She looked into his eyes. And there it was—his unfiltered self.
The corners of his brows were pinched down, the straight bridge of his nose wrinkled from how hard he was sneering. Her gaze travelled over the flush blooming across his cheeks and ears.
But his eyes—his eyes were the window to his soul.
They flickered like Dante’s nine pits of hellfire, and she let herself be burned by them, willingly, helplessly, the longer she stared.
“You still love me,” she gasped—forcing the words past the fingers crushing the air from her throat. “You can’t stand it, but you do.”
—Or—
Tom finds out what Hermione did and everything spirals from there.
Tomione| Completed| Dead Dove: Don't Eat
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