Background Music: Talk by Kodaline

Act X

October 18th, 1944


There was no more prolonging this confession; she was beautiful.

Hermione Guerra was annoyingly, heart-achingly beautiful. Tom wasn't aware he even had a heart before this singular moment. He was always under the impression that emotions were useless and distracting but then this witch came along and threw his world upside down.

He wanted to see her writhing beneath him, to see her smile at him the way she was smiling at Avery and to have her challenge him the way he challenged Lestrange with such passion and righteousness it made his head spin. He was possessive – always had been. But the Guerra girl made him want to torture his followers just by the mere thought of them being able to be in her presence while she looked so joyous and full of life.

She was a distraction. A wonderful, brilliant distraction.

She was forbidden.

(But what was that saying? Ah, yes – the forbidden fruit always tasted the sweetest.)

Her twin and Avery flanked her sides like the loyal hounds they were; protecting her from harm which Tom was positive had only began. It had been almost three weeks since her attack but Tom felt as if it had only happened the day before. He was still furious. Still murderous.

But why? The back of his mind screamed the answer – she was his to torment. Not anyone else's. His.


She was fascinating.

Lestrange, Nott and the young Dolohov (who had taken to acting like his personal lap dog) were ordered away and they were currently trying to flirt up a storm with the seventh year Ravenclaw ladies who dismissed Dolohov because of his age before he even approached them.

It was laughable, really because the only time Dolohov showed an interest in anything, he was rejected before he even tried.

Tom smiled a very private smile as his eyes shifted back to Hermione who was laughing at something Avery told her. Her glorious hair was thrown back – all of her messy curls and all – and she was looking so positively happy that it made Tom's heart ache.

How he longed to touch her face again. Of course, at the time he had wanted to kick himself for succumbing to his urges and touching her soft skin right before she was lulled to sleep but he was beyond the point of no return.

Tom wanted Hermione to be his to touch. His to frustrate. His to entertain.

If Avery wasn't currently betrothed and didn't only view Hermione as a friend, he would currently be walking without arms.

Tom ran an elegant finger down a spine of his latest discovery. A book about the heirlooms of the founders of Hogwarts. He was always interested in the history of his beloved school and would gladly cut of his own wand hand off for a chance to view the priceless heirlooms (well, that was an overstatement – he would cut off whoever's hand who possessed these items) and to become the owner of those objects.

However, he became easily annoyed and frustrated when the locations of the objects wasn't revealed and neither were the names of the owners who possessed the items.

He wasn't surprised, of course. If they were his, he wouldn't exactly be advertising it to the public either. With frustration etched ont his face, he shoved the book back on the shelf and exited the small bookstore, his feet already carrying him to the witch and her lackeys.

"You look very happy today, Hermione. Has the latest issue of Witch Weekly been released? I heard there was a very useful hair charm in the beauty section. Perhaps it could help tame your unruly hair although I highly doubt it." He spoke with disdain and the conversation between the three stopped as Avery looked shocked along with Harry and Hermione looked on in disbelief.

"Got up on the wrong side of the bed again, Riddle?"

"This is about the millionth time I am reminding you to call me by my Christian name."

"You don't strike me as a Christian, Riddle," She spat, crossing her arms as her two friends stepped back; a good habit of theirs. "I think I will call you this a million times more if I like."

He grimaced in a fake manner, rolling his eyes. "You wound me, love."

"Only wound you? I was wishing for something much more fatal."

He barked a laugh. "You're a funny witch – but only sometimes. I highly recommend you do something with that hair of yours. It looks as if you've freshly taken a roll between the sheets with some unfortunate man."

Hermione stepped forward. "And what's it to you? Any man would be fortunate enough to share a bed with me."

He didn't have an answer to that and so he only looked her up and down with disdain and a disgusted smirk on his lips before he turned around and walked away from the trio.

Fuck; she was beautiful. He hoped she wouldn't charm her hair. He hoped he could be the man to be sharing a bed with her.

Damn Hermione Guerra.

Instead of writing about his recent findings about the heirlooms that evening, Tom's hand furiously wrote words relating to one brilliant witch and the annoying skip his heart would do in her presence.

If I was to define happiness, I would say its name was Hermione.

I can imagine what she will look like when it begins to snow. Little snowflakes will fall over her birds nest of a hair and over her delicate freckles and curly eyelashes and then – even thenshe will look a million times more beautiful than the witches in Playwizard.

Well – it was a bit uncanny to compare her to the whores in that magazine but with small hands and innocent smile and mischievous yet knowledgeable eyes, she could rival even the most beautiful of witches on this planet.

She was happiness. She was pure – unadulterated happiness.

I wish I could taste that happiness on my tongue. I wish I could feel her sigh into my mouth and have her beg me to –

Hermione Guerra was happiness and for a flicker of a second today in Hogsmeade, I could feel that happiness.

It felt like my heart was going to jump out of my throat. I felt like I was going to die.

I craved to feel that again.

Tom slammed his diary shut with shaky fingers as he attempted to regain his control. Alas, it was futile. Hermione Guerra was in his veins and it didn't feel like she was leaving any time soon.


"Enough about Druella – have you found anything about the Deatheaters?"

Harry remained silent for a few seconds, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head. "No, I haven't," He states and looks around to see if they were alone. "I've been trying to get Sebastian to say something – anything but no. I haven't heard a peep out of anyone which is strange, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded, agreeing. "Yes. You would think Riddle would propose the idea of you joining the group. They've been overly welcome."

They stayed silent, seeing the flames flicker in the fireplace. It was around 2 a.m and they were currently seated on the plush sofa of the Slytherin common room. Hermione couldn't believe how at home she felt in the dark room.

"What about time travel? Have you spoken to Dumbledore?" She asks, running her hand through her hair absentmindedly as her mind reverted back to what Riddle said earlier that day. Prat.

"I did but after what happened – after what he did to us, I don't exactly trust him. I don't think he trusts us either. He seems very sketchy lately."

"Maybe he was always sketchy and we just didn't realize."

"Maybe." Harry whispered, his voice shaky and uncomfortable.

Hermione was uncomfortable too. She didn't want to believe that their leader was this manipulative. She understood that they were expected to sacrifice in order to achieve peace and end the war but the line between evil and good was vastly becoming blurry thanks to Dumbledore's scheming and Riddle's angelic face.

But the Devil was beautiful too, wasn't he?

"There's something else, Hermione."


Harry seemed as if he had thought about this long and hard, and judging by the final-like look on his face, he had. "I think we should start thinking about the future. Not the future, but ours."

Hermione nodded because she knew this conversation was coming. There had been no news about travelling forward in time – especially not half a century forward in time. As far as they knew, it was be impossible. And even if it was possible, it would be extremely dangerous.

"We need to set precautions in case we have no choice but to stay here."

"And that is exactly why you should be thinking about NEWT's and not about what is under Druella's skirt, Harry." She said in a teasing tone, trying in vain to lighten the situation.

"I know what is under her skirt, thanks."

Hermione pretended to gag but then giggled.

"We need to act more like ourselves, Hermione. We need to be ourselves before we truly begin to live lives as liars."

Hermione nodded.

Except, she had perhaps been living too much like Hermione Granger by the way Sebastian had warmed up to her and the way Riddle was so very interested in her cleverness and her wit.

God, how I adore writing this story! :D I hope you liked this chapter. It was more of a filler chapter but I made sure to include some Tomione banter and Tom's obsession with his Horcruxes to keep the story on track. Tomione will have a super heated scene next chapter so be sure to review! ;) Cheers, lovelies. x