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songrecs: just to say - kacy hill
The next week was quiet … relatively.
She went to class, she did her homework, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, went about life, Harry shooting her the occasional glance, her raising her eyebrows in response, a little communication the two of them had developed meaning;
'You okay?'
'All fine'
Other than that, she sat next to Tom in their project classes, exchanging ideas, her hand thrust in the air as he smirked away. The Slytherins left her completely alone now, Blaise Zabini even smoothly opened a door for her, and Crabbe stumbled an apology her way when he bumped into her. Strange, but welcome.
Though it still left a dirty taste in her mouth.
She caught up on missed homework with all of her … boyfriend drama (though she hadn't called him that, the closest they'd come to defining their relationship had been declaring they belonged to one another after fucking against the wall like animals), and Hermione was in no rush to go down that road, knowing it would likely be awkward and filled with uncertainty.
After all, they didn't have a normal relationship, they didn't hold hands or sit by the lake on a Saturday. Hogsmeade was coming up that weekend, and she swore more people than ever were paired up, and yet she just smiled and shook her head when Ginny asked her if she was going with someone. They didn't acknowledge one another in the corridors or kiss in the Great Hall.
What they did do was a little different.
His hand on her thigh under the table during class, flustering her completely. Him dragging her into an alcove between classes to press bruising kisses on her lips before leaving her there dazed. Meeting after dinner to fuck in a broom closet or get on her knees in an empty classroom. It made her blood rush, heart pound, and she'd never felt so tired when she collapsed into bed at 11 as she did during that week.
And yet it all had an air to it, an air she had placed herself, a vibe she had brought in, wished she hadn't but couldn't get rid of.
She knew they'd never be a 'normal' couple, never be boyfriend and girlfriend or act lovey dovey, and she didn't need that – wanted a little yes, to not be one of the only girls without a Hogsmeade date, to not have a date to the upcoming Yule Ball (an idea by the teachers), or to seemingly be perpetually single. Didn't need it though, wanted it.
And yet, it felt utterly depressing, knowing she had that and yet couldn't display it. Sure, she wasn't one for PDA, wasn't one to want to snog Tom in the Great Hall or sit on his lap in the library, no, never that. It just hurt a little, to think he wanted to hide her, keep her as his dirty little secret.
Sure, he'd banished the doubts she had about what he thought of her blood status (though it still felt wrong, that she was an exception to his awful power play using blood purity as his stand), but this? Just the basic – Tom and Hermione, students at Hogwarts, together, she guessed, and yet not really. That was harder to forget.
And so, when she got an invitation to the annual Halloween party for 7th years, the morning of the Hogsmeade day, 'dates mandatory!' she stuffed into her bag with more venom than necessary.
It was near the end of October now, and as she tried to tame her curls before plonking a snow white hat ontop of her head, it dawned on her that she and Tom had been … doing whatever they were doing for about five weeks now.
So much had happened in such little time, every second packed, no wonder she was so tired.
And yet, tired as she felt, and slightly disheartened (which seemed to be her constant companion, a new thing to be downtrodden about every week it seemed), she trudged her way to the hall and down through the snow into Hogsmeade, ignoring all of the couples walking hand in hand alongside her (Ron was with Lavender, Harry a last minute Quidditch practice), and the feeling in her heart, the feeling of it sinking.
Things were a touch better as she arrived at Hogsmeade, went to Honeydukes, got herself some sugar quills (her one sweet indulgence), nipped into Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and restocked on actual quills, and then finally ran into Dervish and Banges, needing some more glass phials for potions.
But then, it was only 11am, and she'd ran all the errands she needed to in the village.
Yet, others would now be making their way to the Three Broomsticks, or Madam Puddifoot's (though she wasn't jealous of them), to have lunch, a drink, hold hands and chat. The Castle would be empty of all but the younger years, as the curfew for Hogsmeade wasn't until 7, and so she'd be alone, trudging back up to the Castle.
Dateless.
Again, she felt that tug of sorrow, that she sort of had a boyfriend (though again her thing with Tom was undefinable), and yet felt like she didn't. Sure, her and Tom enjoyed intellectual conversation in class, fiery passion inbetween, and even some declarations that had swept her heart away and made her feel like the most important person in the world.
But then, they also had this sneaking around thing, Tom championing a cause she hated, his friends who yes, were polite to her now but she knew hadn't changed their thinking. It was a complete mess, and her head ached and tears bit at her eyes as she stumbled into Tomes and Scrolls; it never had the same selection as Flourish and Blotts, but a good book might cheer her up.
It occurred to her how messed up it was that week after week she needed cheering up, or reassurance about her relationship, one thing after another causing her to feel down. Was it her fault? Being too needy or insecure? Or Tom's, for withholding so much from her, for making the choices she didn't agree with?
She didn't know, other than a few kisses with Victor that had fizzled out when he'd left for Bulgaria, she had no experience of a relationship, no idea what was right or wrong. Was it always meant to be this up and down? Tears one day and then passion and undying devotion the next?
She knew her own feelings, only 5 weeks in and she knew the intensity of her feelings for Tom had surpassed anything she'd ever felt before, she might even call it love. But what did that mean for her?
Hermione knew Tom held her heart in his hand, like a fragile bird he could either protect or crush into his palm. The ball was completely in his court, and she hated that, hated how powerless he felt, how out of control. He again put her on the back foot.
With a sigh she stepped into Tomes and Scrolls, made her way to the advanced section (small as it was and notoriously completely random), and began to browse, hoping for something new, a distraction, something to take her away from her current messed up, emotional feelings.
And yet, she barely got to read the first spine, 'Potions: A How To Guide for your Obscure Draughts' when she heard the voice of the very person she'd been thinking of, speak of the devil…
"Hermione" Tom said with a smirk, coming to stand next to her, to look at the books she was perusing. Her cheeks heated a touch, as he placed a hand on her lower back, but said nothing, just stood next to her, as though they were a couple, ideally browsing together on a cosy Saturday, before they went for lunch, hand in hand.
Only that wasn't the reality, and she stiffened, and of course he noticed.
He always noticed, she'd never met anyone quite so perceptive, or quite so able to look past any of her excuses. He knew when she was lying, knew when he had to get to the bottom of something, and did not stop until he did.
Pathological, some would say, for Hermione she just didn't know what to do.
Was this normal? Her constant complaints, was it whining? The needy girlfriend? She knew her face paled then at the idea, that she was some insecure, scared little girl in the face of his constant composure, she hated it.
This wasn't her, and yet with him it was – what did that say?
What did it say about her?
What did it say about them?
"What's wrong?" He asked, dropping his tone to a whisper. No one else was in the shop but she could see the Slytherin crew lingering outside.
"Nothing" She replied, though he shot her a look, a look that clearly cut through her excuses, and she knew there was no point, none at all, in trying to hide her feelings from him.
"Fine, I guess I'm just feeling a bit lonely" She said with a shrug, it was the truth, just not the specific truth, as she glanced outside, the autumn wind harsh, couples bundled up together, hand in hand, snuggled close. That wasn't them, would it ever be? Could it ever be? She wasn't sure.
"Lonely?" He asked, eyebrow raised.
"Not familiar with the concept?" It was teasing, though her tone just sounded sad if anything, she was a wet blanket today.
"No" She didn't expect a straight answer, and that caused her to turn her head to look at him, eyebrow raised. "I don't get lonely"
"Not at all?" She asked. She knew Tom tended to feel things a bit different, always acted a touch detached, but to not feel certain things at all? That worried her, worried her a lot, and yet still not as much as it should.
"No" He said with a shake of his head, taking a book from the shelf then, his eyes on hers, clear, with just a spark of something she couldn't identify. He spoke ideally, as though it didn't bother him, to not feel basic human emotions, perhaps it didn't.
"Hmm" Was all she could find to reply, "Well I do"
"You can always find me" He offered, before reaching for another book, her eyes went back to the shelf too, but she was too distracted to read a single word. She felt something close to a chill dancing up her spine, messing with her. What was he saying?
What did he mean? And why was she feeling a creeping sense of fear?
"Hmm" Another non-committal reply. What was she supposed to say?
Tom took care of that, placing his books down quickly, and turning her to face him, hands on her shoulders, she avoided his gaze though, feeling tears prick at her eyes then.
She felt so pathetic, needy, whining, was this normal? Again, she couldn't answer. She had no basis for normal, no girlfriends to tell or confide in, no idea.
She knew the highs with Tom were out of the stratosphere, making her feel things she never knew she could feel, but the lows? Just like now they had her near tears.
Hermione couldn't imagine Tom to be the type to tolerate tears.
Still, he wouldn't be avoided, pushing his thumb under her chin, forcing her gaze up to him. There was no hiding then, the tears misting beneath her lashes, the downturn of her frown, the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. No hiding just how much this relationship meant to her, and also just how much it was screwing with her head.
"What's going on?" He asked, his tone softening just a touch, not enough, but some.
That seemed to be the way with Tom, never quite enough but enough to keep her dangling, like a fish on the line, on the hook, stuck.
Stuck.
"Like I said just lonely…" She began, trying to avert her gaze again, not keen for Tom to see just how upset she was. It was stupid really, to be reduced to this, but that was what he did to her.
He owned her now, body, soul, and heart, and she didn't want him to know it.
Though she was scared, he already did.
"Don't lie to me" He demanded, and she felt her back straighten a touch at that, and yet anger didn't flood her, indignation as it usually would. She didn't want another argument, not today.
"I…" She paused, "You said to me you don't do relationships, I guess I'm just struggling with that a little" She supposed this was it, chips on the table, cards in hand her only hand to play. He wouldn't let this go, and she wasn't sure she could keep doing this, this desperate act, this uncertainty, and worry, it was too tiring, too uncertain.
Like a rollercoaster, up and down, and she wanted off.
"Didn't I make it clear?" He asked then, tone dropped, and he leaned in closer, an inch or two away from her, closing the gap. Her head titled up to look at him, locked onto his face, her breathing stopped, heart racing, what would he say? Reassure her? Or continue to keep her on the hook.
She felt powerless to swim away after all, she was all in now, had been maybe since the start.
"You're mine" He breathed into her, into the words, giving them life, and she near let out a sob, nodded, and yet … was it enough?
"You're secret?" She asked, shaking her head, her face would have crumpled were it not for the sheer will of not allowing it. Sheer will, to save face, she'd never felt more vulnerable in her life.
"Is that what you want?" He asked, again tone just a bit softer, leaning in again, even lowering his lips to place a kiss on hers, gentle, the gentlest he'd ever been to her, her heart lifted just a touch. "I only want to give you what you want"
"I want you" She didn't even have to think before she said the words, "Just you"
"You're mine" He said again, and something lifted on her, off her shoulders, a weight. There were other issues, concerns, but it felt easier already, a touch. "And I'm yours"
Enough.
Maybe.
"If you want everyone to know that" He paused then, took a breath, she'd never seen him do that, take a beat, it seemed sincere, "That's your call, I already know what this is"
"I just…" She felt silly now, stupid for being so upset over this. What did she want? "Like I said, today felt lonely"
"I can't be that guy" Honest now, tone a touch harsher, "I won't laugh with you at Madam Puddifoot's, or give you the prescribed 2.5 children or a house with a picket fence" He shook his head, clear, without question, "I am not that man, I won't ever be"
She didn't manage to say anything until he spoke again.
"But I will be with you" He offered, this was the offer, though she didn't know she had a choice, "You'll be mine, I'll rule this world, you at my side, always, it'll be better than what others have"
Always.
Better.
That was enough.
It wasn't what others had, it wasn't kisses in doorways, hands held, it wasn't normal, it wasn't a first love, awkward and clumsy, it was more than that. It was more than enough now, it was them. It was better.
She nodded, and that was that. She got a sense there was no going back from this, not at all, and yet, had there ever been? Something inside of her calmed, for that to be clear, and she could have sworn she noticed something ease behind Tom's eyes too.
"Come then" He said, making quick work of picking up his books, slotting them into his satchel, and then instead of walking away as they stepped out of the shop (the Slytherin crew having mysteriously disappeared), he pulled her close, slinging his arm over her shoulder, territorially, lazily, like it had always been clear what this was.
But to Hermione for the first time it was.
And so, she followed his lead, ignoring the gaping looks, the heads turning their way, feeling for the first time that perhaps there would be no more uncertainty.
And for Tom? For Tom he just pulled her closer, a smirk lifting his mouth a touch, a glare at some 7th year who looked there way, and then he opened the door to the Three Broomsticks for Hermione, publicly, for all to see, as he'd planned to do.
And yet she'd been the one to come to him.
It was almost too easy.
Though the roar of satisfaction he felt in his chest as he followed her to the back of the room, and everyone gaping at them, to see him with the Gryffindor golden girl, to make it clear to everyone Hermione was his, that had not been according to plan.
But then so much with Hermione didn't follow a plan.
Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing.
sooo thoughts?
this rollercoaster ride is just starting...
I cannot stress enough how toxic this relationship is, and yet it seems tom is getting in deep too ...
do tell me watcha think, I love reading your reviews, and follow/fav for the wild ride, trust me, we are far from done.
speak soon