AN: Oh...my...penis...
(JK, I have ovaries.) ANYWAY, thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited, etc. I told you I'd update quickly. ;) Also, if you didn't notice this story now has a loooovvveeeellllyyy banner made by shiverpass, who is totally bitch ass. *shyeah* Unfortunately, it got all cropped and squished on the FF thingy majig, but you can see the full version if you check out her tumblr 'shiverpassgraphics.' It's pretty bitchin'.
Just like all of you lovely Tomione whores.
Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were slow, miniature hells. Hermione's head pounded from the ministrations of a mental hammer beating at her skull from the inside, her thoughts moved at a snail's pace, and second by second she felt herself becoming more drained - more irritable. Like a grizzly bear rudely awakened from his hibernation.
Magicking Dippet into allowing Tom Riddle to leave the castle for Christmas break may not have been the very brightest idea, Hermione thought groggily. Doing so had taken its toll on her when she was already weak from… from… Well, she still didn't know what exactly she was weak from, did she? She only knew the essences were to blame for her odd behavior and – in ways – for the magical bond as well. Her body was adjusting to them. She was adjusting.
But if only she could adjust faster.
When Hermione entered the DADA classroom, she saw Tom's reaction to her all too clearly. His brow furrowed and two dark eyes zeroed in on her within seconds, nearly stopping her mid-step, and instantly, he stretched out his magic for hers. Some of the tenseness coiling his rigid shoulders loosened when she quickened pace and a relieved sigh automatically tumbled out her mouth when his cool fingers finally clasped hers.
Tom was aggravated. She could tell, although he hid it expertly - but what she did not know was the reason behind the emotion. She did not know that it was her own agitation, her weakness, that made him feel restless, that made him want to put her at ease for the explicit reason so that he himself could feel calm again. It was a high price to pay, binding magic with Hermione when at school it hardly helped and mainly crippled him since they were so often far away from each other, but he was dead set on the finish. In the end, this would all be worth his rise.
And of course, being needed by Hermione was a positive all by itself.
He drank in that relief sagging her shoulders when she caught sight of him, thrived off the way she had begun to cling to his side and kiss him so reverently. Soon there would nothing in her world but him. Then that nothingness bugging the hollow corner of his brain would be filled, the bottomless pit that hungered for attention and adoration appeased. He'd seduce, trap, and eat her whole. Again and again and again, until there was nothing left but a husk to dispose of.
Because now that he had her, there was no way out – not for either of them.
"Hold on for a few minutes," Tom said quietly into her ear and a faint tickle went through Hermione at the casual touch of his lips. She shivered. "We'll leave then."
"To where?" she asked.
"Down the hall," he said. "Somewhere private."
The substitute bounced forward at that moment, eyes huge and startling behind her horned specs as they took in the classroom. After she painstakingly marked attendance, pronouncing each and every name incorrectly except for two, it quickly became glaringly obvious that Professor Portebello was a little on the dim side - and not qualified to teach a Defense class.
In fact, she had a degree in Charms.
Cleaning Charms, to be exact.
"Now everyone, say it with me," she exclaimed, waving her wand in huge, sweeping motions ten minutes later. "Disparitus Dust Bunnies!"
"Disparitus Dust Bunnies," the class echoed in a monotone.
"Excellent, excellent!" she chittered and paused on seeing Tom raise his hand. "Yes, boy?"
"May I escort Miss Granger to the nurse, ma'am?" he asked politely. "I'm afraid she isn't feeling very well."
"Oh, the poor dear," Professor Portebello said, frowning at Hermione sympathetically, who did her best to look pale and sickly – not to hard a feat in her present state. "Yes, yes, take her and take your things too! Don't bother coming back. We wouldn't want those pesky germs spreading around, now would we?"
"Of course, professor," he replied.
"Disparitus Dust Bunnies," the class said again as he and Hermione left the room, the door clicking shut behind them.
Tom ushered them through the corridors briskly, his hand a fiery imprint on her back and steering them into an empty Magical Theory classroom. As Hermione waited for him to secure it she was briefly reminded of the night of Slughorn's soiree two months ago, of finding Meredith half-alive and half-dead, and confronting Tom in the Head dorms. She hated him back then, didn't she?
And there had been so much blood…
The door shut, snapping her out of her thoughts, and Tom cast a Locking Charm on it a split-second before turning to her. She frowned. "What did you lock the door for?"
"I don't want anyone interrupting us." He pocketed his wand, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. They stalled in silence for a minute. "What happened in Transfiguration?" Tom finally said, stoniness giving way to demand. "What did Dumbledore say to you?"
"Things." It was a vague answer, but she couldn't tell him the truth. The last thing she wanted to do was give him another reason to hate Dumbledore, even if the professor was not without black marks in her own book.
Attracting Tom's attention to the Grindelwald incident was not a very good idea either.
"What about during Transfiguration?" Tom pushed. His magic rose with his impatience, bathing her in a warm, candlelight glow. "You didn't look well."
"Hm?" she murmured, distracted. "Oh yes, I felt sick…"
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You said you would be alright this morning, Hermione. I told you you didn't have to come-"
"I thought I was fine, really, and I'm feeling better already." This part was true, even a touch simple as his fingers on her cheek had her feeling invigorated, more animated with each passing second. She turned her face into his palm, nuzzling it.
He pulled away with a scowl. "Well, what's this about a shortcut to Hogsmeade?" he said. "I've read Hogwarts: A History more than twice and I've never seen anything of the sort in its contents."
She shrugged. "I know things."
"How forthcoming of you," he said drily.
"I spoke to Headmaster Dippet," Hermione added when his suspicious glare did not lighten. "He said and I quote, 'How wonderful it will be for Mr. Riddle to see the Alps this holiday season.'"
At this, Tom blinked and shook his head slowly, but there was a grin on his lips now. "Well done, darling," he said and she smiled triumphantly, leaning in for a kiss. "I think you've earned a present, in fact," he whispered against her lips.
"Really?" she said, surprised.
"Of course. You'll get it come Christmas." He breezed his mouth across hers again and she met him willingly, nipping his bottom lip until he let her reach tongue. Scratched her nails through his hair. Laughed. Sighed.
"Dinner starts soon," he said, pulling back a few minutes later. "Shall we?"
There were whispers about the newest couple in Hogwarts, glances both admiring and envious all through supper. Tom met any eyes lingering on Hermione with an icy glower that sent boys looking away in a hurry, and he kept his arm around her waist all through the meal, telling her to eat something after ten minutes of staring at her empty plate in annoyance. She complied, eating dinner slowly, – just in case it didn't agree with her – and listened to Elphy and Abraxas debate the importance of sportswear verses the importance of a correct shoe size…or something like that. Anyhow, she soon lost interest and her mind inevitably wandered to Dumbledore. She wasn't sure how she felt about her future Headmaster anymore.
How could she trust someone who had kept so much from her?
"OK, that's enough chowing, princess. Fabia and Rosy already have a head start on us," Elphy said suddenly, springing to her feet. "Let's go!"
"Go where?" she said, bewildered. "To bed?"
"I'll come," Abraxas exclaimed readily. But his stupid grin faltered when everyone at the table glared at him. "Eh…just kidding."
"Twat," Elphy snapped. She turned back to Hermione. "We're going to get ready for the Slug Club, sans Abraxas," she clarified and narrowed her cat-green Cleopatra eyes at Malfoy when he winked at them meaningfully. Regulus smacked a goblin history textbook over the back of his head with a satisfying clunk.
"Thank you, Regulus," Elphy said primly, while Abraxas cursed them all to hell and hurried to fix his hair with the aid of a spoon.
Regulus looked sage. "No problem."
"But I'm not fi-" Hermione began.
"Oh come on, you'll see your beau later," her friend teased, dragging her away from the Slytherin table before she could say another word. Hermione hastened to snatch her schoolbag off the bench, shooting another frantic glance at Tom as she was hauled through the cafeteria. His marble lips were curled in a frown.
"Don't give me that look, princess. It's better to make them wait," Elphy stage-whispered when they were far enough away for the boys not to hear. Hermione raised a brow at her. Elphy snickered. "Silly Hermione, you'll see what I mean eventually. You'll see."
They entered the Slytherin common room, brushing past Ernie Johnson who tried to make a pass on Elphy and going upstairs to the girl dormitory. Rosy and Fabia were inside, their enchanted record player merrily piping a jazzy tune. Rosy chugged a swig from her secret bottle of imported wine, sputtering it all over herself and hastening to hide it in a third-year's pillowcase when the door opened.
"It's just us, Rosy," Elphy said, taking in the sight of fresh wine stains on Rosy's blouse with an unladylike snort. "You can get as wasted as you want."
Fabia sniggered and Rosy shoved a cork into the bottle lip, scowling. "I'm not getting drunk for Salazar's sake! I was just relaxing."
"Whatever." Elphy strode up to a bed beside Hermione's, smiling widely at the girl reading a book there. "What's your name?" she said sweetly, twirling her wand.
"Angelica Carmen Ricardo the Third, of-"
"Well, Angelica, are you going to move or do I have to make you?"
"…but this is my-"
"Move."
The fourth-year got up in a huff. "I'm telling my father about this!"
"Go ahead, see if I care." The girl stomped by Elphy, who plucked the book out of her hands and gasped dramatically on reading the cover. "Ooh, look what we have here, girls. A Steamy Stroll in the Wood. I wonder what father will say about this."
"What? That's my Charms textbook-"
"But who is Slughorn going to believe, Angelica? One of his favorite students or a little pimply thirteen-year old?"
"I'm fourteen."
"You're a twit."
"Fine, fine, I'll leave," the girl hissed. "At the very least, may I have my book back? I need to study."
Elphy pursed her lips in thought, looking just like a porcelain china doll with her petite crimson mouth and long inky eyelashes. A china doll turned evil, that is, Hermione thought grimly. "Perhaps next week," she finally said. "You can use the one in the lost and found until you've made up for inconveniencing me."
"But-"
"Shall I make it two?"
The girl bit her lip sharply and balled her hands into fists, turning on her heel and striding out of the dormitory with every ounce of Pureblood dignity she could muster. Rosy looked up from her fashion magazine. "Did that dolt finally leave?" she drawled.
"Yes, at last." Elphy dropped on the vacated bed with a sigh and tossed Rosy the Charms textbook. "Here, dispose of this somewhere."
"What am I supposed to do with this rubbish?"
"I don't know, throw it out."
"But I don't want to-"
"Well, I don't care whether or not you want to, now do I-"
"Would you two shut up?" Hermione interrupted, rubbing her aching temples. She felt bad enough without Tom's magic and their bickering was just making her headache worse. "You make me want to hex off my bloody eardrums."
"Sorry, Hermione," Rosy and Elphy said in unison, looking contrite.
"I am just so excited for the meeting tonight," Fabia gushed, leafing through the garment bags in her trunk. "I want to look extra good for Abraxas."
"Abraxas?" said Hermione, surprised.
"She's fancied him since first-year," Elphy said, rolling those sea-green eyes at Hermione in the reflection of a gilded mirror mounted on the wall. She was twisting her strawberry blonde hair into a complex fishbone. "Everyone knows about Fab's in-fuck-tuation."
"In-fuck-tuation?"
Rosy snorted with laughter. "Fab wants to shag the sanity right out of him, or so she says-"
"Would you shut it?" Fabia snapped. "Merciful Salazar, I can't say anything without having it broadcasted to the whole damn house."
"Well, it's not as if you try to hide it," Elphy snickered. "There are two reasons why he hasn't courted you. One, Abraxas gets hot for anything with a pulse. Two, you keep throwing yourself at him and every respectable girl knows men like a good chase." She smirked, adding as an afterthought, "Not that being a man whore makes Abraxas a man particularly."
"I do not throw myself at him! And he's got a very capable prick, actually," Fabia hissed, "so I doubt his masculinity is in jeopardy."
"You slut," Rosy accused. "You gave him head, didn't you?"
Fabia shrugged. "He was bored after Potions."
"Helga Hufflepuff, save me from these sinful mental images Fabia taints me with," Elphy muttered. She touched the crown of her head, satisfied with her stylish do, and turned to Hermione. "Alright, now it's your turn."
"Um, no thank-"
"Wasn't a question," she said, forcing her into the stool in front of the vanity. "Rosy told us about the fashion statement or whatever we're making at the Club and I do like it – it's a brilliant idea, ignoring Sluggy's rules should be a riot – however, we'll need the hair to pull it off."
Hermione sighed loudly at this, defeated. She didn't have the energy to argue and the sooner she got back to Tom the better anyway. Elphy whacked her lightly on the shoulder with a silver hairbrush at her groan, muttering something that was surely not flattering in Polish under her breath.
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Fabia said, fingering the coral-blue cocktail dress she had just pulled out with a frown. The skirt was silk, the neckline beaded with pearls. It looked expensive.
"Ooh, that's right, I forgot to tell you!" Rosy smiled innocently when Fabia slanted her eyes at her. "Hermione said we have to go to tonight's gathering in our uniforms instead of dresses. We're making a statement or something."
"Statement? What statement?"
"Actually, I never explicitly said we had to do anything. I just don't have a-" Hermione tried to say, but was cut off when Elphy pressed her lips together and swept a streak of lipstick across her mouth. Then she snatched up a tissue and started blotting it, effectively shutting Hermione up.
"Look, you can wear that dress if you want to, Fab," Elphy said and Fabia looked relieved, but her expression quickly cowed into insecurity when the Slytheriness continued. "We simply won't consort with you at the meeting. You can mingle with the Gryffindors."
"Gryffindors? I-I'm not going to talk to those ill-tempered gits!" Fabia screeched. Hermione bristled a little.
"Then don't wear the dress." Elphy put down the eyelash curler and ran her hands through Hermione's hair, which now hung down nearly a foot longer in shiny ringlets. Peering in the mirror, Hermione realized she looked reminiscent to an older version of Goldilocks.
She wiped the lip gunk off when Elphy wasn't looking.
"I like your dress, Fab."
The girls started at the interjection, looking around to find a trussed-up Meredith Smith stared back at them, her smoky eyes on Fabia, black hair glossy once again and straight as a pin. "You should wear it," she added.
Fabia glanced at the other girls nervously, clearly not wanting to speak to her former best friend. Hermione watched as Meredith, who looked like her old self in that dark blue dress and tear-drop diamond earrings, stepped forward. Fabia's uncertainty quickly morphed into disgust.
"Well, your opinion isn't worth a Knut, is it?" she sneered. Meredith blinked and Rosy erupted into a fit of giggles. Fabia smirked at them triumphantly, dropping the two-thousand-Galleon gown in her trunk like it was a rusty Bludger and snapping it shut with finality. "I'll wear my uniform."
Meredith's face colored with rage, but almost as instantly as the emotion had appeared it vanished and blankness smoothed her expression. "Of course," she said, voice empty of feeling as her suddenly vacant eyes. "I'm sorry."
The girls ignored her and Hermione watched Meredith brush past them, disappearing through the door to the common room. She frowned. That is not normal, she thought, disturbed. She would never have let anyone walk all over her like that before…
But then she stopped. Meredith would never have let anyone walk all over her before what exactly?
"What a freak," Rosy scoffed, cutting Hermione's thoughts off before they could get too far. "Does she think apologies are going to get her anywhere?"
"We better go." This from Elphy, who was tucking her wand into her skirt waistband next to the nail polish bottle. "The meeting starts in ten minutes."
They left and Hermione's worries over Meredith Smith were forgotten the closer they became to the Potions room. Her hands itched with anticipation, magic buzzing eagerly at the prospect of nearing its counterpart even as she tried to tamp it down a notch.
The girls entered the Slug Club to find all the usual classroom equipment had been done away with, including the cauldrons, desks, and Brewing Safety posters. Floating candles now lit the room in a yellow glow, velvet pouffes and lush couches cozying the atmosphere - making the soiree seem more like a snogging hotspot for teenage couples than a school club, Hermione noted with some horror – and a large mahogany circle table stood in the center of the party, a bowl of ice cream in front of each seated occupant.
Slughorn looked a little stunned at the Slytherins' state of dress, but did not comment except to chortle heartily and resume his conversation with William Fudge after a playful chiding waggle of his sausage-like finger. Fabia sauntered up to Abraxas, who at that very moment dropped his spoon and had to duck under the table to hunt the utensil down for a solid five minutes. Regulus helped him look for it.
On the far side of the table sat Tom, looking just like a sepia snapshot of an 18th century gentleman with his pressed robes and wavy raven-black hair. The few Death Eaters in the Slug Club sat situated around him, save for an empty chair on his right. He looked up, gesturing for her to come - plunging everything into darkness with his eyes for a stunted heartbeat.
Hermione froze.
No longer did Dark magic seem to pervade the air – it now came from inside her, like blood on your tongue and burning ember pumped through the veins. He reeked of it; his magic drawing her in like a moth to a flame, into a blazing pyre she wanted to burn up in, the eternal desire in her shrieking louder when he got close – and for a brief instant, she didn't even see the refurbished Potions classroom at all, but the Forbidden Forest, lifeless and thick with erotic Dark magic that surrounded them in its all entrenching depths.
Then the vision fizzled out.
Tom lifted her hand, kissing it feather-light and well aware of the many transfixed stares trained on them. The table seemed to draw a collective breath, for even if they were too weak to see true power the students seemed to sense the magnetic pull between the two of them. He relished their envy; they could never have what was his.
"Hermione, darling," he greeted.
She glanced around them nervously and flushed, embarrassed by the stares. "Hi Tom."
A fourth-year Hufflepuff fanned herself with a silk handkerchief and Elphy shot a smug smirk at Rosy, who grudgingly passed her one of the garish rings adorning her left hand. Slughorn found Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger adorable to watch.
"How splendid to see all of my most promising students altogether again," the Potions Master boomed, patting his bulging stomach in satisfaction and calling them all to attention. "Now everyone, I know these past few weeks have been hard due to…difficult circumstances, but please enjoy this time with your friends and appreciate what you have. Life can be quite fickle and our dear Professor Chanté is a reminder of how precious each minute we have is. Wizard or Muggle, we are all human and anything but indestructible."
The students nodded solemnly. Tom inclined his head after a moment.
"Well, aside from that morbid note, do eat your ice cream," said Slughorn, with a renewed cheerfulness. His ginger-blonde mustache wriggled with delight. "It is quite delicious, if I do say so myself."
The Slug Club was, as it had been in Hermione's time, a bit dull and quite boring. After finishing their desserts, the teenagers stood and assembled into their usual house groups: the Slytherins and Gryffindors on complete opposite sides of the room, the Ravenclaws hosting intellectual debates over chicken-skewer platters while Hufflepuffs gossiped and made wagers on school couples. Hermione heard her own name more than once from the latter group, which was disconcerting.
She did not feel compelled to leave Tom's side either, but was forced to when Slughorn called over all the boys for 'a manly chat.' She rolled her eyes – how sexist was that? – and Tom laughed at her look, kissing her wrinkled nose and leaving with Regulus and Abraxas. She found Elphy, Rosy, and Fabia lounging on a large pink sofa in the corner of the classroom soon after. Luckily, her friends always proved to be a good distraction, even if they were a bit shallow and obnoxious.
"Hermione! We were wondering where you went off to," Elphy exclaimed at her arrival, prying her nimble form to the edge of the couch so she could grasp Hermione's hand and haul her into a seat. Alecto Carrow and Elizabeth Fletcher lingered nearby, holding half-empty glasses of pumpkin juice and pretending to follow a battle of wits between two Ravenclaw prefects when they were really eavesdropping. Meredith sat alone on a squishy pouffe, watching dust specks float through the air.
"So Hermione," Fabia began, smiling at her in such a way Hermione instantly became suspicious. "Why don't you tell us all about you and Tom, hm?"
"Me and…?" Hermione whipped around to face Elphy, narrowing her eyes accusingly. "I thought you weren't going to tell."
Elphy shrugged. "I didn't. Everyone has been talking about you two all week and Rosy is the one who blabbed anyway; says she saw you two together in Defense."
"Rosy!"
"Wait one minute," Fabia interjected, looking aghast. "Are you saying you told Elphaba about you and Tom Riddle but didn't tell us?"
Rosy turned on Elphy. "How long have you known, hm?"
"Oh, it's been a while," Elphy said loftily, looking up from her nails and shooting Hermione a sparkly wink. "You two are only just catching on."
"Well, since 'everyone' knows you two are together, Hermione, I suppose you can just tell us absolutely everything now, correct?" Rosy said rather menacingly. "So spill already."
"There's – um – nothing to tell, really," she said uncomfortably. She glanced at Tom, who was across the room and sitting beside Slughorn with all of the other male members. The girls - including Elizabeth Fletcher and Alecto Carrow – followed her gaze.
"Oh don't be so chaste, I know you've got something good for us," Fabia grilled. "We all know Meredith didn't actually get anywhere with Tom. She always whined he hardly ever touched her. But have you two, ahem…?"
"Been frivolous?" Elphy supplied with a sly smile.
"How big is he?"
"Is he good or lousy? I bet he's even better than Abraxas-"
"Oh, forget that impropriety, Hermione. When is he going to propose?" Rosy threw in excitedly, naturally the romantic of the group.
Hermione's eyes widened at that last inquiry. "He's very private actually…" she hedged.
"But Hermione, we're your friends! Pleeeeaaassseee!"
"Oh shut up, Fab," Elphy snapped. "You sound like an Azkaban siren."
"Nobody asked you, idiot."
"Well, as your frieeennnd I felt inclined to let you know how unbecoming it is to squeal like a drowning sewer rat-"
"Rat? What do you mean by referring me to a rat?" snapped Fabia, who was well aware of the unbecoming nickname she was christened with by a few choice Gryffindors. The smallness of her eyes and nose combined with her slightly large two front teeth, however, really did give her the impression of a rat.
Hence the name: Ratface.
Suddenly, the small golden clock on Slughorn's desk chimed eight o'clock, saving Hermione from having to intervene with its strike. She got to her feet all too willingly. "Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Slughorn, looking up in surprise. "Well, you all better get going before Gregovitch starts his patrol early again."
There were some reluctant groans and then students started to file out into the sleeping castle, their chatter slowly quieting as they left. Hermione started to head toward Tom, but he shook his head and waved her on from his place beside Slughorn. She stared at him in surprise for a moment, starting when his voice resonated through her head in such a way only magical connection could enable...
Wait for me outside the Head common room.
The Head common room? What for? Surely, he knew that she couldn't get away with sleeping in his dormitory again. She didn't understand, but she eventually joined the crowd shuffling out of the classroom after some hesitance. There was a bad feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach though, and it worsened when it occurred to her that it would be even longer until Tom could appease her magic again. She groaned, earning a weird look from a Gryffindor beside her.
Oh, this night was utterly endless. And what was Tom up to in the Potions room anyway?
She retreated into the shadows, watching silently as everyone exited the classroom, Regulus Black and Abraxas Malfoy being the last of the party. They scoped the hall. She inched closer when they started to speak.
"All clear," Abraxas said, peeling a hand through his white-blonde locks and glancing up and down the corridor once more. "Did you see where Granger went?"
"She was one of the first to leave," Regulus reported.
"So you were checking her out again?"
"I don't check her out! I like Rosy." He added, grumbling, "Besides, you know the way he looks at her. He'd kill me."
"Well, it'd be stupid of you to fancy her anyway, considering what happened last time."
Regulus visibly shuddered. "You don't think he's going to…to do anything to her, do you?"
"I know what I would do to her." Abraxas grinned and Hermione cringed behind the knight obscuring her. Um, ew.
"You're a pig. Seriously." Regulus's scowl faded. "Really though. What if he hurts her?"
"What of it?" Abraxas glared at him, eyes narrowed. "Do you question our Lord?"
"Of course not."
"Then stop asking so many questions, Black. No good will come of it." After a minute of tense silence he said, thoughtfully, "I do wonder what he needs to talk to Sluggy for though."
"Don't know. Don't want to know either, not after what happened to Chanté…"
Their voices drifted away and Hermione bit her lip, thinking hard. She had completely forgotten about the Death Eater meetings. Of course Tom would still be holding them, but she had been too busy with the task, with the essences and magical bond, with juggling her new friends and this strange time period to realize it.
What had happened at Hogwarts during 1943? She wracked her brain for the answer. Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, although this time around Hermione had made sure Grindelwald died for good to keep Voldemort from ever learning the whereabouts of the Elder Wand in the future. Then Tom would research Horcruxes, which was why she burned all books on or related to immortality and resurrection – just to stall him while he was confined to Hogwarts resources, naturally...
Of course. It suddenly hit Hermione what he must be doing. How could she forget? He had to be asking Slughorn about the Horcruxes. Slughorn would tell him creating one would require splitting one's soul, an object for the soul to be encased in, but that he didn't know any more about it - or at least that was what Harry told her and Ron after his lesson with Dumbledore.
Hermione walked up to the closed door and put her ear on the wood, wishing she had a pair of Fred and George's Extendable Ears. She couldn't hear anything except some gibberish about crystallized pineapple, and then the voices went very quiet. She pulled back and cast a Disillusionment Charm, not willing to try her luck. Tom would sense her magic if she stayed long enough.
She went to the Head's common room, careful to Silence her footsteps as she crept through the halls and to skirt around Gregovitch's nine o' clock routes. When she at last arrived at the portrait of a Romantic landscape filled with deep, rich colors and wild brushstrokes a sigh emitted from the frame, a wispy caress of wind, "Password?"
Hermione gathered her magic – or what was left of it without Tom around – and closed her eyes, thinking Open. She cautiously looked up a minute later.
The Head's common room lay unlocked before her.
It didn't take long for him to show.
The sound of the opening entrance was followed by the Head Boy gliding through, raking a hand through his dark hair, lips quirked tempestuously. His eyes swept around the handsome room, backtracking when they found Hermione perusing a bookshelf. "I thought I told you to wait outside," he said, the displeasure tilting his mouth spreading to his clipped tone next. "How did you get in here anyway?"
Hermione fluttered the fingers of her left hand at him, letting a flurry of magic he sensed rather than saw race across the tips. "Take a guess," she replied cheekily.
He considered her for a moment. "Come on, we'll go to my room," he eventually said. "Augusta's patrol ended ten minutes ago and she'll be here soon."
Hermione slid a guide on the caretaking of hippogriffs back into place and followed him to the Head Boy chambers. She stepped into the immaculate dorm, taking a seat on the bed and watching as Tom discarded his robes and tie. Her throat dried when his shirt followed suit and she looked away, reminding herself she had questions to ask him.
Many questions.
"Tom, what's happening to me?" she blurted out.
The sound of rustling clothes behind her halted for a moment before resuming, although more slowly before. "What do you mean?"
Her cheeks warmed. "Well, I can hardly stay away from you…and when I do it exhausts me. I know that has to do with the magical bond, but it's become worse and you're not nearly as affected as I am. Why is that? Is it the essences?"
"Yes… it's the essences." He paused. "They may have heightened your senses and reactions to certain things, actually."
"Things like what?"
"It could be trivial, such as an allergy or a sound that irritates you, like nails on a chalkboard for instance – or your bodily needs can intensify."
"You mean cravings?"
"Yes."
She bit her lip. "What else do they do?" she said, thinking of the horrible struggle her body had undergone as it adjusted to the essences now ingrained in her. Of the hallucinations.
Of that regurgitated blue quill.
"They sometimes enable wizards to do things they were unable to do before." His feet padded over the floor, prowling closer, but she didn't turn lest his looks distract her. She already knew he was well aware of the effect his body had on her - and Tom enjoyed abusing that particular power.
"Fantastic things," he said lowly. "Terrible things."
Her heart caught in her throat when she felt his body hover over her turned back like the ominous, sexual presence of an incubus – or a jaguar poised to pounce. "And why do we need to leave the castle for Christmas break?" she said, voicing the question that had been grating at her for the past week now.
"So I can give you your present, among other things." He laughed at a private joke and trailed his fingers through her spelled ringlets, separating them into finer curls. "It will be just the two of us."
"Other things?" she repeated sharply.
"Yes." He kissed her neck, reeling her in toward him like a fish on a hook. Her eyelids fluttered against their will. The magical bond turned in Tom's favor, clouding her thoughts in a lust-hazed sweep. "You'll see, Hermione," he murmured. "All the fantastic, terrible things…"
Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. Faces she'd never seen before, menacing jets of green light and runes had filled her dreams. There had been a man with greasy, dirt-blackened hair infested with lice and reaching his waist. She remembered the beautiful lady in a long, old-fashioned gown, and a dead black woman wearing a bone necklace.
Beyond that, there was nothing.
She shook it off. What were dreams but figments of imagination? And nightmares – nightmares were just paranoia hyped up and visualized. Hermione didn't entertain such things for longer than necessary. They were illogical and nonsensical, and she hated uncertain things. It was one of the main reasons she dropped Divinations her fourth year.
Everyone was still asleep in the common room, so Hermione toed quietly over to Elphy's bed. Her hair was a matted mess of Venetian blonde locks against green-and-silver comforters, reminding her of Sleeping Beauty for an instant.
Time to wake up the princess, she thought with some humor.
"Get up, Elphy!" she whispered, whipping the blankets off the sleeping Slytheriness when she simply groaned and flopped over. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently and waved her wand over her friend's sleeping form. "Ennervate."
As if someone had banged cymbals next to her ears, Elphy sprang up, eyes so wide and alert she could've had espresso racing through her veins.
"I'M INNOCENT, UNICORN! TOUCH ME ALREADY!" she screeched.
Hermione stared at her. Maybe she had overdone that spell a bit?
Elphy blinked, coming to her senses, and looked at Hermione blearily. "Wh-what time is it?"
"Er, six forty-five."
"What? Why didn't you wake me up ten minutes ago like I told you to?"
"Because I couldn't get you to wake up, you sleep like the dead," Hermione quipped, opening Elphy's trunk and tossing a toiletry bag at her. "Don't worry, no one's up yet so there's still plenty of hot water."
"There better be, I hate cold showers." Elphy scratched her eyes and got to her feet, yawning. She stepped into her fluffy pink, cashmere slippers. "Lead the way, princess."
By the time the girls were ready the rest of the Slytherins had only just woken up and now raced each other to the loo. Fabia got up a half-hour late, and Hermione and Elphy laughed themselves silly when she stumbled into the showers, yelling at the top of her lungs when ice-cold water hit her naked skin like piercing needles. Her ear-splitting scream echoed all the way to the common room downstairs.
"Don't you look refreshed?" Hermione teased when a shivering, stringy-haired Fabia emerged from the bathroom in a silk bathrobe. Unsuppressed giggles burst out of her when the Slytheriness, looking more rat-like than ever, leered at her.
"I'm freezing actually," Fabia growled. "Why didn't anyone wake me up?"
"We wanted to see you suffer," Elphy deadpanned and Fabia rolled her eyes, disappearing behind a dressing screen to get ready. "Hermione and I are off to the Great Hall," she added, smoothing her already-perfect skirt. "We'll meet you and Rosy there."
Through the divider Fabia's silhouette teetered as she struggled to get her stockings on faster. "Blast!" she cursed when one leg ripped. "Ugh, can't you two wait a few wretched seconds?"
"One, two," Elphy counted off on her manicured nails, grinning when Fabia cursed again - this time at them. "Do zobaczenia!"
"See you later, Fab," Hermione called.
They descended the stairs to the common room and she waved at Regulus upon seeing him wrapping up a game of Wizarding Chess against Abraxas by the fire. He grinned back and Abraxas – who was crabby in the mornings – looked up, ice-blue eyes glaring through his blonde bangs. "Stop smiling like that," he sniffed. "You look like Sluggy on dope – or some sort of a child molester."
Regulus scowled, retorting, "At least my nickname isn't Man Whore."
"You wish you had such an awesome title."
The girls made a detour to the loo when Elphy's right eye teared up with eyeliner crumbs. She rushed in, hurrying to the sinks, and Hermione idled in the bathroom while Elphy fumbled through her clutch for a cotton ball.
At the very end of the long row of stalls, Hermione heard a low sniveling and paused. She glanced over her shoulder at Elphy, rapt on the mirror and reapplying makeup. Quietly, she crept up to the sniffling stall and peeked through the slat to see who was here crying at eight o' clock in the morning. She was stunned to find a glimpse of Meredith Smith's bent head, a crumpled letter in the girl's hand and sobs wracking her chest. What was she doing here?
"Hermione, are you coming or what?" Elphy shouted.
At this, Meredith's head snapped up and her shocked, reddened eyes met Hermione's a split-second before she could duck. She scrambled back, flushing.
"Hermione!" Elphy said again, impatiently.
"I'm coming," she called back. They left the lavatory moments later.
But as the girl's bathroom shrunk behind them, Hermione glanced back at the shut double doors more than once. She couldn't get the image of Meredith's tear-streaked face out of her brain.
Of her not blank, miserable, miserable eyes.
When the girls finally reached the Great Hall it was to find the cafeteria overflowing and in full swing. They were greeted warmly at the Slytherin table, but Hermione hardly noticed anyone at all as she took her seat. How could she when she knew Meredith Smith was crying in the loo the day before Christmas Eve? Meredith, who she'd unintentionally turned into a social pariah. Meredith, who was ridiculed and shunned by the friends who turned on her. Meredith… Hermione's huge, glaring mistake.
Stop being so bothersome and cruel, Hermione had told her the night of Slughorn's soiree. Oh, it was glaringly obvious now! But she hadn't meant for Meredith to be so to everyone; she only wanted the girl to get off her back, not to turn her into a seventeen-year old zombie incapable of emotion.
Dumbledore warned her not to abuse the magick he'd taught her to wield, to never alter someone's personality, but Hermione disregarded this and now she had to pay for her insolence, to somehow find a way to fix what she had done. But could she magick everything better? What if she just made things worse?
Calm down.
Hermione looked up to find Tom staring at her, one dark brow piqued inquiringly. His hand, resting on her thigh, sent a hiss of bubbly magic darting through her. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Do you feel sick again?"
"No, I'm fine." Although I can't say the same for Meredith.She shook herself. "I was just…thinking."
He smirked. "I could tell."
She stared at him, not understanding, and he tapped the side of his nose. "The crinkle," he elaborated.
Hermione blinked and a snort suddenly flew out of her, sharp and full of disbelief. He'd nicknamed one of her facial expressions. It was so…so…
Sweet.
Across the table, Regulus had cleared his plate and now nodded at Abraxas meaningfully, who in turn signaled for the others to quiet down. Dolohov lowered his edition of the Daily Prophet at the gesture, and even Elphy, Rosy, and Fabia hushed their prattle. Hermione looked up at the sudden lapse in conversation, frowning when she found everyone staring back at her.
"Er…yes?"
"We were just wondering, Hermione," Regulus said, casually. "What's the plan of action?"
"The plan of what?"
"You know, for our secret escape," he clarified. At this, Fabia and Rosy fell into excited chitters, giggling, and it finally dawned on Hermione what the Slytherins were talking about. The Christmas shopping trip. She'd completely forgotten!
"That's today?" she said, shocked.
"Of course it's today," Dolohov rumbled in his deep baritone. "The Hogwarts Express is taking everyone home tomorrow, we can't exactly go then, now can we?"
"Well… when do you all want to go?"
"After breakfast, I think," said Rosy. "That way we can stay there until evening."
"Ooh and get all the good sales," Fabia squealed.
Abraxas checked his solid gold watch, shining impressively on his wrist. "If everything isn't already sold out, that is."
Hermione thought for a moment. "Alright, we'll meet in thirty minutes on the third floor in front of the one-eyed witch statue," she said. "There's a passageway there that will take us into the cellar of Honeydukes."
Abraxas clapped her on the back firmly. "Good thinking, love." But, seeing Tom's withering glare, the boy withdrew with speed. Regulus sniggered.
"Ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness," Elphy sang under her breath. "Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness."
The others laughed and lapsed back into plotting and playful jabs, shooting Hermione smiles between words and watching approvingly whenever Tom leaned down to say something in her ear or gave her a little kiss. And Hermione felt happy. And she felt pressured. And she felt that she was one of them.
And she felt one wrong move could send her crashing down from cloud nine – just like poor Meredith Smith.
"Abraxas, get that thing the hell away from me!" Elphy snarled, wand out and ready as he stalked down the candy aisle, a Cockroach Cluster in hand. "You know how I get with insects-"
"Ah, yes." An evil smile made its way onto Abraxas Malfoy's face. "I recall you puking cake all over my shoes when you found a spider on your arm at my birthday party."
"I was nine!"
"And now I am exacting my revenge eight years later." He hurled the disgusting mushed ball of cockroaches at her and Elphy screamed bloody murder, gagging when it bounced off the shelf next to her head and knocked a case of Fizzing Whizzbees to the floor. She fled, screeching, and Abraxas ran after her, wielding a Licorice Wand. "You can't run forever!" he bellowed.
"Why can't I get him to pay attention to me like that?" Fabia pouted beside Hermione, who had somehow gotten stuck with the girl and now examined candy with her.
She shrugged. "Because bugs don't make you regurgitate?"
"Now is not the time to make jokes, Hermione! I haven't seen a single mistletoe here and the train leaves tomorrow. How am I supposed to be conveniently trapped into kissing Abraxas?" she lamented. Hermione didn't have any advice to offer however – relationships were the one subject she unfortunately lacked knowledge on – but luckily, Fabia caught sight of Rosy looking at a display of Pepper Imps with Regulus just then.
"Rosy, dearest," Fabia cried, "I have a crisis!"
Hermione snuck into the cocoa aisle while she was distracted. There, she found and acquainted herself with a sample of Chocoballs.
Mm. Fudgy.
A few minutes later, Tom strode in, absently chewing a Sugar Quill as he glanced over the contents of the colorful shelves. He didn't have any wizard money, but he wasn't above shoplifting some candy either. He'd done it plenty of times in East London when he was younger.
Hermione looked up, sensing Tom's presence like a scent riding the air, and her eyes widened at the sight of purple sugar crystals smeared across his chin. A huge smile broke free and her lips trembled with the effort of holding back laughter when he coolly said, "What are you grinning like that for?"
"You – ah – have something right here," she said, pointing at her own chin.
He frowned and swiped his jaw, completely off mark. "Where?" he demanded.
Hermione couldn't hold back laughter any longer. Snorting, she burst out, "It's all over your face!"
His lips twitched and he stepped closer to her, making her snickers abruptly cease when their magic sparked and combined. An electric charge danced up her spine, wanting to close the distance between them.
"Well, since I can't seem to get it, why don't you take care of it for me?" Tom said, leaning close. She blushed and his eyes flicked over the pink pooled in her cheeks, spiky lashes flying like raven wings. "It's the least you can do for laughing at me anyhow."
Her fingers flexed inside her mittens and she lightly brushed the sugar off his skin, bleached by winter and now even creamier than the snow outside. "All gone," she said, a little breathily.
Their eyes met.
Suddenly, a rain of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans opened on their heads and they broke apart to find Abraxas waggling the empty box over them. "Did I ruin the moment, lovebirds?" he sniggered, but his cheesy grin disappeared when Tom drew his wand. He threw up his hands, eyes wide and apologetic. "Sorry, sorry, it was just a joke!"
"What do you want, idiot?" Tom snapped.
"Uh, Wictz is looking for Hermione, says she wants to go to Gladrags or something."
"Oh shoot, I forgot," Hermione exclaimed, shoving on her hat. "Did they already leave?"
"Everyone's at the door now-"
She grumbled a curse and hurried to the exit. As the boys followed, Tom sent Abraxas a warning glare that seemed to say dump candy on my head again and it will be the last thing you ever do using all ten of your fingers.
The latter boy gulped.
The Slytherins entered Gladrags Wizardwear in a hurry, eager to get out of the nipping cold and shaking snow out of their hair as they streamed inside. Dolohov didn't come, instead going to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop with Regulus to buy some new parchment and inkwells, while Abraxas made a beeline to the jewelry, muttering something about getting a sufficient gift for his mother.
Tom, on the other hand, was bombarded by a team of female employees not ten seconds after walking in, who helpfully wielded their enchanted tape measures and hurried him to the men's section, fawning over his handsomeness and asking, now why isn't a pretty face like yours on our perfume ads? and Are you here to model December's most fashionable winter wear?
Hermione bristled when a particularly eager saleswoman fastened a tie around Tom's neck, offering to give him a free trouser fitting and batting her eyelashes flirtatiously with every syllable that passed her lips. His pants fit just fine now, thank you very much, you old bat, Hermione thought hotly, wanting to pluck every last one of the dolt's spasmodic lashes off with her bare hands.
Tom politely declined her offer with a charming smile, however, and the lady laughed, stepping closer and resting a warm hand on his shoulder. He didn't shake her off.
Hermione was unable to intervene though, because Rosy and Fabia decided to grab her by the wrists at that moment. Let me go, you stupid idiots! she cried unkindly, but they dragged her away to the cosmetics counter, condoning the death threats and forcing her to watch as they tested unreasonably priced powders and had them packaged in pretty wrapping. Elphy perched on a stool and chatted with the attendant Flynn, who she seemed to know very well, and even got them one or two discounts.
"Hermione, why don't you buy something for Tom?" Elphy suggested, smiling at her. "You should exchange gifts with someone on Christmas."
"Hm?" Hermione was distracted from the array of eyeshadows she'd been curiously poking around in. She looked up, frowning. "Oh, I would but I…I don't have any money."
"I know." Elphy popped open her designer purse, leafing through it and extracting a heavy pouch of Galleons which she dropped unceremoniously into Hermione's lap. "There you are. Have fun, princess." And before Hermione could protest – she couldn't possibly spend her money – Elphy was flouncing away with Flynn, merrily discussing a new shipment of lingerie coming in.
She cursed.
Grudgingly, she turned to the men's side of the store and started to wander through there, looking at ties and dress shirts and the like. She had no idea what to get Tom. What could he possibly want? It wasn't like she could wrap up some immortality, stick a bow on it, and give it to him.
Hello, future Wizarding World! Bow down to your dictator Voldemort and have a Happy Dooms Day, brought to you exclusively by Hermione Granger.
Yeah right.
So eternity was out. What about a book though? But what book? What genre did he like best? Non-fiction or fiction? Oh, forget that, there were too many choices when it came to reading. She swore again. She didn't have an inkling of an idea as to what he might want. Perhaps she'd just slip Elphy her money back when she wasn't looking…
And that was when she saw it.
The dress.
Well, dress wasn't the correct word. What she was looking at was deep in the women's section and too risqué to be called anything other than a provocative strip of cloth, really. It was also something she could never pull off.
The skimpy baby doll, unabashedly slutty and a red so deep it looked like blood, had a black lace bodice and fringe. It didn't look like it would go any farther than the top of your thighs and – oh Merlin – it even had a pair of matching knickers and garter belt. She blushed at the thought of wearing it and then blushed deeper when she imagined what Tom might say if he saw her wearing it.
Not in a thousand years, her subconscious lectured snottily.
Her subconscious had a point.
Ten minutes later, they were all leaving, although that one flirty employee was disinclined to let her new favorite customer go. Elphy elbowed Hermione particularly hard on their way out the door, giving her a look that seemed to say better go get your beau before the old bat steals him.
She was probably right.
Hermione turned back to the store, eyes landing on Tom and the preening saleswoman almost instantly. Her pride took a hit at the sight of the woman's hands on him. What – the – hell?
She took a deep breath and walked up to them, pulling back her shoulders and slanting her eyes in her best impersonation of Elphy (which she'd been getting much better at, actually) and the clingy saleswoman jumped back at the sight of her, looking vaguely embarrassed.
"Tom, darling, what's taking so long?" Hermione twittered, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. He blinked at the unusually sultry tone of her voice – why did she sound so much like Elphy Wictz? – and gave a start when she slowly slid her mouth along his shaven jaw until they hooked on his in a soft lip lock, drawing out his tongue and tangling with it for a long minute. Her nails scratched through his hair.
The sound of the saleswitch's tape measure clattering to the floor made them break apart.
"Ready to go?" Hermione said, a little breathily. The embarrassing kind of breathy.
Merlin.
Tom was grinning.
The saleswitch hadn't stopped staring when Hermione glanced at her through the storefront, her lip stained mouth hanging open in blatant shock. Hermione waved back.
"Feeling a little possessive, are we?" Tom observed, still laughing.
"I was saving you. She was going to drool on your shirt any moment," she replied tartly.
"I think I like you jealous," he murmured, snaking an arm around her waist and sneaking his fingers under her coat. "It's very sexy."
"Hermione, hurry up," Elphy shouted, coming toward them through the whirling blizzard. Webbing white flurries lashed through the air like whips and concealed her strawberry blonde hair in a thin, frosty layer. Behind her, Abraxas struggled to keep up, all twelve of the Slytheriness's shopping bags in his arms.
The excited witch looped her arm through Hermione's when she was close enough, tugging her away from Tom and in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione groaned. The reason she came to Hogsmeade was to get Tom in the holiday spirit and distract him from whatever he might be planning for Christmas break, to humanize him. She couldn't do that if they kept getting pulled away from each other…
"So did you get him something?" Elphy said, readjusting her ear muffs and shooting Tom Riddle a fervent glance behind them.
"No, I couldn't find anything." Hermione gave Elphy her pouch of Galleons back, although the witch protested and said it hardly made a difference in her bank account. "Thanks though."
Elphy tutted. "Lucky for you, my frugal princess, I figured this might happen. So I took care of it."
"Frugal-?" Hermione sputtered. "Wait, wait, took care of it how?"
"You'll see come Christmas, won't you?" Elphy laughed at the displeased expression on her face, bumping their hips playfully. "Don't worry. The suspense won't kill you."
"I don't know about that," she muttered.
They found Fabia, Rosy, Dolohov, and Regulus waiting in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, which was crowded with wizards and witches in heavy cloaks staying at the inn. It was a tight squeeze, but somehow all of the Slytherins fit at the table, drinking Butterbeer as the snowflakes melted on their heads. Hermione sat sandwiched between Abraxas and Elphy, forced to endure them bicker right over her head. Literally.
"You couldn't do one lap around the Quidditch Pitch without checking your nails, much less play a game," Abraxas sneered in her right ear.
"You're exaggerating," Elphy scoffed into Hermione's left. "I could play better than you with my eyes closed."
"Maybe if we were competing for the Best Pedicure Cup."
"It's called a manicure." Elphy stuck her hand out, nearly knocking over Hermione's Butterbeer, and fluttered her French-tipped fingers in front of his face. "Pedicures are for your feet, idiot."
"Well, excuse me for not knowing the correct terminology-"
"I need to go to the loo," Hermione announced loudly.
"Oh, sure, Hermione," Elphy said, smiling. "Do you want me, Rosy, or Fab to come with you? Or all three of us?"
"Er…I think I'll be alright alone."
Abraxas sniggered, muttering "girls" to Dolohov, who rolled his eyes. Elphy ignored them. "Of course," she said smoothly, sliding past Regulus out of the booth. Hermione wriggled free and was surprised to see Tom get up too, brushing snow-dampened hair off his forehead. He met her eyes and nodded discreetly at the door.
The others didn't notice them leave, the sound of clinking mugs snipped off by the shutting door. A bell hanging overhead cheeped at their exit.
"Finally, I thought my head was going to explode from all that bickering," Hermione huffed, relieved to get away from the rowdy Slytherins for a moment.
"If I might remind you," Tom said, "you're the one who enacted this rendezvous."
"My judgment lacks at eight AM, I'm not a morning person."
He rolled his eyes.
They strolled down the street, which was empty save for a man scurrying out of Zonko's Joke Shop to take out the trash and the chilly wind whipping their cloaks. Hermione hummed the chorus of Pierrot the Clown.
"Are we going anywhere in particular?" she asked when the village started to fade behind them.
Tom lifted his shoulders in a shrug. His hair was windswept, strands gone haywire and dark as his raven-black eyes against the canvas of snow and ivory sky surrounding them. "What about the Black Lake?" he suggested.
"Won't someone see us out there?"
"No one in the castle will be able to see out of the Astronomy Tower through this blizzard."
"And the others?" Hermione said, glancing back worriedly. "They'll look for us."
"They'll be fine." He kicked at a block of snow, melting a path ahead of them with his wand. Flattened, brown grass crunched underneath their feet. "We could go ice skating. I used to ice skate when I was younger."
"Really?"
He nodded. "There was a large ditch in the backyard of the orphanage and it would fill with rainwater that froze over during winter. I remember wishing the snow covering it away one day and stealing some bloke's ice skates, which were far too big but worked well enough. I stayed out there all day for weeks." His brow furrowed. "When the wardens eventually found out they said the hole was a hazard and filled it with concrete."
Hermione stared at him, stunned by this small piece of information. It was seemingly trivial, but to her it was so much more than a story. It's working, she thought, a thrill of hope going through her cold-numbed body. He was finally sharing himself with her. Slowly, sure, but this counted as something, didn't it?
And what if she really could do this? Save the future without destroying any more lives in the past?
Save him.
It sounded terribly unrealistic.
But still…
"Ice skating sounds wonderful," she finally said warmly, taking his hand and squeezing it. "We can Transfigure our boots into skates."
Tom didn't reply, but a pleased smile tilted his lips.
They spent a good hour breezing over the frozen lake, steel blades engraving patterns without rhyme or reason into the hard ice. Hermione spun circles, closing her eyes against the iridescent winter wonderland all around, and let her magic ride on the carrying wind, which sailed across the snowy fields and slopes. The sound of slicing ice stopped feet away and then a pair of hands were clasping hers, bringing her to a screechy stop.
She looked up at Tom, grinning and dizzy. Snowflakes tangled in his long lashes, gathering on the dark fringe. "I thought you might trip," he said, gliding closer. "You're not supposed to skate with your eyes closed, you know."
"And you're not supposed to steal innocent people's ice skates."
Their blades touched when he put his arms around her waist. "I like this," he murmured, lips warm and smooth as velvet on her cheek. "Keeping you to myself."
"How selfish of you, darling," Hermione whispered.
"I'm entitled to selfishness." Quieter, he said, "I can hardly wait to leave this place for good. Then everything will be better – I won't even have to share you with anyone ever again."
"You can't do that," she laughed. "I have a life too, you know."
"With me." He kissed her gently. "When I fix everything I'll hide you away." Another kiss. "Keep you happy." Kiss. "Give you gifts when I come home from work."
"That sounds horribly 18th century. What do you mean by 'fix everything'?"
The Mudbloods. The Ministry. Those who need to learn their place. "Don't worry about it. It's not of concern," he replied. True, it did not concern Hermione… not yet.
"But why would you want to…hide me? Are you embarrassed-" Her eyes sharpened. "-because I'm a Muggleborn?"
He scowled. "Of course not. I must because your magic has changed. The essences will let it grow stronger, more desirable, and ultimately harder to hide. There are people out there who will try to steal your magic," he said. "To take it and use it for themselves."
Hermione had never heard of someone trying to hijack a wizard's magic. "Why?" she said, bewildered.
"Because they are greedy, low, and ruthless," he whispered, "That is why you have to stay with me. Safe."
'You're worth a pretty Galleon, I'm sure, and will have a nice little cage in the Department of Mysteries,' Professor Chanté had told Hermione the night he found her and Tom in the Forbidden Forest. Was this what Tom meant? Would wizards hate and use her for her magic?
'What you did to me last night is not something a normal witch or wizard is capable of…'
Tom's lips pressed against hers, sweet as a song, his tongue entangling hers in a heated, lovely dance. He held her tightly against him. Controlled. Unyielding. Hard as the solid ice beneath them. "You do want to stay with me forever, don't you?" he asked.
Her eyes slid shut. "Yes. I...I want to stay." And she did. The time she came from could take as long as it wanted to arrive as far as she was concerned, because suddenly the idea of going back to it, of returning to her family and friends, just wasn't so appealing anymore.
"With me."
"With you."
He smiled. Their magic wound together, a harmony, a finely-tuned clockwork, and Hermione let him take over the kiss when his mouth became feverous, demanding submission. He held her face tight in his hands, like he might never let go, like he meant to bruise her, to hurt her.
Lost. His darkness consumed.
AN: OMG, I know there weren't any lemons! O.O I AM EVIL. But I'll make up for it in the next update, which is quite sexy (or at least the-Peen-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named says) and other chapters. ***omfg spoiler alert (not really): the Christmas break chapters will be way packed with smut in a way that makes me so happy M-rated stories are legal! UMPH.
In this last scene of the chapter with Tom and Hermione I was listening to the song Колыбельная/Kolehbelnaya, which is so dang beautiful I have to tell you guys about it. I also wholeheartedly encourage you to Youtube it. That shit is gorgeous.
For the next chapter, Hermione and Tom finally leave Hogwarts to get a head start on our Dark Lord Jr.'s mysterious plans (which is great, because this fic has been dying for a change of scenery). The Task will also definitely be taking a turn for the darker side; now that Tom Riddle is taking the reins.
Thanks for reading, my pretties, and don't forget to review! Reviews make my day. XOXO