DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!
Memoirs
Chapter 9
It had been 3 days since Tom had taken Hermione into the Penseive and they were still finding it awkward to talk to each other. They shared 'good morning', 'good night', 'how are you', and about 3 other phrases but that was it. Hermione was in the library. She stood next to a shelf examining a book she had just pulled off the shelf when a hand came down on the table.
"Hermione, this has gone on long enough!" Tom snapped as she jumped and squeaked.
"What has?" she asked simply, putting the book back and walking to the next shelf.
"Since that day in the Penseive."
"Oh, that." She said, resuming scanning for a book.
"Hermione, why won't you talk to me?" he asked as she climbed a ladder to look at the high shelves.
"Where do you want me to start?" she snapped, sliding down to ladder and landed with a click of her heels. "How about when you kidnapped me last year? When you raped me? When you killed my friends?"
"It wasn't rape." He said quietly in a childish way and looked to the floor.
"Well, it was half way there! How about when you killed Harry? Killed my friends? Beat and tortured me, marking me with these horrible scars?" she asked, pushing up her shirt sleeves to reveal the lines down her skin.
"Okay, I get the point." He snapped, sitting on the table nearby, nudging her pile of books a little.
"What point?" she asked sarcastically, faking a seductive walk over to him.
"That I'm not exactly the ideal husband."
"Oh, ain't that the truth." Hermione said with a snarl, sitting down at her chair and taking the top book off the pile.
"We need to fix this." Tom said after a few minutes of silence.
"Fix what?" she asked, not bothering to look up from her book.
"Fix this. Us. Our relationship."
"What relationship?" Hermione sneered. She stopped reading, closed the book and leant back in her chair. "You mean this...This...No, no, actually: there isn't a word in the English language - or any language - to describe our 'relationship' as you've called it."
"Don't you ever say that again." Tom hissed dangerously. He stood up off the table and walked around to Hermione, who didn't even flinch or blink. "What we have-"
"Is fake." She hissed back, standing up. "We don't have a relationship. Well, we do. Sort of. In this relationship," she began, beginning to push him around the table just by the sound of her voice, "there is no love. There is no compassion, kindness or even patience. You are a dictator. You think that even I, as your 'wife' should bow down, bend over and take everything that you do. Well, here's some news, Tommy Boy, in case you haven't noticed, I won't. In a relationship and even a marriage, you're supposed to respect each other. But guess what. Oh, no. You don't have to do that. Why? Well, you think that because you might be a little more powerful than everyone else you get to do what you want and completely disregard basic marriage unwritten laws!
"My, God! People marry because they want to spend the rest of their lives with those people!" Tom opened his mouth but Hermione spoke over him. "And guess what again! You think, 'I'm half blood, the heir of Slytherin and have a bit more power than most people. I'll do what the hell I want! Even disrespect my own wife. I make this big fuss about hand carving a headstone, digging the crave, building the coffin and taking good 'care' of her when she comes back from...When she comes back. And then, I'll send her mixed messages by saying that I love her but then I'll treat her horribly! 'Cos she won't mind, will she? Poor little Hermione. She won't care.'
"Oh, I'm running out of things to say. Don't say anything!" she snapped at Tom who opened his mouth again. "Actually, I have run out of things to say. Umm...Hopefully that's made you think." She said, jabbing him in the chest. She brushed down her top and walked past him.
"Hermione." He began. She sighed and turned around. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I've been so horrible to you. But...Well, I know it's not an excuse but I've never been married so in my life and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, or how to act, or anything like that. And my last relationship didn't exactly go well, as you saw. When I saw you coming out of the grave, I knew instantly that I didn't want to turn you into what Alaana became. What I made her. The truth is...The truth is I'm actually terrified that this marriage won't work out. And judging by your impressive speech a minute ago, it hasn't been. And I don't know what else I can say besides...I'm sorry."
Neither of them said anything else for a minute or so. "You think that's gonna work?" Hermione coldly snapped.
"What?"
"Just saying 'sorry' won't take away all the things you've done to me. It's like a scar that can't be healed, as ironic as that is." She said, looking sideways at the floor. "Now, having never been married, nor to you, I'm not going to so far as to immediately want to get my hands on divorce papers, but don't let yourself think I'm happy with our...Arrangement. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to read in the room." She said snootily, taking the top book off the pile and brushing past him quickly.
After a minute of thinking, Tom ran after her and back to their room. Closing in on the door, he called out her name. "Hermione!" He snapped, opening the door to the room. "Hermione, don't-" And he stopped abruptly after seeing a ghostly figure, neither solid nor gas, gripping his wife's neck very tightly, making her face go a little red, and smiling evilly.
"You must be the Caller."
