Notes: Wow, I continued to be impressed by all of you. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to drop a line. Your thoughts are always welcome and appreciated. To all of you, I hope you are well and that this day is good for you.

And here we reach the culmination of the wedding night, where some truths become more apparent and we're reminded even Tom is human, despite what he has done. This, of course, makes him no less the villain here.

WARNINGS: Mild sexual content.

~*~ Twenty Three ~*~

The skies were dark beyond the manor windows, the turbulent roil of storm clouds blotting out even the moon. The wind was a fierce hiss against the panes, the scrape of branches eerie in the silent room. Hermione stared into the vanity mirror before her, Tom staring back from behind her shoulder with an intensity that shook her. She was used to him encompassing her every sense, drowning out reality and pain and everything in between until all she could understand was him. But now there was an additional layer of her awareness of him, as if he lingered just beneath her skin, a part of her just as surely as her own heart.

Holding her gaze, he drew a pale hand down the length of her throat, tracing the column of her neck and leaving prickling flesh in his wake. He continued the featherlight caress to the sweetheart neckline of her scarlet gown, his nails scraping her skin just beneath the stiff fabric. Hermione trembled, breath stuttering. His lips curved upward, satisfaction leaking from molten sapphire eyes. His hand retreated from her bodice, tracing a path to her throat and settling there, fingers splayed wide. He stooped down until his ebony curls were teasing her, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from the curve of her ear. But he didn't speak. Instead he traced her lobe with his dexterous tongue, laving his way across her trembling flesh with languid strokes. A moan escaped her lips, breathy and desperate. He chuckled against her skin, the vibrations echoing through her, spreading heat in their wake.

His grip on her neck tightened, her airflow constricting. She hardly noticed, letting her head fall back against his broad chest. He growled, low and deep and laden with the need that hung like a heavy fog between them. He guided her, never releasing his punishing grip on her neck, across the room. Her legs faltered as they crashed against the bedframe, but Tom kept her upright, his hold unyielding.

Voice a raspy growl, he said, "I want you to feel me everywhere."

Hermione swallowed as best she could, mouth dry. Then he let go and she dropped to the mattress, gracelessly sprawling before him. He stared down at her as he slowly crawled over her slight frame, all predator. She expected him to lower that all too enticing mouth to hers, but he merely stared, brow furrowing as if he were seeking answers within the depths of her stare. Then he muttered something under his breath, there and gone, swallowed by the wind crashing against the window.

At first she noticed nothing, only the howl of the wind and the tick of a clock in another room of Riddle House. Then she felt it. Darkness coiled beneath her skin, nefarious and yet familiar. And beyond the slimy void was something else entirely. It was nothing but an echo, a pale imitation of emotion, but as Tom continued to stare, eyes wide and pupils darker than midnight, she began to sense the overwhelming need, the insatiable desire. What had been nothing moments ago was now a heady pulse of lust crawling beneath her skin, born of something foreign and unfathomable. It was not her need. That was there too, but distinct, of clearly a different origin than the mounting sensation that threatened to overwhelm her.

Tom's lips twisted, victory sliding across them. "You feel it, don't you?" She could do nothing but nod, dazed by the maelstrom building within. He traced a finger across her bottom lip as he explained, "What you feel is me. We're… connected now. If I choose, I can allow you access to my emotions, likely even more concrete thoughts if I were to truly concentrate on the task."

"How?" Her lips brushed against the finger he'd left resting upon her mouth.

"You'll figure it out, Hermione Riddle. You're a smart girl."

Harry. The memory came unbidden, drawn from the depths of her consciousness by the darkness stirring within. Harry had been able to sense what Voldemort was feeling, even his location on occasion. But that was because Voldemort had accidently made Harry a Horcrux. Hermione focus snapped to Tom, panic cracking her heart. "I'm a…"

"Horcrux, yes," he confirmed. "But also…" he paused, suddenly looking away from her, a cord of unease vibrating between them. He shook his head, ebony falling enticingly over his hypnotic eyes. "Never mind. It doesn't matter now, precious."

Her blood was pounding now, an impossible combination of lust and fear mingling to yield pure chaos. If he knew he could make her a Horcrux, then he knew everything. And yet that revelation didn't seem fresh, as if her mind had already traveled down this path, as if she already knew the boy hovering above her was not who she supposed.

"Enough of this," Tom interrupted, annoyance shadowing his handsome features. "I want us to enjoy our wedding night."

Her lips parted, as if to argue, but the words were gone before she could give them breath. Instead she smiled up at him, drinking in the haze of emotion rushing through her veins. It was headier than she could remember, augmented by the additional rush that came from feeling Tom's desire intermingling with her own.

When his lips brushed hers, barely a kiss, but so much more, her eyes rolled back in her head. When his soft lips captured her, his velvet tongue tracing the contours of her mouth, the wetness between her thighs was instant and insistent. When he tore the bloodied scarlet gown from her trembling body and she felt his naked flesh against her own, it was a tidal wave of pleasure, the sensation ricocheting back and forth between them until it reached a fever pitch in her mind. And when he entered her, hips bucking at all the familiar, enticing angles, she was lost, her conscious mind obliterated by the force of his adoration and the raw sensation crackling between them. And then there was the overwhelming love that blanketed her as he brought them both to a fervent consummation of their marriage, their moans and cries echoing far louder than the raging weather beyond.

Tom collapsed beside her, ebony curls plastered against his forehead, sated sigh on his lips. She matched his sigh, maneuvering the duvet and sheets until they were snugly beneath them. His lips brushed against her forehead, a hand tracing idly across her bare shoulder.

"I would not want to have lived a life where I did not find you."

She felt the truth of the words deep in her marrow, beneath the darkness etched under her skin. Her lips twitched upward in the ghost of a smile. "You have saved me, Tom Riddle. I cannot thank you enough."

He went still beside her for a long moment before pulling in a deep, shuddering breath. "I only hope that you will continue to feel that way, my dearest wife."

In light of their recent activities, his doubt made little sense. She twisted toward him, gently brushing a lock of hair from his eye. "I could not imagine a world where I wasn't in love with you, husband."

He held her gaze, searching, boyish in his uncertainty. "Whatever you may come to believe, I do love you. I may have started this… with less than honorable intentions, but you're under my skin, Hermione Riddle. You make me want to be good enough for you, you make me wish I wasn't…" He shook his head, suddenly turning away. "It doesn't matter. I can't change who I am. But know I love you so much that I will remake the world for you and I."

The shiver that traced the length of her vertebrae didn't match the declaration of love, feeling instead heavy and dark. She chased the peaceful oblivion of his sapphire eyes, tipping his chin until he looked upon her once more. "I don't need you to change the world for me."

"But I will. For both of us. I will never let you go," he promised, more serious than the marital vows she couldn't quite recall, the truth of his conviction echoing through her soul. "You are everything now and I will give you everything in return."

Everything seemed far too much to contemplate, especially safely enveloped within his arms. Hermione sighed, contentment on her lips. Mind heavy, she dropped a kiss on the corner of his full mouth. "Enough talk. I'm exhausted."

"Indeed," he sighed, pulling her to his sculpted chest. "Goodnight, wife."

"Goodnight, husband."