Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Rehab & Rings

Hermione woke at 2am in a pool of sweat. Her arms and legs were jumping and her heart rate was through the roof.

She sat up, unable to breathe. She sucked in air but her vision seemed to be spinning. Dizziness overcame her; her very muscles seemed to be constricting. The cords in her throat bulged as she attempted to suck in a breath.

In a moment, Tom was awake. She felt his cool hands on her face. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"I- I can't breathe," she choked out.

Tom stood and left the room. A few minutes later he returned with a glass of some kind of mixture which he'd been informed by the St. Mungo's nurse would help to combat the withdrawal symptoms. It was a cocktail consisting of a few muggle drugs and supplements, mixed with several potions ingredients and a calming draught. He brought it to Hermione and watched as she sipped it slowly. He'd been informed by the nurses that she would likely not need to be admitted, but it was always a possibility if her symptoms became too severe.

Hermione refused to go to the hospital. She was too afraid Dumbledore might find out.

Tom lifted her soaked nightgown over her head and replaced it with one of his fancy Italian shirts, simply because he knew that she preferred them. Then he instructed her to lay at his side. As soon as she did, he began to massage her jerking limbs. Her body had become chilled, tense, and racked with shakes.

"Y-you don't h-have to do this, Tom."

"Relax, little witch," he muttered as his adept fingers kneaded her taut muscles. "I'm forcing you to do it. It's the least I can do."

She shook her head. "Y-you're not f-forcing me.  I n-need to do it."

"Just relax, Hermione. Give the draught time to work. Try to get some sleep."

After another half hour, her symptoms were slightly better, but sleep still evaded her. So Tom dosed her with Dreamless Sleep potion, and watched her drift off into the ether.

He stroked her skin long after she'd fallen asleep, his eyes tracing the scars on her body. He was responsible for those, but he wondered to himself how many emotional scars he was also responsible for inflicting on her soul. He didn't say as much to Hermione, but he felt somehow at fault for her potion addiction, although he wasn't sure precisely why.

He gazed at her as she slept, wishing that he could dive magically into her dreams and perhaps, catch a glimpse of the life she'd left behind. He wanted to know that Hermione, to experience the world that had molded her into the formidable witch that she was. He felt as though there was an entire world between them while she held her memories back from him.

Who was his witch really, and what kind of world had she come from?

In 1998, Tom would be seventy-two years old. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to imagine the reality of the world he hoped to create.

Tom had created his Tempaestus to help him alter the future should he fail in his quest for power, but had he somehow unwittingly brought his soulmate here instead? Was this what the fates had woven into his loom?

These thoughts troubled Tom.

His life had always been a singular path, his goals and dreams clear and easily defined.

Ever since Hermione had entered his life, his future seemed ambiguous and unsure.

He desperately wanted to know where his path would lead. What had become of him in the future? Why did Hermione fear to tell him?

Surely, the information would only aid their journey forward, by giving Tom valuable foresight.

Their journey. He'd never thought of it quite like that, but as soon as it entered his mind, he knew there was no way forward for him without her.