Veal & Venison {Tomione || 1940s/1990s}

36|| Pawn to A5

But given her hidden identity, Hermione cannot say these things, instead taking to, "Just how natural it is for dementors to kill while us humans struggle morally against it."

Tom quirks an eyebrow at this answer, infallibly false given her previous expressions. "Pretty intense thoughts for a Quidditch game." He will not call her out on the lie.

"Yeah..." Hermione mumbles uncertainly, heaving a breath of intention. "I think that it may be more cruel to Obliviate rather than kill. There is a same amount of loss for the victim, but the family will gain false hope for the return of a victim's memory; whereas killing is absolute, grieved then overcome."

Tom looks at her with utter suspicion, Hermione pretending not to notice as she looks ahead at the growing pitch ahead of them. From the unease of her posture to her now lying ways, Tom cannot help thinking something is up. "Why do you say these things now?"

"Because I dreamt of death last night and almost experienced it yesterday. I am trying to make light from the darkness," Hermione responds, the serious passion in her words seemingly worsening Tom's suspicion for her, though he knows he will not discover her true intentions without her acceptance. Breaking his stare, Tom simply nods in response as he looks back to the pitch, not accepting her words at face-level, but simply brushing off the topic for some other time.

Their feet carry them into the stadium, Tom's power over the students giving him some space to pull Hermione through and into the Slytherin stands. Hermione wonders why Tom's not required to oversee the game with Clarence, like before, and yet, she knows Tom's theoretically 'retired' from his duties via their past conversations.

The Dark Lord directs her to the back corner of the Slytherin stands, Tom not wishing to be involved with the chants of his House and Hermione not truly belonging to Slytherins. The duo are outsiders to this green House, not for the same reasons, but easily antonymous in background.

Tom drops her hand once they are firmly stationed in their corner, feeling no need for her warmth or 'comfort' at such a petty pastime that is Quidditch. Rather, the two are just pressed closer than normal, a sign of more than friendship, but not nearly on top of each other like some Slytherins are. The game passes quickly around them, near thirty-minutes passing in entirety with the competition sharp between the two teams and exploring the bounds of hard competition.

With that thirty-minute mark passing, Tom turns to Hermione, leaning down near her face and looping an arm around her waist, as if he is intending to kiss her on a sudden whim. Hermione stills at the feeling, though comfortable in her skin, only releasing her breath once Tom directs his lips to her ear instead of her own mouth.

"I need to check in with Dippet about graduation. Stay here. I'll meet you in the Common Room later," his voice comes out as a large whisper as the Slytherin team scores and the crowds cheer around them. Hermione meets Tom's eyes with a mix of emotions, unwilling to impart their details to Tom if he intends to keep secrets himself.

"Alright," Hermione relents with a bout of uncertainty in her tone, not completely trusting the Dark Lord but trusting him enough to not do something horrid in her absence. It's been some time since Hermione last perceived cruelty in his actions, so the heroine is almost certain he will not impart such torture in her short absence from his side.

Tom makes quick work of her agreement, leaning down to pretty a chaste, yet warm kiss upon her rosy lips, parting soon and without a look back. He leaves in a swirl of black, Hermione alone again, no one seeming to notice. And though she wishes to leave, Tom is still her leader, and she'd rather not face the Cruciatus today.

Leave a man in darkness, and he will only bring you death.

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