Chapter Text
'You are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today'
- Time, Pink Floyd
-x-
Her first instinct was to run.
As the Centaurs dispersed, grumbles and mutters, but they followed the rule of their Leaders and sunk back into the trees, as though they'd never been with them at all.
As though there had never been anything at all.
But they had, and they'd dropped a bomb.
Metaphorically, perhaps literally if Hermione's head was anything to go off.
And so, she wanted to bolt, it reminded her of when the Snatchers had been chasing them, echoes of 'Run!' shouting through her head, to throw herself forward and sprint until her lungs burned, her arms and legs ached and she was far, far, away from here, from this.
From Tom.
The exact opposite of how she'd been feeling just moments earlier.
But that flight instinct was strong in her, like a deer in the headlights, ready to bolt for the trees, almost skittish, one foot placed behind her, ready to circle and run, hide, run, flee.
Flee.
"Don't"
His voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke, gentle, like coaxing forward a wounded animal, scared and shaking, a hand of his reached for her, ready to grab her, cage her.
She couldn't see the own wild look in her eyes, tinged with fear, that soft brown filled with worry.
"Hermione" He repeated, a firm edge to the softness, but still gentle.
That scared her most of all.
She ran.
She didn't make it far.
Her feet pounded into the floor, her arms pumped hard, she vaulted the first log that blocked her way without pause, without hesitation, without stopping.
She couldn't stop.
She had to get away, she had to run, she had to hide, she had to flee, she had to …
She could not get caught, he knew, he knew she was here from a different time, he knew she held secrets in her head he'd want to pry out, he knew he could crack her brain open like a melon and feast on her secrets, he knew.
Getting caught was not an option, getting caught meant it was over.
The kisses, the perfect day, the complete and utter contentment she felt in his arms as she'd never felt with another before, none of it mattered if he turned out the same, if he saw the threats of the future, if he became Lord Voldemort, if he turned into that twisted morphed thing.
If he chose that over her.
To her he'd just been Tom, Tom was who she understood, Tom she could like, Tom she could …
Not Voldemort, not him, twisted and insane, and glimpse at a future she gave that could steer him there…
Or any chance of seeing a boy named Harry to be his doom and what he would do.
If Tom pried the secret of Harry from her mind and killed him she'd die screaming, she'd rather be subject to crucio for hours, she'd rather die over and over in agony.
Anything but Harry.
But worse was the fear she'd break, that he'd see her loveable best friend and a prophecy in her mind, that he'd crack through before she went insane and her brain became mush.
Anything but Harry.
And so, she ran.
She did not make it far.
She was never going to.
The breath was knocked out of her in a woosh, as he caught her from behind, arms around her waist, and gentler than she'd imagined, and more than he thought she deserved, with a yank, a pull, firm hands on her waist, he had her up against a tree, boxed in, towering over her, eyes fixed on hers.
His eyes, so cold and flat to everyone else, never betraying anything, but even a hint, were full of fire for her, not a suggestion, not a glimpse, but full.
His dark brown, almost black, to her smudged brown, almost golden, a link.
She tried to turn her head to the side, but his hand cupped the back of her neck, strong not harsh, but firm, pulling her back to look at him, in the eye, eye to eye, she tried to shut hers, she wouldn't let him in, she couldn't, but his other hand found her waist, grabbed at it, and she gasped in response, eyes flying open against her will at his yank of her.
"Let me go" She ground out, those same eyes filling with tears now, how had this day gone so wrong? From counting the stars together to pulling away from him, to moments in his lap to shoving him away to no avail, to feeling she could trust him with anything to barely being able to look at him.
How had it all gone so wrong?
It felt like a betrayal, to what they'd shared, but she'd betray Tom a thousand times over before she betrayed Harry.
And with only a glance she could.
"Never" He almost growled out, possessiveness and fury abound in his tone, it reminded her of when they'd first met, his wand to her throat, her hiss back to him, she'd always met fire with fire, until now, until she feared her fire might reveal something.
What could she tell him without meaning to? What could she betray? Who?
"I won't" She said furiously, that fire sparking again now, Hermione Granger was no meek doe, ready to lay down and bleat, she pushed against him, even as it proved useless, even as he squeezed the back of her neck gently, pushed her hips back against the tree, boxed her in with his, a rush of something up her spine, to be pressed against her, all against her.
She didn't think she'd ever been this close to a boy before, not like this.
Not with this tingling in her spine.
But she couldn't, she couldn't let him in, not know he knew, before there'd been a small risk something slipped, but now he knew, now he could look for what he wanted, now he could go searching and come up gold.
Like a rich King pillaging the expanse of her mind, to go hunting for treasure.
And what treasure he would find.
Treasure abound.
"Look at me" He almost hissed, and a sob left her lips, for it all to go so wrong so quickly, had she been a fool to think it wouldn't come to this? Had she been an idiot to think this could be avoided? Were the tears trickling down her cheeks like traitors the cries of an idiot girl who had underestimated this outcome?
"I can't" She said, as she let out another sob, Toms grasp on her waist eased, and his thumb found her cheek then, from her neck, he smoothed a tear away, and she let out a little hiccup, she was fire and fury but that was easy to turn into tears and despair, what would she do? What could she do?
Lose the one person she had here? The one person she'd been comfortable with across times? The only person she'd ever been this happy with?
The only person she'd ever thought truly understood her?
Was she giving that up? True understanding? And not expected to cry in the face of that, weep in the eye of such a loss, surely even a greater woman would.
"Hermione" His voice was ever so soft again, an impatient edge smothered away like a candle snuffed out, but she shook her head again, even as he wiped away another tear, a ghost of his thumb so tender she wanted to throw herself into his arms.
Could she ever do so again?
Was she a traitor for wanting to?
"Hermione" He murmured then, leaned in closer, his forehead pressing to hers, tipping to her, close, that connection, did he feel it too? The deep contentment, the joy, the hysteria almost of finding someone else who understood? And having that potentially ripped away? Would he weep too?
Would they weep together as the Centaurs listened?
"Open your eyes" He said, in a hushed whisper, the forest had fallen quiet now, dark and solemn. A fog drifted over the floor, tree branches swayed over head in the gentle breeze, the stars peeking through gaps in the leaves, rare as they were, it was picturesque, and no creatures dared approach in the face of Toms power, Hermiones too.
And in the moment they shared, lovers stealing something precious threatening to leave them.
Not that Tom would ever let it.
"I-" She began again, but he cut her off.
She gasped again, this time as he spoke.
"Mine are shut"
Hers flew open, there was no hesitation, no question of being deceived, she should have been more cautious but she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him, wanted to believe these past weeks, these moments, counting stars, hadn't been false, and as hers flew open, blinking once, twice to adjust to the starlight she so hoped she hadn't been duped.
And yet she found Tom, head tipped to hers, breathing her in, eyes shut.
Another little gasp, her hands coming up to cup his face, her fingers fluttering over his ears, his eyes closed, so close to her she could count the delicate veins mapping his eyelids. He was here, he was showing her something, an intent, a truth, and she spoke then, tears drying smudged on her cheeks, but for now no more followed.
"Will you look in my head?" A whisper so solemn, so quiet, only he being so close, tipped to her, could hear.
"I want to" Honesty was good, if he'd just offered empty reassurances she'd have known he was lying, she'd have flinched and shut hers, instead, this honest admission kept hers open, and her heart thudding so fast, hopeful.
"But … " He hesitated then, something she'd never seen him do before. He was usually so sure, so in belief of himself, to hear him pause, to hear him stop, to think, to gather ground, it stole something from her, something he owned now, something of hers that belonged just to him.
What was passing back and forth between them that night?
How much of them were they giving to one another? Freely or not?
How much of them would be left?
"I won't" She could hear it for the truth it was, no hint of a lie in his voice, she could never be sure, but wasn't this what he was asking of her, especially as he added, "I swear it, not unless you invite me, I swear Hermione"
She had no idea why he was doing this, why presented with such a gift he didn't take it, like a pirate looking for gold, instead he was here, eyes shut, breathing her in, offering her … offering her truth and a promise so precious it settled in her heart.
And stayed.
But she did have an idea didn't she? Didn't she know?
He was doing it for her.
And that realization had her smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones, cut from glass, and then over his eyelids, ever so gentle she nudged him to open them, and with a tremble, but no hesitation, she kept his black gaze as he opened them to look directly into hers.
A link.
A link he didn't use.
"You matter more" He said ever so quietly, as they met, forehead to forehead, gaze to gaze, Tom to Hermione, them. "Always"
"Don't ever betray me" She said in a rush, so quick it was rushed from her lips, but she had to say it, her gaze meeting his now, no more tears came now.
They would, eventually, she'd learn.
"Never"
Was she a fool for believing him?
Yes.
But he was a fool for promising.