Disclaimer: This lovely world belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just having fun.

A/N: Hermione and Tom are OOC. If I had the motivation to take this further, they would have straightened out (10 points to your house if you can figure out how they would have become more like their original characters). Anyhow, it's set post-war. Somehow, Harry killed Voldemort and TR was left alive/given a second chance. Hermione screwed up and fell in love with him, and this is what you get.

***This is a long drabble, but the plot is a little heavy. There is death, and it's more a story of obsession than it is love.

The Horcrux

DKM

"Don't pin it all on me."

-Bastille, Blame

"Granger," Tom whispered, brushing his hands over her face and hair in attempt to wake her up. He pressed a kiss on the edge of her mouth, inhaling her scent. "Hermione," he pleaded. "Please, wake up, witch."

She blinked blearily, smiling softly at him before noticing the pained, frightened look in his eyes. Frowning, she pushed herself up, allowing him more room on her side of their bed. "Tom," she murmured, eyes moving to look at the clock on the wall. She'd barely been asleep for twenty minutes, but it was nearly two in the morning. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her body from spending the day with their daughter, but she pushed through it.

Brushing her fingers over his, she leaned closer to him, "What's wrong?"

"I really fucked up this time," he told her, eyes wider than she'd ever seen them. "I don't feel bad about it. But I really," he swallowed hard, "I'm horrified of losing you. I can't lose you."

"What did you do?" She questioned, feeling herself preparing for the worst. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for it to happen, for him to give it all up. She'd been waiting for years for everything they had to fall to pieces around her.

However, it still hurt. Her blood felt like shards of glass in her veins. Her mind was fuzzy with uncertainty. Even her heart clenched with fear and unease. She let her eyes fall over him, instantly seeing red. He was covered in blood. Whether it was his or someone else's, she wasn't sure; but it was even still wet, clinging to his skin. She could feel where he'd touched her face drying, and realized that she was covered in it as well. "Tom," she said more soundly, "what did you do?"

"I'm so sorry," he reached for, barely noticing the way she moved away from him. There wasn't very far for her to go, and his arms found her easily, clasping around her body and drawing her into him surely. He inhaled deeply, lips pressing kisses into her hair. "So, so sorry, Hermione. I never meant for this to happen."

She pushed away from him, attempting to see his face, hands turning red with the contact. "Tom, please. What happened?"

"I didn't want to kill her, I swear it. I had to. Please understand."

She swallowed the emptiness of her throat. "Understand what?"

"That I love you," he whispered, as though the words would cause something to happen. "That I didn't mean to kill her."

She felt her heart stop. "Who did you kill, Tom?"

"I wanted her to know that I wasn't that man anymore. That I loved her."

"Oh, god, please, Tom," she sucked in a large breath, heart beating fiercely in her chest.

He watched her with blank eyes, shaking his head slightly. Before she could get out of bed, he enveloped her again, holding her to him tightly. No matter how greatly she fought to be rid of him, his hold didn't loosen.

"No," tears fell from her eyes, sobs ripping from her throat until she finally stilled, allowing him to cradle her to his chest securely.

He was still apologizing, hands working over her back soothingly. "We could say someone broke in," he murmured. "We could say they broke in and we discovered her like that when we awoke. And then we could start over. I'd be better this time. I swear it, wife. I'll be better."

Hermione sobbed against his chest, fingers clenching his shirt. He pressed a kiss to her ear. "I love you. I can't lose you. We could start over."

Inhaling deeply, she ripped herself away from him, magic suddenly strong enough to create distance between them. She ran from their bedroom, forcing the door to their daughter's room open. Her hand moved to cover her mouth as she cried out, sliding to the ground. Tom's arms found their way around her again, keeping close to him as his nose brushed against she shell of her ear. She wanted to push him away from her again, but there was no fight left in her.

Their child was dead, disembodied, and barely recognizable to her. He'd done this in twenty minutes, and told her that he didn't feel bad about it.

"Isadora," she whimpered, squirming as his fingers brushed under her shirt.

His palm laid flat against her stomach, "We could start over. It'll be all right. We could start over," he repeated, and she sobbed silently, shaking in his arms.

"You're a monster, Tom. Please. Let go of me," Hermione drew a deep, hard breath in. "Our child is dead. At your hand. You're a monster."

He held her tightly, uncomfortably. "Don't say that, wife. Please don't. I love you so much. I can make this up to you. We can have more children," his nose trailed along her nape. "Please. I'm so sorry. I can't lose you."

"Tom," she fought against him, wrenching herself away. "She's dead! Our child. You've killed her! We can't start over."

"But," he looked as though he genuinely didn't understand. "Hermione, we did that the last time. Why can't we do it again? Why are you so opposed to-"

"Tom!" She screamed, reaching for the collar of his shirt and attempting to shake him.

She understood her mistake. Covering up his first murder had been a stupid and selfish thing to do. But Merlin couldn't he see the difference here? "This is our daughter you're talking about. Isadora. Did you feel nothing for her?"

"I loved her!" He told her, and she felt his truth. His skin was blotchy with rage and desolation, his curls pressing to the light perspiration on his face. Even in the darkness of he bedroom, Hermione could see how his eyes were darkened with tormented grief.

She felt her heart breaking further, and she hated herself for it.

"But, I love you more, Hermione. You told me to get rid of my horcruxes," he blinked profusely. "You told me to get rid of them and I did."

Letting go of him, Hermione scrambled backwards on the floor, hands sinking into the blood-soaked carpet, leaving prints on the patches of untouched, light pink fabric. "You turned our child into a horcrux?" She questioned. "Tom, are you listening to yourself? You've lost your mind."

He didn't come after her. Instead, he sat at the threshold watching her blankly. At length, he said, "I love you so much, Hermione. I loved Isadora, too. I couldn't let her live that way. I didn't think she'd die."

"Tom," she breathed, shaking her head.

"Potter didn't die! How was I supposed know that she would," his eyes fell onto her bed, where the lower half of their child lay motionless.

Overkill. The word ran through her head, repeatedly. There had been passion and drive behind his actions, and as he repeatedly told her that he loved her, all Hermione could think was that she'd married a sociopath. She should have known, but he'd done so well. They'd come so far…a sob tore from her throat. It was hard to think that her husband had done this. There had to be some sort of explanation, or rationalization. Her Tom wouldn't have killed their child.

"Please don't leave me. I just need one more chance. I can fix it. I can fix this."

"How?" She screamed. "You can't bring her back to life!" Hermione rubbed at her face to get the tears away, blood smearing over her skin. "You turned our child into a horcrux, Tom."

"She was just so beautiful, so much like you. I wanted her to have a part me inside of her as well. I wanted her to be mine, too."

Hermione blinked, "I didn't get myself pregnant."

He shook his head. "Please, just let me fix this. I love you. I can be better. I swear. I love you so much. I'd do anything for you. Let me fix it."

The witch was shaking her head in disbelief, nerves hyperaware of the wizard before her. He needed help. He needed far more than she could give him. But, Hermione had grown just as selfish as he had. She didn't want to lose him either.

"Our daughter," she choked, more for herself than anyone else.

"I know, wife. Let me fix it. I can," he pleaded, eyes wide and oddly child-like.

She knew it was wrong; that there was something wrong with him. But she couldn't help herself as she said, "Fine." Her tone was disbelieving, but the words were enough to inspire Tom into action. He reached for her, and she came, allowing herself to be cradled in his arms as she continued to cry.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I really didn't think she'd die," he murmured.

Hermione clutched at him, pressing her face into his neck as he rubbed her back soothingly. He continued to apologize, his genuineness doing nothing to soothe her. How he could be so incredibly brilliant and oblivious at the same time was beyond her, but damn it he was claiming he could fix it.

"Oh, Tom," she sobbed, letting go of his shirt to wrap one arm around his neck. The other touched his neck and jaw as he continued to kiss at her.

"I only did as you asked, Hermione, please. I love you so much. I can fix this. Let me do this. I can't lose you. Let me take care of you. "

"You killed our daughter. You turned her into a horcrux."

"I feel so empty now. Please don't leave me. I couldn't bear it."

"I can't believe I married you," she told him.

"Me either," he replied, lifting her from the floor and carrying her back to their room. The bathtub was half full by the time they got to it, and he vanished their clothing without a thought before climbing in. His voice was oddly low as he murmured, "You knew what I was capable of," he kept her close in the water, one arm under her knees and the other cradling her head to his chest. His legs came up to further support her.

Hermione was too exhausted and too saddened to realize the magic swirling around her. Every moment of her time with her daughter seeming to play in her mind, as though she were trying to determine just when Tom had turned their five year old into a horcrux.

He pressed his lips to her temple. "I truly didn't believe she would die. Potter didn't- and she was so strong, wife. She was so resilient. I never thought she would die. I just wanted to make you happy." Tom kissed the top of her ear gently. With the sure, strong voice that had grown familiar to her, he murmured, "You could ask anything of me. I'd do and be everything for you. Please, understand. Please, forgive me. You asked asked it of me, and I listened. You have so much power over who I've become. I love you so much, Hermione."

She pressed her face into his neck. "Why would believe that our daughter wasn't yours?"

"She was so much like you, love. I don't know. I just…I couldn't feel myself when I held her. I wanted to know that I still had something more to give."

"She had your eyes," was all Hermione could say as she attempted to hold herself together.

He started to rub her back again, pressing the rose water into her skin. As she calmed, he told her, "I had a little more to give."

Her sobs broke through, nails digging into his skin. "Hermione, please don't cry. I can make it better. I understand now. I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't do it again. I understand."

"Shut up, Tom," she told him bitterly, but allowed him to continue to comfort her. It was only then that she realized he was trembling.

"I hate you so much," she told him as a whisper. "Almost as much as I love you."

He tightened his arms around her, "I love you even more. You've given me the world, Hermione. Please don't leave. I love you."

"I know," she gripped his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet her. His pain was so evident that she forced herself to consider that his view on the world was different than hers could ever be. "I...wouldn't have wanted you to kill her. I don't know what I would have done, but we would have worked it out. I have put so much into this relationship, into you. I'm not going to leave you. I don't want to. I promised I'd be here for you, and I will be. I just need to know that you recognize that. I need to know that you trust me."

"I'm sorry." He shook out of her hold and kissed her mouth. "I know. I'm sorry. Please," he spoke against her lips, "let me-"

"Fix it," she told him, laying her head back on his chest. "I don't care what you do. Just fucking fix it."

Yikes.