Heart of A Snake

A/N: Redshadow43, thanks for being an amazing beta! All of your reviews and follows are so encouraging and I really appreciate them!

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, not me.

Chapter 28

Hermione rolled over in the bed and groaned as she held her head. She had a migraine unlike anything she had ever felt before. When she sat up the room began to spin, so she closed her eyes to block out the sensation and took a deep breath. Then she opened her eyes and glanced out the window at the setting sun.

I've slept the whole day! she realized with surprise.

Suddenly, she heard voices outside her door. It sounded like Tom and Narcissa were arguing. She moved to get up, but collapsed back onto the bed again. She was too weak to stand. She groaned in frustration.

Tom must have heard her because he opened the door and stormed in despite Narcissa's insistence that he leave her be. Gently, he crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. He grasped her hand lightly and began to stroke. "Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione scrunched up her face and cast him an irritated glance. "Do I look all right?" she grumbled in a higher voice than usual. "I feel like I've been run over with a bloody bus."

Tom's eyes widened in surprise at the snappy tone she took with him. Obviously, she wasn't feeling at all well, and he felt slightly ashamed to have asked such a stupid question when the answer was so obvious.

"I'm sorry," he whispered so low she could barely hear him.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, too, Tom. I really don't feel well. I've slept the entire day, and all I want to do is go back to bed."

Tom kissed her forehead. She's still feeling warm.

Narcissa saw the look on his face, and she came over to press the back of her hand to Hermione's forehead. "Her fever has come down some, but she's still very warm. Hermione, dear, you need to eat something and get some more rest. Hopefully the dizziness will pass soon."

"Thank you, Narcissa," she answered with a weak smile.

"Of course, dear," she smiled back. "I will send Millie up with some dinner for the two of you."

Hermione and Tom both nodded in agreement, and Narcissa left the room. Then Hermione looked at Tom and whispered, "Help me to the bathroom, please?"

Tom scooped Hermione up into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom, gently placing her feet on the floor as they went. "Do you think you'll be okay, or will you need my—er—assistance?" he asked with a slight blush.

Hermione giggled at his uncomfortable expression. "I'm sure I can manage from here, Tom," she said. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek before wobbling towards the bathroom door. She couldn't understand why on earth she was feeling so dizzy.

Where in Merlin's name did I catch the flu? Hopefully it'll be over soon. I hate spending all day in bed.

When she sat on the toilet she put her head in her hands, and fought the urge to vomit. She quickly relieved herself and moved to the sink to splash some water on her face, trying to freshen up. She grabbed her toothbrush and brushed her teeth, and grimaced at her reflection as she did so.

The woman who stared back at her looked as pale as a ghost, although her cheeks were rosy red. Hermione pulled her curls up into a loose bun and headed for the door, calling for Tom.

He stood just outside the door waiting, and as she stepped out he scooped her up and carried her back over to the bed again. Her stomach growled.

"Hungry?" Tom asked with a smirk.

Hermione nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. Whatever that is sure smells good."

Tom shrugged. "Soup of some sort, along with some bread. There's also some seltzer water to help your stomach."

"That sounds good, too."

The two at their meal in silence. Afterwards, Hermione crawled right back under the covers with a groan.

"Did that help you at all, my little lioness?" asked Tom as he lay down beside her.

"I feel like—erg!" Hermione mumbled.

"Well, that's no good at all," Tom said as he stroked her head. "I wonder what got you sick in the first place."

Hermione frowned. "Stay with me?"

Tom tried to hide his smile as he said, "I suppose. Here, let's get you all tucked in." Then he pulled the sheets up high, tucking it around her body, trapping her.

Hermione giggled and squirmed until she was snuggled more fully against him. "Tell me something," she commanded.

"What?"

"Anything."

"What do you mean, Hermione?" he asked in exasperation.

She turned curious eyes upon him and explained, "Tell me something about yourself, Tom. I don't really know much about you, despite the fact that I'm in love with you."

"Ask me something more specific."

Hermione groaned. "Tom, it doesn't really matter, just pick something. It really isn't that difficult."

"Hermione," he growled, "pick something more specific, or you will get nothing at all."

With a pout, she grew irritated at his recalcitrant attitude. She thought about what she might really want to know, and asked, "Well, how do you feel about your parents? I mean, I know what happened, but how do you feel about it?"

Tom's brow shot up in surprise. Nobody ever really asked him how he felt about anything. He felt lucky to have Hermione in his life, for she genuinely cared about him as a person. He formulated his answer carefully.

"Well, at first I was angry with my mother. I mean, how could she give me up for adoption like that? I didn't understand why she wouldn't want me, and it hurt. But then I learned that she had died in childbirth, and I became angry because she hadn't been strong enough to save herself. She couldn't even find the strength to survive for her only child."

Hermione frowned. She was very lucky she'd been able to grow up with two loving parents. So many children in the world didn't even have one.

"But then, my anger turned to my father. What sort of a man would leave the woman he'd fathered a child with? Tom Riddle, Sr. was cruel. He ruined my mother's life, and in turn he ruined mine. I could never forgive him for that."

"Is that why you killed him?" she asked gently.

"I think so," said Tom with a frown. "He wasn't the first person I had killed, you know. But I killed him out of anger. I believe I had hoped that his death would help me feel somewhat better about things, but it didn't. It just made my resentment for Muggles grow. He had manipulated my mother, led her on like some lovesick teenager. I blamed him for her death. If not for him, she might still be alive."

Hermione snuggled against him as she said, "But then you might not be. If your mother never fell in love with your father, then you wouldn't have been born. Yes, he was a bad person, but not all Muggles are bad, Tom. Besides, we are both descendants of Muggles, and we both turned out fine."

With that, Hermione fell asleep in his arms. Tom lay awake with a million thoughts running through his mind.