Tom Riddle P.O.V

Hermione lay on the ground before me gasping for breath. "Tom.... Stop." She couldn't move, her ankle and wrist were broken leaving her sprawled on the ground, her wide eyes begging me for a mercy I was not going to give.

"No." I said in a controlled voice. I raised my wand, pointed it directly at her and-

Out of the blue, a sharp pain jolted my chest. It was as if I was repeatedly getting struck by multiple curses, the searing edge was unrelenting and driving me in horrific compulsions I couldn't control.

I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to kill people. It took me strength to walk away from Hermione. I was enraged that she was the one who had done this to me. She had cast something over me, and the pain inside myself was mounting, becoming so physically crippling I wanted to lash out at everyone in my line of sight. What was wrong with me?

"Tom... Please..."

It took so much of my inner strength to ignore Hermione's feeble moans on the ground of the common room and walk away. I wanted to keep injuring her until she....

Well, until she was out of my way.

I felt like a damn monster, not that there was any thing I could do to stop myself. I didn't feel better I felt... unhinged. Whatever spell she used certainly wasn't aiding me. It felt like I was getting ripped apart from the inside out. I felt like screaming. I felt like I could destroy everything I lay my hands on. She had no idea about me, about respect. She thought she was helping me, when she was only hurting me. I staggered up the stairs, falling heavily into my room, clutching my chest and sinking to my knees breathing ragged and short. On the ground beside my bed were two empty bottles of Firewhisky. I took one of them and threw it with all my might against the wall with a scream of anguish. The glass hit the wall exploding into pieces.

Smash!

I was losing my fucking mind. There was no going back from this. There was no going back from her.

Hermione.

The reason all this shit actually happened. I was in the process of expanding my magical ability and this bitch comes out of nowhere and decides that I was the problem.

I ran both of my hands through my messy hair, resolving to pull my clothes off from over my head. Even wearing a cloak felt uncomfortable. I moved forward on my hands and knees until I reached my bed, leaning against it with my head tilted back. My room was always really cold, and right now it refreshed me. I closed my eyes, breathing unevenly. My body felt stiff, my head was pounding. I held a single hand out in front of me. In the faint light I could see my pale skin glistening with sweat, aware of the slight shake as I continued holding my hand up. The shaking began to get worse. I brought my hand down, getting to my feet propelled by an urgent need to get out of here. I grabbed my wand from the ground, spells coming to my lips easily. Severing spells. Reversal magic.

I barely realised what I was saying, or where my feet were leading me. I didn't actually care, but if I stayed here I'd probably just start drinking and do something reckless. I almost tripped as I made my way toward the door. On the floor before me was a book. Combating Love Potions: Wizarding Lies and Secrets of Utmost Evil.

"Fuck." I bent and picked it up, ignoring the way I almost blacked out. I had stolen this book last week, and after reading about 2 pages threw it on the ground in a fit of rage. Now I took the book in my hands as if it were a lifeline. The second page was bookmarked, my own familiar cursive script bold against the aged parchment.

In addition to written texts above, succeeding Hermione's countermovement would only prevail if-

I looked closer. Black ink like blood spatter obscured the rest of my writing. That would've been the moment I'd thrown the book.

God damnit.

My knuckles whitened as my hands clenched, and before I could even contemplate my next move I had torn the book apart, the fragile bindings rippling loudly from the centre outward. Around me tiny pieces of old parchment floated down to the ground like ashes after a house fire. I took a deep breath. I could barely muster the strength to compose myself. If this was the path to insanity, I was well on my way.

I closed my eyes, willing the pain to end. Only, it didn't. At least, not until I had paced my room, running my hands repeatedly through my hair in stress and discomfort. I don't know why it stopped. And I don't know how. I slid down to my knees, shirtless and still feeling the distinct tremor of the pain still flaring only the edge had worn off. I was ok.

As for Hermione. She would pay for doing this. I wasn't one to fuck with. I had already been through many issues with her in our senseless quest to outdo one another. This was where it had to end. And I had to be the one to end it.

Kill Hermione.

I blinked, the thought fading as the last of the pain left my body. I knew I had more than enough power to kill Hermione. That wasn't the concern. Could I really bring myself to end her life?

I got to my feet and walked down the landing back over to the stairs where I knew Hermione would still be. She was. Only this time- she wasn't alone.

"Xavier." I said mildly. "How very odd to find you here. Have you decided to finish her off for me?

"Riddle. Oh, no I was just walking by..."

But he was standing frozen over Hermione appearing from a distance emotionless, but I wasn't to be fooled. His subtle stiffness indicated to me that he was uncomfortable to say in the least.

"I would advise," I said, walking down the staircase, "That it would be wise for you leave, now."

"What- I don't understand." Xavier said stupidly. "Hermione is injured."

I shot him a look. "I was under the belief that you never liked Hermione." I tried to keep calm but I was becoming increasingly furious again.

"Or do you usually get sentimental about the fate of your enemies?"

Hermione was unconscious, her pale face shining with sweat, her wrist and ankle sporting harsh bruising. She looked ghostly, the same horrified, vacant look reflected back on Xavier's own face. I stepped closer towards Hermione causing Xavier to stumble away from her.

"Is there something that I am doing that displeases you, Malfoy? Because if there is I would suggest you tell me now." I asked, not even trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

"I-I heard Hermione say the spell so I told you that it was her but... Well... I didn't think she would get punished if I told you. I thought you would-"

I held up a hand to stop him talking further. "Enough. So you are trying to tell me you thought that Hermione could get away with doing this to me? Most people that oppose me get punished. Why should Hermione be any different?"

"I figured... Well, I assumed because you.. You see..."

"Use your words, Xavier." I said impatiently.

"I thought because you love her you wouldn't hurt her." He said suddenly, his light coloured eyes suddenly bright. "I thought-"

He faltered after seeing the look on my face.

"I do not love, Xavier." I said slowly. "Nor would I ever desire to. I believe love is a lie. A display of falsities. And quite possibly the greatest practical joke to be spawned from the mouths and hearts of those highly imaginative vermin we call Muggles."

"Magical blood can love too." Xavier protested.

"That's besides the point." I said with irritation. "Love is a trick of the mind, alike a shadow of a mirage on a barren landscape. You would walk forward to pursue it, believing you will find yourself both quenched and refreshed by the perceived water. However, tragically, you fall behind because you are aware that the sooner you get closer to it, the further apart you will be."

"That's ridiculous." Xavier said. "I know of love as something completely different."

"Love is not many different things." I argued. "It's all beneath one roof. There is no such thing as different branches of love. You people... live under a lie."