AN: OMG. You little whores, it's chapter twenty! Twenty. I think, by now, we can all agree that Tom is an undeniably sexy knickers-dropper whose up to no good? And that Professor Chanté is kinda sleazy? And we like to see Tom Riddle shirtless, yes, yes?
Seriously.
I know you want You-Know-What. I know.
The girls paid close attention to Elphy Wictz as she gabbed about her latest fancy; some 'swoon-worthy' Ravenclaw in her Transfiguration class she snogged behind the Quidditch Pitch fifth period. Fabia and Rosy, perched on Hermione's unmade bed, flipped through Witch Weekly and listened to the Slytheriness prattle while Hermione herself slipped the school skirt on over her stockings. Fabia offered to let her borrow some mascara, but she declined, pocketing her wand and turning to the others with a beaming smile far too bright for a Monday morning.
"Ready to go?" she asked and they nodded, moving to their feet to head out of the dormitory. Fabia waved goodbye to Meredith, who returned the gesture half-heartedly.
"When is she going to stop moping around?" Rosy grumbled once the door had swung shut.
Elphy shrugged. "Until someone starts feeding her attention again probably."
"I already tried that," Fabia said, glancing back at the dorm worriedly. "She's still acting odd though."
Hermione touched Slytherin's Locket, hidden away from prying eyes under her blouse but feeling much heavier than gold as it weighed down on her chest. She couldn't help feeling guilty as the girls worried over their friend. Was Meredith really just being sulky, or was it something more? Ever since she'd been released from the hospital wing she had been acting very strange, talking less and looking thinner. She wasn't a zombie, but she wasn't the same mean, snobby girl she used to be either.
Isn't that a good thing though?
What was so bad about Meredith being a little quiet? She wasn't a nuisance anymore. Besides, Hermione had done her part already by finding her in that classroom the night of Slughorn's soiree and alerting Gregovitch. If she hadn't, Meredith wouldn't even be alive to be grumpy right now. Right?
"Hey Hermione." A passing Slytherin she didn't know the name of said the greeting casually, giving her a friendly nod of his head before continuing down the hall. Hermione blinked in surprise. Rosy gave her a shrug.
The girls rounded the bend and found the usual school cliques – mainly the fifth and sixth years – relaxing on the window sills framing the first floor hallways and clustered in the misty courtyards outside. Half of the Slytherin Quidditch team looked up at their approach, bored expressions eclipsed by lazy smiles and finger wriggles as they walked by. Hermione heard Elphy snort "you wish" under her breath.
"I like your hair today, Hermione," Fabia said suddenly.
"Me too," Rosy pitched in. "It makes you look older."
"Would you two quit it?" said Elphy, rolling her smoky green eyes in exasperation. "You're acting like hungry strays begging for a scrap of food."
"What kind of analogy is that?" Rosy scoffed and Elphy shrugged, examining the nails she painted turquoise to match her silk scarf this morning. Elphy, Hermione knew, would never own up to one of her downright horrendous metaphors.
"Well, no one asked you anyway," Fabia said, dismissively. "I don't see what's so wrong with being nice."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with it at all, dear Fab." So quietly, that only Hermione could hear, she added in a sing-song "kiss ups." They shared a grin and laughed secretly, locking elbows much to the chagrin of Rosy and an annoyed Fabia.
Hermione looked away from her friends to find Augusta, the-tougher-than-nails Head Girl, consulting two Ravenclaw Prefects in the corridor. She waved to her, but instead of returning the friendly hello Augusta's eyes fell on the Slytherins at her side and slanted. She faltered.
"Fatbottom's hair looks like an exploded haystack, does it not?" muttered Rosy behind her.
"Perhaps there is a Quaffle hiding in there from Quidditch practice?" Fabia suggested.
They burst into laughter.
Hermione ground to a halt and spun around, eyes flashing. "Augusta happens to be my friend," she said sharply, "and I think she looks perfectly fine. Wouldn't you two agree?"
The girls stared at her, faces going bright red and fidgeting. Elphy howled with delighted laughter.
"Sorry, Hermione," Fabia said contritely, sending Elphy a withering glare the latter girl simply smiled at. "We didn't know." Rosy agreed, offering to give her the treats her auntie was sure to send her via owl at breakfast.
"No, no, it's fine," she sighed. "Sorry. I'm just a little…on edge this morning. I didn't get too much sleep last night."
They nodded sympathetically.
When the Slytherins entered the Great Hall it was to find Tom hadn't arrived yet. Hermione sat in her usual seat, tapping her nails on the mahogany tabletop with some agitation. The truth was, she felt so antsy because her magic was misbehaving again, seeking its counterpart and racking up her nerves as it charged the air. She struggled to control it and was grateful when Rosy spoke up, providing a distraction.
"Look what my owl brought me!" she exclaimed, untying the petite package a large, windblown bird had delivered a minute ago. "I hope it's something with chocolate..."
"Is it your auntie again?" Elphy said and uninterestedly picked apart her own delivery, which turned out to be a fashion magazine sent straight from Paris. Fabia was nibbling on the gourmet peppermint bark her parents sent her.
"Yes. She's sent me chocolate Galleons and licorice whip," Rosy reported. She offered a chocolate Galleon to each of the girls, giving two extra to Hermione even though she protested and passing one to Abraxas when he whined that she never shared anything with him. Elphy declined hers, she was dieting again.
Regulus arrived then, swaggering toward them with a wide grin and another incomplete Divinations assignment tucked under his arm. "Ooh, what do we have here?" he said nosily, leaning in to see.
"It's Rosy's," Hermione said and pointed at the girl in question. Regulus turned to Rosy Parkinson, flashing her a winning smile.
"You know you're my favorite, don't you?" he began, but was cut off when she threw him a licorice whip. "Thanks!" He sat down, sticking the candy in his mouth, and opened his schoolbag to get out a quill and inkwell. The empty blanks of his Divinations assignment grated Hermione's eyes.
"Can I 'ave some?" a voice said suddenly from a row down.
At this, nearly the entire table stiffened and turned to direct cold stares at Alecto Carrow. The silence was broken by Abraxas, who muttered perplexedly, "Was that English?"
"Oh no, Abraxas, you are mistaken," said Elphy, seriously. "That was rat-speak. Everyone knows dear Alecto here was born and raised in the sewer-"
Her words were cut off by everyone's laughter and Alecto shrank, ducking her head and mumbling "never mind, 'at was stupid…"
"How many times do we have to tell you, rat?" Abraxas sneered. "We don' speak no rat-talk!"
This induced another round of sniggers and Hermione looked away from Alecto's face, pink with mortification and the strain of suppressed tears. She half-wanted to tell Abraxas off for being such a jerk, but was distracted by the sight of the doors opening - and swinging back to reveal Tom Riddle.
Only a few of his intimidating cronies backed him at this hour - Dolohov, Crabbe and Goyle – but she didn't notice them at all as he crossed the floors toward the Slytherin section. Her magic calmed the closer he became, reducing to a cheerful hum embroidered on her skin yet waxing in strength when his magic loomed close enough to touch. He looked impeccable. Not a hair out of place, school robes pressed, and the Head Boy badge pinned to his right lapel yellower than butterscotch under the glowing candlelight of the Great Hall.
She wished she could close the space between them faster.
The other Slytherins realized their leader's presence and calmed down quickly, all polite smiles and greetings as the Head Boy took his seat. "Sleep well, Tom?" Abraxas said smilingly and was ignored as the wizard in question started filling a plate. Fabia and Rosy cast him sideways glances, conversation hushing to girlish giggles and whispers.
"Morning Tom," Hermione said quietly.
Black eyes met hers, somehow managing to be both intense and emotionless as a Classical Greek sculpture all at once, and she felt her neck go hot. A slight smirk tugged his lips. "Darling" was all he said.
Slytherin's Locket, although not yet a Horcrux, seemed to heat when she looked up at the staff table in time to see Dumbledore glance away, a deep frown etched on his mouth. She blanched as realization hit her. What was she doing? They were in the vicinity of a great wizard! He, like them, could sense exceptionally strong magic and would find them out – but he couldn't possibly know about their connection yet, could he? He is powerful though, she thought. If anything, he probably sensed both their magic strengthening, and Dumbledore was bright enough to connect the dots sooner rather than later. The question was: what would he do once he figured it out?
Past Dumbledore, Professor Chanté was chatting up the Muggle Studies teacher.
Hermione felt a sour twinge in her stomach at the sight of the DADA professor. For despite all his charms and every other female in the student body being taken with him, the fervency with which he'd confessed his 'feelings' for her a few days ago hadn't wooed Hermione but made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Last night had been the worst and now she would have to tell him once and for all she didn't return his feelings. If that's what they even were.
That was sure to be awkward.
"What is it?" Tom said, too sharp not to feel the shift of her emotions through the bond and dark gaze inquiring. "Hermione?"
She cleared her throat. "Nothing, I was just-"
"It doesn't seem like nothing." He followed her gaze to the staff table, eyes narrowing. "Was Dumbydore watching us again?"
"Well, yes," she admitted and had to stop herself from telling him about Professor Chanté too. What good would that do? She couldn't blab every problem she had to him, even if the connection between them urged her to tell no lies and enforce no barriers between them. In a lower voice, she said, "I think he senses our magic."
"Of course he does, the nosy old coot," he said contemptuously. "We'll have to learn to control it if we want to keep him in the dark."
"How? The only way we can right now is when we're close to each other," she pointed out. "And even now, I feel…"
"Anxious."
She nodded, shifting closer and rubbing the hand between hers in a futile attempt to calm the demanding magic building inside her. He let her.
"When I leave over Christmas break you will come with me," Tom suddenly said, surprising her. "We'll be able to practice controlling our magic without interruption then."
"But where are we going?"
"Not too far."
It was probably the best answer she was going to get, for now.
Suddenly, Hermione remembered what she'd seen last night, and while everyone else seemed to not care why school had been cancelled yesterday she found the reason and was greatly perturbed by it. Dumbledore, she noted, also looked less merry than usual. "Tom, when we leave I have to tell you something important," she whispered, voice hardly audible over all the noise in the Great Hall. "It has to do with the essences."
He glanced at her, interest piqued, and nodded. She restlessly waited for breakfast to end, watching the clock mounted on the far wall raptly.
Five minutes before the warning bell rang, Tom stood and the Slytherins at the table exchanged knowing smirks as he and Hermione left the hall. Elphy hushed their sniggers and sassily told them to mind their own business.
"Poor Professor Chanté," Rosy said woefully. "He's probably heartbroken."
When Fabia and Elphy asked what the bloody hell she was talking about she explained, with a secret smile, what happened a few days ago in DADA…
Outside, Hermione and Tom slipped behind the tapestry and into the secret passageway leading to the Potions classroom. Tom immediately pulled her against him, something deep inside breathing out a sigh of relief when he felt her body click into his like a missing puzzle piece. "What did you have to tell me?" he asked softly, combing his fingers through her incorrigible hair and laying a kiss on her forehead.
"I-I found out who died yesterday." She bit her lip. "Do you remember how I asked Regulus about those death omens?"
"How could I forget?" he said, faux lightly. Doubt crept on him. "Why? Do you have feelings for Black?"
She scowled. "No and I'll thank you for not jumping to conclusions," she said tartly. "But I asked him about them in the first place because ever since I accidentally released the essences I've been...seeing strange things."
"Such as?" he prodded, remembering the book he had spent all night reading.
Hermione flushed. "This black cat. I thought it was an Animagus at first or someone's pet, but then I started seeing it in the halls. No one else ever saw it, so I thought I might be imagining things. That was when I overheard Regulus talking about this essay for Divination-"
"'The Truth in Superstitions'," he supplied, nodding.
"Yes, that. Regulus also mentioned something about black cats so I thought that maybe I wasn't hallucinating, but seeing death omens," she finished timidly. Surely, now he would call her completely crazy.
But he didn't, surprising her by saying "This started when you first performed the ritual?"
"Yes, a day or two after. I first saw the cat on my way to meet you at the Quidditch Pitch actually, but I didn't think anything of it." She hesitated. "And then I saw it again last night."
He raised a brow.
"I – um – talked to it. I asked it who had died yesterday and it led me to-"
"You actually followed the thing?" he interrupted, exasperated. "Hermione, do you know how dangerous that is-?"
"But I had to! I can't explain it, it was like an instinct – and the strangest thing happened, too. Gregovitch showed up and he didn't see the cat at all, he even walked right through it, and then the cat went through a door going outside and I went after it." His jaw clenched, eyes flashing, and she quickly added, "Nothing happened. I mean, it took me close to the Forbidden Forest but-"
Now he was angry. "Didn't I say it was too risky to go there?"
"I didn't go very close though," Hermione protested, unknowingly pushing him even closer to the edge. "But the cat took me to a…a body right outside of the forest. They probably cleared it away by now since Dippet is trying to cover this up – but Tom, listen, it was a centaur. I think the essences killed it."
He was still glaring at her. "I don't care about a fucking centaur," he hissed. "What if the cat went tromping right into the Forbidden Forest, would you have gone in?"
"Of course n-"
"If you did, you'd be dead too." She flinched and his death grip on her tightened, making her squirm. "You have to be smarter than that, Hermione-"
"I know, but I-"
"Stop interrupting me!"
She froze.
"That was incredibly stupid of you," he said coldly and she lowered her eyes at the seething contempt in his voice. "Don't do this again." She nodded.
"Promise me," he pressed, taking her chin and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were glossy. "I'm only doing this for your own good, you know," he sighed. "Or do you have a death wish?"
"Of course not," she sniffled.
"Then promise you won't go back out there without me." The fingers clasping her jaw were painfully tight. "Apologize for making me worry."
"I promise and I'm sorry."
He glanced over the tear glistening on her cheek and swiped it away with his thumb, staring at the shining drop with some vague interest. "Potions started ten minutes ago," he stated.
Hermione frowned. Had she annoyed him that badly? Did he want to leave? Hesitantly, she said, "Can't we stay here, just for this class?"
"Maybe."
"You're still angry."
"Aren't you sharp?" he snapped. His eyes wandered over her, reminding her of a hungry shark eying raw meat. "But perhaps," he said lowly, "you could make it up to me."
"Um, alright." His temper scared her, whether it was roaring hot like Fiendfyre or cold and calculating. Besides, she didn't want him to be unhappy with her. Her magic rebelled against the mere notion. "What should I… what should I do?"
He leaned back against the bumpy brick wall, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked amused. "I'm sure you can think of something," he drawled, "since you're so very... smart."
An expectant silence fell.
Oh. Hermione blushed as it clicked. "You mean…in here?"
"Yes, right now." He smiled at her flustered state. She really was sugar-sweet. "Don't you want to make up for what you've done?" he asked, looking at her from under long lashes that were surely the envy of a dozen archangels. "Didn't you miss me?"
"I did," she admitted, smiling a little. "I kept snapping at everyone until you showed up."
He kissed away the last of reluctance in her unsure eyes. "Prove it."
"A-alright." She slowly sank down in front of him. The floor pinched her knees. "How long until next period starts?" she asked, biting her lip and feeling extremely – well – naughty.
"Thirty-five minutes." His hand slid into her hair, pulling out the ponytail so he could freely roam through it. "We've plenty of time, darling."
Hermione's freed curls fell down her shoulders as she unzipped his trousers. Carefully, she pulled out his soft member and placed her hand around the base, shutting her eyes and licking her tongue up the underside of his shaft until she reached the head. She swirled her tongue around the tip, kissing it for a while, and he started to harden as she took him in her wet mouth.
His fingers fastened on the back of her head and he groaned, pushing her down farther until the tip of his member hit her throat. Sucking, she came back up his shaft before going down again and repeating her ministrations. His scrotum tightened and he bit back a hiss at the sight of her sucking him off in Hogwarts uniform – and right before second period.
"Fuck…oh fuck."His head hit the wall and she sped up as he approached his release, flitting her fingers over his balls and inducing an automatic jerk from him.
Cursing, he pulled her head back and rocked his hips forward and backward, sliding in and out of her moaning mouth penetratingly."Swallow, no Cleaning Charms," he said roughly, quickening pace. "You're going to taste me all bloody morning."
She hummed and then his seed was spilling down her throat, member convulsing as he came. He snarled a stream of Parseltongue, holding her there until he was finished and panting. He slowly pulled out.
"No Healing Charms either," he added as an afterthought, running his fingers over Hermione's bruised mouth while she fastened his trousers. "Not yet."
She started. "But what if someone-?"
"What anyone else thinks doesn't matter," he cut in, lifting her to feet, "and if they know it's me you're sucking off between classes…" He smirked. "All the better."
Hermione blinked and he tipped back her chin, examining her neck. It was circled by the champagne-gold chain of his Locket and, on the very bottom under her blouse, imprinted with the bite marks he left from yesterday. They were vivid purple and glowing. He laid his lips on one and she winced, jumping slightly. "Do you have any others?" he murmured.
So that's what he kissed? "Just a few," she said, embarrassed. But the truth was her body was kind of horrifying to look at sans robes. A collage of purple, yellow, and black.
"Why didn't you heal them?" he said and continued to pull her shirt down further, admiring his work. A trail of unkind love bites vanished under her bra and he pulled that down too, finding more and tracing them.
Her face was most certainly red now. "I…I didn't want to, I suppose."
"How come?"
"I-I like them," she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear it, and he laughed to hear the confession.
"Me too." He quickly covered her lips with his again before she could say anything. His tongue tugged at hers insistently and he growled at the taste of himself coating her mouth-
The bell rang shrilly and outside, the halls rushed with the sound of milling students. Tom cursed.
"Perfect timing as always," he muttered, pulling away, and Hermione chuckled at the irritation plain on his face. He rolled his eyes.
At the end of Herbology, Hermione was about to leave with Regulus, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned around.
"Oh, hi Augusta," she greeted, surprised. "How's it going?"
"We need to talk."
She blinked at the sternness in the Head Girl's normally playful gaze. "Er, alright?" Regulus looked at her strangely, but she waved him on with a smile. "I'll see you at lunch, Reg."
"You sure you don't want me to stay?" His eyes were hard and fasted on Augusta, who openly glared back at him. "It wouldn't be any trouble."
"Of course I am." Hermione gave him a push, the bossy Prefect that never quite died in her sparking to life suddenly. "Go to class, Regulus. I don't want to make you late."
He looked put out. "Oh alright, have it your way," he grumbled and sent Augusta one last threatening look before moving away into the sea of students.
Hermione laughed awkwardly once he was out of hearing range. "Sorry, I don't know what that was about."
"Black is nutters." Augusta cast another suspicious, untrusting look after Regulus' retreating back before she turned her eyes on Hermione, crossing her toned arms and frowning down at her. "All the Slytherins are, which is why I want to know… what's going on with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just checking up on you, 'Mione." She shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't know whether you're alright or not, now would I? You don't ever talk to Minerva and me anymore. You've been so busy cozying up to the snakes."
Hermione frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Listen, it's just that ever since you started hanging out with Elphy Wictz you've been acting…differently." At her bewildered look, the Head Girl explained, "I mean, those bitches are acting like you're their bloody queen or something now that Meredith has gone off the deep end. Don't you see the way they follow you around?"
"Those 'bitches' are my friends and they don't follow me anywhere, much less think I'm royalty," Hermione said temperously. The way Augusta was acting now, she could hardly believe she had defended her this morning.
"Oh please, Hermione, don't fool yourself. Those girls aren't your friends," Augusta scoffed. "If they were they wouldn't have waited until the second month of school to stop bullying you! Or did you conveniently 'forget' about all that?"
"You don't know them."
"You've been here less than six months, Hermione. I've been watching the Slytherins for the past seven years, and maybe I don't have tea or talk boys with them, but I do know that if they drop you it is a long way to fall. Just look at Meredith Smith."
"Mer…Meredith is fine," Hermione said, faintly. The Slytherin Locket seemed to burn hot at the mention of the girl. "And what are you trying to say anyway, Augusta? Do you want me to pick one of you or something?"
"It shouldn't be hard. Minny and I are your real friends."
Hermione looked at her incredulously. "And they can't be my friends too?"
"Of course not!" Augusta exploded. "Oh come on, what are you, blind? They're snobby and mean. They conspired with Meredith and you know how I feel about her, Hermione-"
She groaned. "You can't be serious."
"I am, actually," Augusta snapped. "It's us or them. I won't be friends with the Slytherin Princess."
"Slytherin what? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I mean," the Head Girl sniffed. "I knew you were a little odd when you first came to Hogwarts, but I thought you would change. I thought you even had some Gryffindor in you-"
"What do you mean 'odd'?"
"You don't act right. You're reckless and you sneak around with boys twenty-four seven. Black, Malfoy, Tom Riddle! I thought it was just rumors at first, but I can see now you're just as big a skank as Meredith-"
"Oh, that's rich. You're listening to rumors now?" Hermione snorted. "Gee, what a reliable resource! Let me guess, Richie told you he heard I was 'sneaking around' from some Hufflepuff who heard it from a Ravenclaw who heard it from the caretaker, Gregovitch-"
"Your duel against Meredith seemed impressive at first, but no proper lady should know such dangerous spells. You're never going to get married if you keep up this behavior, you know." Hermione gaped at her and Augusta plunged on, hissing, "And as if that wasn't bad enough, Minny says she saw you and Professor Chanté together on Monday. And it's not just her either! Things are going around about you and him-"
She shook her head sadly. "So that's what this is all about, your crush on the Defense professor?"
"At least I have enough self-respect not to throw myself at him. A-and it's not like I wanted to believe any of those rumors at first, but what am I supposed to think? You don't talk to me anymore." Chest heaving, she spat, "Minny and I see you rushing to class all the time. What are you doing with him, huh? Trying to get an Outstanding in DADA or shagging-?"
"Put your claws down, Gryffindor," Abraxas drawled, suddenly appearing at Hermione's side. He regarded Augusta disdainfully. "Fatbottom's your friend?" he muttered in blatant surprise.
Hermione felt cold. "She used to be."
"UGH!" Augusta whirled around, stomping off. "Go to hell, Granger," she yelled and everyone burst out laughing. Looking around, Hermione realized an audience had accumulated to watch the Head Girl butt heads with the not-so-new-new-girl. She flushed.
"Come along, love," Abraxas said, putting his hand on her back and ushering her through the gathered crowd. "Make way, make way," he shouted and some Gryffindors booed her, which was disheartening, while a few other students even offered high-fives that Abraxas waved off. Hermione only remembered he was in her Arithmancy class when he took them down a corridor leading to the classroom.
Abraxas dropped his hand. "So what was that about?"
"Just stupid school drama," she grumbled. Magic hissed over her skin in angry bursts at the reminder.
"Well, if Fatbottom messes with you again let me know, eh?" he said, cracking his knuckles. "I'll take care of it."
Hermione looked over at him, startled by the sudden menace in those icy blue eyes - although, rationally, she shouldn't have been. But she had forgotten he was one of Tom's Death Eaters, forgotten the so very dark side of her new friends in Slytherin, and when the dark side of Abraxas came out of hiding she was reminded of this fact vividly. One day, he and his predecessors would Crucio innocents at the snap of the Dark Lord's fingers. How could she forget this? How could she let herself become so utterly distracted, so infatuated with Tom Riddle and all his snakes?
What was happening to her?
"Oh, um…that's alright, Abraxas. I don't want to hurt her," Hermione said, trying to come off as casual. "I'll be fine."
The Slytherin smirked. "I wouldn't hex a witch, Hermione," he whispered mischievously. "Have you forgotten that I'm a Malfoy? My family history traces back eons farther than hers. I could ask my father and he would drop the Longbottoms in the toilet in a heartbeat."
He squeezed her shoulder, warmly. "All you have to do is ask."
After Arithmancy Hermione went to Transfiguration, keeping a tight lid on her magic since both Dumbledore and Tom were in this class. It was imperative Dumbledore did not find out they were magically bound, for other than his ever-present suspicion for Tom binding magic was an ancient and highly illegal practice. The combination of two powerful wizards could be extremely dangerous and unpredictable, after all, and if the Ministry hated anything it was a threat. If Dumbledore were to report them… they could end up in Azkaban.
Just keep it under control, she told herself.
Hermione tried not to - she really did - but couldn't help glancing up when Tom walked in. It was like an instinct; they came close and their bodies immediately reacted, as did their magic. However, this time she kept hers down to a low hum, even though it wanted to burst out of her like a birthing star through any outlet available. She averted her eyes and didn't miss the way Dumbledore glanced between her and Tom curiously.
For the rest of class, she didn't look at Tom once and did her best to act normal. Participate. Ask and answer questions as if she wasn't counting the minutes until the lesson was over with – a first, for her.
When the bell rang she all but sprinted out of the room, fleeing to the abandoned girl's toilet and buckling against the door once it had slammed shut behind her. Her heart was pounding. She couldn't endure lunch without doing something rash – like pouncing Tom and ripping his clothes off, for instance. Hermione groaned. What's happening to me?
"Miss Granger, I haven't seen you in several fortnights," Helena Ravenclaw's haughty voice remarked and she looked up to see the beautiful ghost lounging on a stall door casually. Her long hair, the texture and color of white gossamer, hung down her shoulders in shimmery ripples and ended at her ankles. "What have you been up to, young witch? Exacting revenge on Mr. Riddle?"
"No, unfortunately." Unless by exacting revenge, Helena Ravenclaw meant going down on You-Know-What when she was supposed to be in Potions. Oh Merlin. She buried her face in her hands. "Everything is falling apart," she confessed. "I came here feeling one thing for him: hatred, but now I feel…"
"Love?"
"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, although her heart skipped a beat at the impossible word. "He's just not what I expected."
"I see you two sneaking off to wherever you go at night all the time. You're a hot topic amongst the nonliving, naturally," Helena said, reaching up to trail a phantom finger over the chipping ceiling. When her hand went through it, she scowled. "We obviously have no lives."
"It's not what it looks like, Helena-"
"Dear, I've been around for centuries," she interrupted drily. "I think I know courtship when I see it and it seems that Mr. Riddle is very taken with you, even if he has a hard time showing it."
That was an understatement.
"I also know Lucas Chanté has made advancements on you," the ghost added.
"How do you know that?" she said, boggled.
"Headless Nick saw you two last night." Helena shrugged elegantly. "You rejected his, ahem, affections?"
"I did and I am most definitely not interested," Hermione said firmly and simmered inside, remembering what Augusta said with a flash of anger. She officially had a new dislike for Neville's grandmother.
And another reason to end things with Professor Chanté immediately.
"You better tell him soon, fair lady," Helena breathed and her silky voice echoed off the walls like a resonating gong. 'Fair lady, fair lady, fair lady…' "I refused a man once, you know. He was a baron."
"What happened?"
"He hunted me down and killed me."
"Oh."
"Now, I might remind you that you still owe me a favor for guarding your potion a few weeks prior," Helena said, tilting her head at her. "Do you recall?"
"Yes, of course," Hermione replied. "Have you thought of something?"
"Not yet. I'll let you know when I do." She stood and floated into the air, vanishing through the wall without so much as a wave goodbye.
"Nice talking to you," Hermione muttered sarcastically, but the empty lavatory did not reply and she got to her feet, wiping off her bottom. She reached in her schoolbag, taking out a smaller, beaded sack – the only thing she had from the future beside her memories. Memories, which, she was not sure she even wanted anymore. Friends whose faces became blurrier and less distinct with each passing day…
Well then, since she was changing the task up Hermione had decided to simply hide the Elder Wand until further use – and then she would destroy it. She rifled through the endless contents of her bag for a minute before finding the Elder Wand. Her hand closed around the ornately-carved handle and she pulled the thin stick out, watching it glint in the bathroom light thoughtfully.
She was tempted to cast another spell.
Focus. She shook herself and walked up to the sinks, tapping one of the serpent-necked faucets with her wand and casting a Locking Charm on the door as it unscrewed, landing with a heavy thud in the sink. She peered down the empty pipe, circling the rusty rim with her thumb. It was a Muggle hiding spot, but in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, who would think to look inside something trivial as a sink?
She slid the Elder Wand carefully down the silver throat, whispering a Temporary Sticking Charm, and twisted the snaky head back on. It would do for now.
The bell rang.
Today turned out to be test day in Defense, and as Hermione sat down next to Rosy at their table Professor Chanté began to hand out the promised quiz on the Japanese water dieties kappa. Classroom chatter faded to a mutter and then buzz before finally going quiet.
When the professor reached Hermione's desk he smiled at her encouragingly, whispering "I don't doubt you'll get anything less than an O, Hermione." Her neck colored and he chuckled, moving on.
Where he'd stood, she now saw Minerva on the other side of the room staring at her through narrowed eyes and shaking her head disgustedly as she turned back to her parchment. It's not what it looks like, you can have him! Hermione wanted to scream, but why would Minerva McGonagall believe her? Augusta was right. They didn't even talk anymore.
Hermione finished mere minutes after Tom and stared at her knotted hands, for the first time that day not nervous because Tom Riddle was too far away, but because of what she had to do after class once he left. He seemed to sense her agitation through the bond, for seconds later she felt a pair of dark eyes boring into her. She pretended not to notice.
Finally, class came to an end, and it was Professor Chanté who casually asked Hermione to stay after class. She nodded and Tom started to come over, but Rosy - thank Merlin for Nosy Rosy - distracted him, hurrying him out along with Dolohov by retelling some story of Regulus setting his pants on fire in their third-year Charms class. She sent Hermione a meaningful wink behind his back.
The door clicked shut.
Hermione stood by it, hands starting to sweat as the seconds ticked by. She was unwilling to go over to Professor Chanté's desk on the other side of the room, but not chicken enough to just up and leave either. And so she waited, watching warily as Lucas Chanté approached her.
"Professor," she said in what was hopefully a perfectly polite - and not at all nervy - voice. "How are you?"
He frowned slightly at the title, but didn't comment on it, nor her question. "Did you think over my proposal?" he asked.
Hermione fidgeted. "I did… but professor it's really better that we – um - maintain a professional relationship. Sorry," she added hastily.
"Ma chérie, I promise no one would know." He ran his hand down her cheek and she cringed. So much for being direct. "Your school career would be in no way jeopardized."
"No, professor, you misunderstand. I mean I-I do not returnyour feelings."
He laughed, stepping closer and catching one of her hands. "Don't be silly, I know you feel it too. We have chemistry."
"Professor, you're - not - listening - to - me," she grunted, yanking herself out of his grip.
WHAM! Her head snapped back and slammed up against the door, smacking the thick wood hard. Sparkly snowflakes flitted across the ceiling. What the-?
"It's Lucas," he repeated, sounding annoyed. Hermione stared back at him with wide eyes. "I'm not that much older than you, you know. I'm only twenty-nine and I don't want to stay holed up in this dusty castle forever." He smiled, but the usual charming grin was strained. Tighter. "I suspect you don't either. In fact, why don't we get out of here tonight? Just for a little while."
"I-I don't want to," she said shakily. "You need to l-let go of me, professor."
"Do I?" His blue eyes wandered over her slowly, making her flesh crawl, and she would have crossed her arms over her chest if he wasn't pinning her to the door. Her wand, unfortunately, was in her back pocket where she couldn't reach it. Hexing him was a no-go. Think, think! her mind screamed, but she couldn't come up with anything over the frantic pounding in her chest. "Who says so?"
"I do. And I don't want you," Hermione said firmly, staring into his eyes with conviction. His smile dropped at that.
"You do realize who you're talking to, don't you?" Professor Chanté scoffed at her icy glare. "Oh Hermione, I could fail you so fast it'd make your head spin."
"Get off me."
"No."
His mouth came down on hers and she shrieked, struggling against him, but he grabbed her beating fists and held them back. She yelped and he forced his tongue inside her mouth. At the same time, his hands were pulling at her shirt and she tried to knee him in the groin, but he knocked her leg back with his, using the position as an opening. She screamed.
"If you want this to stop, Hermione," Professor Chanté hissed, "you'll leave the castle with me right now and without making one, single little fuss. Got it?"
Hermione bit him sharply in reply and he shouted a curse, smashing her head into the door again. She groaned.
"Have it your way, Hermione," he spat through gritted teeth, clenched in pain and irritation. "I suppose you'll like it in the end anyway, won't you, Mudblood?"
Like it? Like what? He wasn't going to – no, he wouldn't - Hermione froze and all at once her magic went on overdrive, surging through her in frantic bursts. Her head spun, her heart raced, blood roared behind her ears, and she could not control it.
Professor Chanté flew across the room, crashing into the blackboard and buckling in a motionless heap on the floor.
Hermione stared at him in shock for a second – was he dead? – but in the next heartbeat she had torn open the door behind her and was running for all she was worth, not looking back even once. Consequences be damned, she needed to get out of there. Especially before Professor Chanté woke up...
She stopped at the Great Hall, breathless and panting. Peering in, Hermione saw she'd been gone for so long dinner was almost over and students were packing up to leave. She couldn't go in now though, she was a mess. Her shirt was ripped, thick hair wild, and the bottom of her skull felt tender. Hastily, she tugged her skirt back down from where Professor Chanté had shoved it above her thighs and only realized she was crying when a hot tear darted in her mouth. With the back of her hand, she wiped away the wetness.
What mattered now was getting to him.
It seemed like forever had gone by when dinner was at last over. Students streamed out of the Great Hall, giving her odd looks as they passed, but she paid them no mind and struggled to get through the masses, throwing her arms around Tom's neck when she was close enough. Her magic sighed in relief.
He stiffened. "Hermione, what are you doing?"
"Sorry. I-I…I…" she tried to say and stopped, frustrated as a lump the size of a melon swelled in her throat. He pulled back, revealing half of the Slytherin table behind him. They were all staring on unabashedly.
Tom frowned at the sight of tears darting down her cheeks, not stopping when she tried to stifle them with her sleeve. "Come with me," he commanded, putting his hand on her back and gesturing for the others to go. Abraxas and Regulus ushered everyone away immediately, although Elphy Wictz glanced back a few times.
Hermione was hardly aware of anything except keeping the worst of her tears at bay as Tom guided her through the swarm of students, which suddenly looked like a kaleidoscope of paint blots in her water-blurred vision. She blinked in surprise when they arrived at the landscape frame guarding the Head's common room and two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She scrubbed them off, embarrassed.
"Gumdrops," Tom announced.
"Hey Tom!" Augusta shouted jauntily when they walked in, looking up and dropping some scrolls in shock at the sight of Hermione. "Oh my– is she…?"
"Excuse us, Augusta," he said shortly, not even glancing the Head Girl's way as he brought Hermione upstairs and uttered the password to his room; a short hiss of Parseltongue foreign to any ears but a serpent's.
He placed Hermione on his bed and sat beside her, gently taking her chin and turning her. Tom started when she instantly flew into him like a launched barrel, burying her face in his chest with a wild, hitched sob. He slowly put his arms around her and rubbed her back, although he was mystified. What the hell happened to her?
"Sssh, Hermione…" She cried harder. "Hermione darling, stop."
She went still.
Cautiously, he pulled back, but she held on too tightly to his now-wet robes for him to get very far. The room was eerily silent.
"That's better." He pulled her hair aside, so he could see her face, and one bleary brown eye met his. "Now tell me what's wrong, darling," he murmured.
"I... Well, P-professor Chanté asked me to stay after class," she began waveringly. Hermione took a deep breath that rattled on the way out. "He said – um – odd things. That he wanted to take me somewhere off grounds or something and… Well, it was really strange, and I told him no but he…"
Here, her voice faded.
"He what?" Tom said, staring at her intently.
"He didn't listen."
"What do you mean by…'he didn't listen'?" he said, voice softer and more dangerous than she'd ever heard it. It reminded her of his older self, but instead of recoiling she pressed against him more tightly, seeking comfort or some sort of warmth in his wrath-cold grasp.
"He kissed me," she admitted, "and tried to do…other things."
Three inkbottles on the desk across the room shattered. Hermione jumped, startled.
"How far did he get?"
"W-what?"
His head whipped around and his voice came out in not a seething hiss, but a terrifying, blood-chilling roar. "How far did that fucking bastard get?"
"Not far," Hermione stammered, horrified yet unable to look away from his irate, blood-red eyes. He truly looked like Lucifer now – when he crash landed in the fiery pits of hell.
"H-he only kissed me-"
"You're lying."
"No, I-"
"You should never lie to me." In a second, his wand was at her temple and his brilliant eyes were less than an inch away from hers, burning blood-red right through her soul. She knew what he was going to do a split-second before he did it and her throat snagged on a scream as he intoned, "Leglimens!"
Their bond made it all the easier to dive inside her head, and Hermione was shoved back into the memory with him all too soon. Tom sifted through memories of today's events and watched as Professor Chanté shoved her against the door, running his greedy little hands all over his Hermione, pulling out of the memory a second after his Hermione's magic sent the disgusting professor sailing across the room.
His Hermione flung herself away from him, gasping.
For an instant, anger was forgotten and Tom reached over, running his hand down her cheek gently. She flinched and he remembered with a poker-hot flash of rage that Professor Chanté had done just that before attacking her.
Attacking. His. Possession.
Hermione avoided Tom's eyes as he pulled the sheets up around her, wondering if it was stupid of her to tell him what had happened, hating him for invading her brain so easily, wanting him to just hold her forever and ever until she just died in his arms–
She exhaled a shaky breath when he cupped her cheek.
He kissed her slowly and her lips moved of their own accord, molding themselves to his in a bittersweet harmony. A tear darted between their mouths.
"If he tries anything again I'll murder him," Tom promised, brushing his lips over hers, wet and salty as the ocean. He found he liked the taste of her sadness. "You have to tell me everything from now on, so nothing like this happens again. If it does I won't be able to let you out of my sight, now will I?" Ever.
She frowned. "Murder him?"
"Yes."
"But you can't-" And her eyelids flickered, body slumping under the hypnotic force of his Sleeping Spell. He kissed her lips gingerly and they parted with a little pop, as if even in her unconsciousness she was willing – but Tom pulled away and tucked in the blanket around her. Taking off her shoes. Watching her chest rise and fall with breaths. Tucking a haywire curl back into place. Stealing a little kiss.
His darling had almost been taken from him.
"Oh professor," Lord Voldemort said, quietly, to the dark. "You're going to regret the minute you grew eyes to see the light of day with." And according to Lord Voldemort, Lucas Chanté wouldn't be seeing the light of day much longer.
Not much longer at all, in fact.
AN: OK, I think some readers may – just maaaybeee – have been under the impression there was going to be a love triangle between Chanté, Tom, and Hermione. But I also know some readers were suspicious of Chanté's motives from the start…which is good. Either way, are there any Chanté fans out there anymore? Or does the jury agree he is a no good, dirty creeper? Speculations, perhaps? I love to hear reader's predictions of the story; they're usually things I never thought of or so spot-on I get a little nervous. Suggestions are great too! ;)
Also, I am working on finding someone to make a banner for the Task, there is a trailer for it in the making by Voldewhore *the-Peen-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is twitching in excitement as we speak* and I've got a new Tomione story underway too (damn thing is trolling my mental F-drive). I'll post it when I finish this one. And find a beta.
I hope.
Toodaloo, Tomione whores! You-Know-What will miss you very much – as well as Hermione's bad ass BJs. *licks cyber lollipop cyber suggestively*
Mmm...