Tom hated himself. He honestly, in every single way possible, hated himself.

And as he watched Hermione stare at Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown, he hated everyone.

Weasley and the girl with colors for names cooed and cuddled in front of the entire bar with no sign of embarrassment. Hermione stared pitifully at the two with no shame and Tom couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione.

It was stupid, it was pathetic, and Tom couldn't make himself stop. He wished he could stop, he wished he could shake Hermione out of it too.

She had been stupidly after Ron for months now, following him around like a stupid puppy.

"I don't get it," Tom finally said cooly, his chin raised, his eyes lowered, and a growing fire in his chest.

"Get what?" Hermione responded, still not completely looking at him,

Tom didn't answer right away. He remembered the day they met, Hermione walking into the library, her carrying a stacks of books, Tom sitting in an empty table.

She had set her books nearly in front of Tom, too distracted looking around.

Since the moment he first saw her, Hermione had been too distracted to notice Tom. He should have known better.

"You're so sad," Tom's voice was bitter, his words not hurting Hermione as he intended them to. He wasn't sure if she even heard him.

"I don't know what he sees in her," Hermione finally replied.

"She's pretty," Tom commented, looking in the same direction Hermione faced.

Hermione looked at Lavender Brown and sighed, "So pretty."

Lavender Brown was everything Hermione wasn't.

A pretty blonde, friendly and charismatic.

Still, Hermione stared, and still Tom couldn't look away.

He saw everything Hermione refused to see.

Hermione was a pretty girl, pretty enough, she didn't bother with much makeup. Her wild brown curls were barely tamed by hair clips, the only thing she seemed to know how to do with her hair. But Hermione wasn't charismatic like Lavender.

When she talked to Ron, she came out as a bossy, know it all. When she talked to anyone really.

When she wasn't looking, people rolled her eyes at her words, and when she wasn't around they made plans without her.

And the worst part was, they didn't do it to just be mean. They did things genuinely.

Her conversation starters were stupid and weird. The second hand embarrassment was too much for most of her friends. And Tom didn't know how Hermione couldn't see that.

"Ron does not like you," Tom said as firmly as he could. What did he have to say to get her to understand?

She straightened her back and looked at Tom. "I get it, he's with Lavender now, but - but-" the cloudiness of her delusion finally seemed to leave her eyes, and now she was really seeing Tom. "I just know. He's smart, she doesn't see that. He likes things she doesn't like-"

"Oh and you like the same things he likes?" Tom rolled his eyes. He was sick of her. Sick of only talking about Ron and Lavender. "You play soccer lately Hermione? You thinking of getting another pet? Maybe a rat like his, a nice friend for Crookshanks. Or, you play another fun dull game of chess?"
"Fine," she shrugged, "Maybe I don't like the same things he likes, but I appreciate that he likes the things he does."

Tom hated her. He hated Hermione more than he hated anyone in his life.

"I know you don't get it," Hermione said softly, a noticeable difference from her usually loud, shrill voice.

He could feel the words about to spill.

You don't get it. What did he have to do? Did he have to grab her stupid curly hair and drag her up closer to Ron and Lavender? Did he have to scream in her face that no, Ron would never like her the way she wanted him to? Did he have to shake her and yell his feelings at her? Why could she not understand?

Why did she not get it? Ron did not like her, he never ever would. Not with her soft, curly hair, too wild for someone as bland as Ron to like.

Ron couldn't appreciate Hermione's intense need to talk about every single, non important detail about a book she just read. Tom could listen to Hermione talk for hours, he had in fact.

Hermione wasn't ever comfortable enough to tell Ron everything she felt. Not like she did with Tom. Why couldn't she see that?

Even when Tom repeatedly told her things as bluntly as he did, she kept talking, confident that Tom would still listen.

Tom did everything Ron wouldn't. Ron wasn't the one for her.

"Hello?" Hermione waved a hand in front of Toms face.

"Forget Ron," Tom finally said, his voice leveled, not revealing what he felt. He looked back at Ron and Lavender sitting at the bar, each with a drink in hand, giggling together and occasionally kissing.

Hermione blinked when she felt Tom slip his hand in hers. "He's not for you," he said his words quickly, before he lost his nerve. Before his pride and senses came back to him.

Hermione, in a rare occasion, was at lost for words.

"I'm here," Tom's voice was quiet. "We're always together, we talk all the time-"

Hermione thought it over. She looked away from Tom, her eyebrows scrunched together, her lips pursued.

There she was, always so bad at hiding her thoughts.

Yes, Tom and her were good friends, if not best friends. And that was only because Tom was the only other person who didn't already have a close bond with someone else.

"I-" Hermione didn't even know how to start her sentence.

"Let's just try it," his voice wasn't pleading, it wasn't. Tom did not beg. Tom refused to think he was begging Hermione to even consider him. He wasn't a second option, especially not after Weasley.

"I- I-" Hermione's pink lips were shaped in a small o before she could continue. "I like Ron."

"And he doesn't like you, but I do," Tom wasn't angry. He was frustrated, frustrated that Hermione could not see him. Why couldn't she see him? "Why can't you see that?"

"It wouldn't be fair to you," Hermione shook her head, pulling her hand away.

"It doesn't matter. I'm right for you, and why do you have to obsess over Ron when I'm here? I can help you get over him if you just give me a chance." Tom let out a big breath, his eyes were dark, he could feel them. He could feel his hands fill with adrenaline, his legs ready to run, his eyes ready to spill anger.

"I-"

"Just, try," his voice was a breathe. "Just one date."

And that was how it began.

One date. A dinner for two. Four glasses of wine later.

Hermione was confused.

Tom was her friend. He was the only one who listened to her. He knew her order at their favorite coffee place. He knew the books she'd read, the type of titles she liked and hated. He was the only who told her she was being stupid with Ron. It was something she already knew, but couldn't say out loud.

She loved Ron, she had for years.

But Tom liked the things she liked, laughed at the things she laughed at, he understood her feelings when she babbled on about everything except her feelings.

So why couldn't she love Tom? He was handsome, in a more conventional way than Ron was.

She enjoyed her time with Tom, looked forward to telling him new things she didn't dare tell anyone else.

So why couldn't she try to love him?

As they walked home, Hermione tipsy on wine or maybe delusion, slipped her hand into Tom's.

He said nothing, just held tight and continued to walk.

Hermione could get use to this. She could do this.

And everyday, for months, she told herself this. She could do this. She only needed to try.

And when Tom pressed his soft lips against hers, she smiled against them. She willed the thoughts of Ron away, and focused on Tom.

She tried. She really did.

But love wasn't something easily ignored. Not easy for Hermione and certainly not easy for Tom, who had never felt something like this before.

And while Hermione tried to push her love of Ron away, Tom worked on not thinking about his hate for the redhead.

But before Tom could, Hermione sat him down.

"This isn't working, I can't do this."

Tom shook his head. He couldn't hear her words.

When it was over, and he felt his heart ripped from his chest, Tom let his feet lead him away.

He walked and walked for what seemed like hours. He sat and waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

And when there was someone at the front door of the apartment, he stood quickly and waited.

There was no knock, but a jangle of keys and then a light coming in from the outside hallway.

At first, ignorant as always, the redhead walked into the apartment. No hello, not a single word of acknowledgment.

He locked the door behind him and stepped further into his place. It wasn't until moments later when he finally looked in Toms direction.

He stood there. There was a pause. Time stood still. Then he turned on the lights.

"Tom?" a look of panic before a look of confusion settled.

And then fear.

There was thrashing, screaming, begging and blood.

Tom hated Ron. Hated him so much, he wished he could do more to show how much he hated him.

But for now, he had to wait.

When Ron finally stopped screaming, only wimpers left, Hermione was alerted.

Ever loyal as always, it didn't take her long to arrive to Ron's place.

A simple message from Ron's phone, "Want to come over? I need you. Miss you," and Hermione was there.

There was lots of knocking, though Tom had left the door unlocked this time.

Tom sat on Ron's old futon, Ron at his feet.

Tom had considered this moment. He considered opening the door, or making Ron say something to let Hermione in.

If he was honest, he hadn't thought this through very well.

"Ron?" he heard Hermione call out from outside the apartment.

Tom looked down at Ron, "Go on, answer her. She's talking to you."

Ron was shaking, staring at Tom with wide eyes, paralyzed as he clutched his arm.

"Go on," Tom said, slowly getting up and walking to the door. This seemed to give Ron some courage.

"Hermione," his voice was just above a whisper. "Hermione," he tried again, but still it wasn't loud enough. "Hermione!" his voice was raspy, shakier than his hands seemed to be.

That one seemed to do it. Tom stepped aside, and stood still as the door opened.

In came Hermione, "Hello? Your door was unlocked. You know this isn't the best neighbor-" she stopped when she saw the dark room. "Ron?" she called out, out of habit closing the door behind her.

She took her phone out and looked for the light switch.

"Hermione!" Ron called out again, not any louder than his last attempt.

Tom was quick then. First locking the door, then taking the phone out of Hermione's unsuspecting hand.

She jumped then, before seeing it was only Tom. "Tom?" she still hadn't noticed.

The lights switched on, things so fast, Tom couldn't recall who it was who did that.

"What are you-"

Ron's voice interrupted. "Get out, help-"

Things were a blur.

The next things Hermione saw was Ron on the floor, blood spilling from his nose, mouth, head. Her heart stopped, she didn't even notice her hands behind her back at first.

Of course. Stupid as always, not noticing Tom as she noticed Ron.

"I knew you'd want to talk to him," Tom said, keeping his tone casual, his breath heavy on Hermione's neck. "I wanted to make sure he heard you."

"Tom," she finally noticed, finally on alert. "What did you do." It wasn't really a question. She was afraid for an answer.

"I'm just trying to help you Hermione. This is what you wanted right? You wanted Ron? Here he is."

Ron was struggling with his breath. Hermione seemed too stiff to move.

"Tom if I- Tom let go of me," she struggled against his grip but he didn't budge.

Besides, this wasn't anything new for her. She always was so eager when Tom held her down in bed.

"Tom, I need to call for help, he's hurt-"

"Talk to him Hermione, I only restrained myself because of you."

"Tom stop it, you're scaring me," her voice was quiet.

"Fine if you don't want to talk to him-" he let go of her, walked to Ron and in an easy movement, threw a kick.

And another. And another before reaching down to grab Ron.

In that moment Hermione ran. Her hands so shaky, she couldn't unlock the door. She screamed for help and drowned out Ron's pleads.

This couldn't have been happening. Everything was fine just fifteen minutes ago.

She ran as fast as she could once the door was unlocked, screaming for help. It wasn't long before Tom was behind her.

Why did it have to turn into this?

Just a quick story to get it out of my head and get something out there to hopefully get the ball rolling. I was watching the first season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and got inspired by the song Settle for Me, but then because it's Tom, things turned dark as I kept writing.