"Stay a moment, Hermione. I would like to discuss something with you."
The air was still tense between her and Tom, but she was trying to gather courage to speak with him about what she'd found when she slept while wearing the ring.
After spending the majority of a weekend with Memory Tom, Hermione had begun setting aside the golden ring before bed every night lest she accidentally trigger an event.
That seemed to be when whatever it was happened most easily, though she once slipped into the memory world while idly daydreaming in the library.
However, as long as she was aware, she could resist its strange pull. It was between the hook of a portkey and the dizzying fall into a Pensieve, yet like neither at once, and she quickly learned to recognize the sensation and steel herself against it.
It seemed she could block it as easily as a thought, and so she wore the ring during the day to avoid any questions from her professor.
"Yes, Tom?" It was after the club meeting. They made quick work of righting the room, all of four wand movements from the professor needed, then he turned to Hermione.
"I wanted to discuss next year with you. You see, I've spoken with Horace, and he has agreed to allow you a unique opportunity."
Hermione swallowed thickly and leaned closer to him, her amber eyes wide at the appealing combination of words. "What kind of opportunity?"
"Well," he started, eyes sly and slitted. "Well, you would no longer be my student—"
"What? But I haven't even sat my NEW—"
He lifted a hand to slice through her panic. "Because you would be my assistant. I've convinced Horace that these last two years have been enough to set you ahead of your year. You could easily pass now, and having you practice the same exercises as the others would be a disservice."
"What about my other classes?" she intoned.
Tom chuckled and reached into his robes. Out came a long, gold chain with a little hourglass on it. She gasped and reached out, but he held it away from her. "This will be used only under my supervision, but you will be allowed to attend all your classes and mine. However, those are the only additional hours you will be given." She barely held in her groan. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Tom. I understand." Hermione sighed.
He tucked the glinting gold away from her avaricious eyes. "Good girl. You will also be expected to eat and sleep, preferably three meals and six to eight hours a night."
"You're a harsh taskmaster."
Tom took her chin in hand. "You've no idea, my dear."
She blushed hotly in his grip; when he released her, she fell onto an empty seat spelled from behind a desk. "What about my prefect duties?"
"You are one of the most organized individuals I have ever met, darling. I'm sure you'll be fine." He conjured a sofa and tugged her onto it with him, planting a kiss to the tender flesh behind her ear. "You know what this means, yes?"
Her lashes fluttered and her breath stuttered. "No?"
"You'll no longer be my student once you've finished your exam next week." His wet tongue left a cool trail in its wake. "You shall visit me as soon as you're done with them. Won't you?"
"Yes," she breathed. She would agree with anything he said when he was so gentle, so delicious.
Long fingers tickled across her chest, skimming the ring that hung by her breasts. "I truly can't wait, my love, to show you what you mean to me. My patience, usually boundless, is nigh worn out having waited for you. You have no idea the power you have in this world, my sweet—"
"Hermione?"
The familiar voice was higher than Tom's, more nasally, and she had heard every iteration of its changing over time since she was six years old. Hermione bolted upright; Tom's hands slipped from her and, unbeknownst to her, he was still as a serpent readying his venomous strike.
"Draco."
They stared at one another, her in front of their professor, curls still mussed and cheeks flooded, and he with a white face and his silver eyes round as sickles. His gaze flicked to Tom, then over her, and he turned on his heel, and left.
Her stomach dropped. "Draco, wait," she called, and began to lunge after him, but her robes caught on something and she froze. When she turned to see Tom had plucked at her, she frowned. "I need to go after him."
"I doubt he will tell anyone, Hermione," he said. "He's as pragmatic as any Slytherin."
"I need to go after him," she reiterated. "He doesn't understand—"
"And you think he will? Hermione, it was exactly what it looked like, you and I together, wasn't it?"
"But—"
"Darling, do you think he wants to hear it right now?"
"He might tell Harry or—"
Tom's midnight eyes were flat as he said, "He won't say a word to anyone, not yet. Let him cool down first."
His gaze didn't soften until she nodded, then he tugged her back into his arms. "This is such a mess," she murmured against his throat.
"I know," he agreed as he combed through her silken curls. "We'll get through it, love."
She stayed in his arms until it was nearly curfew, then he walked her to Gryffindor Tower. There was an air of pleasure about him, like a cat with cream, but she hadn't thought he disliked Draco. He'd never mentioned anything about her best friend before.
She trudged up the stairs to her dorm, stripped the ring on its string from her throat, all the while thinking on what she might say to Draco to convince him everything was fine, on why Tom was so content, and why everything felt utterly off.
Draco was avoiding her. Oh, he would greet her in the mornings when they were with the others, and he talked to her about classes when they were paired in them, but other than that, he was mysteriously absent any time Hermione wanted to talk about what he'd witnessed.
It took three entire days for her to stalk him to his common room one evening; he thought she'd already gone to bed, but Hermione knew that was the only way she'd catch him without an excuse, so she had pardoned herself early to read in bed.
"We need to talk."
Draco's pale eyes bulged at her sudden appearance. His wand was aloft, but no spell fell while he took in her harried presence. "Hermione, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"
"I am trying ," she enunciated through magically-perfected teeth, "to initiate a conversation, one you clearly would like to delay."
"I don't think there's anything to talk about." His gaze flitted askance to belie his position.
"I just wanted to clarify a few things," she began, ignoring his claim.
"Hermione," he tried again, "I—"
"You've got the wrong idea. Tom and I— I mean, Professor Riddle, we aren't, you know —"
"It bloody well looked like you were about to ' you know, '" he huffed.
"Not at all! He'd never, not while I'm his student," she protested, but Draco was unimpressed by the argument. "Look, could we go somewhere a little more private for this conversation?"
Draco crossed his arms, his wand against one bicep. "I don't think this is necessary."
"It is when you won't let me defend myself," she retorted.
"So you admit there's something that needs defending." His pale brows rose. "I suppose Harry would find that comforting."
His sarcasm aside, Hermione's expression darkened. "I am attempting a civil conversation, Draco. Do not make me regret not bodybinding you and forcing you to listen."
"Now, you're threatening me. You almost sound like Aunt Bellatrix. She would defend him to the death, you know. That should have been my first inkling something was wrong with him."
It stirred her own doubts and insecurities so that her vision bled until all she saw was red. "I am nothing like that horrid, despicable woman."
"When you talk about him, you sound like her. Hermione, if you would just—"
"He's using her, Draco, using her for her contacts. He despises her as well. And he genuinely cares for me—"
"He's lied to you for years, you know; he lies to everyone—"
"He wants to help me—"
"—is using you—"
"He is not!"
Her voice rang out at the end, loud and final as it cut through his own and that of several other students who were traipsing down to the Hufflepuff common room before curfew. They stopped mid-step, glanced between her and Draco, and turned to one another in furious whispers.
Draco released a long-suffering sigh. "I love you like my own blood, but you are infatuated, and it is neither healthy nor safe. You need to get away from him before it's too late."
With that, he passed her and disappeared from sight.
Heat pricked at her eyes and Hermione's chest ached at the pain Draco's heavy disappointment had shadowed over her. She swallowed down her tears and held her head high as she passed the gaggle of Hufflepuffs, but once they were behind her, her steps quickened and tears overwhelmed her.
Notes:
Currently updating once a week until I either can't keep up the pace, or the story is done. Considering I have more than 80 chapters written, I'm hoping it's the latter.
Patrons are up to 78 right now and I'm updating there two to three times a week there as able.