The Birthday

"What you saw was my reaction to what she was saying. But trust me Hermione; she just spins these stories, these dreams. I know that if I were to choose her, she would only care for herself, just as she always has. She would be loyal, yes, but only out of fear. The minute I would turn my back, she would be doing something I didn't approve of. It's her way and I know that."

His speech was really quite convincing and Hermione found it hard to be angry with him. She looked down.

"Tom," she said quietly wishing she hadn't discovered this, "I was looking at the locket earlier, and when I touched the back, these words appeared." She showed him what she meant and he looked confused. She read them aloud, "'by day one choice, by night another. She will be destroyed by fire. It is a sad fate for he who had two desires.' What do you think it means, Tom?" But she knew the two choices; power and love, Bellatrix and Hermione. And Hermione would die by fire.

"It means nothing at all, Hermione." He said, although she could tell he was distressed.

"Tom," she said, wishing to change the subject.

"Yes?"

"I felt the baby kick yesterday." His eyes lighted as she said that.

"Really, when?"

"When he saw you," she smiled, it was true. The minute that Tom had walked in the room, the baby had kicked. She looked in his eyes; he was very pleased at her answer.

"Well if he knows what's good for him, he will." Tom walked towards the door, smiling. "Hermione, I have to leave."

"Okay, when will you be back?"

"In two months."

"Two months? Where could you possibly be going for two months?" She was afraid; of being without him, of being alone with her thoughts – she knew she would miss her friends and her old life.

"I've a conference … of sorts to go to."

"Tom, don't be evasive."

"I have a meeting with some of my friends."

"Friends or followers, Tom?" She was getting annoyed.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, you can't just leave without giving me a good reason why. I'm your wife now, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware, which is why I'm telling you in the first place, normally with anyone else I wouldn't, I would just leave."

"Well I'm not just anyone Tom."

"Yes," he sighed, "I know."

"So where are you going really?"

He looked at her for a long while, as if debating whether or not to tell her.

"On a … campaign."

"For what?" But Hermione knew; it was a killing "campaign." She trembled, knowing she had to keep him from going.

"For house elves." He said jokingly, trying to distract her. He picked up a book off of one of the shelves.

"Don't mock me," she said, remembering one night when she told him about her elf rights movement phase.

They had lain on the bed after one of their rows, and talked about their past. Well mostly Hermione's since Tom didn't have many good memories. She told him of Harry and Ron, of her parents, of her studies. He had been interested, too, the whole night. And he had told her of one of his good memories, maybe his only good memory.

Hermione looked at him as he spoke, entranced by his intense happiness.

"She took me to the summer festival, it was a big deal you know, and everyone went. Everyone but us; my father never allowed any happy festivities. So she took me there one summer while he was away, I saw fireworks for the first time, they were a brilliant red. There were green ones too, those were my favorites; they were beautiful. We ate cakes and cotton candy until we thought we were going to puke. And what was best of all was that I met Jack there. He was my age, and his mother was one of the only women in the town who approved of mine. They were Potters after all. We've been friends ever since."

She smiled, remembering how he had opened up to her that night.

"What are you smiling about Hermione; I wasn't being serious about the elves thing."

"I know, Tom, but I wish you wouldn't go."

"I must, love."

"You don't have to," she had to ask him, but she didn't want to; she was afraid. "Are you going to kill people, Tom?"

He stopped, looking at her, and his eyes were sad. Hermione gasped and suddenly couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth, trying to force air into her lungs. He was going to kill, after all this time, after everything.

"You lied to me!" she said once she found she could breathe again.

"No I didn't Hermione; I haven't lied to you at all."

"Well you were pretending to be someone you weren't, that's close enough to lying in my book." She cried and he gathered her in his arms, she didn't refuse. "All this time I thought you had changed, I thought you had decided that love was better than death and power. I thought you chose me over that life. Why, Tom, am I not enough for you? Is Bellatrix what you want, is power what you want? Do you want them all over me?"

"Can't I have both, Hermione, you and power? I don't understand why that's bad."

"It's the way you get power, Tom, not the actual power. What if someone else who wanted power had killed me to get to it? Then you'd be without me!"

"What? No one's going to kill you, Hermione. I don't understand what you mean."

"Tom, you're killing somebody's Hermione," she said sadly, moving away from him. Her statement seemed to get his attention a bit, although she knew he was terrible at empathizing.

"Hermione, I'll think about it, okay."

She smiled a little, still unsatisfied.

"Come," Tom said, extending his arm towards her. She took it and they went to bed.

0o0o0o

Hermione stretched, waking up to the bright morning light, something uncommon for Tom's house since the thick green curtains lining the windows always kept it dark inside. She smiled; it was her birthday. She hadn't yet decided if she was going to tell Tom though, she didn't want to be let down if he decided he didn't care.

She opened her eyes and sat up. The sight she saw was unbelievable.

Rose petals covered every surface. There were three large piles of books near her bedside table. She smelled coffee and doughnuts and waffles. She looked around; she saw a gorgeous emerald dress hanging by the wardrobe. Beautiful jewels hanging around it. She saw a white fluffy puppy sitting at the foot of her bed with a big red bow around its neck.

She was dressed in a silk, lace dress. Perfume bottles were sitting on her bedside table and next to them were diamond necklaces and bracelets. She looked to her left and saw more books and more flowers.

Tom chuckled at her expression.

"Happy Birthday, beautiful." He said sexily.

"How did you know?"

"Jack told me," he said coming towards her. She did remember telling Jack and was glad that he had told Tom.

"You didn't have to do all this though, Tom. I mean I'm grateful, very grateful, but you didn't have to buy so many things. You know I'm not materialistic."

"Yes, I'm quite aware," he sat beside her on the bed, "But I needed to show you that I was sorry and that I love you."

"I love you too." She said as she leaned up to him for a kiss.

"And this isn't all of it." He said wickedly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm throwing you a party tonight!"

She groaned; she hated parties, "The green dress?"

"Yes, that's what it's for." He smiled broadly. "You deserve it, Hermione."

A/N: Reviewwwww!!!