Breaking Hermione

Psychopathic Love

Tom's sharp eyes were unnerving as they pierced right into me, his mind racing ahead by miles analytically dismembering my identity. I was a fool having been stupid enough to become nothing less than an object for him to methodically pull to pieces. He was nothing more than a dog with a juicy bone who was eager to finally dig in. Of course, he wanted this all along.

"Relinquish your grip on yourself." Tom had told me with nothing more than a careless wave of his hand. "Leave yourself behind and do something new. Something different."

But sitting alone in bed that night I felt as exposed as a nerve, my emotions, mind, heart- everything was on offer. And the worst part was that I never had consented to the offering, nor did I want to deal with the hefty cost of what Tom was asking of me.

How much of my identity was going to be left after he was done with me? I had to fool him, somehow. I had to play the game better than he was. It was the only way I wouldn't come off second best and lose my identity in the process. I had to deceive him into believing I was different without transitioning into a whole different person which of course was a lot easier said than done.
I realised I had to find some sort of firm ground to stand on. I had to become acquainted with who I was. That was the only way I could actually hold myself together.

So I started sifting through the memories in my mind like it was a Pensieve, only stopping once I was less discombobulated within myself. I didn't want to stop, but found myself yanked roughly out of my thoughts by a sharp knock at my bedroom door.

Knock knock.

Paralysing fear gripped me. I had just pulled myself together enough to splutter the words "Come in!" But the door opened regardless and suddenly Tom Riddle was standing in my doorway. I was speechless, frozen stiff in terror, but he on the other hand almost looked bored. Only his dark eyes shining beneath the dim lighting of my room seemed to tell a different story.

"You're in bed already?" He asked, making a rather unnecessary show pulling a watch out of his cloak pocket.

"It's 11pm." I said heatedly. "We have a little thing called classes tomorrow that I wanted to get some rest for."

"The key word there," Tom said, walking into my room and sitting on the edge of my bed, "Is tomorrow." He seemed lighthearted enough but we both knew he wasn't here for small talk.

"What are you here for?"

"I would've thought it was obvious. I must've been mistaken."

"I thought you wanted me to sleep more." I wasn't going to forget the hard time he gave me my sleeping habits any time soon. Hell no.

"I did." He said. "But that was before. This is now."

An uncomfortable silence followed his words. I was surprised Tom couldn't feel the fear emanating from me in waves. He was here because he wanted something.

The silence was deafening somehow, ringing with the violence of a stadium roar, only finally ended by my own voice torn from me like a plea.

"Just cut to the chase and tell me what you're here for, Tom."

It was as if those were the words Tom was waiting for. He shifted, his lean body facing me.

"I have something to give you." He said after a pause. "A gift."

He put his hand within his cloak drawing out a leather bound book, holding it out to me with a single pale hand.

I hesitated. Tom Riddle giving people gifts was as rare as the Tooth Fairy giving children back their teeth.