Tempus Viatorum

Chapter 19

Bile rose in his throat as he gazed down at the witch in front of him. The same witch that he longed for each evening. The very same witch that he had grown to love.

His Hermione.

Now though, he couldn't even look at her without getting the need to vomit. He couldn't stand the thought of her betrayal. All he knew was that he needed to get the fuck away from her and the situation.

Tom didn't want to believe what he had seen, didn't want to even start analysing it. Because what the fuck was that?

Nothing he knew was right, and everything he thought he knew was a lie. He had seen his entire future pass before his eyes, and nothing had gone the way he had planned it to. And worse had been seeing the real Hermione, the one she had been hiding from him the entire time.

She wasn't even a halfblood, nor was she born in this bloody decade. She hadn't lusted for him; she hated him. She wanted to fucking murder him. She had bloody well travelled through time to murder him.

Hermione Granger was nothing more than a filthy little mudblood, and from the future of all places. She wasn't his, and she sure as hell wasn't intending to ever be his.

The girl was practically on her knees before him, begging him to just hear her out. Tom could barely look at her, let alone listen to her. He saw fear in her eyes, and realised it had always been there, just hidden. Or perhaps, he hadn't been looking for it.

"You disgust me," he hissed before abruptly leaving their common room.

Sprinting through the corridors he eventually ended up in an abandoned classroom near the dungeons.

Thoughts raced through his mind, one crazier than the next. There was an uproar inside of him, a battle of mind and heart. Tom knew he ought to kill her, like she was planning on killing him. Surely she wouldn't show him any mercy, so why should he?

What had she planned; to murder him in his sleep? To torture him for his future wrongings? Or to make his life a living hell?

If so, she was already succeeding with just that.

Salazar, he should fucking strangle her. He should torture her into insanity and peel off her very skin, all while keeping her alive to feel every inch getting ripped away from her. He should take away everyone in her life she held dear and everyone from the future she'd ever hold dear. He should make her life a living hell, all while making it a protracted process.

But the fragile voice inside of him protested against violence with such conviction Tom was sure he'd not be able to enjoy breaking her. Because he'd be breaking himself in the process. Everything he'd do to her, would end up with her getting hurt. It would end up with her brittle body shaking and sobbing, and he'd fucking lose his determination.

He wouldn't be able to hurt her. Not in the way he needed to hurt her.

"Fuck!" he roared as he hit the stone wall with his knuckle so hard a piece of rubble came off.

Tom really thought she had come around. He really thought she genuinely wanted him. And then to realise it had all been a game? A plot to murder him?

As much as he wanted to give the girl credit for determination, he wanted to strangle her to death for what she had made him feel.

Because Tom had never felt something in his entire life, nothing more than anger or lust. But Hermione... Hermione had given him happiness, longing, and even a calmness he never thought he'd achieve. How could someone change another person so fundamentally and not be changed themselves? How could someone pretend to have feelings and trick another so brutally? So viciously?