Veal & Venison {Tomione || 1940s/1990s}

33|| Pawn to A4

33|| Pawn to A4

Tuesday brings with it a fresh day breaking on April, the sky opening up to the sun and clouds, ever breathtaking from the heart of Scotland.  And though Hermione and Tom tend to avoid the crowds, they take to sitting outside on this day, the sight being too radiant to ignore, at least in the warmer heart of Hermione.  Tom honestly could care less for the weather, but he's not likely to leave Hermione's side if he has a choice.

So, in the morning break between classes, the two bookworms are found studying upon one of the benches in the Hogwarts courtyard, their books propped on their knees and voices thick with little use.  Tom holds the Defense text, using it to quiz Hermione on the subject.  And Hermione sits with the Ancient Runes tome on her smaller knees, multitasking in order to optimize her time in Tom's company.

"What is a cockatrice made from?" Tom offers the newest question, reading from the text in his lap without moving an eye to Hermione's sure form and ready reply.

"A cockatrice comes from the hatching of a chicken egg incubated in a serpent.  It is often confused with a basilisk--which comes from a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad," she answers easily, a walking encyclopedia to the wizarding world, her knowledge having been greatly useful in the past.

"Yes," Tom says, his lean fingers flipping through the D.A.D.A. text with utter grace that beats from his toes to his fingers and to the crown of his head.

Hermione just watches him, no longer finding the Ancient Runes textbook as interesting as the man in front of her.  The light morning sun paints him in a beautiful picture, so drastically different from the darker library or Common Room's glow upon his figure.  Today, right here, he looks uniquely human, with pale skin, dark eyes, and softened features, no longer shadowed and cut in darkness.  And his body, usually the sight of perfection, looks positively scrawny from the way they are sitting, his legs extremely thin and his chest thoroughly flat.  And though most women would prefer a more fit picture, Hermione positively adores this sign of humanity, proving that Tom is not some incubus but just another mortal man.

Hermione Granger's spent the last few nights with perhaps the greatest emotional dilemma she's ever faced.  It's not like it was with Ron: him running off to Lavender for her attention while Hermione cried in the dark.  No, her attraction to Tom Riddle is positively dangerous, not petty in the least, and extremely powerful.  It is clear to everyone that Hermione and Tom are the most powerful wizards at the school--by a long shot, really--and together, they will do great things.  But Tom does not know of her past (his future), an important aspect of their reality, and one that could thoroughly change the shape of the future and their present 'relationship.'

Guilt tugs at her chest and pulls her from nightly rest, Hermione's eyes wide and mouth gaping as she feels for Harry in the future, decades ahead.  Hermione, the Boy Who Lived's best friend and the Brightest Witch of Her Age, is falling for the Dark Lord, Voldemort.  She is sure that only some Merlin-awful Muggle author could come up with such a thing, so entirely outlandish that she has a hard time believing it herself.  But it is reassured daily, with the flutters he sends into her stomach, his dark yet protective gaze over her, and their 'innocent' touches when close together.  And so, she's come to the point where it is no longer worth denying, but rather, addressing what needs to be done.

Is it truly so bad that she's falling for him?  Is that not part of her task: show Tom what kindness looks like?  Is this not part of gaining his trust?

The rhetorical questions are enough reassurance that Hermione's in the right for forming such a connection to the Dark Lord.  And yet, she still feels guilty.