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Tom and Hermione were comfortable ensconced in their bed deep in the heart of Hogwart's Slytherin wing. McGonagall had asked Hermione if she would be comfortable there, and the young woman had responded that she would be comfortable wherever Tom was, as her proper place was by his side.
The Slytherin himself was thinking about that as he watched his wife sleeping beside him. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that he was here, that he had a wife beside him, and that the Minister of Magic was willing to hire him directly as soon as he'd finished taking his N.E.W.T.s here.
He'd been to the library earlier in the day at Hermione's insistence, and sat reading a book about his double and all the things he'd done over the years. He couldn't help but wonder how many of those things had occurred because he had somehow shattered his other self's mind when he was created, and how many happened because he, himself, would have done them if given the chance. It was mind boggling trying to sort it all out, and he gave up on it in the end.
It doesn't matter what he did before, Tom told himself. It's much more important what you do this time. More than likely, you're not getting a third chance if you muck it up this time.
Hermione stirred in his arms, and he glanced down to see that she was watching him. His heart thundered in his chest just to look at her—his beautiful angel, his little lioness, his extraordinary wife! His hand slid down her bare back and cupped her beautiful arse as her eyes went from inquisitive to carnal in a matter of seconds. Their lips met in a searing kiss, and then their tongues collided hotly as he pulled her upwards so he could kiss her more fully.
"Tom!" she gasped as his other hand found her breast and his fingers pinched the nipple. Their bodies seemed to melt right into each other, and his cock entered her with reckless need.
Hermione wrapped her legs up and around the back of his waist, pulling him in so deep he thought he would die, and they pounded together as never before. Her name left his lips with almost every thrust, and by the time they were finished his whole body was shaking with all the emotions he'd been holding in check since he had shattered his past.
He thought about what Potter had said the other day about that disease that made your emotions go to extremes, and figured if it was an issue he had, this would be a prime example. He doubted he could get much more euphoric than he was right now if he tried. However, since he couldn't imagine what would produce the other extreme anymore these days, perhaps it didn't matter.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked him as she gazed up into his eyes.
"Harry Potter, of all things," he answered with a chuckle. "I really did do a number on his family, didn't I?"
"You didn't do anything of the sort," she reminded him.
"But might I have done, if I hadn't come here and launched a raving lunatic on the masses," he pointed out. "I tell you, I'll have to live with everything that monster did my whole life, no matter that I didn't perpetrate the crimes myself. It will be difficult to get others to see me as anything but a monster."
"I don't see you that way, and I certainly knew the other guy," Hermione pointed out. "Besides, by the time he got brought back from the dead mixed with some sort of a snake, there wasn't much of you left in him at all."
"You're just trying to make me feel better," Tom grumbled.
Hermione sighed and laid her chin on his chest. "Are you just nervous because our last test is tomorrow?"
"Of course not," he scoffed. "You and I both know I'll pass with flying colors. It's just that I have no idea what it's going to be like once I start at the Ministry. You know that I hate practically everything they stand for, and would love nothing more than to see their downfall. It's going to be very strange to become one of them instead."
Hermione chuckled. "Well, if you're going to spread subversion and descent, at least try to do it in a manner that doesn't let on just how subversive you really are," she pointed out. Tom pulled a face at her and shook his head, putting one hand behind his neck as he rubbed her back with the other.
"You know something, Mione? You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he told her. "You've actually taught me how to laugh at myself. I think that lesson was long overdue."
"You're probably right," she said with a yawn as she settled herself more comfortably in the crook of his arm. "Now get some sleep, Mr. Riddle, or you're going to end up with the worst grade ever. I know you wouldn't be able to deal with that too well. I wonder if 'Perfectionists Are Us' needs a spokesman."
"Ha, if they did, we'd probably compete for the job," he mentioned, and the two burst into fits of giggles over the thought.
"Maybe they could use more than one?" she suggested wryly, and Tom kissed her again just to shut her up.
"I don't know why I even bothered to set the timer, considering the students in question," said Minerva as both Tom and Hermione handed in their work at the same time well before the end of the session. "You two may as well go off to lunch while I grade these, and meet me back here for your results later today."
"Thank you, Professor," said Tom as he shook her hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes as they shared a glance that seemed more friendly than it should. She shook herself mentally, and reminded herself that they used to go to school together. Surely they had known each other in some way back then, though Hermione had no idea in what manner.
"Yes, thanks, Professor McGonagall," she added as she gave the woman a hug. "I believe I'm going to miss you."
"As I will miss you, my dear," she answered. "Make sure you keep that rascal in line. He can be quite a handful."
"I will," she said, feeling unaccountably jealous as she took her husband's arm.
In the hall, she stopped him abruptly. "Tom, I need to ask you something."
"What is it, love?" he asked as he turned to her with an indulgent smile.
"Were you and McGonagall ever lovers?"
Tom's expression fell as he looked at her dumbly for a moment. "Did she tell you that?" he asked curiously.
"No, I just feel it," Hermione admitted.
"She was my first time, Mione, and I was hers," he admitted softly. "You knew I'd been with other girls before you, why does it bother you?"
"I—I don't know. I can't help it, I can just feel it when you're around each other, like there's still some energy there that hasn't been resolved."
Tom laughed at this. "Trust me, my darling, that ended a long time ago, and I'm with you. I will never have a need for anyone else but you ever again. And I mean that most sincerely."
Hermione blushed hotly as he pulled her into his arms and proceeded to show her just how sincere he was. Even though they were out in the hall with students passing by, he was not the least bit chaste in his embrace, and Hermione's wayward body was more than willing to overlook the
fact.
Minerva stepped out of her office and found them there, locked in each other's arms. "I say, didn't I provide a room for that, you two?" she chided.
"Sorry, Minerva," said Tom with a chuckle. "We'll just be going now."
"Sorry, Professor," Hermione chimed in, and they walked off arm in arm as the older woman watched after them.
"He always was a good kisser," she commented with a shake of her head. Then she got a look in her eyes, the same wistful look she'd had the other day, and produced a Patronus straight away. "I need to see you right now," she said into it, and sent it on its way.
"What is it, Minerva?" asked Hagrid as he popped in a few moments later. He saw the tears collecting at the sides of her eyes and stepped forward to wipe at them with concern.
"It's nothing, Hagrid, I just felt a need to talk to someone who—well, who might understand," she said with a little smile. "It's been rather difficult having Tom Riddle about, as you might guess, but to see him young and strong and truly in love in a way we never were, it's a bit painful, I must admit."
"Is it Tom you're missing, or is it the old man?"
"I—I don't know what you mean," Minerva said circumspectly.
"Minerva, I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of 'em," he said as he took her into a big bear hug. "You haven't been the same at all since Dumbledore died, and we both know it."
"That's preposterous, Hagrid," she scoffed. "The man was forty years older than me."
"And Hermione's husband is still wet behind the ears, and the two of you never got on from the very beginning," he pointed out. "We used to take bets on which one of you would kill the other first. Now, do you want to stand here and talk about a silly girlish crush that didn't even last a year, or do you want to talk about what's really bothering you?"
"And what might that be?" she inquired.
"The love that lasted a lifetime, perhaps?"
"I think I could use a butterbeer," she said on a sigh. "Will you come with me?"
"Course I will," he agreed. "I'm sure no one will even notice we're gone."
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