Love [Tomione]

Chapter 7: you got me, sweetheart

Time ticked away, two days to December. The autumn leaves had been shed from trees, and most had taken to wearing thick jumpers and robes. Thirty hours since he had lost control. Thirty hours since he had held her gaze, much less spoken a single word.

He had regretted it, not the intrusion, no, but their current predicament. Intruding her privacy had dented his progress, though hopefully not fatally. The ghost of her warm breath pressed against his neck and burrowing into his ear still lingered. He would feel it in the flesh once again. Hermione would come back to him, be it willing or unwillingly.

However, it appeared the early morning awakening from a particularly riveting dream about his witch seemed to worsen the circumstance Tom was stuck in. Add in imaginary blowjob and rough missionary created moans that echoed throughout the room.

What was disturbing though was that in the dream; mirrors had surrounded Hermione and him while they were engaging in the aforementioned physical activities. When he came into her, he realised his face had morphed into the monster with red eyes. Tom gazed down at the brunette, written on her forehead was a bright red cutting ' THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.'  Her face was drained of colour, lifeless.

As he jolted from his slumber, he realised a pair of wide whiskey eyes were staring back at him in seemingly shock as the coolness of the morning air greeted him. Brushing a hand through his dark brown locks, a groan came between his lips. The familiar wetness on the front of his pyjama pants felt sticky, his cheeks felt warm.

The pink-looking brunette shook her head and shoved the pillow into her face.

Tom reminded himself to place a silencing charm the next time he went to bed.

A few hours later, Tom stood in front of a mirror. The frigid water dripped down his face. He watched his own lips move. "Well, now she knows." Having her as a flatmate did not mean that he was willing to declare his interesting dreams.

How that dream turned into a nightmare, he had no idea. Being the heir of Salazar Slytherin, Tom had opened the Chamber Of Secrets during his sixth year. That was a step into ensuring his immortality. There were a couple of liabilities to be made of course, such as Myrtle Warren's death that further aroused Dumbledore's suspicions of him. It did not bother him much as it was his first successful horcrux.  But Hermione being tied to Warren was distasteful, he told himself that. If anything, it made him edgier about her wellbeing.

There was the question of the monster he had seen from her mind. The mind was a vast vase of memories and feelings. He had read many, memories were usually jumbled and frazzled, from the ones he had seen in his followers. However Hermione's memories were locked tightly, they were weaved together like a line. He had only been able to reach the stray string sticking out, the foreign feelings of hers. When he had stepped into the chamber that had puddled with water, he was overwhelmed with nothing but the strange feeling of what some may call ' regret'. The monster from her mind lingered in his thoughts, what was terrifying was he had turned into that monster in his nightmare. What was it? An ugly being that was significant enough for his witch to feel strongly about. It was revolting, Hermione should only be thinking of one man and that was Tom himself, not some monster.

"Good morning, Hermione," Tom greeted cheerily as he poured himself a glass of water. Sitting at the table and looking intently at her. She continued nibbling on her piece of toast, staring into blank space. Just as he was about to speak, she abruptly stood up, leaving the quarter of her toast uneaten.

Tom curbed his anger at being ignored. He was Tom Riddle! The darling of Hogwarts! Women swooned over him, fought to curry his favour. How dare this mud--No, his anger had disrupted his progress once, and he would play nice for now.