Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Revelation

Hermione lay in bed that night, the events of the evening replaying over and over in her head. Who was the man he had murdered? Had Tom really absorbed the power of an ancient, long-dead wizard?

She couldn't stop re-imagining the vision she'd seen in Riddle's head. She didn't need to ask what it was. She already knew. It was his own dream for them.

He dreamed of a future with her.

That's because he doesn't know the truth, she told herself.

If he did, he would kill her.

A tear rolled down her face and fell to her pillow. She had owled Dumbledore before getting into bed. She had no family here; in truth, she felt like she had no one. Only Albus.

She needed to see him. Not only because she needed him, but because she now had a fully grown phoenix in her sitting room and she had no idea what to do with it.

A phoenix had come to her.

Not Harry. Not Dumbledore. Her.

Not Fawkes, but her very own phoenix.

She wanted to think about that, but she couldn't. All she could think about was Riddle.

"You are sacred to me. Why can't you see it?"

His words rang in her ears.

Hermione's chest ached. She missed him lying next to her.

He hadn't come to her, and she was glad of it. Perhaps he had known she didn't want him here. Perhaps he was angry with her. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for small mercies.

She couldn't see him tonight, for fear that she would crumble.

Tomorrow, she decided she would be hardened steel. But tonight, she could only weep and ache.

He was destroying himself with dark magic.

One day, he would be beyond recognition.

For the first time, it occurred to Hermione that Riddle might not even know how the dark magic was truly affecting him. What if she were to show him what he would become? Would that alter his course?

"I cannot change him," she whispered.

She missed his scent, and she missed his clothes neatly folded on his chair; the way he always woke before her.

"We can create a new world, Hermione. We can craft our dreams together."

How could that be possible? When their dreams were so drastically opposite?

Part of her wanted to run. So far away that he could never find her. But the instant she thought about it, she felt repulsed. She had already gone on the run once from Voldemort. She'd already upended her life for him once. This was her life now, and she wouldn't run from him again. She would stay and face him.

Her leg ached where his slicing hex had caught her thigh. She'd closed it back up and rubbed it with Dittany, but the ache was still there, fresh and raw.

"Everything I am and everything I have will be yours."

"Mine."

"Let me worship you, Hermione."

His cavernous voice echoed in her mind, his words repeating over and over again as sleep evaded her.

She reached into the drawer by her bed and withdrew an Elixir of Euphoria and a Dreamless Sleep potion. She downed them both.

Within minutes, both potions began to work their magic.

As she drifted into the arms of Morpheus, it struck Hermione that things would be different now. She wasn't sure how, or what would be different... she only knew that there was no way they could return to the way things had been.