A/N: I think this is the long awaited chapter? Spoiler: they bang.
my heart lingers in your hands
Chapter 6
You are what I never knew I always wanted.
—Fools Rush In
Her parents were waiting for her when she broke through the tree line, Luna at their side.
Tears she'd suppressed while she rushed through the faelands flowed freely down her cheeks and Hermione ran to her parents, crashing into her mother's arms and sobbing.
"You're safe now. He won't ever get you again," her mother whispered. Her father was a steady presence at her back, a barrier between her and anything that might try to come after her.
Luna looked into the trees, a frown on her face. This wasn't the way it was meant to be.
The blonde looked back at her crying friend. Distress, that was what she sensed, but it was hazy, blocked, like one side of a closed off bridge.
This wasn't the way it was meant to be.
I will help you, Hermione, the Whisperer vowed. I promise.
Months passed, and Hermione settled back into her life before the faelands.
Her hand often strayed to her hip in search of Basilisk, and each time her heart broke a little more when she realised it was no longer hers.
Months passed, and Hermione grew more restless, weary, purposeless.
Her previous hobbies were a nuisance. It was days before she picked up a book, and even more days before she bore through and finished it. She rarely took visitors and mostly ensconced herself in her room and pulled open that floorboard. Ashamed but unable to help herself, she caressed her hidden treasures and thought of him.
She was no longer afraid, as she'd promised herself she would not be – just broken. (Like him.)
At the urging of her worried parents and close friends, she visited a shrink and spun a tale that was as close to the truth as she dared.
She spoke of a boy that had hurt her in her childhood, a boy she'd been foolish enough to trust because he had a beautiful voice.
She spoke of the boy giving her gifts and making her feel special but still afraid. She recounted how frightened she'd been when he had confronted her when she was fifteen, how she'd thought he would hurt her and her friend. How he hadn't, and she'd been confused, but relived and grateful.
She told of the boy becoming a man and whisking her away to a faraway place, giving her the best of everything and keeping her imprisoned in a gilded cage. His friend convinced him to let her go—
His friend convinced him to let her go...
She told of how he had let her go – and then she remembered.
Luna stood in the doorway of her best friend's room, watching.
Hermione was in the process of zipping up her jacket when the blond spoke. "You're going to him, aren't you?"
Hermione paused, hands dropping to her sides. "Yes." There was no point in lying.
Luna came to stand in front of her friend and squeezed the brunette's hands. "I think you're doing the right thing."
Hermione blinked. "You do?"
Luna nodded enthusiastically. "This bond you two have, it would not have formed if you weren't meant for each other."
Hermione's brows drew together. "But then that day in my room, when you zapped him with magic—"
"He wasn't ready for you yet, and neither were you for him," Luna pointed out.
"And now I am?"
Luna smiled. "You both are."
He stood half-shadowed in the ash trees when she arrived.
"You came back," he observed, voice monotone.
"I did," she responded, wringing her hands nervously.
She shuffled her feet and squirmed when minutes went by and he said nothing.
Then: "Why are you here? Have you come back to gloat?" His monotonous tone hadn't changed.
"What?" Nervousness gave way to confusion and she looked at him directly for the first time. Illuminated by moonlight, his beauty seemed fragile in that moment. There were slight bags under his eyes, marring his perfect complexion, and his eyes were dull.
"I felt it, the bond, you've done something to it. You found a way to break it, didn't you? And now you've come to torture me." He sounded so resigned, so unlike that opprobrious king that had captured her.
"No, no," Hermione shook her head. She closed the last few feet between them and crossed into the faelands, into the territory he had not left since she'd walked out of his hall. She slowly lifted a hand and laid it on his cheek gently. He jolted and stared at her with wide eyes. "I came back because I missed you."
"Missed me?" he echoed, unable for a moment to focus on anything but the warmth of her hand on his skin.
"Yes," she breathed, rising up on her tip toes. She was drawn to him and, finally, she had no reason to deny it.
Tom reared back when her breath hit his lips. He put distance between them and leaned heavily against a tree. "No no no. You rejected me, ran away from me, told me never to come after you. And now—why?" His hands were clenched so hard his knuckles had turned paler than his ashen skin.
Hermione's heart cried out at the sight of him, at the sight she'd caused.
"I wasn't ready," she said, a pathetic parody of Luna's words.
Tom looked at her incredulously and her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. Why did it sound so much more believable when her dreamy friend said it?
"Ready for what?" Tom asked.
Hermione took a deep breath. This was it. She couldn't rely on Luna's words. She had to tell him what she'd realised that day in the shrink's office. What she'd always felt but never knew until she remembered.
"Ready for this, the bond…us. You asked me once why I couldn't remember that night you made the bargain, and some things are still fuzzy, but I can recall the important parts now. Such as you saving me and the bond that formed."
He was listening to her avidly, eyes never once straying from her face. His undivided attention made Hermione flush with a pleasant tingling.
"Nana," Hermione paused, unsure how to explain what she still didn't fully understand. "She did a spell on me before she died. I didn't even remember it until a few days ago. But when I did, all sorts of feelings and memories came rushing back and it took me awhile to make sense of them."
"The crone blocked your memories?" he asked angrily.
"No! Nothing like that, but it was a sort of ward."
His eyes furrowed, rightly confused. "A ward, on a person?"
Hermione nodded decisively. "Yes, it didn't make much sense to me either, until I researched."
"And what did you find?" He'd moved closer, whether intentionally or not she didn't want to think about. She was just glad to have him nearer to her.
"I found that my fear of you was irrational, unfounded most of the times. I found that I never really hated you, that I forgot about that night in the clearing too quickly for it to be just time. I found that the ward enhanced my ability to suppress traumatizing events and focal points attached to it."
"Your heart wound and me," he connected, shame colouring his tone when he spoke of her past injury.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. I also became exceedingly angry in your presence, always had an intense need to get away."
He turned his head away before she could see the pain in his eyes. "Was that the ward, too?" he asked bitterly.
"Partly. I—you did make me angry very easily, but the ward spurred it to illogical heights."
"What was the purpose of all this?"
She shrugged. "To protect me, I guess. Nana never trusted you and she told me to never, either. She made the bargain because I was dying and she was desperate. She meant for my instincts to keep me away from you for as long as it could."
"What does this all mean, Hermione?"
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. She stepped closer to him, putting her hand back on his face and turning it towards her. "It means that I don't hate you, never have, in fact. It means that when you let me go, my magic saw that as your way of protecting me and it finally trusted you enough to relinquish the ward. It means that we were meant to be."
He stared deep into her eyes, an unidentifiable emotion churning in his.
Hermione's heart stuttered. Could she have been wrong? Did he no longer want her?
She opened her mouth to apologise and leave when he surged forward.
He crashed into her body and knocked the wind out of her. Her lips parted in surprise and he took that opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, twisting and turning and exploring every inch of her. His hands grasped her hips and pressed her flush against him.
When he finally broke free to allow her to breathe, she gasped in lungfuls of air while he latched his mouth onto her pulse point.
"Never letting you go again," he said between feverish kisses.
"Yes," she moaned.
Tom placed his mouth by her ear and rasped, "Mine."
"Yours," Hermione immediately agreed.
He unfurled his wings to their full, glorious length.
He paused kissing her long enough to say, "Hang on." She looped her arms around his neck and held him tight.
With one mighty stroke of his wings, they shot through the night sky.
They landed on a bed of sweet grass and wild rose petals. Hermione's curls were sprawled in a dark halo around her moonlit face. Tom lost his breath. Mine. This is mine and only mine. She is mine. She is…magnificent.
His hands busied themselves unzipping her jacket as his mouth trailed her jawline.
"You are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted," he said on a gasp, pressing his hips more firmly onto hers.
She sat up to help him rid her of the heavy clothing. As soon as her hands were free, they dove into his hair and pushed his face back onto hers. She pushed and pulled, and he obligingly followed her rhythm. One hand remained in his hair as the other slipped under his tunic and splayed possessively over his lower stomach.
He growled at the feel of her satiny hand so close to where he needed her most. By the Wild, he'd been dreaming of this for years, even before he'd admitted to himself how much she meant to him.
Her hand edged his tunic higher and he helped her pull it over his head. He didn't give her a chance to properly see him before he was at her throat again, nipping, biting, licking. That small taste he'd gotten in the hall had not been enough and now that he had her pliant body underneath him he planned to sample every inch of her she allowed.
She dug blunt nails into his shoulder blades when he sucked just underneath her jaw and he hissed at the sensation.
"Tom," she groaned deeply, making his cock twitch.
He pushed up on his elbows and hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse, needing to see more of her.
He parted the thin piece of silky material and pressed a straight line of kisses down her front, flicking his tongue over the pebbled peaks of her covered nipples every so often.
"Tom!" she mewled, and he did it again, just to hear that sound again. Impatient hands pushed his face away and her blouse went flying over his shoulder, landing with nary a rustle.
Hermione slid a hand between them and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. It was his turn to groan now. "Hermione," he rasped, wanting her touch to be firmer but too occupied with her pleasure to think about his own.
He reached his hand under her and fumbled for a second before the hook of her bra unlatched. Her bra slid down her shoulders and the first thing he saw wasn't her glistening breasts and dark areolas. His eyes fixed on the jagged scar over her heart and crippling shame crashed into him.
The muscles in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth together, eyes shining and cheeks crimson in anger directed at himself.
A hand touched his cheek and gently turned his face. Watery brown eyes filled with pain looked up at him. Tom swallowed loudly.
"I'm sorry," his voice was the smallest it had ever been. Hermione bit her lip and nodded, eyes focused on a point over his shoulder, refusing to look at him and see the swirl of emotion in his eyes.
"I was young and foolish and angry, and I-I didn't know what you meant to me. Hermione, I swear I would never—" he rambled until her finger pressed against his lips, quieting him.
"I won't say it's okay, because it's not. But it was a long time ago and we were both very different then, so let's just – forget about it for the moment. Please."
Tom nodded. "Anything," he said. "Anything for you."
Her full lips crooked into a shaky smirk. "How about an orgasm?"
Tom's eyes darkened and a pleased grumble bubbled up from his throat and spilled onto her lips as he leaned down to devour her mouth. "Anything for you."
"You are the most beautiful thing in my life," he declared, reverently stroking her soft skin. They were both naked now, and Hermione had stilled his wandering fingers so she could explore him at her leisure. Currently, he had batted her hands away from his chiseled chest to trace her round breast with the pad of his thumb.
"More beautiful than your crown," she challenged with a cheeky smile, moaning softly when he flicked her nipple.
"I would give up my crown in a heartbeat if you asked," he declared firmly, hand never stopping its journey.
She cocked an eyebrow. "Would you truly?" her tone was the lightest bit disbelieving.
He paused, thought, "Two heartbeats," he amended, cheeks pink at his candor.
She laughed, and it was worth it.
"Slow down," she laughed melodically, hands holding his shoulders to still his body.
He gave her a crooked grin that conveyed a sorry she knew he did not really mean.
He thrust again, slower this time, and they made a new rhythm, this one gentler and reaching deeper and in a few more moments, it would have her shattering around him as she came with a cry of his name.
Another gush of warmth flooded her lower stomach as she thought about how he'd look when he shattered along with her.
She clenched harder around him, willing his body into making that image in her head a reality.
Come to me, he'd whispered in her mind that first night they'd met.
Come for me, she now demanded of him with her lust-filled eyes.
Tom's thrusts became erratic at the look in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to see her come undone in that moment. He swiped his hand over her bundle of nerves and pressed down hard and she fell over the edge. She cried out his name, face twisted into the most primal of pleasure and magic singing in the few spaces that remained between them.
He pounded harder to reach euphoria with her. Her fluttering walls and clenching spasms delivered him and he came with her name on his lips like a prayer.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
—Emile Bronte
They lay facing each other, still linked more intimately than a simple joining of the bodies.
He moved slowly in and out of her and she matched his pace. Gazes locked, hearts laid bare, their magic an open channel between them, they complemented and completed each other like no two beings had ever before.
It was All Hallows' Eve and the veils were at their thinnest. Ghosts and spirits alike crossed the veil to witness the oldest wedding rites taking place between a fae and a witch.
"You are my ruin, my making, my benediction, my life," the ancient words rolled past his lips like the most natural thing, like they were made for this moment, this moment with her in his arms and him enveloped in her and them in perfect harmony.
"In this life and every other, I am yours, as you are mine," she responded instinctively.
He looked at her with utter adoration in his eyes and her face reflected the same.
"With these words, I bind myself to thee and promise to cherish that which I have been blessed with," he vowed.
"With these words, we become one soul, two bodies and a mind shared, for eternity," she completed.
Tom leaned forward and they sealed their lives with a kiss.
When they shattered, they did it together, and it was the loveliest thing.
A/N: So this chapter marks the end of the core story, but I've decided to expand it because there are loose ends I want to tie up and cute king/queen moments I want to include. From hereon out, please keep in mind that no matter how much I love writing and tomione, I have bigger, more real priorities in life. I am open to suggestions about what you guys want to read, and I would, of course, appreciate any criticism you have.