Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, and sorry if I haven't replied to yours. Thanks in particular to Fast Frank who'd left many reviews but unfortunately doesn't have an FFNet account—if it wasn't for all that, I would have updated next week instead of now.
To Fast Frank: Thanks for the reviews. It's just that it's awkward replying to many reviews on the Author's Note, not to mention I can't correspond back and forth when some parts confuse me (I don't always remember every single sentence I wrote in the story and in which chapter they come up in). Really, I appreciate your efforts. I'm not exactly awash in reviews, so every single one counts.
To crazyclone4 at Reddit (hope you're reading): I just noticed that you've recc'ed SA more than once there—you have my sincere appreciation. I'm just one writer in a particular corner of the endless void that is the internet, after all. If people didn't spread the word, I don't think I'd have that many readers.
'-
49 The Monster Inside
Conversations in the infirmary. Tom Riddle speaks of what crosses his mind under lessened inhibition. Hermione realises a particular quirk of Tom's psyche.
'-
Tom was not the slightest bit worried with her assessment. He had laughed at her information.
"If this is poisoning, then someone is rather incompetent. I can still perform at my usual level."
He'd sat up on the bed and she sat up next to him.
"But your judgement is impaired."
"Is it?" He only seemed amused.
"You used Python's Bite against Starkey and Pendleton. It would not have ended well if Professor Merrythought found out! Also, what the hell was that tentacle-limb hex? I think you're lucky the Professor thought it was just another Jelly-legs Jinx instead of something stranger, not to mention that I was there to heal them." She insisted.
"I know you were there, Hermione, and that I can rely on you."
Her reply was tart, her worry gnawing the back of her mind. "That would have been more flattering if you're not under the influence. I'm going to run some basic toxicology tests and you're going to stay still."
"Go ahead."
Tom said this to her throat, as he was already nuzzling her neck. Only her discipline allowed her to finish the spells she'd wanted to cast.
"You're dosed with some sort of stimulant. I don't know how bad it is." She concluded.
Hermione moved his hand to her shoulder when it was moving too low. "You're either going to sleep now, or I'm going to knock you out. And I mean it."
That was exactly what she did a few moments later. If she waited much longer, she might not have cared enough to refuse him. It was discomfiting.
She didn't think he would have been caught off-guard that easily.
The brunette sighed and slipped down on the bed, pulling the covers over him. Time to run that test again and note down the results—several things had raised the alarm for Hermione. If Nurse Edelstein can get the antidote for most of them soon, she'd be able to rest easier.
'-
The infirmary office was washed in the orange glow of the setting sun. The bare stone castle walls and the simple aged furniture reminded Hermione of some monasteries she'd visited in Italy.
"Thank you. I mean, it's great! I'm sure no one has ever had an apprenticeship while they're still in Hogwarts." Even Hermione could feel her smile wasn't real, she dreaded to know how it looked like to Nurse Edelstein and Madam Álava.
"Hermione?" Maggie asked, her voice tentative, concerned. It only made her feel worse.
"I'm sorry. I should be happier about this, but I can't get my heart into it right now."
"It's that Riddle boy, isn't it?" Madam Álava said this with an unamused look.
"He's been poisoned," the Ravenclaw witch answered outright, and a gasp escaped Nurse Edelstein. Hermione handed her the notes she'd jotted down on the last round of blood tests she took on him. "Yes, I know Slytherin House could be rather cutthroat, I just didn't realise it was this bad. He's hit with a cocktail of things that can't be easy to unravel."
Madam Álava's expression was more understanding.
"I see. Symptoms?"
"Dilated pupils. I think he's on his way to running a slight fever before that, barely noticeable. If I consider the changes in his behaviour in the last few days, I'd say reduced inhibition, increased aggression and reduced impulse control. So, at least one type of stimulant was in the mix." She was actually rather proud of the way she'd managed to say it calmly even when she could feel her cheeks warming. Madam Álava raised one knowing eyebrow, but she didn't say anything and Hermione was grateful for it.
Nurse Edelstein made a sarcastic sound—she'd just finished reading.
"Oh, I know exactly what he's been poisoned with."
"Maggie?"
The Nurse was still rechecking the levels Hermione had jotted down. "You're right on the complexity, though. I can reduce some of the effects and attenuate some symptoms, but it's safer to let the body metabolise the rest. Overshooting the antidotes will just create new problems."
'-
It has to be one of the Slytherins, Hermione thought.
She knew that Tom hadn't eaten at any other tables in the last several days. Considering the outright hero-worship that Starkey had for Tom, she doubted that he had anything to do with it—not this time. Maggie had outright laughed at the idea that it would be put on delayed release, so people from any other house didn't exactly have the opportunity to dose him during a meal. Tom was more careful about food and drinks he received from other people outside that.
"Delayed release is plausible, but it takes too much finesse and patience, dear. Not exactly something I'd credit desperate and careless Hogwarts students with." The Nurse had told her. "Considering the average potion scores for the upper years, the odds are greater that it was simply poured into food, with the effects kicking in immediately afterwards."
Madam Álava was more disbelieving at what she considered outright carelessness and idiocy of some Hogwarts students. Nurse Edelstein couldn't help making light jibes about how she'd probably forgot how being young felt already.
"Dose the culprit in return if you ever found out whom," Madam Álava suddenly said at one point, to Nurse Edelstein's shock and Hermione's surprise.
"Granny!"
"Make sure the target of the infatuation is you." Esmeralda Álava said with a sharp smile. "String them along for a while."
Hermione had to appreciate the elder witch's creative sense of revenge.
The Ravenclaw witch was sitting on Tom's bed, next to his sleeping form. She'd gone back to the Ravenclaw Tower, had dinner, and fended her friends off with the simple statement of 'Tom's unwell and he's sleeping due to some medication in the infirmary'. Nurse Edelstein was out to dinner with Madam Álava, and she trusted that Hermione could man the infirmary for the time being. It was already after the nurse's work hours. Usually, there was a house elf that would watch out for any emergency cases and, and now Hermione took over for a while—not that she minded.
Her mind couldn't let go of this mystery for now and she wanted to unravel this first. She'd used up some of her time to start a few essays and outline some others and she was already done with them for now. She wondered if she could get Tom to tell her about his experience in these last few days without telling him what happened. There was the discomfiting realisation that if he figured out the culprit before her, someone might end up dead. As much as she felt like sending several good hexes at them, she didn't really wish for their death.
He shifted under the hand that was playing with his hair.
"What time is it?" He pulled himself up.
Hermione was impressed. Maggie had given her an estimate of how long he'd be out based on the potion she gave him and his body weight. It was good to the nearest ten minutes.
"Eight something. I didn't check. How's your head?"
"It feels as if it's been used as a bludger. Are you sure that was the antidote instead of a different poison?" Tom asked. Nurse Edelstein had brought him half-awake only to get him to drink several concoctions before telling him to sleep again. He pulled one of the pillows up and leaned back on the headboard.
"Very funny," Hermione murmured. She picked up a scroll, a thin but wide book to support it and a quill from the bedside table. "Do you at least notice that you've been…odd these last few days?"
His eyes were closed while another hand was rubbing his temples. She decided to give him time and wait.
"You got all of Vespasian and Pendleton's injuries, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Good. Thank you. That was reckless of me." His voice was slightly rough around the edge, probably because he'd just woken up. She reminded herself that there were more important things that she ought to be doing right now than paying attention to him.
She started noting that down. Realises the recklessness of recent ADADA duel with Starkey and Pendleton.
"I knew that was unusual of you." She leaned to him when he slipped an arm around her waist.
"It's not that it was unusual. I had thought that I've outgrown it already at this point." He answered.
"Outgrown?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. I always get the urge to destroy people who made a pest of themselves from time to time. I just don't follow them these days, not when it makes a mess of my long-term plans."
His voice was too calm.
Hermione was belatedly reminded of the kids he'd bullied or attacked in the orphanage, the root of Dumbledore's distrust in him. She made a note that yes, Tom noticed the reduced inhibition towards violence, even as she tried not to dwell on his words.
"That was why you beat the hell out of Starkey."
"Maybe. Or maybe it had been an unusually frustrating day and I was looking forward to have it out with him. After all, that was not the first time I did it." Tom said. "It does not have to be the result of something I ate."
He sent her a sideways glance. It was dark and knowing, and she knew what he was doing. He didn't want her to make excuses for him. He knew what he was and he wanted her to see it, to admit that she'd chosen his company even with that knowledge.
She sighed. "I get it. If you beat someone else when you're drunk, it does not completely absolve you from that beating—but it is a mitigating circumstance. Moving on, did you notice anything else unusual in these last few days?"
"Unusual?"
"I'm trying to inventory the effects, or as near to it as possible. One of the most dominant components of the cocktail that you're dosed with is stimulant, among other mood-and-behaviour-altering potions. Perhaps someone's trying to get you to lose control."
He shook his head, calmer now after hearing it. It was clear that he was a lot less concerned about it than when she'd said it was poison.
"How do you even separate what acts are influenced by something else and what had been my choice in the first place?"
"Let's just take seventy or eighty percent of the things you can tell me, then." She said.
He thought over it for a few moments.
"I do regret trying to find some other way to distract myself."
"Some other way?"
Tom took the scroll and quill from her hands and placed it aside.
"If I had found you last night, at least we would have been very entertained." His breath tickled her ear and she realised he was half over her right now. There was no mistaking what the promise in his voice meant and she ignored her blush. He seemed to be rather content to stay where they are at the moment, and it was the only reason Hermione didn't go off to find Nurse Edelstein and ask for another dose of the antidote.
"And we would've missed the night Astronomy class at the same time. Not exactly subtle, is it?" She asked.
"Good point. Yet I wouldn't have cared last night."
"Alright. I'll put that down as one of the signs. You were aggressive towards Pendleton and Starkey, or possibly just Starkey. You were more interested in me than usual. What about other people? What did you feel about Melchior and Abraxas? Oswin?"
"Mmm, yes. Increased predisposition towards violence."
His lips touched hers with the lightest of kisses.
"Torquil Travers." He spoke softly.
"What about him?"
Tom kissed her again, his light exhale of breath was a ghostly caress to the inside of her lower lip. It was gentle, but she found her thoughts scattering faster than the more direct ministrations he'd taken before. She shivered—he was still holding himself up with an arm instead of falling on her completely.
"He annoyed me so much I was thinking of cutting him open while I was talking to him. I wanted to make him bleed. Just when he's gasping what he thought was his last, I'd like to reverse the flow and pull all that blood in again, so I can do it as many times as I like."
Then his tongue was sliding behind her teeth and she gasped. Hermione reached up towards him, almost by reflex. Their kisses were oddly sweet now, since he seemed to be taking his time and she had no trouble losing herself in them. It did not mean she forgot what they were talking about. I'm really getting too used to him threatening bodily harm against other people, she mused.
"Only Travers?" She asked.
He pulled himself aside, and she did not know whether she was happy or annoyed at that. She decided to go with being happy that he could actually keep track of their topic.
"I was not much pleased this morning either. I dislike you having too much power over me."
Hermione didn't know how to take that. Was he saying that she had power over him right now? That he disliked her for it? Or was he trying to prevent it from happening?
"I didn't know that was one of the effects of whatever stimulant I was under. I would've been less concerned if I'd known that." He idly replied.
"Ah, the increased…" libido. She bit her lip and found a different word. "…attraction. Right."
"I spent potions class trying to watch various Slytherin witches. To see if I can redirect some of that attraction."
She only raised her eyebrows at that and picked up the scroll, quill and book again from the bedside table and wrote all that down.
"Jemima Avery has a truly small and pale neck. Delicate, vulnerable—as swanlike as some of the boys had insisted. She thinks I might want her even the slightest, and she's only waiting for a sign or two to approach me. I can see that from the way she secretly steals glances in my direction when she thinks I'm not looking, eyes filled with infatuation. Well, I suppose I have to admit that something about her draws the eye once I've spent enough time watching her in return."
Hermione was a professional. It meant she could write his words down verbatim while holding back the atavistic urge to hex Jemima to keep her hands off him. Even when she knew that Tom wasn't interested in beautiful but airheaded pureblood girls, the urge to throttle does not disappear. She took a deep breath and let out a huff.
"Go on."
He had a slight smile of amusement, which she ignored. She knew she was transparent on this topic.
"The more I see her blue cow-eyed gaze, the more I wanted to wrap my hands lovingly around her throat and choke her. Would she still be desperately in love when she struggles to draw in air? Would her love be worth more than her life, or would fear finally overwhelm her as it takes everyone else? She had wanted a token of my affection—would she accept it, if it is in the form of pain?" The tranquillity of his voice only made the violence within his words stand out more.
"She's so proud of her beauty, and for once I could see it. Yes, she is beautiful, and yes, I'd preserve it. I'd do her a favour and inflict pain without mussing up that well-proportioned body of hers. The Cruciatus is only the beginning of pain spells. There are many subtler ones as well as those with a local effect."
"Maybe I wanted a doll like her after all, to have and to hurt." His tone echoed and mocked the usual marriage vows.
"But you didn't do it." Hermione said, with a firmness that was convincing. She linked her hands with his, holding it, anchoring him to her.
It wasn't his fault. Tom had never tried to hide the monster he was once he knew she could see him. She was the one who tended to forget sometimes.
"I am lucky that the potion was not more, then." There was dark humour in his voice.
She knew what he meant. They were lucky that he was not drugged with a higher dosage, or that he was drugged with something that had stronger effect that would overcome his inhibitions completely to follow his darkness' drives. He didn't seem half as concerned as she was, perhaps because he'd never really cared much about other people in the first place. But Hermione was angry, the cold anger an unfamiliar burn in her chest. Oh, the protectiveness was old news—she always had that towards all her friends. But the urge for payback was not. Still, someone had almost broke Tom Riddle again and rouse Lord Voldemort instead.
Someone would pay for that.
"Only Jemima?" Hermione asked, lightly.
"Well, for all her beauty Patricia Parkinson is a little too noisy for my taste. She talks too much, and not about interesting things like you do. Trifles. I did wonder if it would be better if I were to remove her mouth—no, no, that's too over the top. However would she eat? That would make her too difficult to care for. Perhaps her vocal chords, then." He mused.
"Still too similar to Jemima, though. Why keep two identical dolls? Her good point is that she's not as smitten as Jemima and has a bit more sense to her, so there's less mooning and foolishness to deal with. There is perhaps…ah, Carrow. Violetta Carrow. Her dark hair reminds me of yours, but simply a little too dark. I was wondering if I could colour it, add some curls to her hair."
It was almost flattering if it wasn't creepy. Wait, she wasn't going to lie to herself. It was still flattering even if it was creepy.
She glanced at him under her lashes. "So, it would look like mine?"
"It can never look like yours," his answer was easy and quick, as if he'd found it all too obvious. "But it might be close and I might forgive her for not being you because of it. She's not as beautiful as Jemima, but she has some intelligence. My thoughts strayed during potions when I look at her; I keep wondering if I can break her down into something less annoying."
"Break her down." Hermione repeated slowly, almost afraid to hear his reply but couldn't find it in her to stop now. She wanted, no, needed to hear of what the monster inside him thought.
"Yes, train her properly like you do a good hunting dog. Reward and punishment. I would give her what she thinks love should be when she's behaving well and I will also make her fear me when she is not. I'll shape her into a shadow of you. My kiss she would salivate after as if it's her salvation. She would learn to fear the same thing if she did wrong, for the bite marks on her flesh will be a good reminder of her mistakes. Every time she displeases me after that, all I have to do is lay my hand over one of the marks and squeeze."
"You wanted to make my replacement?" She said this with mock-offence.
It was not hard to exaggerate her expressions when she knew he hadn't been thinking of replacing her at all. It was better than letting the numbness inside her out. Something was aching but she didn't even know what. Tom hadn't hurt anyone after all—if he had, they wouldn't be talking over this calmly. She would be fighting him, trying to drag him to the DMLE.
One of them might even end up dead.
The Slytherin chuckled, shaking his head. He was oblivious to the conflict going on in her mind. "Of course not. You're irreplaceable, Hermione. She'd just be another plaything. Entertaining, but not real."
How could she ever forget that? His strange words had been etched in her mind.
You, Hermione, are real.
She wasn't a doll to him. He saw her as the only other actor in a stage of the world that was filled with puppets and props. Perhaps he did not quite see Dumbledore as a mere puppet either, and neither did he underestimate Grindelwald. Perhaps there were other similar, notable exceptions, yet she was certainly the only one he cared about as well as the only one close to his age. Hermione took a deep breath before she asked him.
"How do you feel about it now?"
"Now?"
She swallowed the unease she felt about his id's perspective.
"About all of those ideas of making them your puppets?" She asked.
"Now? Now I wonder why I wanted to bother so much with getting living dolls. It would take too much time for something so trivial—a mere toy." He shook his head, sounding displeased.
"Time is something I don't have in abundance right now. We still have to gain enough political power and magical power. For the first, I'm sure it's not too difficult to consolidate the purebloods behind us with the right incentive, but it would require many hours of talking and…discussions. As for the second, I'm sure Grindelwald has an interesting collection of books. The sooner we can kill him, the better."
Hermione laughed, freely and easily. She ignored his surprised and mildly amused expression. It was hard to imagine that there would be a day that she'd be happy to see Tom Riddle's usual power-hungry self again, but there she is right now. The brunette tried to blink away her tears, but Tom had already seen them even when she'd managed to shake them away. His hand caressed her cheek, holding her gently.
"Hermione?"
She didn't know how genuine his concern was. His eyes were drawn to hers, the dark blue of his iris actually visible now.
"What's wrong? Tell me."
Her lips quirked up slightly at the corners. Whenever he said that, she could almost hear the unsaid 'tell me who needs to be killed' following behind. Perhaps he cared for her good mood because he could not enjoy himself when she was in ill humour, as she understood that he found her company to be entertaining. As such, his concern might be motivated out of his own self-interest. Yet the fact that he wished to see her untroubled, that he'd do many, many things to alleviate her concerns, was beyond doubt.
"I'm happy. I'm…I don't know." She turned towards him and slid her arms around him, leaning against his shoulder. As puzzled as he was, he hugged her back, revelling in the feel of her curves against him. He pulled her closer at one point.
"I'm just glad you're back." She said.
The warmth in his voice was clear in his reply. "Well, if you had been that worried, then I suppose I am too."
"Oh, you should," she murmured. "Your carelessness was making me nervous. I keep thinking that sooner or later, Dumbledore would find something on you if you keep up like that."
…or even worse, that it would fall to her to stop him.
Tom made a neutral-sounding hum of agreement, one of his hands running through her hair. His fingers idly entangled themselves in her brown curls over and over again. She let her hands trail up and down his side while the touch of his lips was light on her temple. He started asking her about what she chose for her transfiguration final project. She told him that she still didn't have a better idea other than an Animagus transformation right now while he mused out loud about making a chimera, ignoring her snort of disbelief at how plausible it was to do it within a year. They talked for a while without altering their closeness.
That was how Maggie Edelstein found them when she got back—sitting side-by-side on the bed and asleep, curled up around each other.
'-
Tom Riddle had been discharged on Saturday night with an order to rest for at least a day and not be too active yet, at around the same time that the nurse woke both of them up. Hermione told Tom that there was a couple of things she wanted to ask Nurse Edelstein first, and she didn't mind if he were to go back on his own. He chose to wait.
"It might take some time." She warned him.
"Then, if you don't see me by the door, just take it to mean that I'm bored and I've left already. Simple."
Well, that's on his head now. She went through the infirmary door once more, walking down the double rows of bed.
Hermione cornered Maggie Edelstein in the head nurse's office as she tidied up.
That astringent hospital smell lessened slightly, covered by the scent of archived paper and the potpourri Nurse Edelstein placed above the fireplace. The moon was round and bright, its pale light shone down the window, adding cool highlights to the warm lantern lights of the room.
"What exactly does Amortentia do?" The brunette witch asked.
"Hermione?"
"Magic cannot create love. That's one of the fundamental laws of magic," Hermione said quickly. "So, what does Amortentia actually do?"
And why does it have a completely unexpected effect on Tom?
"Well, take a seat, then. This is not going to be simple."
"Alright."
Both of them took a seat at the old but inelegant desk. The surface had been worn smooth by countless hands touching and writing on it.
"Why are you suddenly asking about it? Isn't he on the mend already?" Nurse Edelstein asked. This late in the night, her usually bright lipstick had faded slightly.
"Yes, he is. It's just…the effects seem different in him."
The nurse smirked. "It didn't stop him from kissing the daylights out of you?"
"Maggie!"
"The sheets were rather messed up. Not the sort of mess that would happen if you were only snuggling to each other."
She huffed, letting the nurse get a jab in and ignoring her heated face. "Alright, yes, that too."
"I'm always glad to see that most people tend to forget that. It increases interest in a new subject, but it does not erase or decrease interest that's already there. That would take another potion altogether. It imitates love very well especially when used against people who have no serious subject of affections at the moment, or those who haven't been deeply in love before to realise the shades of difference in affection."
Well, that's interesting to know, she thought.
"Yet if magic cannot create love, how does it create something similar to love?"
"Remember the most obvious component you found?"
"It has at least one stimulant? Ah, lust, reduced inhibition…almost like drunkenness."
"Yes. Well, it also increases lust towards a new target, usually the brewer of Amortentia itself, far more than the naturally-occurring levels. That's the primary reason of its success. It also increases interest and curiosity—because love is more complex than lust, and that's why Amortentia's effects are layered too. Now this potent combination why it almost always succeeds."
Maggie Edelstein was fiddling with a quill behind her table, red nails occasionally tapping the desk while Hermione thought over Tom's perspective on his experience in the last few days. She didn't see him suddenly paying attention towards any other girls, and his words only confirmed that. There was just the noticeably increased interest in her…and a sudden sadistic interest in some of the other girls around him. A glimpse into his Voldemort side.
She was shaking her head when the realisation hit her like a bolt of lightning out of the blue.
"Shit."
"Hermione?"
"Sorry! Um, I mean, could it be used to make your victim fall in love with a, say, 'unusual' target?"
Maggie's brows creased. A strand of hair dangled over her forehead and she pushed it way. "What do you mean by 'unusual'?"
"Suppose that you want to humiliate someone and you choose a…a beautiful statue. You want to make your rival fall in love with a beautiful statue and make a fool of himself." It was the best analogy she could find.
"Playing Pygmalion, eh?"
The brunette witch nodded. "Yes. If that rival that you drugged simply doesn't see statues 'that way', like most people, would Amortentia work?"
The nurse laughed.
"Well, he'd be the most obsessed art collector, but only for that statue. Perhaps digging up its history and staring to observe it for ages, try to get people to marvel over it, trying to arrange exhibitions for it…the works. But he wouldn't really look 'in love' to most people. I don't think Amortentia can create something out of nothing like that. The effort is probably beyond the capabilities of the potion."
Hermione nodded slowly, digesting. Maggie's gaze had found Hermione's again, and this time it was sharp with interest.
"Is that what you suspected had happened, that someone had targeted an inanimate object with Tom's potion? Because you didn't see Tom obsessing over another girl?" Nurse Edelstein was intelligent, but Hermione was sure even she couldn't guess all the cracks in Tom's mind.
Her laugh was sharp, like the tinkle of a hundred shards of glass falling. She was the only one who noticed it, though.
"When he woke up after drinking all the potion you gave him and sleeping it off," Hermione began. "Tom told me that he had no idea why he'd been so obsessed with some dolls."
Nurse Edelstein's smile was easier now.
"Oh, just some dolls, is it? Well, that's a relief! The effects wouldn't have been as bad as if he'd tried to sleep with some other girl, right?"
She didn't know whether it was better to hear from the part of Tom that still thinks of other human beings as toys and yet he thinks the world of her, or to see him do something as normal as flirting with another girl and yet with that proves that he does not have a monster inside him. It was probably better for the world if the second was true, but her ego was happier that it was the first that was real.
Hermione only gave the nurse her best smile since she had no easy answer to give.
But what is there to worry about? That Unspeakable part of her mused. He's our monster now. He can't even envision anyone else but us to wish as his partner under Amortentia. If that's not love, it's a very close reflection of it, no matter how strange or dark its roots are. It's something that not even most people have.
After thanking Maggie Edelstein for the enlightening conversation, she walked out of the head nurse's office, the sound of the tall wooden door shutting echoing slightly in the large and rather empty ward.
It was with some embarrassment that Hermione realised she'd never felt so secure with anyone's attentions as she did now. Not that she can recall many boyfriends beyond Ron (she can vaguely remember at least two others now). Yet even with him she'd wonder, because the other witches that Ron had walked with when they were on one of their breaks were always glamorously beautiful, a far cry from her.
Hermione knew she cared for Tom; he was one of her best friends. At this point she was having a hard time stopping herself from caring even more. Yet there was still one last hurdle that helped her from losing her entire heart to him, even though he'd been diligently chipping away piece by piece and winning an increasingly larger share. The knowledge that she'd been doing the same to him was only a cold comfort with her last thought weighing heavily in her mind.
Could she guarantee that there wouldn't be a day in the future where she would have to fight him? That perhaps at one point, he'd be such a danger that she was the only person capable of killing him?
'-
.
.
.
End Notes:
I was going to say that I'm very happy with how this chapter turned out until I realise that this is another one where Tom shows his psychopathic side yet again. So, I'll refrain from doing that because I'm not sure I want to know what that says about me...
'-
Remember two chapters back when I said that Tom's a psychopath? This is just Hermione seeing that side of him more and more. If you think that this is implausible, that he's a tad too civilised with a good self-control to be one, my return argument against it consists of two points.
The first is Hare's Psychopathy Checklist-Revised. The PCL-R is the definitive method in diagnosing a person's psychopathic and antisocial tendencies, consisting to 20 factors to assess and mark down according to their concentration in the person (you need to be trained to use it, but the training isn't exactly that long either). If you observe it carefully, around half of the factors actually relate to poor impulse control (impulsivity, lack of reasonable long-term goals, need for stimulation, etc) and destructive behaviour towards society (anti-social behaviour*), rather than sadism or lack of empathy.
(*Note that the psychological definition of antisocial personality disorder is not someone who doesn't want to meet someone else—it's people who are outright breaking social norms and harming other members of society in the process. Being violent to the people around you is one example.)
You could be someone with the most sadistic hobby in the world, totally uncaring to feeling of others except yourself, but if you have very good control and planning ability (think Hannibal Lecter), you wouldn't be recommended to be institutionalised. You're on the psychopathy spectrum, but whatever it is you have is not pathological; it doesn't create trouble for most people (Note that I say most, not all).
The second is actually an example of a high-functioning psychopath, someone who is pretty far on the psychopathic spectrum but is not actually pathological. Allow me to introduce you to James Fallon, PhD, neuroscientist and nonviolent psychopath. In 2005, he was working on two projects at once—one was about Alzheimer and the other about murderous psychopaths. In the fMRIs of healthy brains used as control was one that looked like a psychopath's**. He thought it was just a sample from the murderous psychopaths that accidentally got mixed with the brains of family members he used as the healthy brain control for the Alzheimer study. The tech double-checked the code (to break the anonymity), just to be sure.
Even after that, there was no mistake. The scans are his. When he spoke to many psychiatrists he knew personally about it, they actually told him "we've all been telling you this for ages" and could actually give specific examples of behaviour indicating psychopathy over the years. Really, go read the Atlantic article about it titled "Life as a Nonviolent Psychopath" from 2014 if you're interested (you can use any search engine to find it). There are also some of his interviews on YouTube too. Very fascinating. If I was in neurology, I'd have tried to join whatever institute he's in to get him to mentor me, since he's living proof that your neural structure and chemistry does not have to define your destiny. (Yeah, it's clear that I sort-of identify with him).
**Based on the scans, the prefrontal cortex was too quiet/had less activity than the usual normal brain^
^If you don't believe me, check the scans yourself in the Atlantic article.
For anyone interested to go further, there's the Levenson Self-Reported Psychopathy Scale you can take online (with the usual caveats on accuracy, don't try to self-diagnose, yada yada):
openpsychometrics dot org/tests /LSRP. php
(remove the spaces and change the 'dot' into an actual period).
(And no, I'm not telling you my score).
'-