Chapter 4

Tom was not happy by a long shot. He glared at the double doors leading into the hospital wing, as if they personally had offended him.

This should not have happened. Hermione should not have overheard that conversation. Stupid Bella to insist on meeting him on a weekend, while the entire school was out and about.

Or rather, stupid Avery to provide bad drugs. Oh, Tom would make sure he paid dearly. Avery had made too many mistakes lately. Tom had no use of people who made mistakes. No, he would arrange a new vacation for Avery – right next to a lot of fishes.

First, he needed to fix things with Hermione. He would not let her slip between his fingers. Not when the foundation was so perfect. She fitted so nicely into his plans – if only she would agree to stay with him.

He rose from the bench when she came through the doors, limping. Without a word, he took a steady grip around her waist and helped her move forward.

However, he didn't lead her back up towards her room, but to his office.

They saw several people on their way there, but no one did more than offer a polite "hello". He didn't care. Hermione would no doubt feel safe that there were witnesses that had seen her with him, but to him, it didn't matter. He didn't plan to harm her. He just wanted to talk where they wouldn't be easily overheard.

Unlocking the door, he led her inside and made her sit down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. He then took his place in the black leather chair behind his desk. Some distance was good, for now. Reminding her of his authority.

They stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other.

She didn't look as scared anymore. Not as she had done in the forest when he had caught her overhearing his conversation with Bella. No, now she seemed more resentful and confused.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, her tone hard.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands coming up in front of him, clasping them on his stomach. "I'm Tom Riddle."

"Don't," she growled. "I know what I heard. I may not be able to prove anything, but don't act like nothing happened."

He shrugged. "What do you want me to say? That my teacher salary is so small, and my mother is dying, so I need to make money on the side by dealing in drugs?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "If you won't tell me the truth, then I'll just leave."

She made an attempt to get up, but he sighed loudly, making a gesture for her to sit back down.

She did. "Well?"

"Politics are messy, Hermione," he said calmly. "I'm someone who cleans up the messes before the public eye sees them."

"By dealing drugs?" she asked, looking cautious.

"By any means necessary," he replied. "Bella is an asset who likes to be paid a certain way. I provide it."

"And what had Bella done that you had to pay for?" she asked.

"She provided me with some information I needed about a possible opponent."

"Possible?"

He chuckled. "The best way to prevent a mess is to make sure nothing is spilled to begin with."

She still appeared resentful, but there was a thoughtful expression on her face now, as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. "You worked for Thicknesse's campaign. Is it his messes you clean up, or do you just work for the highest bidder?"

He was a bit surprised by the question, but pleased. She asked the right things; that was always good.

"What do you think?"

There was a flash of realisation in her eyes, and he knew she understood. He would never be bought or work for someone else – he did what suited him. If you were in the business of cleaning up messes, then the first thing you needed to make sure was that no one found your own.

"So you have your own plan to want – rule the country?" she asked.

He snorted. "Hardly. Too much public appearances, shaking hands, and other useless things that have to be done."

"Why do it then?"

"If you haven't noticed, Hermione, there are a lot of things that needs fixing in society. I grew up in an orphanage, I should know."

As he had expected, he saw sympathy flash through her eyes. Now she was interested.

"The problem is that bureaucracy and procedures get in the way of actually doing something good with the power," he continued. "To be efficient, you either have to overthrow the system completely, or find ways to ... speed things up. I choose to speed things up – even if a lot of that is illegal."

She seemed troubled by that. Well, no matter, he would make her see his way soon enough. He just needed her to ask one more question.

Alas, she wasn't asking that one yet. "What sort of illegal things?"

"Everyone has secrets," he said in a low voice. "I happen to be an expert in finding them. Once I do, it's easy to expose those who are in my way and make sure someone more suitable fills the position."

At the word "expose" he could see realisation hitting her again.

"Is that what you want me to do? To help you expose someone? Because of what I did with Umbridge?"

She sounded worried. Well, he could see why.

"No, dear, although, that's why I chose you. You didn't just expose her, did you?"

He could see her eyes widen in fear. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not the only one who pays criminals to do things, so I won't have to sully my own hands," he said softly, leaning forward over the desk.

"I – I don't know—"

He rose fast, interrupting her. "Don't lie, Hermione, not now when we are being honest with each other."

Her face was turning red, and she was looking down at her knees.

He came around the desk, stopping right in front of her, sitting down on the edge of his desk.

"Exposing is just part of if, you know that. Some people need to be punished as well, and the justice system doesn't work. Especially not on the rich, or the ones with rich friends."

She glared up at him, but he could see that she agreed.

He brought his hand up to her face, stroking her cheek. "You don't need to feel embarrassed with me, dear. I knew Umbridge; she deserved it."

"I know that," she spat. "But I also know that others won't see it that way. Do you plan to blackmail me into helping you now? With the things you don't want to sully your own hands with?"

"Oh, love, no, you misunderstand. I do want to work with you, but I don't need help with punishing corrupt politicians. I need a better prime minister."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion for a second. "A better prime minister? You mean me?"

"Of course. You are brilliant, clever, compassionate, and still understand that you need to get your hands dirty to get somewhere. It will take a few years to lay the foundation of your ideology, but I'm confident I can do that."

She was still staring at him in bafflement. "So you have just taken an interest in me because you think I can be your pet prime minister?"

He silently sighed. No, of course it would not have been that simple to sway her.

"No, I took an interest in you because I wanted to fuck you," he answered truthfully. "I never thought I'd see you again. However, when I did, I began digging into your past and realised just how perfect you are. I would be a fool not to try."

She looked away, clearly thinking hard, trying to make sense of all of it.

"But Bella was at our table last week, before I went home with you. Did you send her?"

She really was clever. Right now, it was annoying.

"I may have asked her to see what she could find out about you from another perspective. But she got a bit sidetracked by your friend."

"You threatened to kill her," Hermione said slowly and finally looked back up at her. "Have you ever had someone murdered?"

Countless. "Yes. Just like you had Umbridge beaten in prison."

Her eyes darkened. "That's not the same."

"Oh really?"

"There is a difference between murdering someone and beating someone up," she spat. "I believe it's the difference between ten years in prison and a lifetime sentence."

"Good thing neither of us will get caught then," Tom remarked casually. "But you can't tell me you haven't thought about murdering someone."

He could see her tense up, and her eyes were screaming of guilt. He smiled.

"So what? Everyone has. There is a difference between doing and fantasising."

"Yes, I believe the difference is whether you have the competence to get away with it or not. Most people don't. That's why they only fantasise about it." He leaned back again, studying her. "Nevertheless, I don't expect you to ever have to murder someone. I just hope you'll make a good prime minister and steer this country right."

She started to laugh. "And the fact that we live in a democracy doesn't trouble you at all?"

He snorted. "Don't make me laugh, you are not that naive. Especially not at this level in your education."

She made a grimace. "You know what I mean."

"No, you know what I mean," he pressed, gripping her chin again. "Bad people are taking advantage of all the flaws in the system. We need to make the best of the situation."

"So why don't you do it yourself?" she bit back, trying to pull back, but he wouldn't let her.

"Because as you may have noticed, I have some interesting friends. If I become a public figure, they'll try to manipulate me into doing what they want, and I'll spend more time pushing them back than actually fixing things. No, I need to stay in the shadow, and you need to be the one with the actual power."

She was still looking doubtful, but he could see in her eyes that she was swaying. There was a longing there. She wanted power, too, but something was holding her back. Probably her upbringing. She had spent a lot of time with Dumbledore, and his fake idealism of how you always had to do the right thing must have rubbed off.

"If this is true," she finally said in a low voice. "Why didn't you tell me this from the start? Why pretend that you want to be my boyfriend?"

Oh, so that was where she was stuck now. Typical.

He sighed and stroked her cheek again, finally letting go. "Can't I want both? You are perfect in many ways, Hermione."

"But how do you plan for your scheme to work if we break up?" she said.

Apparently his tender words hadn't stopped her from thinking critically. Well, like he said, she was perfect.

"In my scheme, we don't break up," he said with a smile.

"Even if I stop ... liking you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you stop liking me, then my scheme will be for naught either way. However, I don't think that will happen. I know I would be good boyfriend to you, just as I know you have already fantasised of being prime minister."

She flushed again. "Of course, I'm sure everyone in your course has had some time considered it."

"I would imagine so, yes. Doesn't it tell you something that you are the only one I've offered this to, then?"

"If you are telling the truth."

He sighed and rose again, walking up to the window, looking out.

"Yes. That is what this comes down to. For any of this to come true, you'll have to trust me."

Behind his back, he could hear the chair scraping against the floor as she rose as well.

"You have to understand that this is overwhelming."

He slowly turned around and saw that she was standing with her arms crossed, favouring her uninjured foot.

"Yes. This is why I would rather have waited to tell you about my ... leisure pursuits."

"I have to think this over," she warned.

"Naturally."

She glanced towards the door. "I can go, then?"

"You may go, yes, but you'll have to be the judge of whether or not you can," he said, looking down at her foot. "Otherwise, I'll help you to your room. It is, after all, my fault that you are injured."

She took a few steps towards the door. Her face tightened in pain with every step. When she finally reached the door, she let out a sigh.

"Alright, help me get to my room. But then, I want to be left alone to think."

He smirked. Oh, she would think, but he could already see that he had won.

It took a week before her ankle felt completely fine again, and another week until she could remove the bandage on her wrist.

By that time, she had been back and forth more times than she could count on what to do with Tom.

She was still attracted to him, and it was true that she did want to become prime minister so she could make the country better.

But could she really get the help of someone she knew was a criminal and a murderer? He had as good as said that he had made murders happen.

If there were something she had always held for true, it was that murder was wrong. However, as she had grown up, that had come into perspective. Clearly, the government didn't think all murder was wrong, otherwise they wouldn't send soldiers out in war.

She had even met a few people she wouldn't mind to see dying. There had been a boy in school who had bullied her, and she had fantasised about his death many times. She had even given him quite a beating one day when he had finally pushed her over the edge. That had felt good.

She had even arranged for Umbridge to get the beating she deserved once she was in prison. She had used the contacts she got while working with Kingsley, and she had thought she hid her tracks. No one she knew had ever suspected her of it. Umbridge was a very unpleasant person, so it was not like anyone was surprised when it happened.

Somehow, though, Tom had found out. And he had understood. He actually thought she had done something reasonable.

That felt good. Few she knew would understand her reasoning behind it.

But murder?

She just couldn't make up her mind.

She wished there was someone she could talk to about it. Alas, no one could know about the two of them. Tom had made her promise not to tell, and she didn't want to go back on her promise.

A fortnight after their discussion, Hermione was suddenly given an opportunity.

It was just after supper, and she was finishing an essay for class, when her mobile rang.

It was Ginny.

"Hi!" Hermione answered, happy to finally hear from her friend. They hadn't really had a chance to talk since she had come to Hogwarts. Both had busy schedules, and every time one had been free, the other had had to run away.

Now, however, she had nowhere else to be for the night.

"Hermione," Ginny greeted her. "Please tell me you don't have to go to some extra study session in five minutes."

"Nope," Hermione answered happily. "I'm free all night,"

"Great! I've been dying to talk to you."

"I've missed talking to you, too," Hermione said, touched that Ginny sounded so eager.

"Yes, but not only that," Ginny said fast. "Why didn't you tell me the one-night stand turned out to be your teacher?!"

Hermione almost dropped her phone in shock. Her knees grew weak, and she sat down on her bed.

"Wh- how do you know?" she asked weakly.

"Harry was here last weekend. He told us he had gone to see you, and that Hogwarts was really great. Since Ron hadn't seen the web page yet, he showed us, and there, on the front page, was an article about how a certain Professor Riddle had just come back to teach."

"Oh," Hermione said, dread filling her. "Please tell me you didn't say anything to Harry and Ron."

Ginny snorted. "What do you think I am, stupid? Of course not. But why didn't you call me?"

Hermione swallowed. "Tom and I agreed not to tell anyone about it. Student-teacher relationships are strictly forbidden. We didn't want to get in trouble."

"Oh, Tom is it?" Ginny giggled. "What else did you and Tom talk about?"

Hermione was glad that Ginny wasn't in the room with her, because her blush would be very telling.

At first, she contemplated on not saying anything more. Just lie and tell Ginny that nothing had happened. However, she needed to talk to someone about him. She had promised not tell anyone, but Ginny already knew, so she wasn't going against her promise.

"Ah, we didn't mean to let anything else to happen. But then we were both in Hogsmeade on the same night, and happened to leave at the same time, so we started talking on the way back. He then asked me back to his room and one thing led to another..." she trailed off, knowing that Ginny would be able to fill in the blanks.

Indeed, Ginny squealed. "It's like a naughty romance book! What happened then?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to tell Ginny about Tom's criminal side. Ginny wouldn't understand the way Hermione could.

"He asked me if we could be together," she finally said softly. "In secret."

"Oh." At once, Ginny didn't sound so cheerful anymore. "And you don't know if you want to?"

Hermione sighed. "No. I mean, I do like him and think he is sexy—"

"Like anyone with eyes would," Ginny agreed.

"Right. But I hate to have to hide it from everyone. What if we get caught? Or what if he is just using me for sex or something?" That thought had still gnawed in the back of her mind. He wanted her to be prime minister, but what if, once she were, he would use her to push laws she didn't like? Or order her start a war against another country?

"Well, if you get caught, I think you'll be safe. He is the one who has power over you, and he is older and a man. People will assume he is using you, not the other way around. If you need a character witness or something, I know a lot of people who'd jump at the chance," Ginny answered, serious.

"Thanks," Hermione said, thankful to have a friend like Ginny.

"As to whether he uses you or not ..." Ginny trailed off, clearly thinking. "I'm afraid that's just a matter of trust. Do you trust him?"

Hermione thought about it. She did want everything he offered – if he were telling the truth. "I want to trust him."

"Right. Well, you haven't known each other for that long, so of course it would be hard to tell right now. So perhaps the only way you can know for sure is if you try?" Ginny suggested. "And if you are wrong ... well, I'll just have to come up there and kick his arse, won't I?"

Hermione laughed at the image. However, Ginny's words made her think. If Tom weren't honest with her, then it wouldn't be like she was powerless against him. She didn't have any real proof right now that he was dealing with illegal things, but she knew he was. Therefore, there had to be proof somewhere. If she spent more time with him, she would probably find something.

And then, if he were lying to her and just using her, she could expose him.

"I hope I don't have to do that, though," Ginny continued softly. "He does seem like a good guy for you. On the paper, I mean. It makes sense that you'd end up with a teacher. You are way too clever for boys your own age. No one but a teacher on a great school would be able to stimulate you, intellectually."

"Yes, it feels like that sometimes," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Has he talked anything about the future?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He said something about how we could become a couple officially once I'd left school."

"That's a good sign, I think," Ginny said encouragingly. "If he meant to just use you, he would probably have been pretty vague about the future. And, I mean, he is risking his career to be with you."

"Yes, I guess he is," Hermione said, frowning.

If she found out that he was just going to use her while she was still in school, she had the upper hand. Just like she had caught Umbridge on tape, assaulting a student, she could catch Tom on tape, if needed.

Like Ginny had said, there were a lot of people who would back her up. She would come off as a schoolgirl in love. He would come off as the predator. He must realise that, too.

"Try not to over-think it," Ginny advised her. "In the end, you'll have to go with your heart."

Hermione nodded, and her heart took an extra leap. She did want to trust Tom. She did want to be with him.

And it seemed not even the knowledge of him possibly murdering someone could stop those feelings. It might make her a bad person, but her heart didn't seem to care about that.

"You're right," Hermione said, smiling. "Anyway, what's new with you?"

Ginny continued speaking for another couple of hours, and by the time they hung up, it was too late to go and find Tom. She would just have to wait until the next evening.

As she went into her first class the next morning, Tom greeted the class in just a white button-down shirt. Why did he have to look so sexy all the time?

Though she did understand why he had forgone the jacket; the classroom was surprisingly hot for this late in September. The windows stood ajar, and the students who had worn jackets or cardigans quickly removed them. Hermione was glad that she had decided to wear a knee-length, cotton skirt today – pants looked way too hot.

"Good morning," Tom greeted them, taking a bunch of papers from his desk and walking up to the first row of seats. "I've gone over your assignment from last week, and I thought we would spend the first half of the morning discussing the topic."

The students in the front passed the papers backwards, so everyone got their copy. Hermione took hers and turned to the last page, expecting the highest grade, as always.

To her great surprise, there wasn't a big blue A waiting for her, but a B. Under it, Tom had written: "I know you can do better".

She stared at it, and then, flipped through the pages again. There were no other comments in the paper. Nothing about where she had gone wrong. What was he referring to? How was she supposed to get better if he didn't even tell her about where she was mistaken?

She hardly paid attention to the discussion starting over her head, she was too busy reading through her paper again, trying to figure out what he meant. Therefore, she was completely shocked when she heard him say her name.

"Miss Granger?"

She looked up. The whole class was staring at her. Tom was looking at her disapprovingly.

Thankfully, even though she hadn't paid attention, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had still heard what was going on around her. They had been talking about comparative politics in general, and now someone had brought it up as the method used in Kevin Triggot's latest paper. Who happened to be exactly the scientist she had used in the B-worthy assignment she had turned in.

"Er, Triggot applied comparative politics when he studied the changes in foreign policy of Japan," she said quickly. "But I think he mostly tried to write Aristotle on the nose for thinking democracy is more corrupt than monarchy."

"That's an interesting observation," Tom allowed her. "What made you reach that conclusion?"

Hermione blinked. That was exactly what she had written in her paper! Thus, she told him again what her line of thought had been.

When she was finished, he just nodded. "Yes, as Miss Granger points out, it's dangerous when a researcher ..."

Hermione couldn't help but to frown. It sounded like he agreed completely with her. Then what was wrong with her paper?

When the class was finished just before lunch, Hermione didn't feel like she could just let it go. She needed to know what his problem with her assignment had been.

Thus, she marched up to the front of the classroom.

"Miss Granger," Tom said as he gathered his belongings, "what can I help you with?"

"I have a question about my grade," Hermione answered seriously.

Tom glanced to the students who were making their way out of the classroom. Once the last one had left, he walked up to the door and closed it.

"Why did I get a B?" she asked once he had locked it.

Tom arched an eyebrow. "This is not high school, Miss Granger. I'm not here to lead you by the hand through every mistake. I'm sure you can figure it out, too, if you just think about it."

"I read through it again. I couldn't see anything," she said, frustrated.

Tom crossed his arms. "Yes, I saw. It's not considered good form to sit and read while your professor is holding a lecture."

At those words, Hermione felt herself blushing. She knew that. All of it. Why was she even so upset? She had got bad grades before (or well, less than perfect grades). Though, every other time, she had known she would get a bad grade, because something had got in her way of writing properly: the flu, some friend being in trouble, her teacher having it out for her.

She looked at him again, suspicious.

"So you didn't give me an unfair grade just so I'd talk to you in private?"

Tom's eyes narrowed in anger. "I don't appreciate you questioning my work ethics, Miss Granger."

She crossed her arms, her chin sticking out stubbornly. "Then why did I get a bad grade?"

"Because your text wasn't as good as it usually is. And it's not just this assignment. The past two weeks, you have been distracted in class—"

"You told me that you wanted to make me prime minister!" she interrupted, her voice rising.

"Not so loud," he growled. "We don't want the whole school to find out."

"Well, it's true," she said, her voice lower. "Perhaps I am a bit distracted, but that's your fault."

He studied her coldly. "Then maybe I've misjudged you. If you are this easily distracted—"

She flushed in anger. "You said yourself that you hadn't meant to spring all this on me so fast!"

"Yes, alas, in my role as a teacher, I can't take that into consideration when I grade you. It wouldn't be fair to the other students," he hissed. "It's unreasonable for you to think that."

"I didn't mean that!" she objected. "I honestly didn't understand what was bad with this text."

"Now you do." He paused, crossing his arms and looking down at her. "If you were any other student, I wouldn't have accepted this type of behaviour in my classroom."

"If you were any other teacher, I wouldn't have been distracted and none of this would have happened in the first place," Hermione growled back.

They glared at each other for another few seconds. Then Hermione finally looked down. This was stupid. He was right; she had been distracted. This wasn't like her at all.

It wasn't him that was unjust. The reason she hadn't been at her best was because she didn't know what to do with him. That was what had affected her assignment.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I was out of line. I just ... I haven't been sure what to do about you until now."

"Until now?" His tone changed completely. It was soft, careful and a little hopeful.

She looked up at him again. "I spoke to a friend yesterday, Ginny. You met her, the first night we ... you know. She had seen your picture on the school's website and realised who you were."

"Oh," he just said, looking a bit worried.

"I didn't tell her anything about the prime minister stuff," she quickly reassured him. "But I did tell her that we had slept together again and that I wasn't sure what to do. She made me realise that, well ... I feel like I have to try. Because I like you. Really much."

She slowly moved closer to him, taking his hand. He let their fingers intertwine.

"That makes me very happy," he said softly. "Because I like you, too."

She looked up at him again. "But if you are just doing this to use me, I will have to hurt you."

He chuckled. "Likewise."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "You think I'd use you?"

"I already said that I'd make you a prime minister. It's possible that you'll just use me for that, and then, throw me aside once you have the position," he stated casually. "However, that's the thing with a partnership, I believe. You have to trust each other, and that means you are doomed to show some weaknesses."

"Like having sex with a student?" she suggested.

He laughed. "Indeed. Even if this doesn't work out, I think it's safe to say that none of us will expose the other. We have too much to lose."

His hand was hot in hers, and she had the urge to place it on her body.

"I guess there is nothing to do then, but give this a chance," she mumbled.

"That's what I've thought from the start," he whispered back, leaning in closer to her.

Their lips met in a heated kiss. It felt wonderful to kiss him again. She never wanted to stop.

It seemed that neither did he; he pushed her back against the wall, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Their kiss grew more needing. His body was radiating heat and passion, just like hers was. She rubbed up against him, her arms tight around his neck.

"I've missed this," she whispered when his mouth travelled down her cheek and throat.

"So have I," he growled, his voice raw with passion. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just bend you over your desk and fuck you hard in front of the entire class."

Her sex throbbed almost painfully, and she buckled against him.

There were too many clothes between them. Thankfully, he was already hiking up her skirt.

"I've thought about—" she started, but was interrupted by a loud laugh from the other side of the wall.

She hadn't realised how close they were too the door. There were students passing in the corridor right behind her back. If one of them were to try the door ...

Had Tom locked it? She couldn't recall.

Her thoughts were forced back to him when his left hand sneaked in under her skirt, rubbing the fabric of her knickers against her cunt. It was sticky from her fluid.

She moaned in pleasure, moving his head so she could kiss him again. He tasted divine and hot. Just completely right.

She heard the sound of a zipper going down, and felt his hand move between them. A moment later, he moved the crotch of her knickers aside and rubbed the head of his penis up and down her cunt before thrusting it inside her.

Her gasp in pleasure was swallowed by his mouth as he pressed her even harder into the wall behind her.

"You have no idea how incredible you feel," Tom whispered, moving his mouth to her ear. "And you are all mine now."

"Yes," she moaned.

He moved fast inside her, finding every sweet spot there was. "We will make sure this country get the leadership it truly deserves. And that those who try to ruin it get punished."

That sounded reasonable enough. She moaned again, louder this time, but he quickly covered her mouth with his again, silencing her.

She was meeting his thrust to the best of her abilities. She had to admit to herself that there was more than just the sex that felt right. Someone else might have been frightened by his rhetoric, but she understood. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. That was true in politics as well.

With his help, she would be able to do the changes necessary and weed out people like Umbridge. She was sure he could help her make them disappear, no matter how rich or connected they were.

His left hand moved in between them again, his thumb pushing against her clitoris. It made her shake with pleasure and see white sparkles before her eyes.

It wasn't long until she came, shuddering and moaning.

"I trust we understand each other, then?" Tom whispered as he put her feet back on the ground.

"Oh yes," she whispered back, breathlessly.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tonight, then. We can celebrate the beginning of our partnership more properly then."

She beamed up at him. Oh yes, she very much looked forward to that.

THE END