Work Text:
“Merlin, I can’t believe this.” Hermione mutters, nearly slamming down a cold plate of food on the counter her boyfriend had set aside for her.
“Tom!” She screams. “Where are you?”
Footsteps follow her scream and there stands Tom Riddle, her boyfriend, with a confused and slightly panicked expression on his face. “Yes, dear? Is there something wrong?”
Hermione smiles at him in a near-mocking manner. “Oh, I’m well, dear. Can you tell me why my food is so cold?”
“I made it an hour or two ago when I came back from the ministry,” Tom drawls, walking towards her. “You can just use a—”
“That doesn’t explain why it’s cold.” She cuts him off with a scowl. Tom only stares at her with a disbelieving look. “Do you expect me to eat my dinner cold? I am tired and I haven’t had the time for a proper meal today. I come home expecting a hot dinner but guess what? It’s fucking cold.”
Tom sighs internally, knowing he can’t show his tiredness outwardly because that will lead to another series of arguments, and he doesn’t have the energy for that. He doesn’t want to engage in Hermione’s screaming matches.
This has been happening for a while — for weeks now — Hermione’s outbursts regarding the smallest inconveniences that can be easily fixed.
He had also insisted on taking her out during their lunch break today, as he had for weeks now but Hermione is entirely too busy to have lunch so she told Tom not to bother. Tom had instead gone to Harry’s (his best friend) bakery in Diagon Alley where he knows he can find some tranquillity.
Talking with Harry always lifts his mood and does wonders for him.
(Also his choco lava cake is absolutely scrumptious.)
“Dear, as I was saying, you can heat it manually or use magic. There’s no need for you to—”
“Oh?” Hermione huffs, interrupting him again. “Are you calling me an idiot now?”
Tom responds with his calm facade firmly in place. “No. I’m only telling you—”
“No, no. Tell me how much of an idiot I am.” Hermione shouts angrily. “Go on, tell me.”
Tom pinches the bridge of his nose, calmness slipping but he holds on to it. “Hermione, just use your magic for Morgana’s sake! You are a witch and you don’t need me to do it for you. I am tired, you know it’s not easy being the Senior Undersecretary. I want to get the last of my paperwork done and go to—”
Hermione laughs, crossing her arms around her chest. “So you’re saying my job is less important than yours, huh? Wow. Fuck you, Tom Riddle! Just because I’m a measly ministry worker while you’re on your way to become the Minister, doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t working hard, Riddle.”
Tom wants to tell her to stop putting words in his mouth, that he is as tired as she is, and that Hermione, in fact, wasn’t a ‘measly ministry worker’. If you can call an Unspeakable that then go ahead, Tom supposes. Tom nearly says all of that to her face but he is tired and he just wants some peace and quiet at home.
“I’m sorry, Hermione.” Tom says despite himself, nearly spits Granger at her but he holds himself back with sheer will. He closes the distance between them, leaving a kiss on her cheek. She huffs but doesn’t stop him. “Do you want me to heat it for you?”
“Will you?” Hermione looks up at him with a sweet smile. Gone is the screaming, raging woman, replaced by the person who he knows she is. “Please? I’m so exhausted.”
“Of course, dear.”
“I love you, Tom.”
Tom pauses for a second, his mouth tastes like sandpaper. “Me too, dear.”
Tom heats her food and walks away to the bedroom, paperwork long forgotten.
By the time Hermione walks in, Tom is asleep.
That night he doesn’t take her in his arms.
He sleeps with his back turned to her.
The next day, Tom goes down to Hermione’s department to take his girlfriend out for lunch. She can spare thirty minutes to have a meal with him and get some much-needed sustenance. Even he isn’t that swarmed with work to not be able to have a proper lunch.
With his mind decided, Tom is going to take Hermione out for lunch and they will talk. Be emotionally vulnerable and talk things out or whatever as Harry had mentioned to him.
Tom walks into the Department of Mysteries in immaculate robes and hair perfectly styled. He receives a flourish of bows and nods from the workers. He is, after all, Lord Slytherin-Gaunt and Senior Undersecretary.
He stops in front of Hermione’s desk, finding it empty. Tom turns to the employee to his right and asks him where Hermione is.
“Mister R-Riddle.” The employee bows a little awkwardly and Tom cringes inwardly. “Unspeakable Granger went to to the break room—”
“Thank you, mister, uh, Stevens.”
Tom leaves without waiting for another string of stuttered words. He steps into the hallway and walks to the break room at the end of the hall. As he nears, Tom can hear hushed words and noises. He muffles his footsteps and takes his wand out of his holster.
Through the crack of the door, Tom sees a sight he never expected to see. There is Hermione Granger, his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, pressed against the wall and kissing Ron Weasley of all people. The man who annoys her to no end and is very incompetent with his work as she had vehemently ranted to him. There is a thin line between love and hate as the saying goes, he guesses. Hermione’s clothes are rumpled as she kisses him hungrily. Ron’s hands are squeezing her chest as he slobbers on her.
Disgusting.
So this is the reason for her behaviour in the past few weeks? Going behind his back and fucking her subordinate.
No wonder her behaviour and attitude towards him have been atrocious. And here Tom is wanting to fix things between them.
(What a fool he had been. No more of that.)
But Tom can’t confront them now, not at the ministry. He doesn’t need a scandal in his hands right now or the Prophet picking it up like hungry mongers they are and being gossiped about for weeks ends.
So, he walks away.
He goes to the only place, the (only, at the moment) person who will give him a semblance of comfort.
His Harry.
Tom pushes the door to the bakery open, the bell jingling behind him. The sweet scent of freshly baked goods hit his nose in the most pleasurable way; he feels he has finally come home. It’s home wherever Harry is after all. And it’s lunchtime so evidently the bakery is crammed to the brim. He looks around to catch a glimpse of his best friend, and there he is.
Harry is talking to a customer, handing them their order with a bright smile. His green, green eyes shining behind his glasses, and wearing the emerald green cashmere sweater Tom had gifted him on his last birthday, looking oh so very soft. Who would guess that the bakery was only a side business of Harry’s when he was a certified Curse Breaker at Gringotts. It should be impossible — how a person can get only more beautiful, more powerful with each passing day — but that’s Harry for you.
Harry meets his gaze suddenly when a concerned look passes on his face. Tom nods slightly at him before sitting down at the only empty table. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Harry will come to him with a piece of cake and a radiant smile.
“Here you go.” Tom hears Harry say, moments later, as he sets down a lemon cake and cup of coffee before him, then sits down in front of him with his own drink, an overly sweet concoction and a chocolate chip cookie. “Why the grumpy look, Tomcat?”
And there is that insufferable nickname Harry had given him when they were six, the year they met.
“Did Malfoy Junior mess up again?” Harry says with a grin, his eyes lighting up with glee. “Please tell me you gave him a dressing down!”
“Oh, Harry.” Tom sighs, taking a bite of his cake. “I wish it was as simple as that.”
“Then what is it?” Harry presses gently, taking a hold of his free hand. Tom looks up to see Harry’s frowning face. “You know you can talk to me, Tom.”
Tom nods. “I caught… I caught Hermione cheating on me. With Ronald Weasley.”
“...what?”
“You heard it, Harry. She is cheating on me. For who knows how long.” Tom spats, fuming. Taking another bite, he continues, “There goes three years down the drain. A total waste of time.”
Harry pales at that and there is rage taking over his beautiful face. Tom always enjoys it when Harry gets angry on his behalf, he always has. “How could they?! I will- I will kill those two fuckers. How could they— How did you find—”
“Oh, you won’t believe it.” Tom says, a dark gleam in his eyes. “In a break room without a locking charm in place.”
“Those idiots.”
“My thoughts precisely.”
“You didn’t confront them, right? Because if word gets out—”
“I didn’t.” Tom assures. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll be doing it tonight when Granger gets back from work. Since the manor is mine, I’ll give her tonight to pack her belongings and leave.”
“Good. I can’t believe she would…” Harry shakes his head. “Anyway. Good riddance.”
“Indeed.”
Harry squeezes his hand. “Are you okay, Tom? No- That’s stupid question but you know what I—”
“I’ll be just fine, Harry. I was kind of contemplating on breaking up for some time anyway. This was just the last straw.”
Harry nods at that. He squeezes his hand a little tighter. “Just… just let me know if you need anything alright? I’m always here for you.”
“I know.”
A week later Daily Prophet headlines the “mutual and amicable” separation of Senior Undersecretary Tom Riddle and Unspeakable Hermione Granger. While the Senior Undersecretary gave out a short statement, the Unspeakable refused to make any comments given the rumours circling about her “supposed” infidelity.
Two weeks after that, Ronald Weasley gets fired for “incompetence” and “laziness” in the workplace and moves back in with his parents.
A year later, Daily Prophet announces the romance of the Minister for Magic, Tom Riddle and childhood best friend and curse breaker, Harry Potter. They report that a close source to the couple has mentioned that [they] have been together for “nearly” six months and are “very happy together”.