#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
The next day, an especially warm winter day, finds Tom and Hermione following a similar schedule as the day before: studying, eating, and then training. Both find great comfort in the mundane schedule as a student, choosing to follow the schooling pattern for their break, subconsciously yet without complaint. And though there are more people about, they choose to eat in the Slytherin Common Room rather than in the Great Hall, avoiding conversation with Slughorn in a silent agreement of wishes.
After lunch, they take to the Room of Requirement, looking the same as the day prior though reminding both parties of the changes in their relationship. They are closer in an understanding of one another, but to this, 'relationship' is not a fitting term. It is still strictly friendship and business, not wishing for more but understanding each other better than anyone else in their lives. It is easy, when it comes down to the schematics, to understand this, given their yearn for knowledge, strong convictions, heartfelt loyalties, and difficult pasts. If anyone would have considered it, this might have been predicted perfectly. Maybe Dumbledore did.
Tom rises from his couch in the Room of Requirement, intent in his search for Hermione's study as he looks at the shelves of old books on dark creatures. Brushing his fingers across them, the Dark Lord comes across the text of his interest, moving to pull it from the shelf before remembering Hermione's notoriety of knowing everything through personal experience, or so it would seem.
"I might as well ask you this beforehand: have you ever been acquainted with a werewolf?" Tom questions, the lycanthropic book still beneath his lean fingers though he makes no move to grab it from the shelf. Rather, he stares at the tome, its old age playing with dust and tempting him to sneeze in a mortal reaction he despises.
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"Yes," Hermione says from the couch with an air of composure, watching as Tom's head shakes and he sighs wearily, as if her knowledge of everything is killing him. She grins at the boy, chuckling slightly, although Hermione is proud that she knows so much more than he does. "I apologize for my continual ruining of your lessons." She does not mean it.
"No. It is fine," Tom says, removing his hand from the cover of the book before pacing back towards her. He takes a graceful seat on the leather couch across from her, crossing his legs and leaning back, though still postured in his state. "But now you've got me interested. Spin me a tale." His hand waves as if he is doing just that.
Hermione smiles at him, one of the first in many days given that they often show smirks and grins, but nothing of genuinely joyous intentions. "This one is actually happy...We were hunting an escaped convict from a wizarding prison at the time. One of our leaders was a werewolf--as the adults knew, but not the kids. We had caught ourselves in a dilemma with the convict in a run-down shack, after having been led astray by a rat. Turns out, the rat was a follower of the Dark Lord and the dog seen around the fort was the convict himself, godfather of my friend. The two Animagus knew each other from their conjoined childhood and tried to kill each other while I watched, scared for my life. Then--as it turns out--the werewolf arrived, knowing both the Animagus as old friends. It became more cramped as our instructor stormed in, trying to protect me and my two friends while the three--werewolf, dog, and rat--argued. That night happened to be one of a full moon, so as the werewolf transformed, the convict shifted into his Animagus, protecting us. One of my friends was run into a lake nearby, where he was nearly killed by Dementors, along with the convict, before being saved by a stag Patronus."
