authorsnote: woooo, new update! loving this story, loving this pairing (doesn't make them healthy tho! see my most recent disclaimer), loving this verse. ahh, I am so motivated right now, I finished this chapter and immediately started writing the next.
do let me know your thoughts, specifically can you guess the time travel twist yet? no one has so far! more importantly anyway, do enjoy!
warning: lemons ahead...
songrecs: desperado - rihanna (for some reason the ANTI is a good album for this chapter, idk why)
The next day she is thankful it is a Saturday, and so she avoids breakfast all together.
The night before she had hidden in the girl's bathroom until the early hours of the morning. Only emerging as the sun began to rise to catch a few hours of sleep tucked in bed. She still awoke before the other Gryffindor girls (as per usual), exhausted and yet too awake to fall back asleep.
She had laid in bed for a good half an hour, her mind racing.
It felt like a pattern with Tom, they grew close … or closer, and then he utterly terrified her, and she ran. It was like going in circles, like a hamster on a wheel. The thing that scared her the most though was that Tom probably liked that, her running after him over and over, and then running away only to come back.
He was still frazzling her head, making her so confused. The night before she had been near dizzy with desire for him, quivering in his arms, before she'd known for any self-respect and dignity she had left, that she had to yank herself free.
More than anything she'd wanted to stay in his embrace, and yet she felt oddly proud that she'd stood up for herself. Hence the confusion.
She'd never been so at war with her emotions as she was with Tom, he utterly confused her, a foreign feeling to her, and one she decidedly did not like.
With a sigh she had forced herself out of bed, showered, tried (and failed) to tame her curls before hurrying out of the common room before anyone could stop her. She didn't want to deal with anyone this morning, not whilst so tired and so rattled.
Her head was swimming, as though she couldn't think straight, and around him she couldn't, but now he was clouding her mind and he wasn't even here! Perhaps she should have stayed in bed, and yet her feet are walking her to the library. She can lose herself in the stacks, hide away, and perhaps even take a snooze if her eyes become too heavy, but most importantly she can avoid him.
It might have been more sensible to stay in Gryffindor Tower, but she feels ashamed that she needs to avoid Harry and Ron as well. She knows 'lady problems' will only keep them off her back for so long, and she can't even begin to know where to explain the issue to them.
Harry has rejected Ginny and several other girl's advances with a splutter, a blush, and eyes so wide he looks like a deer in a car's headlights. Ron? Ron has been snogging Lavender but clearly to make her jealous – once she had been, now she doesn't feel anything when she see's them attached at the lips in the common room. How could they possibly understand?
She also doesn't want to admit to her best friends that she is tangled up with a Slytherin, she may be more for inter-house cooperation, but the Gryffindor vs Slytherin rivalry is still raring and strong.
And so, she finds herself heading to the library, head down. It is early enough she goes unnoticed, and soon enough she is breathing in the familiar air of the books and feels instantly relaxed. It is a strange feeling, she has been so tense recently, so caught up and stressed, it is good to feel her shoulders relax, to feel her body sag and the tension to leave her.
She finds herself a little nook, not her usual spot, but tucked away in the back, right behind the section on the goblin wars (and so almost no one ventures this far in), it is quiet, peaceful, and the rain on the window next to the nook puts her at ease.
She flicks her wand and her most recent read that she hadn't quite finished comes soaring towards her. 'The Key to Wandless Magic' by Elfrida Clagg. She grimaced then, of course even her reading was now stained by Tom … still, she flipped it open, she wasn't going to waste a good book because it reminded her of the man who had scrambled her head.
After an hour she managed to settle down, her shoes kicked off, feet tucked beneath her, her skirt pulled over her knees, her large jumper providing some warmth. She felt comfortable and for the first time in weeks at ease. She was halfway through the hefty work from the Chieftaness of the Warlock's Council in the 16th century, and actually had a little smile on her face.
The wonders of a good book.
A little yawn leaves her lips as she turns the page then, it is only 9am, and yet she feels more relaxed than she has in a while, perhaps after finishing this she can have a little nap to make up for missed sleep, she certainly feels more able to.
But of course, it is then that a shadow crosses her gaze, and she knows before she even glances up who it is.
Still, of course she does look up, at him, Tom, now stood in front of her, looking slightly annoyed as he rounds the table to stand now next to her, invading her space, forcing her to turn in her chair and crane her neck up at him as he leans on her table, invading her little nook.
All calmness and ease is long gone, batted away like a bludger in Quidditch, only tension remains, her shoulders suddenly tense, she wasn't expecting this.
He would usually wait for her to come to him, like the hamster on the wheel, this is different, this is new, and by god it unsettles her immediately.
"Tom" She whispers, for she is caught off balance, even more than usual. He does not look happy.
"How many more times are you going to run away from me? When are you going to realise it is not going to work?" He dives right in, and she feels like an idiot when she just blinks at him.
"Stop looking so stupid Hermione" He fires at her, and that works in bringing her out of the fog of shock, and she splutters and glares, "It doesn't suit you" That mollifies her a bit, but just barely.
"What…" She pauses then, tries to gather herself and places her book down before she untucks her feet, and pushes her chair back, to sit up, though he is crowding her too much to stand, probably on purpose.
"I didn't want to run away" She admits, for clearly he wants to have this argument "But you left me no choice"
He scoffs then, rolls his eyes, and looks at her with so much intent a lesser woman might crumble, "You chose to leave"
"And you chose to disrespect me in a way that meant if I wanted to keep any dignity I had to!" She hissed back, mindful to keep her voice down even though she wants to scream at him.
He glares at her then but doesn't respond, which she thinks is either a win or he thinks her argument so stupid he won't dignify it with an answer, honestly with him it could be either.
She thinks of their interactions then, fighting, kissing, arguing, his hands on her, her hands on him, yelling and spitefulness, ignoring and avoiding.
She thinks of other couples she has seen. She thinks of Ron and Lavender who spend all their time kissing and groping, but in the rare moments they are not, she thinks they both smile a lot. She thinks of Ginny and Dean before they broke up, sure they argued a fair amount, but they also smiled, laughed, joked. Then she thinks of Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fetchley, a recent development, they are always smiling, talking, joking.
Don't normal couples do that? Be happy? Her and Tom seem to jerk from angry and arguing to desire and passion. No jokes, no laughter, just intensity.
"How did I disrespect you?" He fires back, his eyes full of mocking, to which she just glares at him, her mind coming back to the argument.
"You showed up late and didn't apologise" When the answer leaves her lips it sounds a lot sillier, and there he is again, making her doubt herself, something he is very, very good at.
That should scare her. It does.
He glares at her then and with a force he hasn't used before turns her chair so it faces him. She squeals, as does the wood on the floor, but then she is facing him, and he has trapped her in the cage of his arms on the chair, and he is glaring at her.
Normally he is cool, collected, doesn't come to her, she goes to him, 'Like a hamster on the wheel'. But not this time.
What changed?
"Tom" She whispers, for she feels terrified but also intrigued. What does he want?
"It won't work" He near growls at her, "Stop running away"
"Stop making me" She says with her own anger in her tone. She does not like this, feeling powerless. She isn't meek, she won't preen and whisper. Sure, she can be terrified, she is, but she is not going to look like a coward.
What kind of Gryffindor is she?
"I wouldn't run if you didn't disrespect me, if you didn't mess with my head" She notices a pleading element has entered her voice, which she hates. She doesn't want to beg, and yet she just wishes things were simple with him! She just wishes he didn't terrify her, didn't mess with her. She wishes he was plain and just came out with it!
Part of her wishes they were like Susan and Justin, laughing, joking, smiling. She wishes he would just tell her what he wants from this.
But of course, he is Tom Pevel, and as he glares at her she knows that isn't possible. This is the freest she has seen him, and it is because he is angry, she isn't doing as he likes. She doubts she'll get any honesty from him.
That should be a deal breaker for her, it would be. And yet not with him. Is there a dealbreaker with him?
She doesn't want to answer that.
"What you want me to come out and say I've got a crush on you?" He sneers, and he reminds her of Malfoy then, but worse, much worse. She feels pink colour her cheeks at the mockery, the bastard. "That I like you Hermione Granger?" He laughs then but there is no humour in it. "Oh, how I want to date you?"
She is on her feet, but she doesn't reach for her wand. Instead, she reels her hand back and her palm connects with his face with a hard smack, so quick he can't even react. Pink blooms across his cheek, red and violent, and her eyes widen. The anger draws out of her, as it does from him. He just looks shocked. She is too.
Why did she do that? She hates being mocked, always has. When Malfoy and his cronies would tease her, she always hated it, had to work hard to pretend she didn't care, had to cover up her embarrassment, had to pretend it didn't bother her when it always did. With Tom it is worse, much, much worse.
"I…" She whispers again, looking up at him, his eyes so dark, angry now, fuck, "I'm sor…"
She doesn't make the word out, she can't, she can't speak. Not as he crushes his lips to hers.
She wasn't expecting that reaction, as his lips are on hers, hard and unforgiving, and suddenly she is shoved up against the window, hard, so hard it rattles. All reasonable thought, her attempt at an apology, her anger, it all flies away like leaves scattering in the wind. Gone, all gone, just replaced with him.
He is not gentle, his hand is in her hair, pulling her close, but he is not mean either, his touch pulls her close yes but he doesn't want to hurt her. It is as though he wants her as close as he can get her, and she feels the same, desperate suddenly, even more so than she had been at the Astronomy Tower. She is crushed to him, her arms around his neck, her hands curling into his dark hair, twisting into it, as his hands fall to her waist, to pull her first closer, and then to slam her back against the window, again it rattles in protest, but neither care.
He pulls back then, and she whines in protest. He is all intensity as he pulls back, and then his forehead is against hers and she near pants, she has never felt this aroused, this desperate. It is utterly frightening and the best thing she has felt all at once.
"Hermione" He whispers her name, and a little whimper leaves her lips. And then he smothers that whimper with another kiss, and again all thought is gone, she is only in his arms, that is all, it is all she wants, all she needs.
His hands move then, one grips her waist, hard, and the other moves to her skirt, as it had on the Tower before she'd fled. She is not fleeing now; she'd rather fail her next test than leave this, whatever this is.
His fingers find the waistband of her skirt and slip underneath, first he ghosts them over her underwear, and then under there too, pushing them aside almost roughly. He is rough, and even though she is inexperienced that is what she wants, as he keeps his lips on hers, tongue entering her mouth, teeth biting down on her lip, her hands tugging at his hair hard. She has never felt this good.
And yet even that pales in comparison as he touches her there.
A moan leaves her lips, and it is so loud she is sure they'll be caught. Yet she nor Tom don't care, too consumed, too involved. "Tom" She whines as his fingers drift over her, and then press to her there, at that little nub, flick over it, and then his fingers dip lower, lower, lower.
"Oh god" She moans, and she hears him groan against her lips, but then his lips are at her neck, his tongue swipes against her collarbone, he nips at her neck and she squirms against his fingers as he pushes first one, and then two into her. It is tight, it even stings a little, but then he is moving them 'Fuck so tight' She thinks she hears him murmur, but she is too lost to know, it is a pleasure she has never felt, a desire she has never known.
When he curls his fingers inside of her, she almost screams. It feels so good, better than she thought it ever could. She feels a little dizzy with how good it feels, and it doesn't take long, with his fingers thrusting in and out of her, his thumb finding that nub and rubbing across it, his lips soon back on hers, swallowing her moans, covering her near screams.
"Tom…I" She moans against him, "I'm going to…"
And then he stops.
She near wants to slap him again, but instead an incredibly pathetic whine leaves her lips, in horror he has stopped. She still feels on that precipice, like she is stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower again, but this time she is about to leap off, she is right there, one foot over the edge. Fuck, his fingers are still inside of her, he has just paused moving them, his thumb is still pressed to her clit, he has just halted rubbing it. What the hell is he doing?
"Tom…" She begins, but she isn't moaning now, though she does when he flicks the nub just once, and then he speaks.
"Running away from me is not going to work" He repeats his words from earlier and when she opens her mouth to interrupt, he just flicks his thumb, curls his fingers and her words are lost as another moan leaves her lips.
She feels so poised, poised to fall into a pleasure she has never known. She also feels some kind of outrage, buried underneath her desire, an outrage that how dare he manipulate her like this, but it is smothered by desire.
"You are mine" He defines each word with a stop, and a gasp leaves her lips, at how sure he sounds, his forehead against hers again, his eyes drilling into hers, intense, unflickering, so sure, she near crumbles. "Mine"
He flicks his fingers again, "Mine" And again, and then he is moving them again, in and out, swiping her clit, "Mine" She moans, and yet he pauses once more, she near wants to cry when he stops again.
"Please Tom" She whines again, and she is sure his pupils dilate as she moans his name.
"Say it" She squirms against him, she can't, she isn't owned, not possessed, she can't. She shakes her head.
He flicks again, curls his fingers, pinches her clit then and a strangled groan leaves her lips.
"Say it"
Fuck.
She hates herself, but she is too weak, she can't, she shouldn't, she'll regret it.
"Yours"
And then he's moving again, his fingers in and out of her, his thumb swiping against her clit, he pinches it again, and she screams. He smothers it with a kiss, and then "Say it again"
This time she doesn't hesitate, not at all.
"Yours"
And then she falls from that precipice. Like she is flying. In the dank little corner of the library, against one of the windows, her skirt flipped up around her hips, Tom Pevel's fingers inside of her, his thumb on her clit, his lips on hers. She falls into a deep, deep pleasure, the outrage buried now, completely buried.
How dare he manipulate her; how dare he try to possess her.
She can't even summon the anger, she can't muster the fury, not as he strokes her through her orgasm, as she flies, as she screams, as she feels tears in her eyes. She can't muster a dislike for him, or anything else. She can only feel utter pleasure, as he continues to gently stroke her with his fingers, right through the pleasure, right through the desire, right through it all, his forehead pressed to hers, his own eyes wild with desire, hers filled with longing and pleasure.
Fuck.
A whimper leaves her lips, as she is suddenly so sensitive, but his fingers continue to stroke back and forth, gentle, and soft, but it might be too much.
"I…I can't" She manages to drag out of herself, and she feels a little safer, more secure when he immediately stops, though he doesn't pull back from her, remains close, so close, and yet she finds herself needing him closer.
She feels as though she is flying, and though the jump from the tower and the rush is now gone, she still feels this thrum, as though she is floating over the clouds, just drifting in the sky.
But she wants to go higher.
And so, she is reaching for him, pulling him closer, and her hands find his trousers. She has no idea what she is doing, and is showing a boldness in this area she never even knew she was capable of, but she wants it, needs it.
She looks at Tom who for a moment looked surprised, but now he is grinning, and a shudder leaves her as he begins to stroke her again, as she unbuckles his belt, pulls at his zipper, and soon he is as free as she is.
Her hand finds him, and though she is inexperienced she is soon stroking up and down, and though he adjusts her hand the groan that leaves him is worth it. His lips find hers again, and she lets out a moan as he inserts one, then two fingers again.
This time though he isn't getting her to an orgasm, no, this feels different, he is getting her ready.
"Tom" She moans again, and then she is pulling him closer, and he is obliging.
His hands find her thighs, and then she is off the floor. He moves her away from the window, to press her against the wall. His hands grip her thighs, and she wraps her legs around his waist, she knows what's coming, she should be nervous, she should stop him, does she want to lose her virginity up against a wall in the library? Does she want to lose it to Tom?
As he adjusts them, she has doubts about the place but none about the man who kisses her again, hard, she wants this.
"Hermione" His voice is somehow gentle as he pulls back from the kiss, and presses his forehead to hers again, holding her close, lined up, ready, but not quite going ahead. "Tell me you want it"
She wonders if he is asking her consent to be sweet, or just because he wants to hear her say it. She feels it is more likely the latter, but a part of her feels touched he has asked, and she does smile, a bright smile as she responds.
"I want you"
In the movies, when the moment comes, when the couple, the star-crossed lovers, the enemies to lovers finally have that moment, it is always magical, it always involves fireworks, stars, shouts of joy, sparks, and a golden light. It is always perfect, never awkward, never uncomfortable, it is always utter bliss.
She had always scoffed at that, rolled her eyes and fast forwarded through the moments she had deemed 'unrealistic'. She had always deemed them inaccurate.
And yet, as Tom slides into her, as they join as two people, as he fills her, something in her snapping, she thinks; that even though it is a hint uncomfortable, even though Tom has to stop as she feels a deep flicker of pain, even as he sees the pain on her face and works not to move, she thinks; it is still perfect.
"I'm okay" She manages to whisper, and then her lips find his, and he is moving.
It hurts at first, but then it builds, and builds, and if she had thought it perfect before … well. She hadn't known what perfection was.
A strangled moan leaves her lips when the first wave of pain disappears, and she feels nothing but pure pleasure. He is big, and deep, but it feels so, so good. He groans against her neck, his face buried there, kissing and nipping at her skin, and it feels like it looks in the movies, it feels impossibly perfect.
"Tom" She whispers, and he pulls back to look at her, his eyes wide, as he thrusts in and out, her back knocking against the wall, her thighs gripping him, an orgasm soon on the horizon for her.
She kisses him this time, it is gentler, still a little rough, but passionate. He responds in kind, and somehow, that, the fact he is just kissing her, holding her close whilst he pushes in and out of her, that has tears coming to her eyes.
He pulls back then, to rest his forehead to hers, he likes that, she realises, she likes it too, and it is that then, as he pushes in and out, as his fingers dig into her thighs, it is that moment of intimacy that pushes her over the edge.
If she was flying before, now she soars.
"Tom" She moans his name again and something close to a scream leaves her lips. He takes that as a cue to go harder, and she is glad he does, in and out, hard, and now fast, as she comes, hard, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her fingernails digging into his back, her legs squeezing him, holding him close, pure pleasure and elation radiating through her. It feels impossibly good. "Ahh" She whines, everything pulsing and squeezing.
"Fuck" He groans, and she moans in kind, for she loves hearing him fall apart, and she knows, as he gets faster, harder, she knows when he falls over the edge too, for somehow that pushes her into another orgasm, one that has her scream for real this time, one she hadn't expected but pulses through her with such intensity, as Tom does too, as he fills her, as he groans and smashes his lips to hers, she lets out a cry. She hadn't expected another, and it hits her hard, she has to muffle her own cry against Tom's lips, for she is sure the windows will break if she lets out the scream that last roll of pleasure near forced out of her.
He slows down then, now spent inside of her, and she is thankful for she isn't sure she could take much more. He is gentle as he slowly releases her, but he doesn't let her down immediately, again he presses his forehead to hers. She wonders where he learned that, where he came to associate that with intimacy, she isn't complaining either way.
It is only for a second, and she closes her eyes as he does, a little hum leaving her lips. But then he pulls back, helps her down, and waves his wand, a cleaning charm, before tucking himself back into his trousers.
For some reason that makes her blush bright red, and she near scolds herself. What, having Tom, the Slytherin now in charge of the pack of pureblood cronies, the boy who messes with her head shag her against the library wall hadn't made her blush, but watching him clean up after whilst she furiously readjusts her underwear and skirt does?
'You need to sort out your priorities'
She isn't really sure what to do next, she flicks her wand, her book soaring back to the shelf, and then she just kind of stands there before reaching for her bag. Should she leave?
"Didn't I say running away is pointless?" Tom drawls as she picks up her bag and the pink colour to her cheeks darkens again. He is stood in front of her again, blocking her leaving, and if she weren't feeling so sated (and now a little bit of pain is creeping in), she'd be wanting him again.
Part of her does, and that worries her, she's never been too interested in the physical side of things before, but with Tom it is different.
Very different.
"I…" She clears her throat then, she needs to stop being so meek, that is and has never been here. She is thankful her voice is more sure as she speaks again, if wavering a little. "I'm not sure what to do, I've never…"
"I know" He fires back, and his eyes darken then as he raises his hand and cups her cheek, "And you won't, with anyone else, ever"
She feels a shiver chase up her spine and she finds herself nodding, which is crazy, but she does anyway. It is sometimes like he has some control over her, which would be easier, but she knows it is her.
"I'm not running away" Her voice has dropped a little now, "I just don't know what to do. Other co... people go out, sit by the lake, go to Hogsmeade" She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath, "I don't know what we should do"
She doesn't, she is inexperienced, and she can't imagine holding Toms hand as they go to Honeydukes or sitting with her head in his lap as they read by the lake. It just doesn't seem like him, she can't even picture it.
He does scoff then, and she feels her cheeks heat and she drops her gaze, fuck, fuck, fuck, she knew she shouldn't have mentioned any of that, she has no idea what Tom wants from her but she is not stupid (despite how he sometimes makes her feel it), she knows it is not that.
He'd probably laugh if she even mentioned the word 'boyfriend'.
His mockery doesn't elicit anger, as it should, but she feels mortified, and tears prick at her eyes again, her cheeks a deep, horrible pink. God, she hates him.
It is worse that she knows she doesn't. She should.
"Hey" Tom says, putting a thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at him, she wishes the tears weren't so clear. "You're mine, make no mistake, but I'm not that type" She nods, she knows that, but she still feels disappointment slide into her stomach.
He reacts in a way she doesn't expect then, pulls her close, into a … hug? His arms loop around her, and she finds herself drawing her arms around him. She didn't expect a hug, but she likes it, it feels nice, warm, comfortable. It is exactly what she suddenly realises she needed at that moment; how did he know that before she did?
"Meet me later tonight, after dinner, by the forest" He speaks and she nods, she can't deny him, she isn't sure if she ever can again.
"Like a date?" She offers, almost cheekily then, her tears drying, feeling a little more assured now. Tom doesn't date and she still feels a little cold, but he has made something clear; she is his apparently, she'll no doubt get angry at such possessiveness later, but for now it makes her feel secure.
She can practically feel him roll his eyes, but he doesn't dispute it, "By the forest line" She nods into him, but doesn't draw back, she doesn't want to, and apparently neither does he.
The sun has long been up by the time they break apart, and they leave the library, neither running, neither turning away coldly. Instead, he walks her to the door, cancelling the silencing charm he'd had the for thought to hastily cast, and offering her almost a smile (still a little too smug for a proper smile she thinks) before he is heading for the dining hall and she back to Gryffindor Tower. She watches him go, he doesn't look back, but that is okay.
She suddenly feels as though she could sleep for a week.
That is her plan anyway, to shower (for her thighs feel sticky), to flop back into bed, emerge around lunchtime, eat, and then study before meeting Tom later. She has a little bounce in her step as she gives the password and heads inside.
She hadn't expected such a filled morning, but she feels good, she feels happy, even though they didn't joke or laugh, she does smile.
That smile does disappear as she walks into the common room, it otherwise empty (it is still 9:30am on a Saturday morning, almost everyone else is at breakfast or still asleep), except for one Harry Potter, stood opposite her now, arms crossed, marauders map in hand, eyebrow raised, accusing.
"Harry" She forces out, but she knows as he looks across at her, nothing but concern splashed across his face.
She knows she is busted.
sooo thoughts?
ahahaha, I do hope you enjoyed! I love me some lemons (tho I don't write them often), and I love how this worked out. also cliffhanger? I know I'm evil!
again I want to reiterate this isn't a fluffy story, it isn't now and won't be. there may be some cute moments but rest assured it won't end with tom/hermione getting married and having babies.
do let me know your thoughts and follow/fav for updates
speak soon