Sweet Sacrifice

Chapter 6 A Devastating Truth

Tom's PoV

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Day One Hundred Seventy-Six

Hermione sits alone in the bathroom, thinking over the events from the previous night in her head, I am sure. I hear the water slowly filling the tub. Then the knobs give a faint squeal and the sound of water tops. As the minutes tick by, I leave the bedroom; she must surely hear the sounds of my footsteps in the bathroom as she washes any trace of me off her.

It was half-past noon when Hermione finally came down stairs, our first meeting together since this morning. During this time, I am completely alone, mulling the past few months over in my head. I have gotten what I wanted from her; but somehow, it does not seem like enough. I want more from her, but would she be willing to give it to me?

I skulk around the large, empty mansion, watching her out of peripheral vision as she heads into the old library. Quietly I follow her, watching as she grabs a book from one of the many shelves before sitting on an old, ornate couch. Cracking open the old book, she looks as though she is simply at home enjoying reading a good book and not being held prisoner by the Dark Lord.

I follow her into the room, but she is too absorbed in her book to notice my presence. Nonchalantly, I stroll over to the same oak bookcase she was just at, pretending to be interested in looking for a book for myself.

"Amazing, isn't it, how after one's first intimate encounter, life simply seems to continue on, as though uninterrupted," I remark, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She turns around to face me, her head lifting ever so little away from the book, and I continue. "Now that I have taken your virginity, I don't need you anymore. I could just kill you right here and now."

Her glare becomes more intense; I can feel the heat of it on the back of my neck. Turning my head just an inch more, I could see her face grow red with the loathing that was emanating from her. Throwing the book aside, she stands up and yells out all the pent up ill feelings she has toward me.

"You think you're so much better than anyone because of the fear you instill in people. You get off on others' pain and misery, and you're cocky about it too. Well I don't fear you! I feel only pity for someone as horrible as you. Anyone who rapes and beheads women because they can get away with it is a sad, pathetic person. Nobody likes you; you are just a bully - and a selfish, pompous bigot to boot!"

"Don't be so uppity with me, Hermione," I say, slowly feeling anger boil up inside me over being called such hostile things. "You seem to think you're this innocent victim and I'm this big villain, but the truth remains that last night, you were enjoying it as much as I."

"You had me under the Imperius curse! You forced me to have sex with you! Because of the spell, I had no control over my own body!"

"And all the while before the Imperius curse hit you, you never tried to push me away. You kissed me back of your own free will. I felt how your body trembled whenever I touched you. Truth is, you wanted it as much as I did."

"Then why did you put me under the Imperius?" she yells.

I can feel the corners of my mouth tug into a small grin as I slowly walk closer to her. Hermione does not back away from me; she stands tall before me. "I always put my captives under the Imperius as to a means deter any unwanted emotions... or actions. I thrive on complete control and dominance over my victims. You are a smart young woman, Hermione; you should know all of that by now. I simply put you under the Imperius because I didn't want you to run away."

Hermione looks me squarely in the eyes. "I wouldn't have run away."

Raising an eyebrow, I nod my head in amazement. "No? You're telling me that if you had the chance to break free, you would have stayed - even knowing what I was about to do to you? Or are you trying to tell me that you might be having feelings for me?" My voice slowly rises to a shout, reverberating against the ceiling, and Hermione recoils slightly from the loudness. "You may not have run that night, but you would have the first time."

As Hermione steels herself for more shouts, she suddenly looks taken aback, her deep brown eyes growing wider over the revelation of my words. "What do you mean 'the first time'?" Her eyes are large, her face a pale cream color, as her the words she speaks are barely above a whisper, almost as if she is afraid of hearing the answer... and the truth.

"You know what I mean, Hermione. Put two and two together, why don't you? Do you remember at any point me hissing 'pleasant dreams' to you while you were asleep?"

Her chest rises and falls with each breath as she steadies herself. The look upon her face is beyond fury. I barely move out of the way before she slaps me hard across the face, and I stumble back. Blood pounds loudly in my ears as anger reaches the boiling point inside me. First, she says that she would not have left me, and then she has the audacity to strike me. I could not let her get away with that. After regaining my composure, I backhand her hard, causing her to fall sideways to the ground. After a moment, she timidly gets to her feet again as the tears become noticeable in the deepest corners of her eyes. Broken, partially mumbled sentences begin to escape her mouth as she began coughing up a small bit of blood.

"Oh, now be quiet," I demand as if I am speaking to a troublesome child. Frankly, I hate it when people cry, especially in my presence. Crying is a useless, weak emotion, equally contemptible as love.

Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her through the mansion, taking her the upstairs. Passing through the hallways, I reach a spare bedroom in the far end of the house. Pushing Hermione inside, I slam the heavy wooden door shut on her tear-streaked face.

"You are to never leave this room, if you value your life."