Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Song of Seraphina

Hermione ran through the halls of Gryffindor tower. Thunder cracked violently, causing Hermione's heart to leap into her throat.

The storm outside was dangerously close.

She paused by the open window and gazed out at the Black Lake. It churned in turbulent rebellion, the wind dancing along its sweeping swells and whipping at its waves. The sky was black, so black that the mountains bled into the firmament, the stars hiding themselves behind the storm clouds.

Fear prodded Hermione forward, and she took off running, but what she was running from, she had no idea.

As she ran down the staircase past the hospital wing, sounds began to reach her. At first, they were distant, but they gradually became clearer. The whoosh of spells being cast, the shouting of incantations... the clanging of battle.

Hermione's heart pounded violently, adrenaline coursing through her veins as her repressed fears became reality.

She found herself back in the thick of the battle.

Hermione felt something cold in her hand. She looked down to find her fingers clutching tightly to Hufflepuff's cup.

Get to the chamber, she thought.

She took off running.

Padding through corridor after corridor, she passed scores of frightened students and professors.

Vaguely, somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that to destroy the cup would kill Tom.

But her fear propelled her, driving her forward, trapping her in a replaying memory.

The entrance to the girl's bathroom loomed before her and she entered, already breathless.

She spoke the only word she knew of Parseltongue, doing her best to mimic its serpentine cadence.

"Open," she commanded.

"I didn't know you could speak parseltongue. You'll have to explain that one to me, little witch."

Hermione whirled around to find Tom standing behind her.

"Tom," she sighed with relief. "How did you get here?"

"I'm always here. Now... how do you know parseltongue?"

"I-"

"Because, if I recall correctly, only an heir of Slytherin can speak it, and that would unfortunately make us kin, and I'd sincerely hate to discover I've been fucking a relative."

Hermione would have laughed if her heart wasn't gripped with fear.

"It's a long story, Tom." She looked down at the cup.

Tom's eyes followed her line of sight.

"My cup," he murmured.

"I..." She blinked, turning the cup over in her hands. "I have to destroy it."

His eyes flicked to hers. "You want to destroy me?"

She shook her head, brows furrowed in confusion. "No... I don't want to destroy you... I want to save you."

His black eyes met hers, penetrating her soul. "Then save me, little witch."

He pulled her into his arms, and he kissed her. Hermione melted when his lips met hers, so warm and familiar, the shape of them almost seeming sculpted just for hers.