Disclaimer in chapter one
A/N: Oh boy, I struggled with this chapter, hence the longer hiatus -.- I ended up removing a scene with Regulus, Hermione and Tom, because it just didn't want to come to me. Maybe I'll drop it in next chapter. Don't know yet. Do you want to read more Regulus?
You know in this chapter I noticed, Tom always manages to weasel out of having to answer to uncomfortable questions. I wish I had that ability in real life and not only when I write a murderous dark wizard. Lol
Enjoy the new chapter, my lovelies. And don't forget to review if you feel like it :)
Thanks for the feedback to last chapter!
Hermione Salvatore Potter, Guest, Diane Potter, Jen103, Tari Tigerlilly, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, slayerb8, laurellestars, Guest, Rosie, MapleofFrance, ouiplanete, yasaminyyy, WrittinInStone, Tiara2010, P.N Tran, Eliana. Amboni, DaphneKrause, Countenance, TwilightGirl100195, JasperWhitlockIsTheStud, brighteyes2889, Emmiey, xodreamerskyes, Voorpret, NY GE Pyromaniac, FadedSunset, jessanotherkid, lola, Gaia v, Obey the Muse, HelloIamGracie, Summer90, sheddingeverycolor, Guest, NHEE, StarGirlPotter, Jessica, einna16, MomentoMori2, NHEE, Sailor2Moon, patricia pc, PendantOfGoddes, reader204, HereToRead84, karlaispaja, timi55, YoursAnnie, FemmeFerret, ilovecookies, Anya Evermore, markovgirl, Silvermist07, Snappy, KnoKnayme, Slytherrclaw, Aristotletruth, Freddysgirl21345
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Chapter 25: God of Crossed Hands
"This is so boring," Draco complained fastidiously. "Why did we have to get the Kelpie?"
Hermione threw him a dark look and skidded a bit away from him. "I think it's interesting."
The blond rolled his eyes at her. Hermione gritted her teeth in anger and tried to ignore him. Stubbornly, she stared at the murky water of the small pond they were sitting at. Professor Kettleburn had divided his class into groups of twos and had then sent the students into the Forbidden Forest to each observe and describe a different sort of magical creature. Hermione suspected that the teacher simply hadn't wanted to hold a class and had shooed his students into the forest to get rid of them.
Out of sight, out of mind.
It was probably the universe that hated her, because Hermione had ended up with Draco Malfoy. Now they sat at a small pond in the middle of the forest and waited for a Kelpie that would probably never show. Hermione held a scroll of parchment and her quill in her hands and watched the dark water, ready to take notes should the demon horse appear. Meanwhile, Draco idly lounged on the forest floor, protected from the dirt by his black cloak that he had spread out, and didn't even glance at the pond.
"Can't you just make something up?" Draco asked, nodding at the parchment in Hermione's hand.
She narrowed her eyes at him and lectured tightly, "No, that would be cheating."
"Merlin," the blond drawled priggishly. "And you're really supposed to be Riddle's girlfriend?"
He released a long-suffering sigh and let himself fall back to the ground, arms crossed behind his head. At his abrupt movement, Hermione's body involuntarily tensed. She berated herself for that fearful reaction. There was no need to be afraid. Draco couldn't hurt her anymore. Still, Hermione felt uncomfortable in his presence, especially now that they were quite alone. Nervously, she pulled at the sleeve of her cloak. She could almost feel her Dark Mark traitorously tingling on her skin.
"What time is it?" Draco inquired, annoying whine in his tone.
Hermione remembered the times when she would have jumped at his every request. Now she only shrugged her shoulders. Draco sighed again and pulled his pocket watch. Silver, quite beautiful …and expensive as Hermione knew.
"Still an hour?" the Slytherin moaned. "This is a waste of time. It's never gonna show."
Hermione was inclined to agree, though would sooner bite off her tongue than admit it. She wasn't even sure Kelpies lived in the Forbidden Forest. Kettleburn could be rather disorganised at times. Still staring at the uninviting body of water, Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Draco flopped over on his side so he could look at Hermione and asked conversationally,
"Did you think about my invitation?"
Hermione furrowed her brow and glanced at the Slytherin. "What?"
The strangely amiable smile he sent her way felt out of place. Hermione wasn't used to Draco actually smiling at her and eyed him warily.
"Did you already forget?" he chastised teasingly. "I invited you to my place over the summer."
Hermione's fingers nervously flexed around her quill. Never, never, did she want to see Malfoy manor again. Carefully, she tried to wriggle out of this without giving away how disturbed she was by the invitation,
"I'm not sure. I don't know what I'll do during the summer yet."
Draco pursed his lips, looking almost… disappointed? "You have to come for the summer solstice at least. My family hosts a huge feast for the occasion every year."
Oh, Hermione knew. And she had always hated it. Each year, Hermione and the rest of the Malfoys' Mudbloods had been forced to start preparing that feast weeks in advance, on top of their usual workload. On the day, Hermione would have to serve the guests, running about to offer food and drinks, only to end up being yelled at by drunk wizards. Every year, at least one of them would also curse her.
"No excuses," Draco's voice pierced through her not so fond memories. "You can't refuse."
There was a boyish grin on his face that made him look scarily attractive. Hermione felt her heart racing in her chest. Her whole body screamed at her to get up and run away.
"You could also bring that boyfriend of yours," Draco offered. "Tom usually visits for the solstice anyway."
"Er… I'll- I'll ask him." Hermione hated herself for how shaky her voice sounded.
Luckily, Draco didn't seem to notice. Lost in his own thoughts, he mused, "Pff, last time Tom visited… You know how he still owes me a Mudblood? Last time he came to Malfoy manor, he borrowed one and never gave it back."
Hermione glared at the Slytherin, fear temporarily pushed away, and ascertained indignantly, "Tom doesn't steal."
It was a lie. Hermione had learned that there wasn't much Tom wouldn't do if it benefited him, but in this case she felt justified in her outrage.
"I didn't say he did. He probably just forgot about the Mudblood," Draco tried to appease, probably scared she'd tell Tom. "A shame. The Mudblood might have been slow, but at least well-trained. I don't remember when we bought her, but we had her for some time."
Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She still remembered the day she had been sold to the Malfoys. Maybe it wasn't worth remembering in Draco's mind, but to her it had been a traumatic event.
"I probably should give up," Draco continued. "I'm never gonna see that Mudblood again. Riddle's probably killed her by now."
Hermione couldn't help but shudder at that notion. Draco was ignorant to her upset state and continued to chatter, "Merlin knows what strange experiments he's been up to. I've heard from Bella that he's developing his own curses. Probably used my Mudblood as a test subject. Great."
Tom would never do that! Hermione screamed at him in her mind. Outwardly, she struggled to maintain a calm mask. Draco just shrugged carelessly as if 'Penny's' gruesome death was merely a minor inconvenience.
"Ah well, what can you do?" he sighed loftily. "Father's probably bought a new one by now."
He really didn't care, did he? Anger boiled up in Hermione. Years and years, she had worked for the Malfoys, catering to their every wish, and what did she get in return? Nothing. Nothing, but a shrug at her supposed death. Hermione felt her magic twisting and coiling agitatedly, eager to lash out at the conceited Slytherin.
"You don't seem overly concerned that your Mudblood might be dead."
She didn't know why she said it. It was a lost cause anyway. Sure enough, Draco glanced at her and stated airily, "Your family never had many Mudbloods, hm?"
Grinding her teeth at his arrogant tone, Hermione replied, "Not really. No."
"Well, it's not like they're pets," Draco told her. "You don't really get attached."
"I see." Hermione's voice was tight. "You don't get close, do you?"
She might not have been able to ban all her anger from her voice, because Draco cocked his eyebrows at her in confusion.
"Mudbloods don't do much," he explained confidently. "They're quite boring. They work, they sleep and that's it. It's all they want. They're not like us. Did you ever try talk to one? It's like talking to a Flobberworm. You have to repeat everything five times until they get it."
Hermione felt her fingers curling around the smooth wood of her wand as a surge of white-hot anger hit her. She hadn't even noticed how she had reached for her wand. Her mouth opened and she really couldn't control much of what fell out,
"Aren't they human beings, too? Like us?"
A deep frown appeared on Draco's brow as he scanned Hermione, deeply confused. "Maybe they look a tiny bit like us, but that's it. They're just really really stupid. It takes months to get them trained to do any simple task. They don't even have real magic. Dreadful."
†
In a flash, the rest of Hermione's classes rushed by. Her thoughts were elsewhere. The whole day she was on edge while Draco's words gnawed at her and silent anger festered.
I am not slow. Not stupid!
Hermione had seen it for herself since she had entered Hogwarts: She was not worthless or deficient. Despite that knowledge, Draco's words hurt. Why couldn't she just ignore his incoherent ramblings? It left Hermione angry, angry at Draco for spreading such lies, angry at all those Purebloods believing them, and angry at herself for being so horribly vulnerable.
With these thoughts relentlessly burning in her mind, Hermione entered the Heads' common room after a day of wasted classes. She hadn't yet spoken with Tom today and hoped he could take the edge from Draco's lies. A relieved breath left her as she spotted the Head Boy lounging on the sofa. Quickly, Hermione went over to him, pushed Tom's legs away and plopped down beside him. She didn't let him get a word in but said frostily,
"Today I had Care of Magical Creatures and had to work with Draco Malfoy."
Then she glared at Tom accusingly. Seeing that look, he sighed tiredly. He put his elbow on the backrest of the sofa to casually prop his head up on his hand. Then he gazed at Hermione indulgently.
"What happened? Tell me about it."
Hermione irately narrowed her eyes at him and complained, "Why did you put me in that class? You're not even taking it yourself."
"I don't like spending my time looking after animals." Tom shrugged, unapologetic. "But I thought you'd be one to enjoy bouncing around with those fur balls, wasting your time."
Hermione scowled darkly, annoyed that he was basically right. She ignored that and continued irately, "I certainly didn't have much fun today. Kettleburn's assignments were completely pointless and on top of that I've been partnered with Draco Malfoy."
Tom didn't really react to that revelation. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling irritated by his lack of understanding. Then again, Hermione didn't really need to have an attentive audience to let off steam.
"That stupid boy is incorrigible," she snapped heatedly. "Off he goes insulting me. I almost hexed him. Seriously, I had already half-pulled my wand. I mean, what would you do if someone called you stupid."
The bored look immediately drained from Tom's eyes and he sat up a bit straighter. "Malfoy called you what?!"
Feeling a bit assuaged by his anger, Hermione replied stiffly, "Well… he didn't insult me personally."
Tom frowned at her sharply. "What did he do? Tell me."
Hermione sagged against the sofa. Her anger had died down with her rant and she was left behind feeling exhausted and a bit empty. "Draco was talking about Mudbloods in general. He said we are stupid. And our magic is… useless."
Hearing that, Tom slid closer to Hermione. He wrapped a comforting arm around her and pulled her against him. Then he soothed gingerly,
"Hermione, you are an exception. You know that, right?"
She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. That was not what she had needed to hear.
"You are something special," Tom said, approval glinting in his eyes as they greedily wandered over her. "I don't know why, but you possess a great deal of magical power. For a Mudblood you are incredibly talented."
Hermione shrugged his arm from her. Her anger rushed back to her. Tom looked at her, seemingly confused by her angry glare. It hurt. Hermione was hurt by that expression on his face.
"So, you think I'm an exception, do you?" she asked snippily. "But in general Mudbloods are stupid and powerless?"
"Of course they are," Tom replied matter-of-factly. "I don't know what sets you apart. Maybe you did have some magical ancestors. It's the only explanation."
Hermione's heart clenched achingly as she heard the conviction in his voice. There was bitterness leaking from her words as she asked,
"Is that why you spend time with me? You are just interested in my magic. If I didn't have that, you would never waste your time with me?"
Tom didn't really need time to reply, "No. I wouldn't."
Hermione breathed in sharply. The anger was swelling inside her made her hands tremble. She wanted nothing more than to pull her wand and curse Tom like she had wanted to curse Draco at that pond. Woven and twisted into her fury, there was a touch of something cold and painful, though. Hermione couldn't deal with it and abruptly stood up. Tom was observing her every move as she stomped over to the exit.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his inflection demanding.
Hermione gritted her teeth furiously. She turned her head and glared at Tom. His face was expressionless but for a reproachful glint in his eyes.
"None of your business," she growled at him.
At her belligerent tone, an eerie light began to burn in Tom's eyes and his dark magic balefully danced around him. Hermione was not in the mood to deal with one of his relapses into trying to order her around.
"Get over here," Tom commanded, his tone brooking no disobedience.
Hermione fully turned to Tom, her eyes narrowed into two angry slits. His dark magic was thick in the air and threateningly wrenched at her.
"No," she threw at Tom acridly. "You can't order me around anymore."
With that Hermione allowed her own magic to crackle around her in a stormy cloud. Vindictively, it forced Tom's dark magic away. Now free, Hermione turned around and ripped open the door.
"Bye!" she threw irately at Tom.
She left and slammed the door shut behind her. Angrily, Hermione stomped away from the Heads' common room. She half expected Tom to follow her, but he didn't. She certainly didn't care either way, Hermione decided fiercely. Under a thick layer of her wrath, though, she could still feel that coldness in the pit of her stomach grow. Hermione ignored it. There was no need to nurse any hurt feelings. After all, Tom's lies, like Draco's, held absolutely no meaning.
She was halfway to the Gryffindor tower as Hermione turned around a corner and ran head first into the icy sensation of being drowsed in cold water. She gasped in shock and stumbled a step away.
"Pardon me, my Lady," a deep voice said.
Hermione looked up and found the Bloody Baron hovering just a step away from her. He had an apologetic expression on his face as he scanned her.
"It's fine," Hermione whispered, unbalanced by his sudden appearance. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
The Baron's face lit up as he recognized her. "Oh, it is the wand thief. Please, forgive me, but I never asked for your name."
"Erm… Rookwood," Hermione stuttered. "Hermione Rookwood."
The Baron scanned her pensively. Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
"You do not look like a Rookwood," the ghost finally declared.
"I- I am, though," Hermione stuttered nervously.
The Baron arched a sceptical eyebrow, but relented, "If that is the name of your choosing, I will respect your wishes."
Hermione nodded thankfully. She really didn't want to discuss her fake identity. Gracefully, the Baron dropped the sore topic and instead asked kindly,
"Is my wand still serving you well, my Lady?"
A small smile dared to curl Hermione's lips and she pulled her wand. She held it up so the ghost could inspect it.
"Yes. It's the best wand."
The Baron's grey eyes wandered over the wood. A wistful smile on his face, he remarked, "Although we were good companions once, seeing that wand now brings me no joy. Alas, I am glad that it has found a new purpose."
"I'm glad, too," Hermione said, fingers gently curling around her wand. "I don't know what I'd do without the wand."
The Baron nodded understandingly. Then he unfixed his eyes from his old wand and looked at Hermione.
"Now, my Lady," the ghost said smilingly. "What has got you in such a hurry? It seems something managed to disturb your cheerful disposition."
Hermione peered at the ghost's pale face and Tom's harsh words came rushing back to her. Her anger, forgotten by the Baron's sudden appearance, returned as well.
"It's Tom," she admitted sullenly. "He's so- I don't know… difficult to deal with at times."
"And who might this Tom fellow be?" asked the Baron, raising his eyebrows. "Your beau?"
Hermione shrugged. "I guess you could call it that."
"Are you perchance talking about Tom Riddle of the House Slytherin?"
"Yes," was her rather unenthusiastic reply.
The Baron nodded knowingly. "I am afraid Slytherin men have always been difficult, my Lady." The ghost laughed softly. "Then again, I suppose our womenfolk are probably just as difficult."
Hermione sighed loudly which caused the Baron to grin at her. "Do not despair. We Slytherins might be difficult to deal with, but we are not all bad. Once we have set our heart on something, we are not easily swayed but very faithful. What we accept as ours, we protect by any means necessary."
"Maybe," Hermione grumbled. "But Tom's so stubborn. You just can't talk with him. He lies, too. I can't tell what he's really thinking. I know he can be nice, but then he suddenly says something horribly cruel. And I don't know if he really believes it or if he's just trying to hurt me." She angrily pursed her lips and leaned against the corridor wall. "Sometimes, I don't know why he even spends time with me …if he even likes me at all. He's just so frustrating."
The Baron grinned at her continued rant and soothed, "Oh, I know. Your beau is a true Slytherin. I do not envy you."
Hermione ran an agitated hand through her curly hair. "Merlin, what have I got myself into?"
The ghost studied her for a moment. Then he floated a bit closer as if wanting to tell a secret. "At times, it is far easier to shroud one's mind and heart behind lies and falsehood. It makes a less vulnerable target."
Hermione peered up at his grey, translucent face. The Baron threw her a sad smile and nodded at the wand in her hand. "If I had been less hot-headed and more of a Slytherin, the tragedy around that wand would never have taken place."
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Once again, Tom had to search for his Mudblood. This was becoming an irksome ritual, wasn't it? Since Hermione's outburst yesterday in the common room, she avoided him. Not out of fear, this time. Tom had seen her throwing him dark glares. Then she would stalk away in a huff, blatantly ignoring him. At least, he wasn't ignorant as to how he had incurred her disapproval. It was a learning curve, he supposed.
Tom wasn't sure why he hadn't tried to calm Hermione down after Malfoy had managed to incense her. He had known what she had wanted to hear. To appease Hermione's temper, he would only have had to spin a few quick lies.
Yet, for some reason, Tom hadn't wanted to give her the lies.
And why should he have? Despite Malfoy being an idiot, this time he had been right. Mudbloods were stupid and powerless creatures. Disgustingly weak. Hermione needed to accept that and she needed to stop caring. After all, she wasn't one of them. Wasn't that the whole point? She was in no way ordinary. This was the reason why Tom wanted her: Hermione was special. He didn't understand why that wouldn't be something desirable …why he needed to smooth this truth over with lies for her.
Hermione was smart, powerful and special. And all of that, all of her, was Tom's.
Shaking his head at his Mudblood's lack of understanding, Tom roamed the castle in search for her. Of course it was in the library that he found her. Hidden behind a shelf with Arithmancy books, Hermione sat at one of the tables. Head bent, she poured over a roll of parchment with books scattered around her. Wordlessly, Tom headed over to her and slipped into the chair beside her.
The Mudblood kept up her charade and ignored him. She didn't even look up from her essay and Tom felt slightly miffed. He gave her a moment to overcome her childish sulkiness, but Hermione remained to be stubborn. Fed up by her defiance, Tom broke the silence,
"You didn't come to the Heads' common room after classes."
Unimpressed, Hermione continued her essay, quill dancing over the parchment, and replied waspishly, "Well, I didn't feel like it today. And I don't have any obligation to show up at all."
Tom didn't know whether to be amused or insulted by her continued unruliness. It was his own fault, he supposed, that Hermione embraced her factitious freedom. This was the price he had to pay for keeping her close.
"You've been evading me," Tom stated, pouring a bit of his annoyance into his voice.
Hermione stopped writing, quill hovering over the parchment. She put her quill down and finally looked up at Tom. She studied him, brown eyes piercing into his, and curtly stated,
"I'm pretty sure you know why."
Tom felt his magic budge irately at her tone. As he spoke next, there was scorn maliciously woven into his voice, "Is it because you want to continue turning a blind eye to the truth?"
He felt Hermione's angry magic rise and a sharp smirk crept on his face. The girl glared at him and threw back,
"No. It's because you love to insult me with your lies."
Tom sneered at her lack of insight. "What I said yesterday is the truth. And it's time that you finally admit it and accept what you really are."
"You want me to accept what I am?" Hermione laughed derisively. "That's rich, coming from you."
The smirk slipped from Tom's face and he narrowed his eyes at her. A dangerous undercurrent crept into his voice as he inquired, "What do you mean?"
"You said Mudbloods are weak," Hermione dared to sneer. "Following your own logic of blood purity, I don't see why you, of all people, would have any right to criticise anyone."
Tom's face darkened. "What are you trying to say?"
"Who's blind to the truth now?" the Mudblood returned mockingly. "Let me remind you, then. You are a Halfblood, Tom. You are no better than any Mudblood out there. Might I remind you, according to the Ministry you should have been killed at birth."
That word. A flash of anger hit Tom hard and made his vision white for a second. His hands balled into fists as his temper spun out of control. How dare she say that? Here in the library where everyone could hear?! Tom's magic, howling in anger, left his body and crackled around him. Violently it reached for Hermione, thirsting to rip her apart. Tom was not going to continue this conversation here. Abruptly, he stood up and grabbed Hermione harshly by her arm.
"Get your books. We are leaving."
A murderous edge twisted his cold voice and Tom wasn't going to hold himself back much longer. Angrily he pulled at the Mudblood. Hermione still resisted and glared up at him in anger.
"Let go of me."
Tom could feel her tugging at her arm, trying to get away from him. His temper flared dangerously and he snarled,
"Get up!"
Brutally, he pulled Hermione from her chair. She hissed in pain as she was forced to stand up.
"I said let go!" she spat, trying to pry Tom's fingers from her.
Despite her protest, Tom gruffly wrenched Hermione with him. She still tried to pull away from his grip. Tom's enraged magic bristled around him and he ordered her sharply,
"You're coming with me right now."
"What do you plan to do if I don't?" Hermione dared to provoke defiantly. "Curse some obedience into me?"
Tom's anger peaked as he heard the scorn leaking through her words. He didn't stop his magic as it cruelly ripped at the mark on Hermione's forearm. Gruffly, he pulled her closer to him and bent down to her so his face was only inches from hers. Then he whispered menacingly,
"Maybe I should just get rid of you. I can get a lot of money if I sell you."
Instantly, Hermione stopped all attempts to pull free and her eyes widened in shock. Her face paled rapidly as she stared at Tom. All traces of anger fell from her features and morphed into something that looked suspiciously like fear. Tom felt her starting to under his grip and her magic, previously a fierce storm intend on ripping him in two, completely deflated. It hastily wrapped around Hermione as if trying to protect her.
Satisfied that she finally submitted to him, Tom decided commandingly, "You're going to co-"
He was cut short as he suddenly felt something sharply boring into his stomach. Tom looked down and his eyes widened as he saw Hermione had pulled her wand and now shoved it against him. Instantly, Tom's anger spiralled up even more. His eyes snapped back to the girl, ready to yell at her.
Before he could open his mouth, though, Tom was stopped by the deathly calm expression on Hermione's face. All emotion had dropped from her and her eyes glinted with determination as she threatened him with her wand, hand steady as stone. Hermione's magic had changed as well. It wasn't fuelled by anger or her lost temper anymore. Instead, Tom felt a lethal edge sharpening the force. It formed a protective barrier around the girl and flowed into her wand, poised to attack. And suddenly, Tom became very aware of the fact that his own wand was still stored away in his robe pocket.
"Let go," Hermione said.
Her voice was toneless, but it was unmistakably an order. Tom could feel the power behind Hermione's magic mounting up and he was acutely aware of the very serious threat behind the wand threatening him. Trying to keep his voice unperturbed, he said,
"Hermione, calm down. I wouldn-"
She didn't let him finish, but pushed her wand harshly against his stomach. Enunciating every word very clearly, Hermione repeated coldly,
"Let. Me. Go."
Magic hummed dangerously around the tip of her wand. The power behind that force burned a hole into Tom's robe and he had to suppress a flinch as it painfully burned his skin. He pressed his mouth into a thin line. This was not good. He would never reach his wand in time, but he also couldn't risk summoning wandless magic, not with the power of the curse building inside Hermione's wand. In a split second, Tom came to a decision.
"Okay," he soothed and uncurled his fingers from Hermione's arm.
Slowly, as not to provoke her, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. For a moment, Hermione didn't react. Her wand was still pressed against Tom's stomach while she stared at him with strangely empty eyes.
Hermione took in a shaky breath of air. Then, without saying anything, she turned around and ran away. Tom watched her as she dashed away, turning around the next shelf and disappearing into the library. His arms sank down to his sides and he furrowed his brow. He definitely should chase after her, catch her, curse her like she had threatened to do with him. Still, Tom remained to be rooted to the spot. He couldn't even muster any anger.
Feeling strangely empty, Tom walked towards the table Hermione had sat at. Her things were still spread everywhere and Tom sank down on the chair Hermione had vacated. His gaze came to rest on the essay she had been working on. Transfiguration. Tricky, Tom's brain informed him uselessly. He had finished that essay yesterday …after he had chased Hermione from the Heads' common room.
Absently, Tom's hand wandered to the hole in his robe and gingerly rubbed over the burned skin underneath. He should be furious with her, shouldn't he? Hermione had dared to threaten him. After she had brought up his blood status in the middle of the library. He couldn't let her get away with this. Anger, though, was still absent. Instead, Tom was haunted by that lost look in Hermione's pretty eyes. He had to admit, the whole event was accompanied by a certain aspect of guilt. It was quite disturbing and Tom didn't appreciate the feeling at all.
Distractedly, he collected Hermione's things and carefully sorted them into her bag. Then he left the library. Tom knew he should punish Hermione for her intolerable behaviour, but he wasn't even sure she was at fault. His magic glumly wobbled around him as he searched for the Mudblood. Once again… Her eyes continued to spook through his mind. Jaded and empty. Tom didn't like it.
†
Curiously enough, Hermione ended up in the dungeons. It was probably the glum atmosphere that had drawn her here. By now there were tears running down her face and she hated herself for it. At least she was alone in the dimly lit corridors. Hermione trembled all over and couldn't walk another step. She sank down on the floor, hiding in a nook which was half-covered by a large tapestry. Hermione leaned against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. The stone at her back was cold and slimy with condensation water and dirt. She neither noticed nor cared.
'I can get a lot of money if I sell you.'
Hermione knew Tom hadn't meant it. It was a threat he had thrown at her in the heat of the argument. That knowledge, though, didn't take away the power behind those words. It made Hermione sick. Her throat constricted with suppressed sobs. Pressing her palm against her mouth, she tightly shut her eyes and forced the tears away.
There were so many memories assaulting her. Memories of a time as those words had not been an empty threat. Hermione remembered how she had huddled on a hard stone floor – not unlike the one she was now sitting on – and had tried to make herself as small as possible. She hadn't dared move for hours. Her thoughts had been controlled by nothing but fear. She remembered the fear so clearly as if it had etched a deep scar into her. It had been an all-encompassing fear, devouring everything else until she barely felt like a human being anymore. The fear had been accompanied by a sharp pain in her left forearm. An ugly tattoo had been freshly inked into her skin and Hermione hadn't understood why. She had only known that her parents were dead and that she was alone.
Whimpering softly, Hermione slung her arms around her knees, pulling them against her chest. She curled up into a tight ball and cried, exactly like she had done back then. Weak, helpless, pathetic. She hated that old fear with all her being, but was still too weak to break free from it.
"Hermione?" a soft voice gently called out for her.
Hermione's eyes shot open. The memories still spooked through her mind as she looked up and found Tom standing over her. Instinctively, her hand snapped to her wand and she pressed herself defensively against the wall. As he saw her reaction to him, Tom slowly crouched down in front of her. Hermione's breathing was fast and shallow, making herself dizzy.
"Go away," she ordered him hoarsely.
Her memories still didn't want to leave her alone. Tom didn't leave either.
"Hermione," he again whispered soothingly. "I didn't mean it."
He ran his fingers over her cheek, wiping tears away, and continued in his gentle voice, "I would never give you away. You know that."
Hermione stared into his blue eyes. Once again they were soft. Her fingers, though, were still curled around her wand. Tom cocked an eyebrow as he saw the doubt in her eyes. Then he offered her his hand. With suspicion in her eyes, Hermione scanned it.
"We don't want to get caught loitering around the corridors, hm?" Tom said in his deep, velvety voice.
Hermione leaned a bit away from him. Tom threw her a reassuring smile and coaxed, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. I promise."
Hermione was still trapped by her old fear and could not muster any trust. But she also didn't want to stay here and let that fear completely overpower her. Tom still offered her his hand, soft smile on his face. Hermione released a shaky breath of air. Then she stood up, ignoring the offered hand. Tom's smile didn't falter and he gestured for her to follow him.
"Come, we need to talk," he said and it was a request not an order this time.
Still clasping her wand tightly, Hermione nodded stiffly. Relief flooded Tom's face. Then he led her away from the cold dungeons and Hermione walked silently beside him.
Lost in painful memories, Hermione followed Tom through the castle until he stopped before a bare stretch of wall in an abandoned corridor. She didn't ask him what they were doing here. She wasn't sure she cared enough. With dull eyes, Hermione watched as Tom paced in front of the stretch of wall. Soon a door appeared out of no-where. Hermione didn't question it. Her breathing had got shaky again and she desperately tried to push her memories away.
She was only half aware that Tom opened the door for her to enter first. She just stared at him, unmoving. Entering first while turning her back to Tom did not sound like a good idea. Holding her wand tightly, Hermione gestured for him to go in. There was a hint of something like regret in Tom's blue eyes, but Hermione didn't care. She never released her wand as she followed him into the room.
As soon as Hermione had stepped through the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her fear and her memories shortly dropped into the background and she openly gawked at her surroundings. With a soft click the door fell shut behind her and disappeared. Hermione was left standing on a vast beach. As far as she could see there was nothing but sand and the ocean. A large red sun hung low on the horizon, already half disappeared in the sea. Gentle sun rays left a pleasant warmth on Hermione's skin and painted long shadows on the near-by dunes.
"What's this?" Hermione asked faintly.
Tom stood beside her on the beach and now smiled at her. "The Room of Requirement."
He gestured for her to sit on the almost white sand as he explained, "I thought you didn't want to go to the Heads' common room."
Still stunned, Hermione sank down on the sand. It was pleasantly warm. Tom gracefully sat beside her and put her bag down beside him on the sand.
"Are we still inside the castle?"
"Yes," Tom replied gently. "But this room can change into anything you like."
Hermione nodded absently while still staring at the ocean in front of her. The sea was calm, gentle waves lapping at the shore and lazily swirling the sand. She could even smell the sea. Salty and humid, the air was heavy with traces of a hot day that was slowly cooling for the night.
"I shouldn't have said that, Hermione," Tom's soft voice cautiously interrupted her observations.
Hermione turned her head and stared at him. And just like that the beautiful ocean didn't matter anymore and her memories rushed back to her. With them, her fear. Tom slid a bit closer to her as he saw the cold expression on her face.
"This is something you can't do," Hermione said, her voice heavy. "You can't threaten to give me away like some object you've grown tired of."
"I know," Tom quickly agreed. "It was stupid."
"It's not an abstract threat." She paused shortly before she added numbly, "Not for me."
Tom reached for her hand and held it gently. "I know."
He raised her hand and placed a tender kiss on her skin. Then his startlingly blue eyes wandered to her and he said softly, "It's different now."
Hermione creased her brow. Tom seemed to sense her doubt and threw her a tentative smile. "If someone tries to hurt you, you know enough curses to make them regret it."
"Maybe," whispered Hermione colourlessly.
Numbly, she stared at the horizon that the setting sun had painted in shades of red and orange. Far off in the distance, she could see a bird flying by, a dark dot against a sea of red.
"Do you really think my blood makes me inferior?" Hermione asked into the silence.
She glanced at Tom. The Slytherin sat beside her and his starkly blue eyes slowly wandered over her as if wanting to take in every little detail about her. Hermione waited for his answer, but he didn't say anything. Not even his expression gave anything away.
"You don't have to lie," Hermione whispered, trying to ignore the pressure that built behind her eyes.
Tom tilted his head, face still unreadable, and inquired, "Do you think you're inferior to Purebloods?"
Hermione pondered that for a moment. Since she had entered the magical world, everyone had told her she was worth less than Purebloods. And she had believed them.
"Not anymore," Hermione could finally say it out loud and a sense of relief washed over her.
Tom slightly inclined his head and replied quietly, "Neither do I."
"But it is a flaw? My parentage?"
Tom's mesmerizing eyes pierced into her as he stated, "You're powerful."
Hermione laughed mirthlessly, "Powerful but flawed."
Tom reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. Tightly, he held her. There was a possessive nature in the gesture that Hermione could not ignore.
"I think that Draco Malfoy is flawed," Tom said, voice composed. "because he is trapped in a world of centuries-old structures. Dolohov is flawed, because he cannot think for himself. Regulus Black is flawed, because he is a weak wizard and his cousin Bellatrix is flawed, because she is ruled by her urges and desires."
Hermione felt the warmth from Tom's hand seeping into her skin. It wasn't unpleasant. His hold grounded her in a strange way.
"And what is your flaw?"
A smirk curled the corners of his mouth as Tom heard the question. His blue eyes flashed to hers and he said, a strange inflection to his voice that Hermione couldn't place,
"I have many."
Hermione blinked up at him. Her brow furrowed slightly, pondering his answer – or not-answer. She turned away from Tom and looked out at the ocean. The sun was still a reddish colour as it kissed the horizon. Hermione felt how Tom still held her hand. She didn't pull away. After a while she commented softly,
"The sun is not moving."
Tom chuckled at that. "No, I wished for a sunset and that's what the room changed into."
Hermione nodded her head and told him tentatively, "The last time I've been by the sea that was ages ago."
"When the Malfoys went on a vacation?" Tom's deep voice asked.
She glanced at him and lightly shook her head. "I was there with my parents."
She saw Tom raising his eyebrows. She had never told him anything of her life before she had entered the magical world. Maybe he didn't want to hear and Hermione was not sure she wanted to talk about it.
"You don't know how it is, Tom," Hermione whispered softly. "To have no parents."
Tom studied her pensively before he sighed, "Sometimes I wish I did." Then he added dryly, "You've met my parents after all."
She peered up at him. "Well, they were quite…"
Tom smiled thinly. "I think 'dreadful' is the word you're searching for."
A hesitant smile stretched Hermione's own lips. "Maybe your father is a bit intolerant."
"What about my mother?" Tom inquired as he arched an elegant eyebrow.
"She's nice," Hermione replied firmly. "I really liked her."
"Nice?" Tom mused, tasting to word on his tongue. "Not the adjective I would use to describe her."
Hermione looked up at him and stated seriously, "I think she's a very selfless person."
Tom looked at her thoughtfully and Hermione felt trapped in his starkly blue eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and looked back at the ocean. After a while, she told him softly,
"You are lucky."
"How so?"
"Your parents are alive," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Maybe you don't get along well with them, but they are still here."
Hermione felt tears building up and quickly looked down at her hands in her lap. This was embarrassing. Why couldn't she just pull herself together? She jumped as suddenly an arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she was pulled into Tom's side. The heat of his body was calming and Hermione couldn't help but relax into his side.
"Tell me about your parents," Tom whispered while his fingers ran through her hair.
Hermione breathed in deeply. Then, without looking up at him, she let her memories take her, "They were just normal people. Dentists, you know. They had met at university. Then they got married and bought a practice in London. Moved into a house just… just fifteen minutes away." A smile flittered over Hermione's face. "It was a nice house. I loved it."
Her head leaned against Tom and breathed in his pleasant scent.
"Brick walls, small front yard," Hermione remembered her home and she found that her voice had gone quite shaky. "Mum always planted tulips in the garden, but somehow they never really grew. My dad would tell her to plant daffodils instead, but she was stubborn. In the end, each spring, he would buy her a bouquet of tulips."
Hermione felt her throat tie up and her voice died down. As she closed her eyes a few tears escaped from them. The arm around her tightened, then there were fingers gingerly wiping the tears away. Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Tom. He scanned her with a completely blank look on his handsome face, but Hermione saw a soft shimmer in his blue eyes. Never looking away from him, she continued,
"I was nine when my first accidental magic happened. I was playing on the swing my dad had built for me on the back yard. I somehow lost control and fell. Instead of smashing into the ground, breaking my neck, I gently sailed down. It was a miracle." A small smile appeared on Hermione's face. "At least, that's what dad said." The smile quickly died. "It was the next day that they came for me. Snatchers. They just… just killed them. My mum and dad never knew why they had to die. And I wonder… if they had known, would they have blamed me?"
Tom reached out for her and hesitantly wiped a strand of her curly hair from her face.
"I don't think they would have," he told her gently.
Hermione shook her head. "No, they probably wouldn't." Then she averted her eyes from Tom and stared vacantly in front of her. "But without me, they would still be alive."
Tom pulled her closer against him. His hand was gingerly stroking over her back as he asked cautiously, "What happened after you got caught?"
A shiver went through Hermione's body and tags of memories flashed through her head.
"T- the Snatchers took me and… and some other kids they had caught and locked us away," Hermione whispered tonelessly. "We were left in that room for… days. I was scared. Everybody was scared."
"Then some men came to get us," she continued shakily. "One of them dragged me out of the room. I begged him to let me go. He just beat me then. And I cried."
Hermione forced her breathing to calm down. Still, she didn't look up at Tom. She preferred to have her eyes closed as she continued with her story, "They didn't explain. Never. No-one talked to me. I didn't know what was going on. I was dragged into another room. There were more children. I remember some of them were crying, like me. The men never cared. They used… strange sticks of wood to carve marks into the children's arms." A shudder ran through Hermione's body. "It hurt a lot. My arm was bleeding and another man pulled me away. Again I begged. That man didn't beat me. He waved that stick of wood and suddenly there was nothing but pain."
Hermione stopped and swallowed thickly. Images, feelings, smells were coming back to her. Memories of things she would rather forget. Cautiously she reopened her eyes. It cost her a lot to raise her face and look up at Tom. He was gazing back at her with his calm blue eyes. Hermione held on to that gaze as she continued,
"Again I was locked away with other children. The men would come back occasionally, taking one of us away. I came to fear them and their strange powers."
"One day, those men came for me," Hermione whispered, almost inaudibly. "They stripped me naked and forced me into strange clothes. After that… I was sold away like some piece of meat."
Tom nodded softly as he listened. His arm was wrapped tightly around Hermione's waist as he asked gingerly, "Where did you get sold to? The Malfoys?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. A trader. No-one buys an untrained servant."
"What happened then?"
She pressed herself against Tom, hiding her face in his chest, as she mumbled shakily, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Mhm," he crooned to her while he stroked reassuringly over her back.
Hermione stayed like that for a long time. Her memories were boiling right under the surface. Finally she whispered, "I can't go back there."
A gentle hand under her chin forced her to look up. Immediately, Hermione's eyes locked with Tom's and he inquired gingerly,
"Go back?"
Hermione breathed in shakily. "Don't make me go back there."
"Hermione, I shouldn't have said that. I am sorry," Tom quickly assured. "I would never allow you to get treated like that again."
Hermione swallowed thickly as she stared up at him. "What if you get bored of me? Then you'll just sell me."
"That is never going to happen," Tom soothed her, stroking her cheek. "I am never going to give you away."
Hermione heard honesty in his voice. She so wanted to believe him. To go back to being a slave would kill her. She looked up at Tom hopefully and demanded security,
"Promise."
A smile slid on Tom's face and he pulled her tightly against him.
"I promise."
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'Calm Death, God of crossed hands and passionless eyes,
Thou God that never heedest gift nor prayer,
Men blindly call thee cruel, unaware
That everything is dearer since it dies.'
- George Pellew (*1859 † 1892)