𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⟶ 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆

CHAPTER ELEVEN

11 | the daily prophet

𝟷𝟶 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟺

HERMIONE SAT ALONE at the table in the back of the library near the Restricted Section, away from other students. She held a book in her hands. She had left Abraxas and Alphard in the classroom the minute she had finished altering their memories of their encounter. She did not regret doing it; she only regretted that she had to attack them in order to do it. She came to consider them her friends—even allies if it ever came to that.

"Trouble in paradise?" a voice asked from behind a bookshelf.

She spun around.

Tom was there. The two buttons of his white oxford shirt were unbuttoned while his sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbows, baring an expanse of pale skin to her brown eyes. He wound his way toward the other side of the table and her stomach flipped when he bent down to rest his arms on the chair across from her.

"What makes you say that?"

"You've been reading the same sentence for five minutes," he remarked, nudging his chin at the book in her hands.

Her brows rose. "You've been watching me."

He did not answer her but his dark blue eyes glittered.

She stared at him, her mouth parted, unsure of what to say next.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to sit?" she said instead.

His lips tilted upwards before sliding gracefully into the chair. He stared at the book in her hands. "That book you're reading...it's written in runes."

Hermione glanced down. The title was written tunes and yet she understood it as it stared back at her; The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was a small book that looked as ancient as the copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art in her room. Its binding was stained and peeling in places. There was a tear splashed onto the embossed symbols.

"Yes," said Hermione. "A friend left it to me in his will. He said he hopes that I find it entertaining and instructive."

"This friend of yours...?" he asked with mild hesitation. "Was he killed during your escape to Britain?"

She glanced at him, studying his face. "He was killed long before we escaped. His death marked the beginning of the worst for us because we were betrayed by someone we thought had his whole trust—his loyalty. This friend believed in him even though the rest of us didn't."

"His loyalty lies somewhere else," Tom supplied and she nodded.

"I don't know why but..." Hermione began, her fingers grazing the runic titles. "I get the feeling that there's more to this book. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough." she laughed. "Or maybe he just knows I like books."

Tom paused to examine the book in her hands. "What could he possibly hide inside a children's story book?"

Hermione shrugged. She knew there was something inside this book that held something—for he would not have left it to her as for the Deluminator to Ron and the snitch to Harry.

"Where were you this morning?" the Head Boy asked her.

"With Harry and Ron."

He went quiet for a while before he said to her, "Those two." His voice was calm but it held a certain edge of curiosity. "Do they have your loyalty?"

Hermione froze, her fingers stilling on the pages of her book but she was quick to recover—trying to appear unaffected by answering him calmly. "Of course. They are my first friends. I would always be loyal to them."