Notes: Wow, I'm so glad some of you are interested in this! So happy to go on this journey with you.
~*~ Two: Into the Forbidden Woods ~*~
For a moment Hermione's breath caught on the splendor of the diamond flecked sky, her steps faltering. Tom steadied her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She gasped at the contact, unable to stifle her response, but he hardly seemed to notice. His gaze was locked on the sky above as well, his eyes glowing sapphire embers in the moonlight. For a moment his jaw stiffened and his stare darkened to cobalt, but then the tension seeped away and he spun his focus to Hermione.
"Beautiful."
The hunger in his gaze, in the parting of his full lips, spoke to more than an observation of the night beyond. Hermione looked back up at the stars. "I often wish I could fly among the stars. Just be free to wander the universe. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger. Before I knew magic was real."
"I never had the chance to dream."
Her gaze swung back to Tom. "What do you mean?"
He no longer looked at her. "I didn't know magic existed for the longest time either, but I knew I was different. Wrong. I only wanted the power to fix what was broken inside me. The power to make them see me as I am and not as the abomination they perceived."
"Even your parents…" Hermione wasn't sure what she was trying to ask.
Tom's eyes slid toward her for a heartbeat and then returned to the depths of the Forbidden Forest. "Salazar, no. My mother was a weak whore who died soon after I was born and my father was a joke. I grew up without them."
Something in his story, beyond the scorn and sadness, stirred a memory just outside her reach. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to follow the thread, but it frayed and disintegrated the harder she pulled. The apprehension returned full force and she started to ease away from Tom. But the growing distance between them was nearly as chilling as the disquiet deep within her gut.
He caught her hand, too tight, almost desperate. "Please don't leave me."
"What do you want from me, Tom?" It was perhaps the only question that mattered now. She'd only just met him and yet something thrummed between them. Something that felt unnatural and yet comfortable. It was as if they'd known each other a lifetime ago and the dust just beginning to lift from her hidden memories. Except she was sure they'd never met. And she was just as sure he didn't belong here.
"Don't ask me questions I can't answer."
Hermione stared down at where their hands clasped, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. "Let go of me."
"Promise you won't leave."
She stared up at him, searching. His expression was inscrutable, but his eyes were a tempest of emotion, too tangled for her to properly interpret. She raised her free hand and slid it slowly across his chiseled jaw and then up his sculpted cheek until her fingers brushed the feathers of his mask. His skin was like liquid silk, broken only by the rough scrape of stubble along his jaw. She could feel his breath catch at her touch, watch the rapid tattoo of his pulse at the base of his throat as she grasped his mask and pulled it away.
The feathers fluttered lifelessly to the ground as she drank in every facet of him. He was more handsome than she'd imagined. The ruggedly cut jaw and cheekbones were framed by dark brows and arresting, luminous eyes that begged her to drown in their depths. His ebony locks, freed from the band of the mask, tumbled across his brow, just obscuring one eye in a roguishly striking manner.
Hermione forced her hand away from his face. From the siren call of his heated skin. "Why should I promise that?"
He startled, as if he'd forgotten entirely that he'd been pleading with her to stay. He didn't respond immediately, but instead brought his free hand to her cobweb mask, removing it and dropping it to the stairs beneath them.
"It's only fair I get to see you too," he murmured, luminous sapphire scouring every contour of her features until Hermione was sure he could see her deep flush under the dim light of the moon.
Hermione considered him, her curiosity surging beyond her unease. "How about this. I will promise to stay with you while the moon is out if—and only if—you tell me why you're here."
Tom ran a hand through his ebony waves, the gesture sending his hair into a disordered chaos that only made him more appealing. "You promise you will stay, until the moon sets, no matter what I tell you?"
It was a fool's bargain, but nothing waited for her within the castle walls, no reason to refrain from an adventure with a handsome stranger. Let Harry and Ron have their dramas tonight; she would write her own story by the light of the moon. "I promise."
He held her gaze, eyes deepening to cobalt and mouth pursing cruelly. Then she blinked and the expression was gone. He trailed a finger down the length of her hand and then turned away, releasing her entirely. "I followed a rift from the next world back into this one. It is only open until the moon reaches its apex tonight. If I complete a sacrificial ritual, however, I will be able to remain in this world and not be forced back into the abyss of souls."
She stared at him wide-eyed and gaping. "You... you're dead?"
"That might be severely oversimplifying it." He cocked his head, seeming to consider the best way to explain. "There are portions of me that are dead and others that are not quite alive. Only a very small amount of my soul is living, as you would likely define it. I'm afraid I made a bit of a mess of my life—rather literally—when I was indeed alive."
"So you're not a ghost?"
Tom bestowed a rueful smile upon her before raising his hand and trailing it gently along her cheek. "Do you know any ghosts who can do this?"
Hermione swallowed and resolutely ignored the heat surging through her at even the barest of his caresses. "I suppose not."
He withdrew a half step and glanced up at the moon. Hermione followed his stare. The luminous orb was perhaps twenty degrees above the horizon, still hovering like an enchanted lantern upon the treetops. He held out a hand. "Walk with me, Lady Cobweb?"
Hermione nearly rolled her eyes at the ridiculous title, but she took his hand and let him lead them toward the dark shores of the Black Lake. After a few minutes of comfortable silence during which she grew accustomed to the heat searing into her from their clasped palms, she inquired, "and what shall I call you? Lord Raven?"
He lifted a brow at her and then glanced down at his midnight jacket and waistcoat. Neither sported feathers, but Hermione could hardly forget how he'd looked wearing the elaborately festooned mask. The dark sweep of feathers adding to his dangerous aura. His eyes jewels in a bed of silken darkness.
"I suppose that will do," he replied at last, resuming their stroll along the murky shores. "Have you heard the term for a group of ravens before?"
Hermione nodded, unease tempering her curiosity as she answered, "An unkindness, if I'm not mistaken."
"Indeed," he murmured, so low it was barely audible in the quiet night.
They walked in silence as the moon continued to climb the ladder of stars in the sky. More than once Hermione questioned the wisdom of wandering the school grounds with a total stranger. But every time her curiosity cut through her fear, the heat of Tom's palm against her own enough to keep her following in his wake despite her nebulous doubt.
She'd never felt this way with anyone, had never known two people—if he truly was a person—could experience this… connection. She might not trust him, but she wanted to be beside him, to feel his skin against hers, to listen to him breathe the same air.
She let out a shuddering breath and shook her head, attempting to derail the perilous direction her thoughts were trending. She was not some air-headed bimbo like Lavender Brown. She was smart. She did not throw herself at boys she'd only just met.
But she did, apparently, go on walks with them under the full moon on All Hallows Eve. And she did let them lead her into the Forbidden Forest.
Hermione blinked, then frowned.
When had they veered away from the lake? She couldn't remember. She'd been too caught up in the peace she felt with Tom by her side to pay any heed to the direction of their stroll. Now though, her whole body tensed as she studied the dark forest around them, the mangled trees seeming to lean inward as they passed. Something rustled in the bushes beyond and she sucked in a sharp breath, adrenaline racing through her veins.
Tom gathered her against him, his warmth a welcome comfort against the eerie chill of the looming forest. "It's nothing to worry about, Lady Cobweb."
"Forgive me if I'm not accustomed to prancing around the forest at midnight, Lord Raven," she groused, but settled fully against him, thankful for his presence despite her misgivings.
His head snapped to sky, scanning frantically until he found the orb of the moon. It was higher now; more time had passed than she'd realized. She felt him relax against her, the tension draining from his frame. "We still have time."
She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that. "So if you're not a ghost, but you're not truly alive either, what are you?"
His features gathered in confusion for a moment before transforming to a bland smile that didn't reach his dark cobalt eyes. "I'm honestly not sure. I hadn't thought about it. There are more pressing matters for me to consider."
"Like your ritual sacrifice."
"So you remember that part."
"It's not the sort of thing one forgets, Tom." His name felt heavy in her mouth, weighted by more than the mere consonants and vowels.
Tom paused, bringing Hermione into the circle of his arms. She could feel the strength of him, the muscles toned and sure, so very different from the boys she'd known. Except for Viktor Krum. But Tom didn't remind her of Viktor; he was far more dangerous.
He leaned further into her, breath feathering her cheek as he roughly murmured, "You're cleverer than most, aren't you, Hermione?"
"But not clever enough," she whispered back, breath catching in her throat.
His head dipped, nose brushing against her cheek. "And why would you say that?"
"I'm here with you, aren't I?"
She could feel the curve of his lips against her flushed skin as he smiled. "Am I a threat to you?"
"Are you?"
Her heart was thundering in her chest, her entire body tingling in anticipation of something just beyond her reach, of a sensation she knew only Tom could evoke. Her mouth was parched and her palms were clammy where they'd settled against his silken waistcoat.
He pulled back, just far enough that their eyes met. She would have fallen to her knees at the sight of his ravenous sapphire stare if he'd not already held her firmly within his grasp.
"What do you think, Hermione? Am I a threat?"
"Yes," the word escaped from her lips before she could think better of it. Before she could understand if it was a wish, a prayer or a warning.