The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Preparations

A/N: I apologise for any mistakes I have missed. This chapter also contains some mature adult situations.

Hermione POV

One week later (Approximately 81 days lost in time)

I wake to the sound of glass clinking and the pounding of the pestle in the mortar. I crack an eye open but remain snuggled in the pillows and blankets. I watch Tom- laser-focused as he grounds something while skimming one of the multiple books he has open on that small table. The cauldron is bubbling away, and a peculiar smell is emanating from it permeates the room. I bury my face down into Tom's pillow and inhale a deep breath. The usual spicy scent- perhaps allspice or cloves? An earthy aroma that my olfactory sense delights in.

I decided that after last night's mishap- I am nineteen after all I can make my own choices. That I best make an appearance and help Malia with the preparations for our journey to Toulouse. I throw back the covers, lamenting having to leave the warmth of the bed to get ready for the day. The only thing about having to share such an enclosed space with Tom was lack of privacy, especially when having to use the chamber pot or washing in the tub that also doubled as the laundry and kitchen sink. However, I managed to string up a sheet from the roof, so we had some semblance of privacy- because I was not ready for Tom to see me naked. I had had the odd vessel dilating fantasy, but I seriously needed to tramp down those desires. We were on a precipice. While that fantastic fumble of a kiss out by the fence was- world tilting and revealed our feelings to a degree- acting on it again made me panic. There was still so much to get passed before I would feel comfortable having my heart in his hands. He was so intense with everything that he did, his words from last week have been haunting me. I shudder at the thought of the 'monster' inside him that simultaneously hungers and longs to suffocate me. I don't want to be someone's possession. I want a partner- intimacy. Tom didn't strike me as someone who dealt in halves; he was all or nothing. Was I ready for that? Was he? I doubted Tom had ever been in a relationship, did he even know what that entails? I exhale slowly now was not the time to brood over Tom's relationship history.

I stretched and squeezed past Tom to get to the tub on the floor to wash my face and brush my teeth. Tom does not acknowledge my presence, most likely still grumpy from last night's heated encounter. I came back to the wagon very late after spending time with Malia, her husband, Johan and Mathais. I was a little drunk. I found Tom fuming and waiting up like an angry parent. I reminded him again that he is not my parental figure, and there was no need to scold me like a child. To which he replied rather angrily like he was irritated that the words were forthcoming,

"No parent alive should have the thoughts I have about you", I remember gaping like a fish, my brain unable to formulate a response. It did spark something in me that burned hot- lust. If I were more drunk or confident, I would have pounced on him right then. I snorted at that; I doubted Tom was the kind of man that could be distracted by sex- I could practically hear his voice in my head saying I don't give in to my base desires. Now that my brain isn't pickled from the alcohol- whatever those gypsies brewed, it was strong- I am a little embarrassed and straight-up angry at Tom.

Ten minutes later and still unacknowledged, I was slipping my shoes on ready to go back to Malia's wagon when Tom finally spoke.

"Where are you going?" he snapped at me, slamming down the glass vial so hard I was surprised it didn't shatter in his hand upon impact. His sharp countenance was rubbing against my already foul mood like sandpaper across skin.

"Back to Malia's, there's stuff I -"

"I don't want you around Mathais."

I narrowed my eyes; he had a challenge in his blue orbs that I was more than happy to rise too.