The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Historical Fiction

Tom POV (One month later- Approx 74 days lost in time)

I felt like this was a long slow slide into insanity. This bewitching woman and her constant self martyring are becoming insufferable. Every time I go to touch her, she pulls away, and I am not a tactile person by nature. The memory of that kiss is on constant replay in my mind along with her smell and the feel of her tongue sliding against mine. I have never understood the purpose or enjoyment of kissing until now- I always viewed it as a slightly disgusting activity. But she makes me just want to drag her back to the damn wagon and.....nope no I need to get control of myself. I let out a puff of air and roll my shoulders as I set out the potions ingredients for the day at least this gives me something to do.

I look up and watch Hermione wandering around with that Mathais fellow. I have a few plans for him if he even thinks about hurting her- he'll be in six parts quicker than he can say Au revoir. She catches me watching her and gives a shy wave. She makes me feel things like a god damn Hufflepuff, when I look at her, I get this weird sensation in my chest cavity, but I don't know what that is supposed to mean. I've never really had other feelings before- definitely plenty of anger, resentment and schadenfreude. I know I should push her away, nothing good would come of this. She pulses with a blinding light akin to the sun, and you can't help but stare until it burns your eyes out. I like her smile, to see her happy. I frown at that thought. Happiness....it is not something that I am familiar with. It was...is a foreign concept- I had never given it much thought concerning my own life much less someone else's.

I settle the large pestle and mortar on the table next to the window in the wagon. Outside is blanketed in snow, so I haven't the faintest idea why Hermione is out with that twit. If only she knew some of the thoughts that floated around in that prick's head, she wouldn't be so quick to be within his vicinity. He has been utterly infatuated with her since we agreed to this slave labour. I can't help but glare at the glass and wonder when everything went sideways.

The more I thought about Dumbledore, Potter, my failed plans over the last 60 years, being stuck here let's be honest no seemingly way home, the shitty orphanage, my first hellish year at Hogwarts and Hermione- which stung more than I cared to admit. A thought floated, 'I am alone and miserable. Only someone as ugly as I am could love me'. The Frankenstein quote most unbidden had to surface now. How could she...she would never...never... - I couldn't prevent the burning rage that roiled and hissed inside me like hot molten lava. It bubbled up - uncontrollably, the violent wrath consumed me engulfing my being. I struggled to take a breath in; my hands trembled as one grasped the table edge harshly and the other clawing at my throat. I broke out into a cold sweat, my mind swimming in a panic. My heart was pounding like I was running a marathon, blackness edging into my vision. I could feel my self losing balance, gasping for a breath that wasn't coming, my fingers slick with moisture slipped from the table, and I could feel myself falling.

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Hermione POV

Guilt.

The guilt was shredding me up inside. I still carry a little from accidentally killing Noma's uncle, but seeing her happy makes that easier to swallow. However, the intense feeling that I've betrayed or desecrated the memories of the people; Tom's killed or ordered to be executed is taking a toll on my conscience. I'm sure; he's aware of the gamut of emotional turmoil I'm running right now. I can't help but also feel horrible about the fact that I am hurting him as well. He maybe the Dark Lord but he is much more complicated than the light side ever gave him credit for.