"And let me crawl inside your veins

I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.

It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted.

Just let me hold you like a hostage."

She stared at him from across the room, her fists clenched tight as the desire to reach out — to touch him, to feel him, to have him once more — overwhelmed her.

She closed her eyes as the phantom feel of his lips brushed against her neck only to open them and find him right before her.

"Hermione." He stated like it was a fact of life, the way someone would call out to God if they ever met him. She couldn't stop the electricity that fired down her spine at the sound of his voice.

"Hello Tom," she greeted.

"It is delightful to see you again."

"It has been a while."

"Four years to be precise."

There was an awkward silence as they continued to stare at one another.

He had grown since she last saw him when they were both seventeen. Filled out, his body no longer lanky but proportional with his broad shoulders and tapered waist. She briefly wondered if he would still feel the same underneath her fingertips.

She clenched her fists even tighter.

"I hope you are enjoying the reception."

She didn't answer as her eyes left his own to search for his bride.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

Hermione ignored his question as she watched Bellatrix laugh merrily, the witch's face alight with joy and pleasure.

"Hermione," Tom prompted again.

She returned her attention to him. "She invited me."

"You return from your self-imposed exile due to an invitation from a witch you don't even like but you can't return my letters?"

"I do like Bellatrix. It's just her company that bothers me," Hermione corrected. "And yes."

He shook his head, his jaw twitching, and his face suddenly wiped free of any emotion.

"Enjoy the reception, Miss Granger," he stated formally as he turned away from her.

"Wait!" Her arm shot out and she grabbed his wrist before she even realized what she had done.

Warmth spread from where they touched and she felt a surety that she hadn't in a while. Quickly, she took a step away from him as memories of their youth came flooding back, all the fights, affection, love, and hatred.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "Congratulations on your nuptials!" A wide smile was plastered across her face. The look on his face was indiscernible at best as he gave her a curt nod and walked away gracefully.

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes once more, pain spreading through her chest, encompassing her body until she felt hollow. Once more, with a delightfully fake smile strewn across her face, Hermione partook in the festivities. With every growing hour, the hollowness turned into ice.

She reveled in it.

"I have to leave, Abraxas. I can't stay here. I came back in time to change him and all I've been doing is fucking him. I can't change anything! I can't do anything more different in this timeline than the one before."

Hermione woke up suddenly, cognizant that she wasn't alone in her room at the Leaky Cauldron, despite the fact that she was certain she had returned alone.

Grasping for her wand, Hermione pointed it at the stranger sitting at the foot of her bed. A silent lumos revealed the intruder's face.

"Tom," Hermione gasped as she sat up.

"Hermione," he acknowledged, his face strategically void of any emotion. There was a beat. "Tell me, love," the word love was said with so much venom that she gripped her wand tighter. "Why are you back? Here to fix me with your morals again?"

She canted her head to the side slightly as she took in his attire. He was still wearing his dress robes from the reception and his immaculately coiffed hair was slightly mussed. Her grip on her wand loosened and she relaxed minutely.

"No," she responded softly as she continued to stare at him. "I was planning on coming back, anyways, and then Bellatrix sent me that invitation. Two birds and one stone, but I didn't come back for you."

"Then why are you back, Hermione?"

"I was offered a position at Hogwarts to be the new Arithmancy professor."

There was a long silence and she began to feel silly, sitting up in her bed with her cotton pajamas on while they stared at one another.

She longed to reach out to him, the same ache that she had felt for the past four years growing, making sure she knew that all she was doing was causing herself pain.

Tom got up suddenly and walked to the side of the bed. Reflexively, she gripped her wand tightly.

"May I?" He asked.

And before she could answer, he took the liberty, he had always took the liberty, and slid under the covers with her, pulling her flush against him. The sharp smell of firewhisky invaded her senses as her lumos let out.

She marveled at the fact that, despite all the changes that had happened between them, they still fit together like puzzle pieces.

He held her like she was a hostage that he would not let go of, like he wanted to mold her to him so that she'd have no choice but to stay.

"What are you doing, Tom?" She asked him softly, her body familiar against his as if she'd never left — left him. He buried his face into her hair and breathed in.

"I wanted to be alone."

Silence.

"Alone with you if that makes sense."

"Okay," she whispered in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing, waiting for it to even out.

She had a dreamless sleep for the first time in four years.

It was peaceful.

It was home.

She awoke to an empty bed, soft sunlight streaming through the blinds. She stared at the light indent beside her in disbelief.

She thought it was a dream, a manifestation of her desires made stronger from seeing him the night before.

"Tom?" Hermione called out.

She heard shuffling in the bathroom before the door opened, and Tom stepped out with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Yes, his body had definitely changed. For a split second, Hermione wanted to spend time mapping it out, relearning the dips and curves of it and discovering the new ones, with her fingers. With her tongue.

SheHermione averted her eyes but not before scolding him. "Good Merlin, Tom, could you not have given me a warning at least?"

He scoffed. "It's not like it's something you haven't seen before, Hermione."

Heat flushed from her chest to her neck as she looked up to find him dressed in a simple pair of slacks and a shirt. He had taken a seat in the rickety wooden chair and sprawled across it as if it were a throne.

"Why are you here?"

A careless shrug of the shoulder. "I didn't want to be with my bride."

"Then why marry her?"

"Politics. It doesn't hurt that she has her own vault in Gringotts."

"I thought that was what Malfoy was for."

Tom's eyes flashed with anger as he sat up. Hermione knew she'd made a mistake. "Malfoy," he spat, "was only loyal to you. Left after he gave me the engagement ring you returned. The only reason why I didn't string him up as I should have was because I didn't want to start a war with you."

"I won't apologize, Tom," she stated firmly.

"My queen should never apologize," he agreed.

"I'm not yours."

"Still on that then? Finally cured yourself of that 'disease'?" He mocked.

Hermione winced. "I didn't mean it."

"And yet, you left anyways."

"I truly thought that leaving would help me stop loving you."

"It's a disease, Hermione, remember? A sickness that you were never supposed to have."

Tom's imposing frame was trembling, his jaw tight, as he clenched and unclenched his hands. She stared at him, cataloging all the ticks that she was already familiar with and felt herself soften.

"I hurt you."

He shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous."

Sliding off the bed, Hermione walked over to where he sat as he watched her with wary eyes and stood in between in his legs.

"Lie to me again, love," she whispered, gently placing her palm against his cheek.

He said nothing.

"It wasn't my intention to cause you pain."

He moved away from her palm and looked at her in disbelief. "You couldn't even tell me you were leaving yourself."

"You would have held me hostage against my will."

"I only want you if you are willing. Maybe if you were someone else I might have, but you are the exception to every rule I have, Hermione, the only exception! I wanted to give you the world."

"I didn't want the world the way you were taking it, with pain and suffering and torture."

"I'm not a good wizard, and I never tricked you into believing that I wasam one."

"I never said that you were."

"No," Tom agreed. "No, you only ever thought of me as a sociopath."

"Will you deny it?"

"I feel something for you, and I am certain that it is love. Sociopaths don't. So yes, I do deny that label."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize," he snapped. "You do not ever apologize."

She couldn't help but smile at him. "I missed you."

He responded by pulling her into his lap and kissing her, consuming her.

Finally, she thought to herself as she slipped her fingers underneath his shirt. I love you.

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Hermione stretched out before curling up into a ball beside Tom, a feeling of contentedness settling over her. His warm hand smoothed across her naked back, and she looked up at him.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hello," he replied.

"What do we do now, Tom?"

"Well, you typically took a nap while I studied."

She wrinkled her nose. "That wasn't what I meant."

Tom sighed as he rubbed his face. "You're the one that left, Hermione. The next move is yours."

"You're married," she said quietly, burying her face into the pillow

"I don't love her."

"That's not the issue. The issue is that you have a wife. And besides, I accepted the post at Hogwarts."

"At least you're telling me to my face that you're leaving this."

Hermione turned to the side and took a look at him. "Tom," she murmured sadly. "What do you want?"

He got out of the bed and began pulling on his clothes with frustration. "What I've always wanted."

"The world in the palm of your hands?"

"You."

"The wife part complicates that, Tom."

"I can fix that."

"No killing her," she warned. "No more deaths."

"I haven't murdered a single soul since you left."

Hermione sat up. They had fought over this so many times. "Seriously?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do I ever joke?"

"Not really."

"Then there's your answer."

"If you can find a way to be wifeless again, I'll marry you."

"And if I take over the world, will you rule by my side?"

Hermione closed her eyes. Her memories of her past (or was it the future?) were so murky now. She could barely recall her friends, only the shock of red-hair that denoted a Weasley, green eyes and a lightning bolt scar, a dreamy voice and silvery blonde hair, and a boy with plants.

"No more deaths, Tom. You' are smart enough to take over this world without killing people dying."

"Okay."

She opened her eyes, catching an odd expression flitting across Tom's face. Before she could stop herself, she smiled at him.

"Then okay."

She became his willing hostage.

"I want to be alone.

Alone with you, if that makes sense?

I want to steal your soul

And hide you in my treasure chest."