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

29|| Bishop to D2

29|| Bishop to D2

By the time that six o'clock arrives, Hermione is prepared both mentally and physically. With all that she needs in her pocket--mainly her trunk and wand--she moves out into the Common Room with nice clothing more fitting of a date. Indeed, to those watching, Hermione and Tom look to be attending a 'night out' rather than a dangerous duel between the most powerful wizards of the century. And yet, some of them know better, namely Abraxas, as Hermione meets his concerned gaze with a stoic stare and light nodding of her head. She is alright.

Tom leads them from the door in utter silence, his non-uniform clothing hugging his body in darkness, though it leaves him all the more stunning. From the collared shirt to the nice slacks that brush his feet as they move outside, Tom looks more like a pureblood heir than a half-blood orphan. But then again, with the falling sun basking her golden skin upon the path to Hogsmeade, Hermione does not look much like a muggleborn.

"We need to ensure that Dumbledore does not lose. Only if that happens should we reveal ourselves," Hermione advises, though more like orders as they move closer to an Apparition point within the dire town of Hogsmeade. And though the Dark Lord is never one to listen to others, he cannot help trusting Hermione's demanding advice simply because she is never wrong.

"I agree," Tom says, turning on his heel to face her. Her arms wraps into his, a tight grasp to ensure conjunction before he turns on his heel and they are Apparating to Lairg, Scotland. No one sees their actions, but even if they had, Tom could charm his way into assuring their silence.

Up north, it is extremely dark with the few town lights and winter still grasping to spring in these lands. Hermione's hand rests in the crook of Tom's elbow, a typical form of union back in the 1940s. Subtly checking the street, the two depart from the darkened alley to which they Apparated, seeing nothing of Grindelwald's forces or even a wizard's signature. So they move slowly, as if they are not on an important task and in need of sleep for the battle tomorrow and what could result. But it's not like they have much choice, having to look far and wide for a simple hotel where they can stay. Indeed, it is not until eight blocks have passed that they find one, walking almost the entire town before coming upon the cosy hostel.

Opening the door to the warm interior, Tom gestures for Hermione's entrance, though he does not fail to whisper smoothly in her ear all while in passing. "We're visiting family up north and are stopping here for the night. We're engaged to be married in November." Hermione fearfully feels the Gaunt ring slip onto her finger, a shiver racking her body though Tom ignores it at the time.

Looking upwards at the older male hotel keeper, Tom adorns a charming and swoon-worthy smile if only the keeper was a woman. "Good evening, sir. We were wondering if you have any open rooms with two single beds for the night."

"Of course I'do," the man responds with a kind and excitable smile, grabbing at papers around his messy desk, a vision that grinds on Hermione's nerves. "What has a young couple like you in Lairg?"

"We are stopping by on our way to visit my family. We've recently been engaged, and I'd like to tell them in person," Hermione tells the man, smiling up at Tom with a love so potent that Tom is nearly fooled, though not at all. The man stares at the two with a look of nostalgia, so blinded by their identities and the simple situation they now face.

"How sweet. Now, that'll be 30 pounds." Hermione look to Tom, his empty hand dropping into his pocket to grab for the appropriate muggle money. And though it should be an obvious investment, Hermione is surprised that he possesses such worth. Tom hands the change to the tender with a smile, the man beaming at the money and the couple. "Now, ya two have a good night."