Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione] - Flight of the Phoenix - Page 12 (2024)

 
No, she thought with panic. She tried to erect her defenses, but she was too slow. Her head cracked with pain, and he began rifling through her memories once more.
NO! She screamed internally, fighting and clawing against him to no avail. 
She had always been told that he was an incredibly powerful and skilled Legilimens, but she had hoped it was a skill he had developed later in life. Clearly, it was a natural ability of his. Fear gripped her.
She couldn't lose her cover. He would know she was lying about everything. Then, he would surely kill her. Just like he'd killed that muggle.
He pulled upon a memory from her fourth year. It was dark in the hall of Gryffindor tower. She used all of her strength to blur the sight of the portraits in the hallway. It was dark enough that he likely would not recognize the location, but she wouldn't take the chance. 
She was with Viktor Krum. 
He kissed along her cheekbone, then her throat. His hands roamed her waist as his lips returned to hers. Her hair was slightly mussed, lips wet and red against Viktor's.
She gave a breathy laugh. "It seems you are skilled at things besides Quidditch." 
Viktor's eyes sparkled as he gave her a roguish grin. "See? Now you have no choice. You must come to the ball with me, Mione." His Slavic accent was thick.
Hermione felt an alien emotion, cold anger, roiling in her gut. She could feel Tom's hatred of the scene like a foreign entity. The memory cut short, as if tossed aside like a rotten apple.
A new memory surfaced. A recent one. She felt as if she were thawing, like ice. Harry held her hand, wrapping his arms around her in their tent. Ron was gone. Her heart hurt. Everything felt hopeless. 
But she and Harry danced together. Two best friends, finding solace in one another, daring to hope for better. For happiness. For freedom. For peace .
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She didn't want him to see this memory.
She pushed him successfully out of that memory with every bit of force that she could muster. 
He grabbed another memory and dove in roughly. Her head felt split in half. The memory was of Fenrir Greyback. He was presenting Harry, Ron, and Hermione to Bellatrix Lestrange. 
She forced him out of the memory quickly, but he dove back in.
She was laying on the floor, pain ripping through her arm as Bellatrix screamed, carving an 'M' into her skin with a sharp blade. She faltered as she experienced the pain of the memory again, giving a short sob and feeling dangerously close to retching. 
Sensing her distress, Tom finally let go and pulled out of her mind.
She stumbled, almost falling to her knees before he caught her around the middle.
"Hermione," he rasped. "What's this? What are you not telling me?"
She sank to her knees with a choked sob. Her limbs shook with the force of the trauma she'd revisited, if only for a brief moment. She clutched at her temples, the searing pain of his invasion threatening to explode her brain. 
He waved his wand and a soothing liquid sensation melted the tension away.
"Who is the woman that did that to you, Hermione? Who is she? Who are those people?"
She shook, but said nothing. 
He gripped her arms and pulled her to her feet. "Tell me now. I'm not asking." 
Hermione slipped her blade from her thigh and slashed at his shoulder.
"f*ck, witch!" he gritted through clenched teeth, grasping at his bleeding shoulder.
Hermione took off running. She couldn't let him back into her mind; he was coming far too close to the truth for her comfort. She should be able to apparate if she reached the treeline.
Suddenly, flames erupted in front of her. She skidded to a halt and whirled around, but realized she was trapped in a fiery ring. Flames encircled her, leaving her no way out.
"No!" she screamed. Just as she was about to attempt apparition again, she looked up to find Tom leaping over the flames. 
No, he wasn't leaping.
He was flying.
Terror gripped her, and for the first time she realized that she had deeply underestimated Riddle's abilities.
She'd assumed he had gained his magical strength later in life, but that clearly wasn't the case.
He was born this way; a force of unparalleled power. It was in his blood.
But she was also a force, she reminded herself, and a muggleborn one at that.
He landed on the grass beside her, a dark figure silhouetted against the flames, a phantom emerging from the darkness like the devil himself.
He grabbed her and pulled her to him. "Stop f*cking running from me."
Hermione lifted her blade but he snatched at her wrist, holding it away from him. "Stop this, Hermione! Tell me everything."
She shook her head. "Never."
His face twisted with anger and he jerked his head in frustration. "You leave me no choice."
She struggled like a rabid animal, but he easily overpowered her. "Don't do this, Tom. I will never forgive you." Tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "Is nothing sacred to you?"
He pulled her against him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You are sacred to me. Why can't you see it?"
Hermione's heart thundered in her chest, and with their bodies pressed so tightly together, she felt his pounding as well. They stood in silence, surrounded by the ring of licking flames.
The energy between them crackled. The tension and attraction was so thick that it was almost painful. 
He seemed to be warring within himself. Hermione knew that if he decided to penetrate her mind again, there was nothing she could do to stop him. Her defenses were weakened and drained now.
She gazed into his eyes, pleading silently.
Suddenly, there was a piercing cry that rang out through the night. Hermione knew the sound.
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. The sound... It reminded her of the cry of Fawkes. Dumbledore's phoenix.
Both of them lifted their gazes to the sky, and to Hermione's utter shock, a phoenix was diving directly toward them. 
She took advantage of Tom's momentary surprise and yanked herself out of his arms. They observed the flight of the phoenix as it blazed a fiery trail toward them.
This bird wasn't Fawkes. The colors were too different. Where Fawkes was a deep red, this phoenix was golden. Its tail was lit with bright orange flames and it beat its wings rapidly, plunging toward Hermione. Its wingspan was enormous.
Hermione smiled and lifted her hand; the bird descended and the instant her fingers grasped its tail, she disappeared with a resounding crack and a spark of golden flames.