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Unknown Binding
The things I do feel for you are petty and vile and born from a place of childish loathing. They're a concoction of jealousy and deference and desire.
What is the feeling of wanting to cut someone open and live in the iron cage of her ribs? Of melding yourself to her so your own bones won't rot? I want to know everything about you. I want my hands to have touched every centimeter of you. I want to see your face every day.
I'm ashamed of it. Of feeling this way. It's stripped me of power, of rationality, and propriety. I can't answer whether or not I would rid myself of it if I could, as I don't remember much of what I was before you.
She kept her eyes closed, head tilted back. Tom drank in the sight of her: the misery, conflict, and overwhelming sadness burdening her features. A sensation shot up him, like sickness, starting in his stomach and catching in his throat.
What had she done to him?
To want her, to be made to want, to be undone. To pull out his teeth one by one and lay them at her feet. He didn't understand. Hermione made him a child again.
Tom didn't know it was possible to feel this much.
What you truly are and who you were supposed to be doesn't matter. You're still alive. Whether you're a cockroach or a living saint, it's all the same to me. All that we are is what we're willing to preserve in each other.The best and worst of you is mine.
She was real. She was alive. She was here. And, "you're not leaving again," he said as he carried her towards the bathroom door. His words were barely the cold demand he had meant them to be. They came out the slightest bit hoarse. Almost like a plea.
Writing you is becoming an impossible task, because I want to touch you so badly. Then I want to claw out my hair and my eyes and break things. I want to come find you. Instead, I'm sitting, writing words on paper, failing to take my own advice. Is it fear that keeps me here?
My sincerest apologies. The ink bottle spilled.
I knew you before I remembered you.
And I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. I'm yours, Hermione. Undeniably.
~ Tom Riddle
We'll never be on the same side, but I'll be by yours all the same.
~ Hermione Granger
They walked around a corner into a corridor and someone bumped into Hermione. Her shoulder was checked by a boy in Slytherin robes. The dark-haired boy turned to them, maybe to apologize, but wasn’t given the chance. “50 points from Slytherin,” Tom said without hesitation, not looking back as he and Hermione continued through the hall.


You are the exact opposite of bliss. And I have no choice but to move with incapacitating momentum towards whatever end you exist at.
Don’t humiliate us by saying you want to see the human in me because we both know that’s not true. It’s the bad parts you want. If I were to show too much humanity you would run in fear, I think. The truth is the most terrifying thing I can give you. My sanity and care are detrimental to you.
In your mind, I felt indescribable sensations. Intoxicating ones. I will never do it again.
“I clipped my toenails last night for you.(she told him in her last letter how voldemort in the future would have the most disgusting toenails shed ever seen) I thought about sending the clippings enfolded in this letter. Then, I thought better of it. Still, I hope you appreciate my small willingness to avoid becoming the thing you recall me being.”
’Hermione was like him. She demanded attention and fear. Tom refused to give her his fear, but to deprive her of his attention would be to sleep away a whole day. He stared, and she stared back.His breath caught in his throat. Hermione had the audacity to smile at him. A smile that said more than speaking or writing ever could. It was radiance and evil. Askew and closed-lipped.More and more, she was giving him hangnails of her soul. A collection of letters, a scar, a dove, a smile. Tom wanted more.’
“What do you require, Hermione?
To continue this. Whatever this is. Because you have maimed me most efficiently, and if you stopped writing then I might lose feeling in every part of my body.
Is all this weakness enough to sate you?
If not, then I’ve maimed someone other than myself for your pleasure.
The hand enclosed in the box belonged to Avery, but now it belongs to you. He shouldn’t have defaced your petition. It was in very poor character.
Nursing my ego,
T.M.R.”
“My Roach,
Only roach, as you’re without a cock now. Forgive me for being vulgar, you’re filthy enough for the both of us.”
I clipped my toenails last night for you. I thought about sending the clippings enfolded in this letter. Then, I thought better of it. Still, I hope you appreciate my small willingness to avoid becoming the thing you recall me being.”
”My Victim of Circumstance,
Apologies for burning the world to the ground. I’ll be more selective with my arson this time around.I have you to lead me away from my past mistakes.
There’s no better tour guide through time and space than you, my dear. If you leave me to my own devices, however…perhaps I will not be so selective and destroy everything in my path to glory.
It would probably be best for you to come back and keep me in line, don’t you think?
Your Flight of Death,
T.M.R.”
”I follow the Austria news closely.
A failed plot to infiltrate Wizengamot that ended with hundreds of Grindelwald’s men in Auror custody and awaiting their trials in Azkaban.
I know it was you, the question is how?
My educated guess is that you did it from the inside.
Are you that idiotic? Would you really go to Nurmengard?━assuming that’s where Grindelwald is stationed.
Fucking idiot. If you are planning, are currently, defeating Grindelwald from the inside, I hope you fail and die because how stupid does one have to be to attempt such a thing?
It’s not too late to stop, to leave Austria, if I was correct in my assumptions. I’ll forgive you for your raging stupidity if you come back now.
Irritably,
T.M.R. ”
”My Most Hostile Castaway,
No man is an island. I know this because, if I were one, I would be significantly more difficult for you to leave. ”
”A letter, in this place? In what very well may be her dying minutes?
How kind of the world. How disturbingly, suspiciously kind.
Hermione’s lips flayed apart as she breathed in, her arm shifting across the rubble towards it, towards his paper snake.
She reached out with all her strength, fingers flexing till they cramped.
The snake curled over mud and ash and shattered glass and splintered wood, no obstacle slowing its steady pace to her.
Hermione stretched as it came closer, close enough she could hear the parchment shifting.
Her eyes were bleary. As the snake unfolded itself into her hand, she could barely make out the words, ‘come back to me.’
Then she disappeared, hurtling through space towards the unknown, leaving the ruin behind.
‘Her legs were sprawled to the side, arms barely supporting herself as she half-laid on the floor. Her black clothes were torn and scorched, dark hair tangled down her shoulders and back.
Tom could hear her broken breathing from here, the rattle of her chest.He took a small step towards her, his body moving on its own accord.
Hermione’s labored breathing halted. She went rigid.Her head drew back, her eyes dragging upward.
Her stare met his, and a bang went off inside him. His skin was peeled back, his clothes and layers and indifference were torn away from his bone.
All of a sudden, they were two skeletons staring at each other in his closet.
Hermione began to sob. She turned her face away from him, managing to pull her knees below her and fall back on them. Her injured body wracked with each sob torn from her throat. The sounds were strangled and raw. He could kill her right now. Put his wand to her forehead and say the words. It would be so easy. She was completely vulnerable, defenseless. Crying into her shoulder and holding herself on shaky arms.
Tom could end this madness. If she didn’t exist maybe he would stop searching for her in everything.’
‘Tom stepped forward, and after a moment, lowered himself before her. Hermione's breathing hitched as he reached forward and wrapped an arm behind her back and snaked the other down to the bend of her knees.
He stood with Hermione in tow, his back strained, heart pounding. She was so close, spreading her blood and filth and heat through his white tee shirt. She was slightly heavier than she looked, the weight of lean muscle hiding under her skin. Hermione was utterly stiff, side-eyeing him as if she didn’t know whether to stab him or cut his throat. She couldn’t fully cover the grimace of pain that erupted across her features when he had lifted her to him.
Touching her again, after all this time, was the most nauseously intoxicating thing he had ever experienced. She was real. She was alive.
She was here. And, “you’re not leaving again,” he said aloud as he carried her towards the narrow bathroom door. His words were barely the cold demand he had meant them to be. They came out the slightest bit hoarse. Almost like a plea.’
‘If Hermione had no magic, no power, what exactly did he want from her?The answer, reality, weighed on his chest like a pile of stones. A precarious and heavy tower sprouting from his ribs.
Tom didn’t want Hermione dead. Ever.
And if she was powerless, devoid of the very thing that had drawn him to her in the first place, he didn’t care. He wanted her
lIt will come back,” Tom said, breaking the silence, “your magic.”
Hermione pushed the bowl of batter away and crossed her arms. “What if it doesn’t?” she asked, fear seeping into her tone.
“Then I’m powerful enough for the both of us.”
She frowned a bit. “You make me feel that way. Like life is simple, like if I look away, even for a second, you’ll bite my head off. And, I guess I’ve found a certain peace in that,” she said. “If I survive you, I’ve survived everything else.”
Tom found that he had never ending respect for her; for existing in spite. And he was grateful that she existed in his orbit, despite everything.
He would never run out of things to feel for her.
The thought was the most comforting one he’d ever had. Even if his feelings were hatred, admiration, confusion, rage, or joy, there could never be indifference. Hermione was a guaranteed tether to humanity. To everything. Color in the grey.
Tom would never let her go.
Draco Malfoy kissed her. She felt alive for the first time in months. But it didn’t last.”
━━━
“I can’t do this anymore, Granger. It’s not worth it,” Draco said. They were still naked in his bed. She’d told him she planned to go back in time by herself, that she would probably die soon. Hermione silently dressed and walked to her own room. He’d called her Granger again, as if he didn’t work his way up to calling her Hermione with shoulder brushes and long conversations at 2 am. As if all those months never happened at all.