Love [Tomione]

Chapter 9: Maybe

The brown whiskey slid down his throat, leaving behind a burning sensation as he let out a thundering groan alike to Hagri— no...half being he remembered blaming the whole Myrtle incident on. It was not his mistake, it was an accident. Besides, it was Hagrid—no! Half being's fault!

It had been hours since their first ever ' coupling' as Tom dubbed it, he refused to call it any other than that. Love making? He liked Hermione but he definitely did not love her. Moreover, Tom does not love. His head felt as if someone had managed to cast the cruciatus curse on him several times, a good one at that. Perhaps it was the several glasses or the empty bottles left lingering on the shabby table that he nested his aching arms on.

Slamming down the glass down, he let out another bellowing sigh while his fingers ran through his once perfectly styled hair that was dishevelled from his witch's nimble touches.

Hermione. Oh Hermione. What would he say? It was not his fault, afterall. It was a mistake, an accident. Grunting, Tom tugged on the roots of his dark locks. When his eyes closed, all he could see was the look on her face. The disappointment he had been. Well perhaps, it was her fault. How dare she bewitch him? How dare she make him less than a wizard, unable...to last not more than a minute! His bedroom skills were not that horrid, mind you the many witches who found their position on his bed could attest to that. And most of all, a mudblood who managed to do this to him!

Panting, he let out a breathy murmur. " What have I done to myself?"

Perhaps it was a mistake that he had let himself go and get entwined into the world of a mudblood. Would she even look at him in the eye, once he returned? Would she even want him anymore, the charismatic wizard that many have chased after? Tom could not afford to have such a humiliating experience anymore, either she was in it with him or Hermione Granger will be soon found crawling on the streets without a home.

Suddenly a thought from the back of his mind crawled back, he immediately stood up, hit himself with a good old sober spell and grabbed his trench coat. How could he have so easily forgotten?

The frigid wind of the lone Knockturn Alley hit him as he pushed open the worn door. Inhaling, Tom moved quickly on his feet. The apparition point was about a kilometre away and time was ticking. His earlier encounter with his mudblood witch had already added a slash to his list of sins, he did not need anymore unnecessary mistakes. Everything had to be perfect.

"Fucking Salzaar." He murmured absentmindedly under his breath, the sound of his boots reverberating throughout the dark street.

"That isn't a nice statement to say."

His movements paused, he could hear his heart rapidly beating against his chest.

"Don't you agree, young man?"

Well, he was the heir of the great wizard himself. Tom can call him however he damn well pleases.

His mouth barely moved, except to pull up into a smile. Was this his appetiser before the feast?

"Sir, are you alright there?" The raspy voice called out from behind. Tom's movements stopped as he said slowly under his breath." Yes, I am fine."

"Well, I don't think you are." The woman said as he slowly turned around, his fingers slipping into the opened slit on his coat. She continued. " Why don't you sit down with me and we'll have a talk?"

"There's no need for that," As his blurred gaze focused onto the hunched over figure of the crone. She gave him a smile that sent shivers down his spine. Rags that were tattered beyond a repairing spell, skin wrinkled to the bone and a face gaunt from both malnourishment and age. " Tarot card reading?"