Hermione didn't really want to separate from Harry when they parted ways after lunch, as they were both a bit drained from another meal with their heads down trying to ignore Ronald and their unruly housemates, but they had to. Harry had promised to visit with Hagrid for a while before his quidditch obligations and Hermione was off to the Room of Requirement for at least a few hours. Knowing Tom, he'd try to keep her there all night practicing Defense or quizzing her with the boys.
With any luck, she'd get to spend time with her other friends again too.
When she finally made it upstairs, Hermione shot Abraxas and Flynn a smile that they returned with a sort of fatigued hesitation. Then she greeted Tom. He gave her one of his subdued half-smirks as he stood to hug her, but his energy was entirely off.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Did you lot have a bad day?"
"No, Dove," Tom said evenly. "Just O.W.L.s preparations."
She frowned at him, even as he drew her into his arms and she pressed her face into his shoulder.
"Can I help somehow?" she asked quietly. Him being so out of sorts was throwing her off. Tom did angry moods and tense moods but she'd never seen him without a blazing spark of determination in his eyes.
She blushed and startled when she felt one of his hands thread into her hair at the crown of her head. At the same time, he leaned his cheek against her temple. "Not this time, Dove, but thank you."
Concerned, she held him a little tighter, even though the boys were close by. Even though they were pointedly minding their business. Even though they weren't alone. And even though Tom generally didn't take comfort from affection like she did.
"Well," she said awkwardly, "let me know when I can."
Tom hummed as they slowly separated, amusement twinkling through the shadows in the deep blue of his eyes. "There is one thing… close your eyes?"
With a sigh, she complied. "Is this a reward or did you really feel it necessary to get me a birthday present when older you already did?"
"Both," he said simply. She groaned.
She heard a whisper of fabric, almost like the sound of ribbon sliding against itself, and felt him tie something on her head where a hard headband would sit: behind her ears and up over the top. She could've sworn he tied a bow as well.
"What-" she began to ask.
But then her head started to tingle. For a few seconds, her hair moved on its own, then settled. A few soft pieces fell against her face and stayed there.
"Open," Tom said. His usual smugness was bleeding through whatever fatigue had gripped him.
When she did, she was looking at herself. And she actually looked… pretty.
He'd tied a thin black headscarf into a flat bow against her head and somehow magicked her curls into a level of submission she'd only seen after hours of patience in her mother's bathroom with dozens of products and lots of tugging on tangles. Some of the hair in front of the bow was down to curl around her face, framing it in a way that actually made her look like a girl.
The rest of her hair was down in a mass of uniform curls and coils that swayed gently and freely when she made them move side to side around her shoulders.
Her hands were shaking when she reached up and found every piece feather-soft and bouncy to the touch. A moment later, the mirror vanished and she flicked her eyes to Tom's smugly-clouded ones.
"Low effort, high reward," he said softly. "Appearances can go a long way in the wizarding world, Dove. How about we stop letting your moronic classmates brush off your worth at a glance, hm?"
"How?" she asked. Her voice was tight, throat closing with tears she was desperate to suppress. She didn't want to annoy him with her emotions ever, but especially not if he was having a bad day.
"Some Pureblood families still teach their sons basic hair care as preparation for marriage," he said, flicking his gaze to Abraxas and Flynn. "The charmwork wasn't too difficult to alter. You can charm them different colors, but I got you that one and a white one. The boys each picked a patterned one."
"You really didn't have to get me anything," she murmured. If she kept her voice small and breathing even, she wouldn't cry.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Clearly, I did. Besides. That's not all."
"What?" she squeaked. "Tom!"
He flicked her forehead, then held his hand against it. Dangling between her eyes on a thin piece of string was a fox-shaped charm.
Her eyes started to burn. "Tom…"
"We found one other thing for you," he said. "But you can't have it yet. You'll try to refuse it and that's not allowed."
She sniffed lightly and squinted at him. "Is it expensive?"
Tom just raised his brows. "That's irrelevant. And the subject is not up for debate. You'll accept it when I give it to you."
She rolled her eyes, still trying to blink back tears. "Arsehole."
"Sniveling brat."
She glared at him, only to find him smiling softly again. She caught the fox charm when he dropped it and made his way back over to the sofas.
"When you're done being a girl, I do have an agenda for the evening."
She scoffed, following him. "So sorry that I find your gifts touching."
"Apology accepted."
She thwacked him in the shoulder with her copy of his diary, idly noting how Abraxas and Flynn both froze in horror as she did so — tense and ready like they were waiting for Tom to retaliate.
But he only chuckled. "How Gryffindor of you, Dove."
"You are the most arrogant prick I've ever met," she grumbled, taking her new spot on the empty side of Tom's sofa. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abraxas and Flynn start to relax again. "Why'd you go and get me things anyway, if you were just gonna be you about it."
"You deserve them," he said, giving her a narrow-eyed, intense look. "It's very simple."
It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "People get things they do and don't deserve all the time, Tom. I already got a lot for my birthday. Especially from you three."
"And I maintain the opinion that you deserved more," he insisted. "This isn't up for debate either, Dove. I always reward excellence."
"Well," she said lamely, "...thank you. All of you."
Tom flicked his gaze from his books to her eyes for a brief moment. "You're welcome."
"You're welcome, Birdie," Flynn said softly. Abraxas gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment.
Hermione grinned. "You'll still call me that in the future," she told Flynn.
His smile was warm, if not hesitant. "It suits. Especially now. Every time you move, your hair follows."
Hermione snickered quietly. "Tweet."
She tricked a snort from Abraxas, who seemed both annoyed that he'd laughed and impressed with her for catching him off guard so easily. "Now you have her impersonating avians, Flynn," he muttered.
"You three are ridiculous," Tom said dryly. "When you've finished with your fun, we have work to do."
"Such as?" Hermione asked.
Tom shot her another subdued grin. "Dueling practice."
"Merlin alive," Flynn groaned as he flopped onto his four-poster.
They'd stopped by the Slytherin boys' showers after leaving the Room, even though they'd likely still shower in the morning. Abraxas and Flynn had worked up a sweat dueling Hermione and each other. Tom had exerted himself far less, but the taint from drudged up memories of Wool's was making his skin itch, so he joined them.
"She's definitely a powerful little thing," Abraxas agreed, sighing as he laid back on his own four-poster. A soft groan left him as he stretched before laying limp.
Tom rolled his eyes, minding the last of the stray droplets of water still clinging to his hair, and cast cooling charms on them both to reduce the swelling they were already suffering.
"Pretty little bird certainly doesn't have any issues throwing her intensity into battle magic, does she?" Flynn said with a grateful sigh.
Tom stilled halfway through tying his pajama bottoms. He hadn't really considered that anyone would find her attractive once he fixed her hair, having only really been paying attention to the intimidation that came with being physically put together. Never mind the confidence boost she sorely needed this year, especially given her struggles with her course load and Divination.
But he hadn't fully contemplated the consequences of their peers finding her attractive until that moment.
"She is pretty," he allowed, the words mostly spoken to himself. "Attractiveness and magical prowess tend to be doled out in equal measure."
"The bow was a nice touch," Abraxas said. "Adds a sort of...girlish charm to the style. Easily the sort of girl who looks too cute to be dangerous. Unassuming little thing, but still intimidating when she puts her mind to it."
Tom felt a brow twitch, idly remembering that he'd used the same sentiments to describe her fiendfyre not too long ago.
Plus…it had apparently only taken a few hours of nearly getting his arse kicked by an anxious third year to coax more blood supremacy out of Abraxas Malfoy than the last two years of Tom's creative threats and beatings combined.
"Merlin help her Knight of Pentacles," Flynn said dryly, making Abraxas chuckle. "Whoever he is. Bastard should be envied and pitied in equal measure."
Tom's blood fully turned to ice, rushing in his ears and drowning out Flynn and Abraxas' quiet chuckles. What little contentment Tom had rekindled during his shower vanished as a nauseatingly thick sense of inadequacy started to close in around him. Suffocating him.
Her Knight of Pentacles was on her doorstep, wasn't he? Assuming she hadn't met him already. Someone who'd satisfy that little romantic itch she shared with the rest of the world that Tom considered a waste of time.
Someone else to split her attention with. Someone to distract her from schoolwork and learning all the magic he still planned to teach her. Someone else to have opinions about whether or not Tom deserved her time.
Would it be Harry? The boy was protective enough. Comfortable admitting he cared for her, though he and Hermione both insisted their closeness was firmly platonic. Perhaps Draco or Floren? Their grandfathers were overly fond of Hermione. Perhaps that overt fondness would be hereditary and multiply in later generations. Or, Merlin forbid, Theron's little swot of a boy, who shared his father's ironic sense of humor and seemed to hold a similar appreciation for Hermione's academic abilities that Tom himself held.
Or worse, was it someone entirely new? Someone she hadn't even met yet? Someone she might not meet until he was on summer holiday and couldn't even attempt to compete for his fair share of her already thinly stretched time and energy? Someone who'd likely distract her enough to lessen how much she wrote to him, assuming she didn't stop outright. Surely not. But it was far too possible. Too probable. And Tom would be powerless to stop anyone from taking her away —
"Tom, are you alright?"
Abraxas's voice brought Tom back into the dormitory, where he stood next to his bed, breathing hard. Hair still wet. His pajama shirt laying on his bed, waiting to be donned.
"Headache," he muttered. A half-truth. Pain was blooming behind his eyes, growing more intense with every blink. "Came on rather suddenly."
"Do you need to go to the hospital wing?" Abraxas asked. "Some pain potion to help you sleep it off?"
Tom shook his head, then regretted the action instantly. "No. I'll be fine."
He used the shirt to dry his hair instead of wearing it, feeling feverish. A quietly muttered spell pulled back his covers. Tom was mindful of the throbbing pulse behind his eyes as he laid down and closed his curtains with a flick of his wand.
"Warding the curtains," Tom said. "If I'm not awake on time tomorrow, you know how to undo them. Night, gents."
"Goodnight," they chorused softly.
No it isn't, Tom thought before his bed was plunged into darkness and silence. His bedding, minus the thin sheet he could stand given his discomfort, was down by his feet where he couldn't get tangled or overheated further.
While the peace and lack of light helped his head, Tom started feeling exceedingly claustrophobic the longer he tried and failed to sleep. He sat up after a measure of time that felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, desperate to take his mind off the dark circles it was trying to track. He muttered vigilio servo at the curtain that functioned as his ceiling, hoping Hermione could provide even a whisper of distraction.
He refused to fret over Wool's, especially when he only had to spend a measly seven days in the hell hole before he'd be back in the wizarding world. He'd rather be mildly annoyed by Abraxas, Flynn, and whatever pureblood society nonsense came with their households than spend any extra time at the orphanage.
When the spell settled into the dimensional confines of the space he'd cast it on, Hermione was curled up under her covers. She was propped up against her pillows with a letter, her four poster closed up much like his own, and her ginger fluffball of a cat laying next to her head on the pillow. She had taken her hair scarf off and likely had a shower herself judging by her hair. Her curls still held some of the effects of the charms even as they fanned out against her mountain of pillows. Some pieces were still wet. The charm to prevent water from fully neutralizing the styling charms had worked, it seemed.
Still, seeing her in the crimson bedding and surrounded by gold accents made his stomach turn. As cozy as she looked. She didn't belong there.
It bothered him.
She should've been ensconced in emerald and silver. Safe in the shadows of the dungeons instead of exposed up in Gryffindor tower, at the mercy of the elements and the sky.
The sight of her familiar form still managed to ease some of the burning in his lungs, however. The tightness in his chest and shoulders lessened. He could breathe again.
On the ceiling curtain of his bed, Crookshanks meowed indignantly at his mummy.
"I know," Hermione muttered. "I'll go to sleep soon, Crooks."
"Idiot," Tom muttered as his breathing continued to even out and his desire for sleep grew. "You're studying too much and no letter is that important."
He snorted softly when he heard Crookshanks meow again in the haze of not-quite-sleep he'd fallen into. Then Hermione sighed and he heard her sheets rustle as she got under her covers fully.
"Are you happy now? Will you be happy if I sleep?" she whispered to the half-kneazle.
"Yes," Tom murmured. Crookshanks matched his sentiment with a low rrrrow.
Her breathing eventually evened out into a rhythm Tom matched subconsciously. He was lulled so gently into sleep by listening out for her that when new noises startled him awake hours later, he hardly felt as if he'd slept at all.
Yet somehow, he'd slept through her waking up and going to breakfast. He hadn't been spurred awake until she got to Defense, when her Professor had cheerfully gotten the attention of the class.
"Given the recent changes this semester, the school board has felt it necessary that the Dementor unit of your curriculum be taught a few weeks early, even though you're all still too young to be expected to master the defensive charm associated with them. Does anyone have any questions before I start?"
Tom muttered a spell he didn't expect to work - one that would quiet the effects of his vigilio servo spell, but he was pleasantly surprised when the volume decreased back to a level he could sleep through.
He just wanted a few more minutes...
The next time he woke, it was to the sound of Flynn knocking on one of his bedposts.
"Tom? We're heading to the showers…"
"Two minutes," he said roughly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, glancing up at the image of Hermione in class, dutifully taking notes on a lecture he couldn't hear. She'd switched classes while he was asleep.
This time he was awake enough to realize she was wearing the white scarf today, tied in a bow atop her head just like he'd done the night before.
He breathed out a humorless laugh. "Finite."
A/N: Hi...I'm alright lol. I know I missed June for an update, but I kinda had to take a break from writing stuff for a minute. Mental health is much better/more under control now (if you don't make your own neurotransmitters, store bought is fine) so that's been...refreshing. I'm also finally getting better sleep and I left the job I hated. My new job is much better for me, but I'm working nights again so that's been an adjustment.
And it worked out because 52 was fighting me hardcore, but once my brain chemistry started to balance out, some of the ick feelings around figuring that out went away and I was able to bounce ideas at my friends/beta team to get the next few chapters sorted out. Wound up finishing 52 and 53 in about two days, and 54 is almost done too. I'm much happier with the direction of the plotline they contain than I was two months ago.
Gotta love when the stars align once and a while, yeah? :)
It's been almost a year since I moved back home as well and...I'm in a much better place than I was. We all know fanfic is a big escape for a lot of us when things are tough, so for any of you reading this who are going through it lately, keep your heads up, yeah? It's hard to see how strong and resilient you are when you're in a hellish situation, but you're gonna wake up one day and realize you survived some crazy, exhausting BS, and came out stronger for it. And it's taken me more than half my life to make it to the other side my own situations, but I'm learning to be grateful for how it shaped me instead of being bitter that life was unfair in the first place. (And I'm not saying that everyone is ready to make that thought transition or anything like that, but I read every comment/review and I know a lot of you were in places just as dark as I was the last few years. I never thought I'd get out of it, but I think I'm finally starting to.)
Anyway, y'all know where to find me on socials by now, surely. littlemulattokitten on tumblr and mulattokitten on twitter. I'm more active on twitter than tumblr, but I get email notifs for both, so come say hi wherever!
xoxoxo
-LMK