"[He] had never spoken to me before. It was frightening."
"What did it say?"
"It wants her."
Tom was smiling, a real smile that reached his eyes. He held up a small velvet box and waited for a reaction from Narcissa. He looked eager as he pulled the ring up to look at closely. "It's a family heirloom," he said, the ring too close to his face. It was an odd sight seeing Tom so attentive at something so ordinary.
"I'm sure it is," Narcissa looked at the ring with distaste. It was small, cleaned up just nicely enough to know someone could live off it. It was a good ring, but it wasn't very pretty. It was dark and reminded Narcissa of something scarier than a wedding with Tom Riddle. "It's a bit gothic, don't you think?"
Tom's expression did not change, it was as if he hadn't heard her. He stared at his ring with a gleeful look. Narcissa almost forgot who he was.
"It's just not really what people choose as an engagement ring," she said cautiously.
"We're not an average couple," Tom snipped, closing the box, a loud crack echoing the empty home.
Cissa had to agree. "Well. How are you planning to ask?"
"Ask?" Tom tucked the ring into his pocket and looked at Cissa in confusement.
"You don't plan to just give it to her, do you?" she laughed softly. "You have to ask he first."
Tom's jaw tightened and his happy smile was wiped away. "Why?" his voice was curt and his eyes hard. "Is she suppose to say no? We're having a child together."
"She could still say she isn't ready," she replied cautiously. "Raising a child together is different than marriage." Narcissa wondered how Tom would react if Hermione really did say no. She was thinking about a way to convince him not to pressure her, when someone began pulling into the driveway. "Marriage is committing yourself to a relationship with someone you love, and-"
Tom froze. Cissa, not hearing the car pull in, thought it was because of her words and continued to talk. "Shut up," he hissed, walking towards the window.
Cissa walked behind him and peeked out. There, sitting in the driveway, was a black and white car. The red, white, and blue lights sitting on top of it made Cissa stagger back. "The police," she whispered, almost angrily.
What did Tom do? What evidence did he leave behind? What was Cissa's alibi? They were going to question her. They were going to question them both.
Deep breaths. Lucius is at work. He could still call a lawyer. Don't answer anything.
Tom looked back at a pale Narcissa and smiled.
"He didn't murder those families, he changed them."
Tom's arm was over Hermione's shoulder. She pretended not to mind as she sat beside him and watched the local news.
When a familiar face appeared on the screen, Tom reached for the remote but Hermione stopped him and paid closer attention. The man on the screen looked so frightened, his eyes wide and confused, and his complexion pale. Under the picture was the name Quirell.
The words seemed to come too quickly for Hermione to understand.
"... suspect for multiple homicides is now in custody… arrested after tips from… suspected to be responsible for the murder of… Ginerva Weasley."
Hermione felt her heart drop, she almost didn't notice Tom rubbing her back reassuringly. "Shh, it's fine. You're fine."
"H- He didn't do it. They'll know."
"They won't," Tom whispered into her ear.
Hermione wanted to pull away. She wanted to push him away, tell him his breath was hitting her as he talked and it was suffocating. "No," she couldn't bring herself to move. The words were stuck in her throat as she tried to say more.
Tom began to pet her hair down.
Don't touch me, she wanted to shout. Instead she shivered and shook her head.
"He didn't kill Ginerva. But maybe he killed the others."
Hermione swallowed the knot in her throat.
"I didn't want you to worry," he began carefully. "But I was questioned. I told them about Quirell. He was unstable."
"He was your patient?" Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yes. If he was arrested, they must have found some evidence. He had to have been questioned or searched. He could be responsible for the other murders Hermione."
His voice was soft, his touches kind.
Hermione looked up at him and froze. He was looking at her, his eyes hard but his face carefully set to look like he was relaxed. She hadn't noticed how empty Tom's eyes looked, when she looked into Harry's or Ron's eyes, there seemed to be an entire different world inside them. Tom's eyes only seemed to reflect the light back.
Her stomach churned and she looked away.
"I- I -" she couldn't find any words to how she was feeling. She wasn't even sure how she was feeling.
"It's fine, we're fine now."
Hermione swallowed, looking at anything but Tom. No, they were a lot of things, Hermione knew. But they weren't fine.
"Screams fill some of those places, but the corridors do not echo screaming."
Harry didn't look up from his cup of tea. He could see the small quivering of his hands but no longer worried about the tea spilling over him, it had long grown cold.
"Drink some, you'll feel better," Fred had said hours ago when he first handed it to Harry. He had taken one sip and felt nothing.
Ron and his siblings sat with Harry in the Weasley's living room, all were at lost with words. A friend of the Weasley's had came to tell them the news, Ginny was found, not her entirely, but enough for them to know it was her.
Mrs. Weasley still couldn't come out of her room, and Mr. Weasley was in there beside her, comforting her while his own heart shattered.
Harry could still hear the first scream Mrs. Weasley had given out when the news was first told. It was the scariest thing he had ever heard, it was miserable and ugly and loud. God, it was so loud.
If he looked up, all he could see was the portrait of Ginny hanging on the wall across from him and all he could hear was Mrs. Weasley.
"No! No, not my Ginny. Not her. It's not her. Not her!"
"Molly please, please Molly, Molly get up."
If Harry looked up, he could only see Mr. Weasley crashing down onto the floor beside his wife, holding her and holding back his sobs until you could only see him gasping for air and crying for his little girl.
"It's sick," George could only say. "It's so fucking sick."
"It was Riddle's fault," Ron said, almost too quiet for anyone to hear.
Fred looked up at him incredibly and grabbed the closest thing closest to him, a pillow, and threw it as hard as he could to Ron. "Can you give up your stupid hate for that man for one night? You're so fucking obsessed with Hermione, you can't even let it go to mourn our sister?"
"I'm serious!" Ron shouted back. He looked to Harry as if he could help. "She was Riddle's patient, dad's friend said he was the one who gave Quirell's name as a suspect. Quirell must have met Ginny at Riddle's place."
Fred shook his head. "Mom said Ginny stopped going to therapy."
"Hermione said that," Harry said, not looking up. "Ginny promised me she was still going."
"Hermione wouldn't lie about that.." Ron said. "But maybe Riddle did. Maybe he told Hermione Ginny wasn't-"
"Do you hear yourself?" Fred scoffed.
"You're being ridiculous." George agreed.
Harry looked up and saw Ginny's portrait smiling back at him. He remembered the day they met Tom Riddle, Ginny was smiling so much at Riddle. Harry remembered because he had felt a bit jealous of the handsome doctor. He had seen how Riddle barely paid any attention to her and how desperately Ginny had seemed for his attention. He saw the jealousy Ginny had for Hermione after that day.
Harry had thought nothing of it. There was nothing to it.
He looked at Ron, who looked so angry and helpless. Harry reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.
"I want to look into it. Hermione's not safe. I can feel it Harry."
"Ron…" Harry couldn't say more. He tried to, but he couldn't. There's nothing we can do. Ginny is gone. Riddle isn't to blame.
"I can't lose her too."
Harry swallowed. "We can't make her change her mind."
"We can just look into things. There's something bad about Tom Riddle."
George and Fred looked away, but Harry felt his stomach churn. "Okay. We'll look into him," he said, though he wasn't sure what he was suppose to do.
"The eating of the heart is a powerful image."
Hermione lay on Tom's couch most of the day, it was nearing midnight when Tom finally came to her. He had been giving her some space after she snapped at him earlier that morning.
He had been holding her tight, whispering sweet promises of their future when she pulled away forcefully. She stood up and backed away from him and nearly shouted at him. "Why aren't you worried about Quirell? Gods if you spend as much time trying to figure all this out as you do smothering me, maybe I'd have a little peace of mind."
He had eyed her then, giving her a harsh look to reprimand her bad behavior. "I understand you're worried but you really don't have to take it out on me. If you wanted to talk about what happened with Quirell, all you had to do was say so. Forgive me for smothering you with the attention I want to shower you in." He had stood up then, "Let me know when you're ready to talk." Tom walked away solemnly, leaving Hermione with a pit in her stomach.
Had she been too harsh? Maybe she should apologize..
Tom didn't bother her all day, even as she sulked on the couch, hardly paying attention to the shows on tv. It gave her time to think. She thought about Ginny, thought about Ron, thought about the pregnancy she hadn't bothered to prevent.
How could she blame Tom for getting over Ginny's death so quickly when it was all she was trying to do. She wanted to forget about Ginny, forget how it was all her fault and how she didn't take responsibility for the awful thing she did.
Why had she grown angry at Tom when he had done nothing but help? When he so eagerly wanted to please her and love her?
There was something off, something telling Hermione not to fall into the comfort Tom offered. She didn't know why.
All day Hermione argued with herself. Could she trust Tom?
There was no solid arguments as to why she shouldn't. Hermione had always been a more, believe it when I see it kind of girl. So why was she going to listen to a gut feeling when Tom had proved he was loyal to her.
He had helped her. All he ever did was try to help her. But he was a person with feelings too, and her rejection that morning must have stung.
Hermione wanted to ignore the bad feeling she had and get up to apologize to Tom.
When he came to her that night, she said nothing, and when he offered her his arms in comfort, she buried herself in him.
"Sorry," she managed to say against him.
He pet her hair slowly, holding her to him. "What you said was very hurtful Hermione."
"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice soft.
"If you don't love me, you should tell me now," he said evenly.
There was a pause, and Tom feared his tactic was going to backfire.
"I do love you."
Tom breathed. "Good. We'll work through this. We'll get better at this love."
She nodded and pulled herself even closer. She needed the comfort. She needed him. "I love you."