Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Premonitions & Lover's Spats

Later that evening, Tom and Hermione resumed their discussion of her memories, examining the events which occurred in the original timeline.

He sat in his armchair in his flat and she stood at the window, watching the owner of the shrunken head shop across the street close up shop for the night.

"It's called the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Also known as the come and go room. Did you think you were the only one to ever discover it?"

Tom blinked, twisting his lips to the side and cocking an eyebrow. "No. I was aware others had used it... but I doubted anyone was clever enough to comprehend its purpose, or how its magic operated. Most stumble upon it by accident." He narrowed his eyes. "I'd once thought I might..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

"Hide the diadem there?"

His eyes cut to hers, sharp and alert. "It seems you know a great deal more than I thought you did. How strange to have someone already informed on the errant thoughts in my head."

She fought back a smile. "Yes, well... I did help to destroy you, so studying your errant thoughts was a necessity."

"So it appears. How did you come to know of it?"

"The Room of Requirement? Or the diadem?"

"Both."

"Well... You'll find out about the diadem soon enough. But the Room of Requirement... The house elves at Hogwarts all know about it." She giggled. "Dobby once used it to help Winky sober up from too much butterbeer."

He raised a brow. "Malfoy's elf?"

Hermione nodded. "Harry freed him from servitude to Lucius in second year."

Tom nodded slowly. "Abraxas' son."

"Yes."

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Who will Abraxas marry?"

She shrugged apologetically. "That I don't know. I was quite disenchanted with the entire Malfoy clan and the less I knew about them, the better."

Tom leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "But you were close with the redheaded clan. The Weasels." He said it caustically, his voice laced with disdain.

"Weasleys. Yes, I was," she said firmly, tossing him a disapproving glare. "They were very good to me."

Tom slid his tongue along his top teeth. At length, he stood and approached the window where she stood, leaning his shoulder against the window frame. "Come here, witch."

Hermione dragged her eyes away from the lamp lit street to peer at him. He stood watching her with a look that could only be described as possessive.

She moved closer until she stood before him, staring up into his shadowed gaze. He reached out and threaded his fingers into her curls, pulling her head back by her hair none too gently, so that he was looking down directly into her amber-colored eyes. "Mrs. Riddle suits you much better than Mrs. Weasley," he whispered. "Show me more."

She nodded, and then felt him dive gently into her mind, so she allowed her mental barricade to dissolve, the walls of her occlumency melting away at his invasion.

She had come to almost enjoy the presence of him in her mind. The first time, it had felt uncomfortable. Too much, almost like the first time they'd had sex.

But soon, Hermione came to revel in his smooth entry, the precise manner in which he sorted through her memories, even the unnerving amount of intimacy that accompanied his legilimency.