"Wait, you're not dropping Care of Magical Creatures, are you?"
Hermione scowled at her redheaded friend as he leaned over her shoulder. "I can't take every class, you know," she responded. "I'm already taking on such a heavy class load as it is. Look, assuming I do well enough on the OWLs, I'll be taking nine NEWTs level courses. Nine," she repeated. "How many are you taking, Ronald?"
"Er, five," he muttered, turning pink up to the tips of his ears. "Same as Harry."
"Five? Let me think. Defense, of course. Potions, since I heard Harry complaining about Professor Snape's standards. Transfiguration, Charms." She ticked off each class after a moment of thought, then clicked her tongue. That's right; Harry wanted to be an Auror like his father— if being a professional Quidditch player didn't work out. "Herbology? So, you're not taking Care of Magical Creatures, either."
"No," he admitted. "But, er, I had thought you'd want to since my brother is gonna be teaching and everything."
"Your brother?" She frowned. "Charlie, the draconologist?"
He nodded. "And I know you got along when you met."
"Oh, well. Is Ginny taking it?" she asked. This was quite the unexpected happening. She had liked Charlie. He was friendly, funny, and strong. He had a stockier build, and the thickest arms among any of the Weasleys she'd met.
Ron shrugged. "Are you still assisting Riddle next year?"
"Professor Riddle," she corrected, although she felt a touch hypocritical considering she called him Tom when they were alone. "And yes."
"You spend more time with him than you do with us."
This was Harry. When he'd sat down, she didn't know.
"I do not," she said.
He nudged her with an elbow. "Do, too. I'm gonna get jealous if you keep that up. Will you be studying under him after you graduate, too?"
"Of course not. I'll have work to do." She nudged him back. "We have two more years at Hogwarts, Harry. I have to get everything I can out of my education."
"I daresay you're ready to pass your NEWTs right now," Harry said. He leaned against her and favored her with one of his lopsided smiles. "You already know everything. You're just staying to keep us in line."
She sighed. "You've figured me out."
"I'm gonna miss you. You should come out to Godric's Hollow for a week. Ron visits every summer, and I usually go to the Burrow for a week or so," he said. "I know you can't visit the Weasleys, or Mr. Malfoy would have conniptions, but he doesn't hate my family that much."
"No, but your god father is a menace," she retorted. She'd never met him, but the letters and stories were enough to go by.
"You mean he's amazing," was the counter. "And he would love to meet you. C'mon, at least ask. You can bring the badger, too."
The badger, Hermione's pet Hufflepuff, Draco. It was said teasingly, of course. They had no problems with Draco by now, well, except minor tiffs on occasion.
"We'll see. Perhaps Narcissa will be amenable."
Summers were always hard, not only for the loss of her beloved school, but also because she would go back to having only Draco for company. She loved seeing Lady Narcissa, having access to the Malfoy library, the beautiful grounds, but…
Malfoy Manor had never been home in all the ten years she'd been the family ward. Hogwarts was home.
She thought on this while she prepared to go back. A few days of packing and organization, meetings and checking off boxes for the end of the school year.
As always, her last stop was at Professor Riddle's office.
He opened the door, perfect smile shining down on her. "Come in, dearest." Tom gestured for her to sit with him on a conjured sofa. "I knew you'd be coming soon."
"Oh." It was nice to curl up beside him. He laid an arm across her shoulders and tugged her into his side.
When she was younger, Hermione would sometimes cuddle with her parents and, later, with Draco. She always overheated at some point, but it didn't feel like that with Tom. He had body heat, but it was nothing compared to a young boy. It certainly wasn't enough to make her want to pull away.
"I'm glad. It pleases me that you seek me out." He tilted her chin up and brushed his lips across her own. "You are such a wonderful girl, my dear. You'll write me, yes?"
"In the journal?" Hermione breathed in his air and exhaled her own into him through the bare space between them. "Of course. Every night."
He studied her with those hard eyes. "If you don't, I'll have to punish you."
"Punish me?" she repeated.
"Mm, yes. I can't encourage disobedience. Don't worry, love. I wouldn't hurt you." He laid his cheek against hers to speak into her ear. "It's only to help you continue being good for me. You want to be good for me, don't you, Hermione?"
The liquid chocolate of his voice tingled across her sensitive skin and melted into her stomach. "Yes, Tom."
"Wonderful."
He pulled her head against his chest and for long moments she listened to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. It was slow, much slower than she would have thought even for a young, healthy man, and perfectly steady. Soothing.
With one hand on the back of her head, the other was free to roam. At first it did nothing more than hold her own. Eventually it trailed across her arm, mapped out her cheek, played along her collarbone through her blouse, and finally laid upon her thigh.
"You'll tell me immediately if Lucius Malfoy does anything," he said.
She nodded, enjoying the way he stroked and soothed her.
"I'm serious, sweetheart." He lifted her head so he could peer into her warm amber eyes. "If he touches you, if he crosses a line either sexually or in discipline, you will immediately inform me."
"How?"
Tom's hand squeezed her thigh. "The journal. I know when you write in it, Hermione. If he does anything, you go straight to your room and write in your journal. Or, even better, don't go anywhere without it."
She nodded solemnly. "I won't. I'll take it everywhere, Tom."
"You are such a good girl, Hermione." The fingers at the back of her head carded through to stroke her neck. "You know, when I was a lad, I never thought there could come a girl intelligent enough to be worth more than a quick shag. Oh, don't grimace, darling. I'm just being honest.
"There were some intelligent young women over the years. Your Potter friend's mother, Lily Evans, was quite bright. Narcissa was lovely, too, of course. But neither of them could hold a candle to your brilliance. And to how beautifully malleable you are."
She watched his face as he spoke, his unreadable eyes and soft lips, wondering where he was going with this.
"Malleability is so important, you know. How many muggleborns do you suppose flourish as you do, even in circumstances where they are not free to be themselves? Yet you managed to capture the attention of the Malfoy family when you were only six years old. Beautiful, intelligent Hermione. How did you manage such a feat?"
"I—" She frowned, unsure of how to answer. It had been so long ago.
"Go on, love."
"Draco came into the library at the Institution and we started talking about books." Hermione could tell he wanted more by how his midnight eyes stared into her. "I think I was reading about magical beasts and myths from the muggle world, comparing them." She didn't forget much, so Hermione knew that's exactly what she was doing. "Draco and I started talking, and then I told him about the others— Dean Thomas was there, you know, and Justin Finch-Fetchly. He didn't think they were interesting, but he liked me. He liked that I was smart, and thought it might be good for him, so he asked for me."
"He asked for you, like a puppy?"
Her cheeks burned scarlet. "Well, he didn't know any better. He was only six."
"What did his parents think of him choosing a girl as a companion?"
"They asked if he wouldn't rather have a boy, but he said I was smart, and that made me the best. Malfoys only get the best, after all. And Lord Malfoy asked me if I was resilient." She remembered staring up at the severely handsome man with eyes as sharp as glass. She remembered thinking that she should be scared, but she had never had problems with adults, only other children. Draco was somewhat of an exception. In time, Harry and Ron had warmed to her primness.
Tom brought her back to the present, asking, "And what did you say?"
"I told him I was, and that was that."
"Do you regret that decision?" It was so quiet, like the touch of his lips as they'd skimmed her own before.
"How could I, living the way I do now? Draco is incredible, and Lady Narcissa has always been kind. So, what if I've endured a little pain on the way? I don't think it'd have been better had I stayed."
He stroked through her curls and stated proudly, "You are truly extraordinary, Hermione. I see why you were placed in Gryffindor, you fiery little creature."
She blushed. "I hate that I have such a desire to prove myself worthy." Her voice softened with the admission. "I know it's a weakness, and that I cannot change the minds of others just by being better, but it's something I've always struggled with."
"It isn't weakness, my dear. It's merely the urge to make them acknowledge you, the true you. You are worthy. You are so much more than all of them, and they are just too blind and scared to open their eyes and face it. I wouldn't have chosen to elevate you if I did not see greatness there. You are second to none among those who clamor for my attentions. Regardless of blood status, you are better and worthy, and you will be by my side as we reshape the world to our vision."
He was always so beautiful like this, when passion and ambition dripped from his silver tongue. Praise was a vein of molten gold that had her melting against him, while her eyes remained wide and focused on his visage and her ears attuned only to his words. He was all-encompassing, and if she didn't know better, she'd be tempted to think it was spellcraft.
But Tom didn't need to use a charm or a potion to have her fall for him.
She had fallen long ago of her own accord.
He sighed, suddenly wistful. "It's late, love. You should get to bed."
"I don't want to go."
"I know." He cupped her cheek and drew her to hover over his lap. "However, we cannot have you getting in trouble for staying out too late. Nor should we draw attention to our relationship."
She breathed in his scent and nodded, leaning closer still.
"So be my good girl and go back to your dormitory." His lips pressed to hers at the last, and she groaned and fell against him.
Warm, she was so warm, and her skin was tight and sensitive. She wanted to part her legs, to sit properly on his lap, wanted to feel his body against hers, lay her skin on his own—
His mouth parted from hers with a masculine chuckle. "As much as I'm enjoying this, we shall have to continue another time." Tom stroked her cheek one last time. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Tom." She didn't know if the desperate whisper of her words was audible but let them lie all the same. It seemed he had stolen the breath for more, and she was left panting on her trek across the castle.