Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Rainy Sunday

Hermione woke with a start to darkness, and the loud clap of thunder. Lightning streaked the sky, illuminating the bedroom through the shaded windows. A moment later, another peal of thunder rumbled into the distance. Suddenly, rain began to pelt the roof, a roaring torrent blanketing the serene darkness.

Arms were wrapped around her waist, and the hardness of a man's chest and stomach were hot against her back, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth. For someone she'd always imagined to be so cold, Tom Riddle's body was incredibly warm, like a blazing furnace of skin.

She turned in his arms to face him, and even in his deep sleep, he tightened his arms reflexively as if to keep her near him. Lightning struck, flashing momentarily over his face and she noted the dark circles under his eyes. Hermione ran her fingertips along his cheek, deciding that he looked quite exhausted. Drained. Had he missed her that badly? Was he stressed for some reason? It was odd for him to sleep so deeply, when he had always seemed to wake before her, or at least stir to consciousness whenever she made even the slightest move in her sleep. It was as if he couldn't bear to be vulnerable, too paranoid to allow himself to rest in the presence of another. Perhaps the orphanage had made him that way.

Only now, he slept soundly.

She extricated herself from his arms carefully, which was quite a task, and bent over the edge of the mattress, reaching for the night table where his pocketwatch sat.

She clicked it open. 6:13 am.

It was quite dark still, made even darker by the black storm clouds overhead.

Hermione was used to waking early. Even this was a little late for her to sleep, but the night had waxed late by the time she'd collapsed, tangled in Tom's limbs.

She always had plans. Responsibilities. Too many things on her plate. Thankfully, she had Piksy to keep her on task.

Despite her busy agenda, she found that this morning, she had nothing planned. She would have to see Dumbledore in the afternoon, but her busy week essentially started early Monday morning. She would have to help in whatever way she could with the investigation. Despite the romantic night she'd had, she hadn't forgotten all of London was still in an uproar. The breaches were all anyone could talk about at the ball. She had another quarterly convening of the International Confederation of Wizards approaching soon, and the breaches would surely be the central topic of discussion.

When she turned back to Tom, she found him awake. He gazed at her in the meager light, rain pounding the rooftop, his eyes roaming her face as if he was shocked to wake and find her in his bed.

"Good morning," she whispered with a small smile.

He didn't smile back, but his hand reached out and wandered her hip, following its curve down to her thigh. "It is a good morning," he muttered, his voice hoarse with sleep.

" Very good," she smiled, unable to control her giddy expression.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I find it amusing how drastically your mood improves with a good fuck. Food and sex... you're as bad as a man, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "I could've had casual sex anytime if I wanted it, Tom."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't remind me."

She searched his face. "Am I forgiven?"

His brows quirked, and he shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. You don't owe me anything. It's like you said... I deserved it."

"But will it continue to bother you?"

His eyes met hers, and he was quiet for a beat. "I'll get over it, Hermione." He cleared his throat. "I don't like the thought of you working with him, though, but there's not much I can do about that, is there?"