A/N: Originally, I thought this story would be a one-shot, which is why I wrote the last chapter with that format, but the ending kinda made me want to explore this idea more. Tom will be a bit OOC for a while, but I'm going to fix that in the upcoming chapters. I have to admit, it's really interesting to write this.
I'm definitely going out of my comfort zone with this story, and I think I'll even have to change the rating when Tom shows more of himself.
Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and an extra thank you for those who took the time to review. It's really nice to hear what you guys think, and since I hadn't planned on making this a multi chapter story, I'd love to hear where you guys want to see it going.
Tom Riddle had always been a strange boy, it really should have been no surprise, considering who his parents were. His mother had been called insane on numerous occasions, though it was usually by his father. Merope Gaunt had been an obsessive woman who even after marriage was afraid of her husband leaving her. Tom had only been a boy, no more than five when his father left them, but he still remembered his mother taking him with her as they followed his father around.
He remembered waiting at school for his mother to pick him up, and he remembered her never coming. As a child, he didn't know why his mother never came back, and though a social worker told him she was sick at a hospital, Tom had been furious at his mother.
As he grew, he found he couldn't feel anything but anger towards Merope. Nobody had the heart to tell Tom what happened to his mother, but he overheard things and he just knew.
"Killed by her ex husband," the women at the orphanage would whisper. "What a shame."
Tom had always hated when his mother followed his father around, and he couldn't feel pity when he heard what happened to her. Her own obsession had gotten her killed.
He stared at the girl on the bed, wild curls spread over the white pillow. He wondered if his mother felt this way seeing his father.
His blood seemed to rush with adrenaline when he held Hermione. At first he had been content with just watching her, but his needs began to grow quickly.
Sometimes he'd watch her from across the street as she walked to and from work. Other times he'd go into her apartment to just look around, or even just stand in her bedroom to breath in her scent.
Her cat had taken him by surprise the first day, he had hissed at Tom, but he managed to calm the animal down with treats he found in the kitchen closet. Tom had thought about teaching the filthy thing a lesson, but decided it was better to be discrete. He didn't want Hermione to come home to a gutted cat, she'd become suspicious and call the police, or go into hiding. He was sure she would take better precautions than that idiot Potter.
Tom leaned over Hermione, smiling the same way Merope did on her wedding day. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and felt the thrill wash over him.
This was different, Tom realized. He had never felt like this over anything before, maybe that was why he went about things so intensely. The only time girls had interesting him was when they were screaming underneath him. Tom looked at Hermione and flinched at the mere thought of doing the things he did to others. He wanted her underneath him, but not screaming in fear.
She began to move a bit, groaning in her sleep and moving her hand up to her head.
Tom smiled, even in her sleep she touched her hair when uneasy.
He ran a hand lightly over her curls, they were so soft under his touch. He knew if he ran his fingers through the wild curls, chances were, he'd run into a tangled knot. She had fought so hard against him, her hair had thrashed everywhere.
Tom was admiring the way her hair could be so soft and still so wild when her eyes opened. They didn't flutter open like he expected them to, he had her under a heavy dose of medication but she didn't look the least bit drowsy.
She didn't scream like his victims usually did. She stared at him with wide eyes that showed what she was thinking.
A million thoughts seemed to rush through her head, she glanced around the room quickly, and a plan was forming already.
She was scared, Tom saw that much, but she wasn't letting it get the best of her.
"You're awake," the corner of his lips were turned up but Hermione wasn't sure she could really call that a smile. He was close to her, too close, and his hand was running over her hair.
Hermione held her breath and tried to sit up. She had to sit up, she wanted a better view of the room. She knew if she started running now, she'd never make it far and it would cut her life short.
"Don't," Tom said, reminding Hermione of when she found him at her apartment. Her hands gripped the sheets under her fingertips. "You'll hurt yourself," he said, giving a pointed look at her arm.
Hermione looked down and felt her breathing quicken.
There was a needle in her arm, the kind hospitals used to keep IV dripping into their patients. It had always made Hermione cringe to see those, and now, it added to her fear.
"It's only to help you relax," Tom assured her, smiling. "Perks of being a doctor."
Hermione clenched her teeth, she could feel the tremors about to start, and she tried to force them away.
"You're shaking," he noted. "I'll raise the dosage-"
"No!" Hermione nearly shouted without thinking. Her voice was hoarse, and she regretted talking. It made her sound weak. Harry had gave her an overlook on Riddle's case, and from it, she saw the type of person he was.
He liked feeling powerful. Killing the women made him feel like a god. Hearing them plead for their lives was what he wanted and Hermione was already vowing to never give him the pleasure of hearing her beg for her life.
Now, as she heard her voice, she not only wanted to kick herself, but she began to wonder.
Why was he keeping her here? None of the victims were found with any type of medication in their blood streams, and if it was the screams for help that he enjoyed, why was he trying to keep her calm?
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her again.
"Why am I here?" she asked, keeping her voice low, hoping it would make it sound less broken.
"Because I want you here," he shrugged, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.
"Harry's going to find you," she said. "You can't keep hiding Riddle, and taking me, it's -" Hermione almost laughed. "It's not the best revenge. It's almost too predictable." She wasn't sure why she was saying those things, she just knew she needed to say these things out loud. She could feel the tremors, and she hoped her words would distract Riddle.
"You think I took you as revenge," his shoulder shook with laughter. "Hermione, you underestimate me, if it was revenge I was after, I'd have Potter's redhead hanging from the fan ceiling in the room he's staying at. It's a shame though, isn't it? He sent her off to her parents house, thinking she's safe from me there, that I wouldn't find her if I wanted to, and yet, he left you." Tom tilted his head, his lips curving into a frightening smile. "But I thought you were the smart one Hermione. I wouldn't take you as revenge," he paused, "and even if I would, you'd be dead within minutes of stepping into your apartment. I'm a fast worker."
Hermione swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. "Why do you want me here?" she asked slowly.
"When I saw you," he began, running a finger over her clenched jaw. "I thought you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I don't deny myself anything Hermione, I always get what I want."
Hermione pulled her head away, and despite his warning, she sat up, trying to pull herself farther away. Her movement made her slightly dizzy, but she managed to get a better look of the room. There was a window (or what she assumed was a window) to her left, covered by heavy green curtains, and there was three doors. One was almost directly behind Riddle, and the other two were a few feet apart. All three doors were closed.
Riddle's eyes flashed, "You're a clever girl Hermione, I hope you see what's best for you here. You're going to stay in this bed unless you want me to tie you to it."
"How long do you expect me to stay here?" she lowered her eyes. She only needed to stay still until he left her, as soon as he left, she'd pry her way out the window. Even if she wasn't on a first floor, she'd be able to catch someone's attention, she'd climb her way out and she'd be able to tell Harry where to find Riddle.
Hermione was almost calm when Riddle began to talk again.
"Here? Not long," he replied. "We're leaving soon. My people are just getting a few things for us." He furrowed his brow and blinked, "I should have asked sooner. Do you need anything? Bella is picking out clothes for you but maybe you want something specific?"
Hermione felt her stomach drop. What was he saying?
"What are you going to do with me?"
Maybe she could pull the needle out of her arm and run. She could pick the door closest to her and hopefully that led to a hallway. If he got too close, she'd stick the needle in his eyes.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he laughed lightly. With his laugh, Hermione could see how he convinced all those girls to trust him. "I think I want to keep you."
Hermione held her breath again, her hand reaching over to her arm.
"How long do you plan to keep me for?" she asked, not daring to look at the needle. One quick pull would do the trick, right?
There was something that changed in his eyes as he answered, "Why, forever, of course."