Some Might say it's a Weakness
AN: It was midnight, I was bored, so I wrote this. Oops. Another terrible piece. Also, I'm thinking of putting ACIT on hiatus because I'm not too familiar with Tomione, and I don't want to continue writing it crappily like I have been.
They were in a dark classroom in the dungeons. The only light was coming from a candle on a table. In the light's shadows were three figures. One was holding another in a rough manner; his hand pulling her head back, exposing her neck. The other was standing, petrified, in front of them.
"Tell me, Hermione!" The boy demanded. "Tell me who you really are!"
The girl, Hermione, swallowed. Just one mistake was all it took. Just one mistake and her goal of keeping her identity secret was crumbling in front of her eyes. She didn't want to panic, but she couldn't help it.
"Tell me now," He repeated in a deadly voice, "or you little friend here gets it." He pressed his wand to the hollow of her throat. His victim, Isis Abbott, let out a whimper.
Hermione hadn't meant for her to get involved in this. She just wanted to be friends with her. But Hermione should have known that having friends would be dangerous. He could use them to hurt her. Use them like he was now.
She mustn't give him any information. No, that was crucial. If she let one thing slip, the world she'd known would fall. But she couldn't let the poor girl in front of her get hurt either.
"Hermione," he warned, pulling Isis's head back further causing her to cry out in pain.
"Alright I'll tell you," she had cracked, "Just let her go. Then I'll tell you everything. Just don't hurt her," she pleaded.
"You care too much. Has anyone ever told you that?" Tom Riddle let the girl go and she ran from the room sparing a frightened glance at Hermione, who shook her head, silently telling her to leave it be. He watched her exit. She wasn't important to him. The important one was standing in front of him. Oh how he despised her. The mystery girl. The one who just popped out of nowhere with a lame excuse for a back story.
He knew, of course, that something was off about her. It wasn't hard to tell if you looked closely enough. The way she spoke was different, like she was trying too hard to make it blend in with the others. The way she held herself was different. Most women were more closed off; never speaking out of turn, more respectful to the men, not so out there. But she, she felt like she actually mattered. Like she had something to offer the world. Like she was superior. And Tom Riddle couldn't let that go. He had to unravel her.
"Yes, I do. Some might say it's a weakness," she replied. And it was a weakness. One of her only weaknesses. She couldn't stand to see people suffer. If she could take their place she would. Just so they wouldn't hurt anymore. She did that multiple times during the war. She had the scars to prove it.
They stared at each other from across the room. The candle light flickered over his malicious features. The flame was reflected in her scared, yet defiant, brown eyes.
"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" He twirled his wand in his fingers. "What's your name? Your real name?"
"Hermione Granger." Surely this little bit of information couldn't hurt, she thought.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Where are you from?" He clarified impatiently. Stupid, incompetent girl.
"London, 1999."
His eyebrows rose up. She was from the future? How interesting. So many questions he had. Most of them revolving around himself. Did he succeed in his plans? Did people all over fear him? Did he kill Albus Dumbledore? And the answers were right in front of him. In that bushy-haired head of hers.
She could see the greed in his eyes. His thirst for answers was prominent in his features. Hermione knew what she could or could not say. Anything about Harry was off limits. Anything about his power was on the no list as well.
"Why are you so afraid of me? What do I do?"
"You do bad things," she was being purposefully blunt.
He rolled his eyes, "You're going to have to be clearer than that. What do I do?" he repeated forcefully.
"I can't tell you." She knew she was making him angry.
He clenched his jaw. "Alright, I'm going to assume I do succeed in what I hope to do. If I have a downfall, what is it?" Tom Riddle was particularly interested in this one. If he knew what stops him, if anything stops him at all, he could eliminate it before it became a problem.
"I can't tell you that either."
He clicked his tongue. "Wrong answer." He made a slashing movement and Hermione felt a burning sensation on her abdomen. She touched her stomach and pulled her hand away when she felt blood. She swallowed. He was going to kill her if she didn't cooperate. Then let him, she thought, I won't give away anything.
"Now, are you going to work with me, or will I have to resort to more drastic measures?" He was losing his temper.
"Do whatever you want," she spat at him, "I'm not giving you anything." She forced down the panic that welled up inside her.
His eyes hardened. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Cooperate or suffer. The decision is yours."
She steeled herself. "No."
"If that's what you wish," He said the next word with so much venom that Hermione felt pain before it even took effect, "Crucio."
She exploded inside. Her insides were burning. If she thought Bellatrix's curse was bad, this was a thousand times worse. Every fiber of being screamed in agony. But not a sound escaped her lips. She would not give him the satisfaction. His hold on her ended.
"Are you willing to speak now?" Though he wanted answers, he couldn't help but feel a sick satisfaction at her next word.
"Never," she croaked. She would've given anything to have the pain end. But she would not betray her time. She would tell him nothing.
The excruciating pain was more than she could handle. Knives were constantly stabbing her in every place imaginable. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Her body ached. She was clenching her hands so hard her fingernails were drawing blood. Yet she did not scream once.
The torture went on for hours. He would stop, question her, and begin again when she looked into his icy eyes and spit at his feet. Time and time again he would say the vile spell, and time and time again she would suffer silently. Until in the middle of the night, she could bear no more, and an earsplitting scream could be heard if one was listening.
But no one was. And no one came to save her.
I have a ton more drabble/one-shot prompts so expect more short Tomione things from me.
As always, reviews are most appreciated :)