“Harry James Potter, you are not putting that thing in this house”
The green eyed boy looked up at his friend, eyes wide as he held the thing in question over the fireplace “Yes I am ‘mione.” he insisted as the object in question was placed on the mantel “It was the one tradition I remember as a kid.”
Hermione looked at the porcelain doll with an angelic face, neat black hair and dark eyes the shade of charcoal staring into nothing. All in all, it was a handsome doll, but something about it struck her as extremely creepy. “You can’t remember your own parents faces, but you can remember Mr. creepy?” she asked him her doubt evident. “He doesn't exactly scream Christmas”
“He was inside my parents Christmas things; he seemed really old too. Probably passed down from generation to generation” Harry insisted” I don't remember much but I do remember that every year at this time, my parents would set him up and when I woke up he would have moved during the middle of the night. He would pull hilarious little pranks. His name is Tom by the way”
The way he spoke was with reverence, as if he had enjoyed the fact that a doll, a creepy one at that, moved about on its own.
“You know what it wasn’t real right?” she inquired “Your parents did that for their son. I would like to point out, you are no longer a kid, so the “magic” isn't going to be there. I mean, I understand if there were kids here, but it is just you and me.”
The black-haired boy didn't bother to answer the question, instead he busied himself with fixing the dolls festive outfit of red and green. There was no use arguing with him about this, she knew Harry could be just as stubborn as she could be. It wasn't worth it, plus, if letting her best friend move a doll around for a month was what made him happy, who was she to complain? Even if it was the creepiest thing she had ever seen.
Hermione turned and left the room, but not before casting one last look at the doll, swearing to herself that she saw its eyes following her from the room.
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The next morning when she woke up she went to the kitchen, with the full intention of making breakfast, only to find the doll on the counter. The counter was covered with rice Krispies, in the middle of which the doll, Tom, was making what looked like a snow angel.
“Harry!” She called across the house “ Really?! That's a complete waste of cereal!” Hermione sighed as she looked at Tom, his black eyes staring back at her. She frowned at him, it was like he was glaring at her, telling her he didn't like being forced to make snow angels. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s supposed to be you that “magically” gets up at night. If you don't want to make snow angels, don’t make snow angels” She snapped at the figurine.
It continued to stare at her, not responding and Hermione sighed. Had she really expected it to? Harry, wisely, did not appear from his room which was probably for the best, she wasn't sure she wouldn’t have yelled at her best friend. She grumbled about how stupid boys could be as she picked Tom up and placed him against the wall, letting him sit up in a more dignified manner. She cleaned up the mess that “Tom” had made with a sigh, watching the doll out of the corner of her eyes.
“In the future, how about you don't make such a mess” she scolded the doll as if he was the one actually doing these things “ We will have to come to some kind of understanding if I have to put up with your shenanigans for the whole month.” She finished cleaning up the mess, wiping down the counter “I’m doing this for Harry, for whatever reason, this makes him happy, so lets be civil. Deal?” she asked the doll.
She went to the fridge and took out a few eggs and veggies before going back to the counter, preparing herself an omelet. She looked at the doll against as she waited for the eggs to cook, reaching over and brushing the cereal dust off his clothes “Well, I’m glad we had this talk.” She said “it's been delightfully one sided” she plated her breakfast, place the hot pan in the over silently. “ See you tomorrow” she said leaving the kitchen , taking her breakfast with her to her room so she could study. She didn't want to spend time in the same room as the doll, something about it just gave her the heevy jeevies.
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Hermione walked into the living room the next morning, a cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other. She was completely content will her morning ritual, that is, until she sat down on the couch without looking. A cracking sound alerted her to something wrong, followed by the wet feeling on her bottom.
Jumping up, honey eyes looked down at the couch, seeing that in her state of distraction she hadn't noticed that on the couch was a carton of eggs. Tom sat on the other end of the couch, a marker in his hand with one of the eggs in his lap, drawing a face on it.
The doll was looking at her with a plaster smile, one that if he was real, she would say was attractive. Hermione scowled at him, setting her tea and book down as she stared down at the carnage her inattention had caused. It was a harmless thing that Harry had done, definitely not as messy and wasteful as the first prank had been. Or at least it wasn't meant to be. The eggs could have been reused, that is, had Hermione not deemed them a comfy place to set her behind.
“Don’t give me that look” Hermione snapped at the doll, annoyed by his rather jolly demeanor “ I know it’s my fault for not looking, but can you at least not gloat?”
“Hermione?” It was Harry’s timid voice that made her turn around, he was looking at her with a mix of amusement and concern “Are you talking to the doll?”
“No, of course not. I’m talking to myself” she snapped “Seriously Harry, do you think I have lost my marbles?” She asked her best friend “Seriously, if you are going to keep this up, try not to cause such a mess.” she sighed “or at least make his shenanigans somewhere i won't sit” she gestured to her pajama pants which were wet and covered in slime.
She heard Harry snort, trying to contain his laughter so she sent him a glare, watching him choke on his own breath. He stilled his smile and nodded “Ok Hermione, sorry” he said. The brown haired girl snorted and turned on her heel to go change into dry clothes. All she heard as she left was the muttered words Harry spoke to the doll “Be glad you aren't real, she can be some sort of terrifying when she's angry”
Over the next week Hermione had developed a new morning ritual. She would wake up, make a cup of tea, and then scour the apartment to find out what mischief Tom had been up to during the night.
She would never admit it, but it had become one of her most enjoyable morning activities. It was fun to see what mischief Tom had decided to pull as they slept. Over the days she almost forgot that it was Harry that was actually pulling the stunts.
It was on a Tuesday morning two weeks before Christmas that she found Tom sitting in on the vanity in her bathroom, her hair dryer next to him. On the counter was a puddle of white liquid, two buttons at the top of the puddle, a carrot that seemed to be a nose.
Hermione couldn't help the surprised laugh that Tom’s prank had elicited from her, the melted snowman’s despair evident.
“Someone is not in a very jolly mood” she laughed as she looked at the doll. She was filled with such amusement, she just wanted so badly to show Harry. With this thought in mind the curly haired girl exited her bathroom, following the sounds of movement coming from the kitchen.
When she approached the kitchen she found that Harry was making a cuppa.
“Harry, you’ll never guess what Tom did last night” she said with a laugh. Harry turned around to face her, and Hermione stopped in her tracked, mouth opening in shock.
The man in front of her was not the messy haired boy of her youth, but a different man all together. Staring back at her was the image of Tom the doll, in flesh and blood.
“Tom?” she whispered in confusion.
“--mione…”
Hermione blinked, wondering if what she saw was real, was she imagining it?
“ Hermione ”
Harry’s concerned voice forced her eyes open. She was staring at her best friend again, his green eyes filled with concern.
“I-I’m sorry” she murmured pinching the bridge of her nose “I spaced out for a minute” she told her friend, not wanting him to worry. She looked at his face again, wondering why she had seemed to think she had seen Tom.
“You were telling me I wouldn't believe what Tom had done” He advised her “what did he do this time?”
Hermione shook her head slowly “Nothing-um.. Never mind. I’m not feeling so well, “I’m going to lay down” she murmured, turning on her heel and escaping back to her bedroom. Out of the corner of her eyes she swore she caught another glimpse of not Harry, but Tom with a smirk on his face.
It had been confusing, seeing Tom where Harry was, traumatizing event. She had wanted to stay away from the doll, wanted to toss him in the trash, but she couldn’t do that to Harry. She cared about him, and moving Tom seemed to be truly helping him. He liked coming up with the poses, with setting Tom up at night. He admitted to her one night as they were eating dinner that every time he moved Tom, he felt closer to his parents. It was for Harry that she ignored the uneasiness she had felt, that she fell back into the routine of looking for Tom each morning.
She never mentioned to Harry that she would still see Tom, sometimes when he was with her, seeing Tom instead of Harry, sometimes she would see flashes of Tom in her periphery, watching her. Then there were times when she was alone with the doll, she swore she heard him talk back. It was those conversations that she enjoyed, unable to help it. She was losing her marbles and she couldn’t care less.
Over the next few weeks she had found Tom in many different poses, each more amusing than the last. She had so many favorite pranks, it was hard to keep track of. Sometimes it wasn't even pranks. Hermione had found the doll a few times in her room, once seeming to read one of her favorite books, another he was reading an essay she had written. Other times he would be decorating the tree, making cookies, heck, she had found him one day on the kitchen table surrounded by mini marshmallows on what she could only assume was supposed to be a golf course. Hermione had giggled at the sight as she plopped one of the “golf balls” into her mouth, telling him it seemed her needed to practice a bit more.
With each day that passed, she grew more at ease around the doll, letting herself chat at it, not nearly as spooked when she imagined his eyes on her. If anything, she welcomed it. Tom was the first thing that actually listened to her, seemed to always pay attention and understand what she said. It was a ridiculous notion, she knew that, knew that Tom was not real, still, she couldn't help but wish he was.
It was almost in the blink of an eye that the month came and went, Christmas eve coming all too soon. It was strange, how just a few short weeks ago she had hated the existence of the doll, had wanted to toss it in the trash and tell Harry to suck it up. Now, as she looked at Tom she couldn't help but feel sad that the game would end. She had enjoyed her new morning ritual, despite the fact Tom’s pranks were often messy and she ended up cleaning them up. It seemed that he always managed to find a shannigan that would make her smile or laugh.
Hermione looked at the doll who was sitting on the mantle of the fireplace, dark eyes watching her. The brown haired girl smiled softly at him “I hate to say it, but I am a bit sad that you aren't real and are just a Christmas doll” She confided to him “don’t tell Harry, but I have enjoyed your pranks”
She reached up, straightening the holiday outfit Tom was wearing “I look forward to seeing your last trick, after all, it’s your last one, might as well make it your best” she teased the doll “Don’t disappoint me”
With one last look at the doll, Hermione went to bed, excited to see the last prank of the year.
________________________________________
Hermione laid in bed that night, unable to sleep, too anxious. Tonight was her last night with the doll, at least for another 12 months. She hated the idea that she would actually miss the shenanigans of a something that wasn't truly alive, she knew in her heart of hearts it was insane, that she was going bonkers, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Over the last month her visions of Harry and Tom had blurred, sometimes it seemed like when she looked at Harry, it wasn't him, it was the gorgeous Tom, staring back at her, discussing her favorite books, arguing politics with her, being her friend. She knew it was insane, but she enjoyed their conversations, those fantasies she had created in her mind. They brought her joy, brought her someone who actually understood her, challenged her, more than Harry ever could.
She didn’t want it to end.
The sound of her door creeping open jerked her from her thoughts, honey eyes darting to the door, a tall shadowy figure standing in the frame.
“Harry?” Hermione asked, confused as to why he would be coming into her room after she had gone to bed. She sat up, turning her nightside table on “Is everything al-” she stopped mid sentence as she saw that it was not Harry that was standing in the doorway at all. No, It was her flesh and blood Tom. She supposed it wasn’t so surprising after all, she was in bed, it was likely that she had fallen asleep, that this Tom was in her dreams, a wish that her heart couldn't truly have. After all, Tom Riddle didn’t exist.
Tom moved towards her “Everything is fine ‘Mione” the boy assured her, flashing her his charming smile, the one that made her stomach flop and logical thought disappear from her head without a trace. “I couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about earlier, about what you said”
“Wh-what I said?” Hermione inquired, watching as those long legs took him across the room to her bed, where he perched next to her.
“Yes, You want this to never end, you sense the bond we share, can feel it just like I can” he answered. “You wish that this was real” he murmured
Hermione noticed just how close he was. She felt him take her hand in his own, couldn't help but feel her stomach twist into knots. She couldn't think of anything to say, her mind whirling.
“The thing is Hermione, this is real, has always been real, what we share, is eternal.” long fingers ran up her arm as his other hand gripped her chin, tilting her face upwards so that he could look into her eyes. “I have seen into your heart Hermione, and it is mine ”
She wasn't expecting for the kiss that came next, didn't expect the way it lit a fire inside her, consuming her. All that mattered was the man touching her, kissing her.
He was right. She was his.
________________________________________
It was the smell of salmon and eggs that woke her up on Christmas morning, the scent wafting through the small apartment, luring her from her bed. It was the only motivation for her to remove herself from the safety and warmth of her comforter.
Hermione walked to the kitchen, not caring that she was still in her pajamas, one of her roommates sweatshirts. The frizzy haired girl looked at her roommate, standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of green pajama pants, his pale chest exposed for the world to see. She couldn't help the slight blush that painted her cheeks as memories from the night before crept into her mind.
“Here ‘Mione, I made breakfast, I’m certain you will need your energy after last night's performance” The dark haired boy said as he placed a plate in front of her as she sat down at the island.
Hermione looked down at the simple breakfast, salmon with a piece of pumpernickel bread, scrambled eggs and chives on top.
“Thank you Tom” She murmured, avoiding the dark gaze of her friend. Instead she found the breakfast very interesting, after all, she hadn't slept with the bread and eggs.
“It is I who should be thanking you” Tom said, rounding the counter and sitting next to her, running a hand down her arm “had I known you were so feisty in the sheets…” his words were caught off by the glare she gave him. He gave her his signature charming smile, the one that always made her stomach flop.
He always had that effect on her, for as long as she could remember, he had made her stomach flip flop. She had tried to ignore it for so many years, after all, Tom Riddle was her best friend in the world, she didn't want to do anything that would complicate their relationship. Things had been complicated enough when they were in school, but when they moved in together as roommates.. It had been super hard on her as she kept her feelings suppressed a until last night…
She wasn't sure what it meant, what it did to their friendship. But she couldn't bring herself to ask. Tom poured her a cuppa and watched as she took a sip.
It was as she sipped her tea that she realized Tom had distracted her. She looked around the kitchen, suddenly confused “ Where is Harry anyways?” she asked
“By the tree, he got into the presents early this morning”
Hermione abandoned her breakfast, taking her tea with her into the living room where the Christmas tree she had decorated earlier that month. She stared down at the sight before her, confusion etched into her features. Sitting under the tree, posed as if he was excited to open presents was Harry. Hermione bent down and picked up the doll, turning to Tom “ Very funny. Where is the real Harry?” she asked
Toms handsome face looked down at her with a look of concern, one that made Hermione question her own sanity.
“‘Mione… that is Harry” he said slowly, making her gut clench in fear. “Harry is a doll…”
Hermione looked down at the porcelain doll in her hand, it smiled demurely up at her. Memories flooded her head, of Tom pulling the doll from a box, telling her how it was the only thing his mother had done for Christmas, was move the doll around the house, letting it cause shenanigans. Tom convincing her to put the doll up, of her ritual of finding Harry each morning.
“I-i” she opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of exactly what to think. She met Tom’s dark eyes, noting the concern in them. Still, she shook her head, riotous curls bouncing with the movement” No. Harry is real. I had dinner with him last night, We put the tree together. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. Surely you remember Tom. He was your friend!”
“No Hermione, he’s not” she hadn't even noticed that he had crossed the room until she felt his hands on her shoulders, as he bent down to look at her face, searching her eyes “ Harry had always been a doll. Don’t you remember Hermione?” he insisted
Hermione wanted to shake her head, to insist that Harry was real, that it was Tom that was the doll, but found she couldn't. As he gazed into her eyes, long fingers caressing the exposed skin of her arms, she recalled the month, how she had hated the doll at first, how it's shenanigans had slowly wore her down over time. She remembered how she had scolded Tom for allowing such a mess to happen with the doll, how Tom seemed to make it his mission to make her smile each morning.
It had worked, she had enjoyed the dolls jokes, had smiled each day she found Harry in different scenarios. Somewhere along that way it had seemed real, she had felt as if Harry were her friend.
“I swore he was real” she whispered, looking down at the doll in her hands. “He seemed so real ”
She felt Tom’s fingers working up and down her arms in a soothing manner. He nodded “I know, but it was me ‘mione, it was always me, moving him, he was never real” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown on her head as he gently took the doll in question from her grasp “You know what, lets get rid of it.. You said you were creeped out by it before, I selfishly forced you to let me put it up.” He moved towards the kitchen.
Hermione followed “It was a tradition with you mother” she protested “It was important to you”
Tom stepped on the lever that opened the trash lid before dropping in the doll in “You are more important Hermione. We will make new traditions. After all, we were made for each other. What we have, that is forever. Harry is the past, you Hermione, you are my future” with those words Tom picked up the trash bag, tying the plastic closed and taking it outside to the rubbish bin.
Hermione stared after Tom’s retreating form, her mind reeling at her confusion. As she watched him, she couldn't get the last glimpse she got of the doll. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn she had seen fear in Harry’s eyes.