Warnings; Drug Usage,

PART THREE

XI / 1 December 2013

"Are you all enjoying everything?"

Abraxas wrapped his arm around the waitress' waist, shaking her crudely. Hermione apologized profusely, suggesting that they start bringing out water in place of alcohol.

"It's our anniversary," Abraxas continued, still holing the waitress. "Not she and I," he gestured to Hermione before pointing at Tom, "They celebrated their anniversary a few days ago, you know. We're all still waiting on the proposal-"

"Thank god," Bellatrix supplied.

As Tom smiled, Hermione decided that she had to agree with the other woman.

"But, as a whole," Abraxas was still saying, stumbling over his words as the waitress patiently listened to him. "We could really use some drinks. Maybe some cocaine. It's our second Christmas together, you know."

Hermione was mortified.

Tom leaned over, kissed her shoulder, and distractingly whispered, "We should get married."

"I don't mix business and pleasure," she whispered back, swallowing heavy as he smiled. After a year, it was upsetting to think he still had that sort of power.

He kissed her neck, lips dragging over the bare skin there as he said, "Oh really?"

"Besides, we're not even dating."

"But, I love you."

Hermione felt Bellatrix's eyes on them, on her, heavy and suffocating. "Tom," she murmured, breaking eye contact.

He didn't pull away from her, but he did look over at the other woman as though he'd forgotten that she was even there –that any of them were there, for that matter. "You enjoying yourself, Bella?"

"No," she stared pointedly at Hermione.

Tom laughed, turning and pressing another kiss to his neighbor's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

She swallowed, glancing around the table to see that everyone was enjoying the evening. "And go where, Tom?"

He shrugged, standing up and adjusting his scarf around his neck. It was only then Hermione realized that they were dressed similarly, and not in the typical, all-black fashion that they most always wore. Glancing at Bellatrix, she realized that she'd just noticed as well. Smiling at the other woman, she tied her matching Burberry scarf warmly.

"Where are you all going?" Abraxas asked, finally letting go of the waitress.

Tom reached for her hand, and Hermione found that she wasn't quite sure what to do, because everyone knew, but they'd never done this before.

Bellatrix's gaze felt like acid on an open wound.

As he smiled, she took his hand as she grabbed her purse, allowing him to pull her up. "Order scotch for Hermione and myself, Bella, love. We'll be back in a few," he told them before leading Hermione through to restaurant and into the bathroom.

"This is crazy, you know," Hermione told him, watching as he pulled a small bag of cocaine from his pocket before rooting through her purse for her mirror. "It's a long drive home, and you're already a few drinks in-"

"This is for you, Hermione, not me."

She snapped the mirror shut and dropped it back into her bag. "That was a one time thing, Tom."

"Come on, Granger. You need to relax," he grabbed the compact and her iPad from her bag and positioned it on the sink.

"Yeah, right. Coke doesn't help you relax. If anything, I'll be even more depressed than I already am."

"You're depressed?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. Carefully, he prepared two lines for her.

"My parents hate me and my boyfriend's a drug dealing assassin. Forgive me if I'm not infinitely happy."

He licked the edge of his card before pushing it into his pocket and looking at her, eyes critical. "I don't deal," he said, pulling a bill from his wallet. Leaning over, Tom kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, my girl-"

"Don't do that. I'm not one of your little conquests."

He grinned. "No, Granger, I suppose you aren't." Touching her hair, he passed her the rolled 100 note. It was always a 100 note, as though it made something better. "Of course you aren't, actually. Take a hit."

She had no desire to do so, but she found herself taking to bill from him and tugging her hair over one shoulder. As she glanced at him, he smiled softly at her and said, "I've got you, Hermione. I always will."

For some reason, she plugged a nostril and snorted. He rubbed her back, nimble fingers brushing her cable-knit and button up away as he brushed up her spine. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the other and stood up, "What are you going to tell me next, that you're all I need?"

Tom drew one arm around her waist, "You're all I need."

"Riddle. Please."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her neck before letting her go. "Come on, Granger. Say you need me, too."

It was the last thing she wanted to admit, and she told him so, the air shifting around them as though the universe had to make space for her admission, or lack of, for that matter. His pushed his way under the front of her shirt, fingers warm and firm against the softness of her stomach, thumb brushing soothingly against her skin.

"We should get back. Are you alright?"

"I'm alright."

He hummed, almost disbelievingly, licking the mirror clean before rinsing and putting it in his pocket. Putting her iPad back into her purse, he pushed it up her arm and onto her shoulder before they left the restroom, lacing their fingers together familiarly. "It's pure this time," he told her, humor in his voice. "Are you okay?"

She felt hot and restless, but she didn't want to tell him that. A tremor passed through her shoulders, eyes suddenly focusing on the oddly shaped lump under the thick, dark wool of his sweater. Realizing that it was his gun, Hermione fought the desire suddenly pulsing through her. "I'm okay, Tom. Geez."

He laughed, allowing her to sit down before he did. She rubbed her face, barely registering the fact that Bellatrix was speaking to them, and felt the dull paranoia that had settled over her pass, leaving behind only –oddly- bliss. Smiling at the other woman, she slouched in her seat, comforted by the feel of Tom's arm across the back of her chair.

"You alright, Grange?" Lestrange asked from across the table, looking curiously between the couple.

She smiled at him, attempting to mimic the way Tom's lips pulled slow and steady over his teeth when he was simultaneously showing off and proving a point to them. As he grinned back, she realized that she must have managed the look. "I'm perfect, Atticus, thanks."

The group returned to their celebration, laughing and drinking as they ate. She would have been embarrassed if she'd been sober, but Tom had taken care of that. He brushed his knuckles over the back of her neck, forcing her attention on him as he set an empty shot glass on the table.

As their eyes meet, he said, "It's okay." His thumb rubbed circles into her tensed neck muscle, gaze too charming to drop. With a smile that could kill death itself, he told her, "Let go. I'm here. I'm all you need. I really do love you, Hermione."

She'd known for the last year that this was poison –that he was poison, and that he'd gotten used to warped salvation she offered him. Even with the subtle darkness she'd nurtured, it had become something he relied on. What she hadn't known, before this moment –even after everything-, was that she relied on him, too.

"Tom, I," she swallowed thickly, unsure of what she was even trying to say. There was so much, and everything was suddenly so heavy and real and yet…it was okay, and she wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the truth.

He leaned in- fingers firm about her neck, thumb tilting her jaw in the right direction-, and kissed her hard. She felt as though her heart would explode any second, sooner even, as he worked his mouth over hers, coaxing her into participating…as though…as though-

Bellatrix actually shrieked.

Tom winced, pulling his mouth away, but otherwise paying her no mind. "You're my girl, Hermione." His fingers twisted into the hair at her nape, and he kissed her again, mouth soft against hers. "You're mine."

It was sick, but she couldn't deny it.

XII / 15 December 2013

Hermione pulled the front door open to see two police officers standing on she and Tom's front step. She frowned. "Can I help you?"

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Hermione?" Tom called, his voice nearing them. "Oh," he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Officers. How can we help you?"

"We're here to speak with Miss Granger, actually."

"It's fine," she told them. "He's…well, we're in a relationship."

He pinched her hip, but otherwise hid his amusement of her description of them.

"Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Granger."

It was only then that she realized they were holding their hats in their hands. She gripped at Tom's shirt, "No, I- What is it? Has something happened to Harry or Ginny?"

"No. We're incredibly sorry to have to inform you of this, Miss Granger. But, your parents were found dead this morning."

XIII / 25 December 2013

Hermione woke up to a throbbing headache, barely able to feel her own body.

From the light streaming through the window behind her, she supposed it was afternoon, and groaned loudly as she attempted to sit up, patting around her for her cell phone.

She wasn't sure how she'd made it to her own home, but figure it had to have been Abraxas-

"You alright?"

She screamed, instantly looking over her shoulder to see Tom lying next to her. He set her copy of Things Fall Apart on his chest, eyeing her curiously.

"Are you naked?"

"I am. As are you." He frowned. "Do you not remember last night?"

She closed her eyes, rubbing them in attempt to remember. Hazily, she remembered him shaking her nearly to death, angry with her for doing too much cocaine. But, that couldn't have been right. "Barely."

"You nearly died, Hermione. On the floor of club bathroom, of all places."

She shook her head, looking over at him to see that he was completely serious. "How?"

He sighed. "We were drinking. You decided you wanted some cocaine-"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't look at me like that, Granger. I'm not the bad guy here. I tried to stop you, but…Listen, it doesn't matter. You're fine. You're safe."

She ran her fingers through her curls, twisting them around her fingers. "Why are we here?"

"Abraxas said you might feel safer if you woke up in your own house." He set the book on his nightstand and sat up, the blanket falling lower on his stomach. "Funny that he knows more about this place than I do."

She laid back down, the backs of her hands over her eyes as she attempted to remember more of the night before. But, it seemed futile. "And you stayed."

"You begged me to fuck you until you couldn't feel anything, and then until you passed out."

"And you did?" She sat up, staring at him with wide eyes.

He almost seemed offended. "Well, Granger. I wasn't going to leave you here, high out of your mind, and alone."

Tom got out of bed and began to pull on his clothes. "You're upset with me for not listening to you, and you're upset with me when I do. I have no idea what to do to please you, save giving you someone to kill."

"Tom-"

"I didn't want to have sex with you, if it makes you feel any better. It was disgusting. Like fucking Bellatrix, only worse, because you were so fucking sad about your parents. But, not even because they were dead -which I would have understood-, but because it meant that you were alone now." He shook his head before putting on his pull over.

"Tom, please-"

"Don't bother, Granger. Really. I get it-"

"Well, I'm glad you do. Because I don't."

He stopped dead, turning and looking at her as though he wasn't quite sure who she was. "Hermione."

She tried not to cry, she really did, but the tears seemed to form without care for her desires. "I didn't mean to upset you," she told him.

He sat down on her side of the bed and pulled her to him. "And I didn't mean to be so cruel, Hermione. You just…you really piss me the fuck off sometimes. It's like you don't even realize how alike we are."

She wanted to tell him that they weren't alike at all, but it wasn't the right time.

"You're at least more adept to understanding basic human emotions and needs than I am. So, when you ask me for space and shut me out, I believe that's genuinely what you need. I didn't realize that it was the opposite, really. I wouldn't…I wouldn't have left you for so long if I'd known. I would have been there for you."

"Did I really do that much coke?"

"There was blood dripping from your nose when I found you."

"God. That's embarrassing. Did anyone…did anyone see me?"

He sighed. "No, Hermione. You know I wouldn't let that happen."

"I don't even do drugs, Tom, I…I don't know how I would have let that happen."

"Greif is powerful and dangerous, Hermione."

"Please don't lecture me on grief, Tom. I can't bare it."

He reached for her hand, thumbing rubbing her knuckles soothingly as he said, "You can tell me anything, Hermione. You know that."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone, Tom."

"I tried that! And you tried to off yourself. What were you thinking? Nothing is ever that bad, Hermione. Are you listening to me? Nothing."

She pulled her hand away from him. "You wouldn't understand-"

"I wouldn't? My parents are fucking dead, too. I think I know what you're feeling. You can talk to me."

"You don't feel anything, Tom! You're a fucking wall. Why would I want to talk to you?"

He tugged a hand through his hair. "I'm going to let that one go."

"Yeah. Thanks."

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You can't do shit like this, Hermione. You can't. You don't do drugs, remember? You can't fall apart on me. Not because of this. Not like this."

"When can I fall apart then, huh? And for what? My parents' being dead isn't enough, obviously. Is the fact that I have nothing enough for you? Or is that what you wanted?"

"Why would I want that?"

"Because it fits your sick idea of us being-"

"Don't say it, Hermione. Please don't disrespect me that way," he got up, pacing the room a few times before undressing and getting back in bed.

"I needed you. More than I ever needed anything or one. And you just," she shrugged. "You just weren't there. I know I asked for space I just…I don't know. I thought you knew what I meant."

"Yeah. I thought I did, too."

"And all that cocaine was just there."

He touched her hair, brushing it over her shoulder before smoothing his fingers down her neck. "Tell me what's wrong, Hermione."

"What did I say? Last night, I mean. About my parents."

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. You weren't in your right mind."

She looked at him. "Would you be sad if I died?"

"I don't think sad is the word I would use."

"Right," she looked away, wiping the tars from her cheeks and neck. "I guess we are pretty similar.

"I don't feel sad, Tom. Not really. Not for them. I feel sad for myself, because the two people that reminded me what life meant, what happiness, preservation, and compassion meant…How am I supposed to exist without that? I've always felt better knowing that they're just down the street. Waiting for me to get my shit together, or something. I feel…alone. That's it. I just feel alone. Is that…is that what you felt when your parents died?"

"No. I wasn't really attached to my mother when she died, and I killed my father for myself, so," he shrugged, trailing his thumb down her spine. "I didn't register the fact that I was alone for a long time."

"And what happened when you did? What did it feel like?"

He was quiet for some time, fingers tracing the beauty marks on her back. "Fear," he finally told her, voice barely a whisper. "Never ending. All consuming. But, Hermione, it isn't because I don't want to be alone. It's because I can't imagine losing you."

She got out of bed, wincing from the tightness drawing over her body and the ache between her thighs. Pointedly ignoring Tom's smirk as she shifted her bare hips, attempting to find some sort of relief, Hermione fled to the bathroom.

# # #

An hour later, she climbed back into bed, her arm drawing over his waist as she kissed his back.

"Tom," she whispered, drawing her nails over his stomach. He winced as she passed over puckered skin. It was warmer than the rest of his skin, the way a fresh wound would be, and she sat up, pulling the covers away and forcing him to turn over.

"What happened?" She questioned, eyes glued to the knife wound on his abdomen, recognizing the deep red of the medical stitches as her own.

"It's nothing, Hermione. I deserved it. Really."

She swallowed as he opened his arms to her. Deciding not to press the subject, she laid down with him, her eyes falling closed as she breathed him in. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I love you."

He rubbed her back soothingly. "I know."

"Happy Christmas, Tom Riddle."

Kissing her hair, he murmured, "Happy Christmas, Granger."