morte neta [t.r + h.g]

...

She's been working at the bookshop for six months when he finally tells her about a gig.

It takes her another week to ask him what music he plays.

Tom says he's in an Indie Rock band.

Hermione instantly think of him slowly fucking her against a wall down a dark alley, pining her to the bricks as some Arctic Monkeys song blasts from the nearby pub.

But Tom doesn't perform in pubs anymore.

Not that he told her that.

And it's not like he hasn't had the exact same fantasy, holding her hands above her head as he kisses the column of her neck, making her bite on her lips until she can't suppress the moan, and keeping those wrists pinned down to the wall for every damned second.

But it's his music that plays in the background, because that's what they always play outside the venues as the fans leave, and he knows he'll hear it from the alley behind the stage.

It took a whole year for her to ask him what the band was called.

A customer dropped one of the books when they heard their conversation. Hermione didn't know why the girl was so worked up over Tom's indie rock band 'Morte Nera'

It took her another month to tell him she liked the band name.

"You should come to a gig sometime." Tom said casually, as he finished stocking the shelves.

They had been working with one another for nearly two years, and yet she still couldn't watch as he did the shelves, because the way he stretched his arms - Hermione didn't want to even think about what she wished was there instead of some books.

"I have a few online classes this term, but I'm sure I'll be there." She said quickly, flashing him a quick smile before walking away, attempting to hide her blushed cheeks and flustered state at his request.

"Tickets are already sold out, but I saved you two." Tom said behind her, and she want to turn him, but thought better of it.

If he saw how she was now, he'd never want her there.

"Incase you wanted to bring a friend...or a boyfriend...or a girlfriend." Tom added hurriedly.

They had never spoken about partners or relationships.

"Thank you Tom, that's really sweet of you. I'll bring the money next week." She said, flipping the sign in the door to say the bookshop was shut for the day.

And without another word, she grabbed her coat, and ran off into the streets of Camden.

It's the night of his concert.

She hasn't even seen him outside of their work uniform of white tops and jeans.

She wonders if being choked by a version of Tom with dark eyeliner and leather is better.

Her mind decides it is. So does her heart.

Hermione doesn't know what to expect, so she finds the one dress that looks remotely pretty. The one she worse when she last went clubbing, before hooking up with three guys in a house in Soho, not out since.

Partying had been her thing when she was 19, but she gave up after getting caught up in school and work.

And her sex life had pretty much been non existent after that.

She was always tempted to write a letter to Aphrodite, thanking her for the invention of vibrators. Without an Ann Summers down the road from her crumbling studio flat, Hermione thinks she would've gone insane these past two years.

A black leather jacket hangs on the rail, originally belonging to her mother when she used to go to rock gigs and her dad would watch.

She has hidden hopes tonight will be like a reversed version of her parent's fairytale.

The jacket, dress and heels are all shoved onto her curvy figure, before she hastily applied the eyeliner, letting it smudge a bit - not that anyone will notice under the heavy dark lights.

And she runs through Camden, towards her indie rock gig, where there's a boy she desperately wants to be buried inside of her until she can't remember her name or his, waiting for the sound check to end.

He never said he was the lead singer, or that he played guitar.

It's the middle of the set, and she didn't realise how well known he was.

There's around five thousand people around her, all screaming the lyrics of his songs back to him, as he puts his heart and soul into each lyric, every note and beat. The lights shine down on him, and Hermione can see the smudged eyeliner on his face.

Her heart and mind were right, she wouldn't mind him fucking her against a wall looking like that.

He left her the tickets, but she came alone. Friends were a foreign concept to a girl who kept to herself unless she wanted to sleep with someone.

You always get screwed by someone. She preferred it to be by strangers from clubs and bars, rather than her friends stabbing her in the back at one point or the other.

Nearing the end of the set, his eyes settle on her body as she sways to the music, lost to the bass and the dark lights. And when Hermione looks up, gold meets obsidian and she swears her heart stops.

Everything goes in slow motion, just like those shitty romance films she has in her flat that she never touches.
But damn does she fell like she's in one right now, staring at the one thing that matters - him.

And he's staring back at her.

"Did you like it?" His voice is deeper, rougher and rawer when he says it - the singing wire his voice down.

The feeling in her lower thighs wasn't going anywhere now that she knew he spoke like that.

"Yeah, it was...amazing." She breathe sour, as he took a drag from the cigarette, before offering it to her.

She couldn't remember how he found her straight after, making security drag her backstage, until she's met the whole crew, and Tom had pulled her to the back alley to share a cigarette, but here she was.

The cigarette only made her want to scream out his name even more.

Tom gave out a deep laugh at her comment, before watching her as she took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling with a sigh of relief.

He moved closer.

Hermione didn't move away.

He moved closer.

She waited.

He was face to face with her now, and he slowly lowered his mouth to her ear, breath gently brushing her skin, before saying, "You don't know how much I want to fuck you when you look at me like that as you take a drag from my cigarette."

She took one step closer, their noses were nearly pressed together, before she looked up, eyes meeting intensely.

"Then do it Riddle."