The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVII:

Hermione's POV:

The Easter holidays weren't exactly what Hermione would call relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework and poor Harry had had Quidditch practice every day for hours at a time.

The whole school was obsessed with the Quidditch final which was to be held the weekend after Easter and Hermione was sick of listening to everyone talk about it all the damn time. More and more she found herself retreating to abandoned classrooms where Tom could come out to keep her company as she poured over both her school and extracurricular work. She'd even managed to talk the older boy into sparring with her and after a few hours of repeatedly slamming him into the floor Tom had picked up enough so that as long as she didn't pull out her knives he could put up a semi-decent fight– there might be a large margin of difference in their skill levels but Tom wasn't afraid of fighting dirty or using his greater strength against her and he knew where to aim to hurt the most and read body language like an open book, anticipating her moves before she landed them by viewing the fight as a series of cause-effect reactions of the human body and reacting accordingly.

It was thrilling to be able to let loose; she didn't have to go easy and Tom and he didn't want her to. She could use her full strength, lash out at him with all she had, and on top of that she enjoyed watching Tom fight; she enjoyed watching inherent grace of his movements, the shift of his muscles and the shine of his sweat. And Tom didn't hold back, didn't hesitate to hurt her, to smack her around or crush her to the ground; he treated her like she was an equal and she loved it. Fighting with him was like dancing on broken glass; she'd come away bloodied but with a buzz in her veins, her muscles singing from use and pleasure flooding her nerve endings. And if there were times that she let Tom pin her to the floor just to feel the hot weight of him pressed to her back, well, that was her business.

They duelled too, sometimes. Hermione didn't enjoy it as much, didn't enjoy the lack of true physicality to it, but there was something truly stunning about Tom with a wand in his hand. It was easy to see how he'd ended up as Voldemort, a wizard so powerful that even after his 'death' people were too scared to say his name. Every victory she'd had against Tom while they sparred, he took out on her hide when they duelled and just like he wouldn't have thanked her for going easy on him during their spars, he never went easy on her either and she was glad for it.

Harry joined them when he had a spare moment, which admittedly wasn't often. He preferred to watch then join in, usually too exhausted and sore from Quidditch practice to get any enjoyment out of forcing himself to participate, but Hermione didn't mind that– she liked having him there, liked the feel of his eyes on her as she pinned Tom to the ground with her knees on his back or when she was trading curses with the older boy at a faster pace then she breathed.

She felt greedy and possessive and she didn't care, because in those moments the attention of both her boys was on her and she coveted that feeling, craved it like the oxygen she breathed. She wanted them, wanted both of them, her beautiful boys; her sweet, darling Harry, with his love, his loyalty, his kindness and his fierce protective spirit, and Tom, her vicious, clever Tom who radiated power and superiority and casual cruelty, like a black panther showing off its teeth as it prowled lazily around its helpless, cornered prey.

She wanted her boys but for the moment she contented herself with the knowledge that they were still hers, even if they weren't intimate; neither Tom or Harry looked at anyone but her or each other, they orbited each other without even realising– a solar system of three. And for now that was enough to satisfy her.

As the Quidditch match drew closer, getting away with Tom and Harry became more difficult and Hermione became unwilling to leave Harry alone as members of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams began to be targeted in the corridors. At first Harry had been having a particularly tough time of it, being unable to walk to class without Gryffindors sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up. Hermione had, however, firmly discouraged such behaviour by using bone-crushing curses on three of the saboteurs, leaving them screaming in agony, curled up on the corridor floors with splintered shins. She'd used the acacia wand so that when the professors tested her vine wand, they were unable to prove she was responsible.