Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Ascension

Tom sat on the rooftop of The Tobacconist, a little shop on Horizont Alley that happened to be directly across the street from Hermione's flat. It was quite nippy out, so Tom wore a heavy cloak, leather gloves, and black dragonhide boots. For good measure, he cast a warming charm on himself. He sat with one foot dangling off the rooftop and the other leg bent with his arm thrown over his knee. The night was clear and provided an unobstructed view of the sky, which appeared like a vast sapphire blanket allowing peeks of the bright light of Olympus on the other side. The stars glittered like gems in the firmament, and Tom pulled upon his expertise in the field of divination to discern what they spoke to him. His eyebrows drew forward sharply, as the particular alignment of the constellations told a foreboding tale of separation and anguish. Tom hoped he was reading it wrong. He was no seer, nor was he the most skilled diviner.

He withdrew his cigarettes from his cloak and lit one.

His eyes flicked down to the phone booth on the sidewalk. He'd stayed at the banquet schmoozing the purebloods well after Hermione had left, and yet she still wasn't home. He decided he would give it another thirty minutes before he went looking for her. It was grating on his nerves significantly that his witch had been bold enough to run off with Dufresne after he'd informed her of his intentions. She knew that he was expecting her. He thought with some irritation that she had probably done it on purpose, just to spite him.

Tom had dark energy coursing through his person and he could feel it begging to be let out. He cracked his neck in an attempt to relieve his edginess.

It was then that Tom caught sight of them. Hermione and Gaspard apparated into sight just across the street from the bright red phone booth. He couldn't hear what was said, but Dufresne leaned in and gave Hermione a lingering hug before she entered the phone booth and dialed in.

After Hermione was gone, the auror stood staring at the phone booth for a moment in contemplation. After several minutes, he ran a hand over his face and turned on his heel, apparating away.

Tom was both frustrated and relieved. Frustrated that she'd been with the auror this entire time, but relieved that the old man had kept his fucking hands to himself.

Tom lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke saturate his lungs like holy incense, depleting the oxygen from his cells. Then, he exhaled like a prayer.

Tom reveled in the tension building within his muscles, the precursor to future motion, as if he were a snake coiled to strike. He watched the light turn on in her bedroom window.

Tom withdrew his parchment from his robes, along with a muggle fountain pen that Hermione had given him. He found them much more convenient than quills and decided he agreed with Hermione's assessment of muggle inventions and the value they could bring to the wizarding world. Tom was quite practical, when it came down to it, and could acknowledge when a proper argument had been made.

He scrawled a message onto the parchment, then laid it beside him as he flicked the ash from his cigarette.

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Hermione was absolutely knackered as she took her nightly elixir, then brushed her teeth and washed her face. She didn't even bother to pull the pins from her hair, which was braided and twisted into an elegant updo. She left it alone and slipped on one of Tom's shirts, buttoning it up. He'd left a couple of them at her flat over the past few months and she found they were her favorite article of clothing to sleep in. She was a little embarrassed by how much comfort she derived from wearing them. She hadn't washed this particular one yet, because it still smelled like him.

She sighed and shook her head.

Their relationship was in a type of stalemate. She stubbornly refused to relinquish her hold on her memories, albeit for good reason, and she was positive that he wouldn't deviate from his destructive course for the sake of a romantic affair. For that reason, their entanglement was now ambiguous at best. Despite that, Hermione found it difficult to let go.