Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Suspicion

Hermione lay on the floor of her flat, spread out on an elaborate, costly Persian rug. Her palms were facing down, each of her fingers spread wide and gripping the floor like a gecko, and she stared at the ceiling as she had for the past hour. Several tears had been shed already, but thankfully, the Elixir she'd just taken washed away all feelings of guilt and self-loathing.

How utterly foolish she had been... What on earth had she been thinking? She'd let Tom Riddle... no, Lord Voldemort , lure her into a trap at the dinner party like a handsome, charming acromantula coaxing her into his web.

What did he want from her? What was his game?

He was using her... manipulating her. He had to be.

Manipulation was his strong suit, after all.

Was it because she was the daughter of Albus Dumbledore? Was he trying to get inside her head so he could turn her attention from her goals? He had to be aware that she was gaining some level of political power. Is that what he wanted - to influence her?

She dwelled on the events of that night. Tom had been so fixated on her words. He wanted her to admit she was his . He'd commanded her to say it more than once.

And like a bloody idiot, she had. Like some innocent, lovesick twit . How he must be laughing at her!

Perhaps he thought he could control her. He had another thing coming if he thought that. Hermione would never allow any man to control her.

She needed to keep her wits about her the next time she saw Riddle.

She thought about Alphard's revelation.

Riddle had been sleeping with Walburga Black for six years .

Six bloody years.

Merlin's left nut, how stupid she'd been!

"I'm a fucking idiot," Hermione whispered to the air, shaking her head in disbelief.

What did he see in Walburga Black? She supposed it was quite typical of him. Walburga was the perfect little Slytherin harlot, after all. Beautiful. Wealthy. Pureblooded.

And nothing like Hermione at all.

Obviously, there was something about the witch that had kept his interest for six years.

They looked nothing alike. They were almost exact opposites in every way.

Walburga was curvy and well-endowed, with shiny dark hair that fell to her waist in luxurious curls. Her skin was pale and luminous, with pouty lips and wide blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes. An exotic beauty, by most standards.

Hermione was thinner all over, with smaller breasts and skin that tanned easily. She had frizzy hair most of the time and she'd always hated that her eyes were a dull brown. Her features were finer, more subtle. She had never made it a habit of comparing herself with other witches, but the knowledge of their former relationship seemed to cast a spotlight on the glaringly obvious differences between them.

Hermione was not an insecure girl, not by any means. Viktor Krum had found her beautiful. He'd told her so. So had Ron, and Cormac. Still, she found it impossible not to feel somewhat disheartened by the information. Even though she knew she shouldn't be.

She shouldn't care if Tom Riddle found her attractive. Alphard Black clearly did. Riddle's opinion should mean absolutely nothing to her.

Hermione's mind wandered. The room was darkening as the sun went down.