Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.
Prompt - blood
Characters - Hermione Granger / Tom Riddle – set in the late 1940s
Blood
The first thing Hermione notices when she enters the apartment is blood.
It is all over the floor of the normally relatively tidy (books all over the place aside) sitting room, as well as splattered on various objects and the walls.
It seems to have missed her rare texts, thank Merlin. Not that such a thing is much comfort.
Hermione can't help but gasp, though, when she spots the pale body on the floor.
She steps forward almost without meaning to, her curiosity outweighing her horror.
She recognises the corpse. Epiphron Fawley, a wizard about twenty years older than she is. Fawley is well-known for his desire to entirely outlaw not only all dark magic but even the grey kind that encompasses a considerable amount of the higher magic and family magic. He's a bit of a fanatic about it and Hermione has never been fond of him – his views go way too far for her taste and she respects the preservation of magical knowledge too much to see such a large part of it removed from their society.
But she's never wished him dead, especially not in this clearly violent way (she can see the marks of Sectumsempra and knows his end must have been painful and likely lingering).
Of course she knows who is responsible.
She knows even before Tom steps back into the room, blood on his shirt and his hands.
A vicious, triumphant smirk on his face.
He is terribly beautiful at this moment, just as she imagines the old gods would have looked moments after bringing destruction to their enemies.
"Tom," she whispers, "what have you done?"
He laughs, high and cold, "you are no fool, Hermione, you know exactly what I have done – the evidence is right in front of you."
"I thought … I thought you were past this," she says softly.
He scoffs at her, "darling, you know full well what I am, you just like your little delusions."
"No," she denies, "I cannot abide by this – Fawley was a problem but he didn't deserve to die."
Tom moves forward until he stands right in front of her, and then he lifts his hand to run a finger down her cheek.
She can feel dampness and knows that he is leaving a trail of blood across her face.
The thought does not disturb her quite as much as it should … and that worries her.
"You know that change on the scale that this country needs will require sacrifices, don't you Hermione?"
She shakes her head, but he shushes her and now both hands grip her arms.
She doesn't look down. She doesn't want to see the bloody handprints on her skin, the reminder of who Tom really is.
Hermione had thought she could change him, that she could channel his desire for power into less murderous routes.
She has been an idiot, obviously, and a blind one at that.
"We are better than all of them," he tells her in that smooth, coaxing tone that has always made it so easy for him to charm, "and you know it."
"That doesn't mean they deserve to be tortured or murdered or locked away," she insists fiercely.
"You can't have a revolution without such things," he tells her, fingers dancing up and down her bare arms and smudging her skin with more blood, "and I know you understand the need for reformation – you complain enough about the Ministry."
He's twisting her words to suit his point, which is typical of him. He knows that she has always meant that they should reform the Ministry from within, using legal methods rather than terror.
"Most of them are sheep," he continues, "content in their mediocrity. They will not be stirred to think for themselves when they can be spoon-fed by their politicians."
She doesn't want to think badly of people, but she knows he is right and remembers how so many of their classmates had been content with exam results that were a mix of As and Es, while she and Tom had received Os in every subject.
"This isn't right," she tells him, hating herself for the weak resolve in her voice.
"Will you leave then?" he asks coldly.
He sounds uncaring, however she knows him well enough to hear the small hint of panic in his voice. He is arrogant enough to be almost positive that she will not go, but if she does she knows that whatever he might say it will hurt (and anger) him.
This is her chance to get out. She has been warned time and time again by Dumbledore, but she's got her own streak of arrogance and she has always been so sure that she can handle Tom, and that she can help him control the darkest impulses he has.
She is starting to wonder if it is a hopeless cause. Tom doesn't want to change and Hermione might be his match but she is not strong enough to force him into anything.
Tom is not one to be contained, not even by her, the one person he sometimes listens to.
She has to make her choice.
This wizard with blood dripping from his fingers, with a wicked intelligence and magnificent power and a goal that could ruin the world if not carefully managed.
Or a life without him.
She knows what would be the right choice.
And yet …
Perhaps it is too late for her, maybe Tom has wormed his way under her skin.
She isn't a snow-white innocent, even if her hands aren't stained with the blood that Tom's are.
Leave or stay. Right or wrong.
Heaven or Hell (she's not sure which one is which anymore).
Tom leans forward to press his lips against hers.
It is a burning kiss, fierce and possessive.
She doesn't leave.
And the bloody body behind them continues to stain their floor.
Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.
