The Time of a Granger (Tomione)

13|Alohomora

"I'm concerned." He spoke, eyes flicking to the other end of the bridge.

"About?" Hermione asked, a nervous utter to her voice. She lifted her arms to wrap gently around his neck.

"Grindelwald."

She allowed her fingers to fiddle with the collar of his suit coat, before drawing in a breathe and looking instead to the ravine lit by stars and covered in dangerous shadows.  "You're nervous?"

"Don't tempt me Granger." He spoke with a quip of teasing demeanor. 

"It will be alright-" she hesitated, considering if she should inform him.  "Dumbledore.  He will defeat him." 

"Can you be sure of that?" Tom asked. "You've already changed the future by being here." 

"I'm sure I'm insignificant in terms of the Grindelwald and Dumbledore rivalry.  It's personal." 

"Personal?" He quipped, she could tell he was intrigued. She had said too much. She looked to his swirling eyes. Tom Riddle had a knack for curiosity, and most often it was in areas of knowledge he ought not to know.

"Tom" Hermione cooed softly, scorning him with her eye roll. She let her palms brush his chest before dropping them. 

They both grew silent, him observing her as she moved to stand against the side of the bridge.  "I wish you wouldn't spend hours in front of that mirror."

"What do you think I see?" He questioned, a slight smirk of pain from her presumptions appearing.

Hermione looked down bashfully. Could she possibly admit she still thought of him seeking power, any power.  It was in his nature, as best as she tried to see him as otherwise. 

When she looked up he was standing close to her, his eyes hungry. She faltered, yes, faltered when his lip caught between his teeth.

She breathed out, exhaling a gasp before speaking. "I have no idea what you-"

He reached out, fingers brushing her neck. They were cold, and she tried her best not to flinch. Slowly, they traced over her collar bone, over her bare shoulder, then down the length of her sleeve, every fiber of her skin electrified where he touched.  Lightly, his fingers drew circles against her palm, pleading to interlace with her own.  Once his hand grasped hers, time was halted. It was cold. Everything was cold, heightened, yet stable.

In an instant, they were flying in a swirl of black, and the night whipped at her face, almost as plummeting on the carts of Gringotts bank.  They landed, herself underneath Tom, his forearms on either side of her. "Tom what are you?-"

He stood up, still holding her hand, pulled her to stand.  "What do you think I see in the mirror?" He asked again, almost demanding an answer.  Though Hermione grew suspicions she was about to find out.

She fluttered her eyelashes, looking up into his gaze. "I-" she began, parting her lips. 

"Turn around."

Hermione was shocked, but nonetheless obliged. She let her eyes cast on the lake in front of her, letting out a nervous breathe. She trusted him.  One hand placed gently on her waist as he stepped forward, his voice softly against her ear. "Hermione." He spoke.

"Whatever happened to Granger?" She retorted teasingly.  She could sense his smirk, as his body let out a slight shake of laughter.

"Alright." He moved his hand to the top of her back. "Granger." He whispered.  She inhaled as his fingers found the zipper of her dress. Slowly, he pulled down the mechanism until his knuckles brushed the skin at the small of her back.    She slipped out of the sleeves, and discarded the copious amounts of black material onto the ground. She turned around, his eyes roaming over every inch of her skin.