, one arm still firmly wrapped around her waist and pulling her against him. She stopped moving once he brushed back her hair to talk directly into her ear. "If you want me to be a gentleman then I'll show you how it's done."

"What!"

"Shut up and concentrate." She did. He suspected she hated herself for having obeyed so readily. "Now raise your wand and cast the spell."

"This isn't going to help."

"Do it." She did.

"Exspecto Patronum." A thin wisp just barely appeared in the air.

"Pathetic. Again."

"Exspecto Patronum." It was slightly stronger but not much.

Tom sighed and leaned closer to her. "Close your eyes and think. Reach for a moment where you felt truly accomplished. Where you got full marks on a test. Where one of your professors complimented you. Where you hugged someone or something…" He was running out of ideas.

"Not helping, Tom." She opened one eye.

"Eyes closed!" He hissed. "If there's really nothing try picturing something you want. Something you really want, mind you, not just the next book you're 'simply dying' to get."

She elbowed him gently in the ribs. He chuckled despite himself before regaining his serious attitude.

"Picture what success is to you. Picture yourself having already accomplished the patronus. Picture yourself as Minister for Magic, or your poxy SPEW organisation gaining steam." She didn't rebuff him like last time he'd poked fun at her knitted socks. He could tell she was focused now and he withdrew slowly, fingers grazing her t-shirt before losing contact. He waked around to face her fully, trying to discern her thoughts. What made Hermione Granger happy? What did she want? The wisps seemed to be congealing now, slowly, but definitely coming together. "Find your happy place, Hermione. Find it and stay there. Grip onto it tight. Don't let it go, you're almost there." The form was beginning to take shape now. It was long and smooth. But it had no defined edges just yet. "You're doing well Hermione. Excellent in fact. Try just that little more. You can do this." It was nearly there, he was getting curious now. It almost looked like- but no, it wouldn't be. "I believe in you, Hermione."

And there it was- it was… It was an otter.

It…suited her, he supposed. The contrast of the supposedly cute creature and the ferocity with which it could get what it wanted.

At his silence Hermione couldn't help but peek, and exclaimed when she did. "Tom! I did it!" Her smile was radiant. She ought to be proud. It was a devilishly difficult spell. For some reason he felt drained seeing it.

"Well done." The otter continued to spin around her with joyous abandon and she followed its movement with the same energy that she had in watching his slither round. "That's enough of that for today however." He added. The otter dissipated.

"Right." She nodded shyly, still beaming.

"Can I ask what you thought of that time?"

"No. I don't think so." Her voice was calm and teasing but her eyes refused to meet his.

"How predictable. And I apologise, by the way, for the virgin comment. You do take some firm encouragement sometimes. But I hope you see that it's worth it." He cleared his throat, avoiding her suddenly soft glance. Then he moved swiftly to his bookshelf. "Now, we've covered the majority of the defensive spells that are on the Hogwarts curriculum. I'd like to move you on to some offensive spells if you wouldn't mind, however I'd like you to read this before we start to appease your moral compass."

She looked at the book he shoved in her hands with reserve. "I've read it."

"Really, you?"

"Yes. I picked it up last year from the library, mind you a much older version." She wrinkled her nose.

"Well you must be confused. This is a first edition I received as a gift for Christmas. However I suspect your expression will remain the same once you've finished, you're one of those prickly people that gets upset about these things, label it dark magic and get all antsy. Honestly, you're the worst- as sensitive as a Hufflepuff, as stubborn as a Gryffindor, and as proud as a Slytherin. Your only redeeming trait is your Ravenclaw intellect… Hermione?"

She wasn't paying attention to his jibes. She was looking at her feet with a frown, thinking. At the sound of her name she picked her head up and plastered on a painfully fake smile. He couldn't be bothered to unpack the storm of emotions going on- probably concerning the morality of practising such spells, so he didn't comment.

"Yes, sorry. I must have been mistaken, but I'll read it through."

A sullen silence fell between them.

"Excellent." Tom diverted. He couldn't stand her silences. They were so obnoxiously filled with her unspoken thoughts. "Now- what spells do you know?"

Hermione enthusiastically fetched her textbooks from her bag and settled down round the coffee table in Tom's room. Always closest to the fire, always rattling off information at the speed of light.

She was difficult. She probably had as many secrets as he did, he was starting to discover, with the way she so carefully chose her words, and so terribly lied. Only she didn't quite realise the similarities yet. Yes, she was tricky, tempestuous, troublingly complex at times, but as Tom watched her spill out her theories, as he scanned the way her eyes burned relaying her ideas, something in him felt compelled to let her stay.

Just to see what would happen next...

A/N: Some more Krum for you as I am a sucker for cute little interactions with him, and some bond building between Tom and Hermione! Was it necessary for Tom to grab her by the waist? No, perhaps not. Did I enjoy every second of it? Yes, yes I did. I hope this was a good update, I have more of a sense of where the story is headed now so I should be able to upload a couple more chapters before the end of September! Hope you enjoyed this update! Please let me know what you think and if you pick up any inconsistencies- I'm hopeless! Much love- Mercy.