Misunderstood Maledictions | Tomione

Congratulations, Nefertari

"You could say that," Hermione muttered, trying to make her racing heart slow down. The tension in her neck and back inadvertently began to ease, but she was too inundated with pure shock at the handsome heir in front of her.

Wanting to kick herself, she quickly racked her brain for a small talk conversation starter. "Erm... how did the tour go over?"

Tom gave a tiny shrug of his shoulders, his gray eyes never leaving her warm brown ones. "Of course they all adored it, Nefertari. Your shameless use of every advanced decoration charm since the creation of the wand left every one of them in awe."

Phyllis Hardiman and Jacobson Andrews whirled by, intentionally slowing their pace behind Tom. Catching Hermione's gaze, Phyllis nodded at the Head Boy and gave Hermione a sly wink and a discreet thumbs-up before the two good-natured Gryffindors twirled off again. She wanted to tell them it wasn't like that desperately. She felt her face go hot.

Hastily, she returned her gaze to Tom and modestly mirrored his shrug. "Oh you know it wasn't that much."

"Oh, but it was." His eyes suddenly moved downward, and he seemed to be momentarily gauging the stability in her steps before he opened up his hold, maneuvering her in a careful circle. "You did some of these charms by your third or fourth try. That's incredibly difficult to do."

A slight smile made its way onto Hermione's face at his slight praise, but she shrugged again, her now-relaxed mind beginning to tense up again. She had long since realized how remarkably easily spells that should have been extremely difficult were becoming for her. Almost in a reflex, she glanced down at the half-hidden Amulet of Eras, frowning thoughtfully, albeit relievedly, when she noticed that it was no longer glowing.

Without wasting a moment, Hermione decided to steer the conversation toward something much more superficial, and, therefore, much more safe. Smile still on her face, she lightly placed a hand on his chest to slow him as they reached a relatively cleared end of the floor. Releasing his hand, she reached up and pretended to straighten his dark dress robes, brushing off imaginary dust on his shoulders. "For feeling awful yesterday, you certainly cleaned up rather well."

Hermione mentally cringed at the gross understatement.

Tom Riddle had not cleaned up rather well; he had cleaned up incredibly well. Fake snowflakes had begun to dot throughout his thick, soft, almost meticulously groomed hair. He had let a few loose stands frame his face making him look more youthful and striking. His skin, or, at least his face, although still noticeably thin, had lost its sickly, ashen pallor. His calculating, intelligent eyes no longer appeared exhausted, somehow, but completely...alive.

The Slytherin, however, hardly blinked in response. The music slowly faded into a new song. "I'm sure that any compliment of mine would hardly compare to the rest of the compilation you've undoubtedly received tonight."

Hermione let out a dignified little snort and turned her head away, absently scrutinizing the banquet table immediately to her right. Her stomach, which had not held food for a long time, practically begged her to stuff multiple custard pastries in her mouth.

Of course, she couldn't exactly expect the Heir of Slytherin to go throwing out compliments like they were confetti. Oddly, though, she was surprised to find that there, floating in the corner of her mind, was a tinge of ...disappointment. Hermione slipped her hand back into Tom's, allowing him to expertly sweep her towards the edge of the dance floor. Their movements were so graceful that several of the younger students actually moved out of their way, just watching, as both Tom and Hermione appeared to be moving in one smooth, unbroken horizontal line with an occasional up curve or down dip.