CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

AN

I struggled to write this chapter but I've finally finished it. Here we go, one steamy chapter for you all to read.

Q&A

Catzandbookz8 – Yes, I will reveal which twin it was at a later date, but in the meantime, care to guess? I mean, you have a 50/50 chance of getting it right.

Fairytalebliss182 – Your review made me giggle. I admit it, I do have a problem. I am addicted to cliff hangers. That's the first step, isn't it? Admittance?

Page count: 28

Friday 24th November 1944

Taking a breath, she allowed her arms to drop by her sides and she took a step forward, moving to straddle his lap, her hands settling on the back of the armchair on either side of his head. Their eyes met, chocolate brown to ice-blue, she heard the slightest hitch in his breath but she tipped her head in confusion when his hands remained firmly on the armrests.

Seeing her questioning gaze he said, "You told me not to touch you without your permission."

Her mouth twitched as she fought back a smile and wishing to test him, she slackened her control on her magic, allowing it to slowly trickle from her, ghosting over his skin in a manner that was so gentle, he struggled to determine if he'd felt something or if it had just been his imagination.

He didn't move, his gaze remaining firmly locked on hers.

She tilted her head to the other side, watching him like a curious puppy as she once more slackened her control, her magic brushing against him, his hair visibly being disturbed as if by a gust of wind, blowing a single strand of his hair into his eyes.

He took a visible deep breath, his eyes darkening to a sea-blue and his jaw ticked but still, he remained still.

Impressed, Hermione allowed her magic free without restraint, it swarming around him, pressing down against him. He released a slow breath as his eyes fluttered closed, shifting slightly on the armchair and Hermione's eyes flittered to his hands, seeing them clenched into tight fists of restraint. She'd felt the tension in his body as he held himself still, fighting his own urges whilst she deliberately provoked him.

When his eyes opened, gone was the blue colouring and she struggled to determine between the pupil and iris. Slowly and teasingly, she lowered her head, pausing before their noses touched, seeing the tension in his jaw and the slight twitch in his right eye.

Their eyes locked and she whispered with her lips brushing his, "You have my permission."

She was taken aback by the sheer ferocity in which his left arm slotted around her lower back and his right hand found purchase on the back of her neck, tugging her forward, closing the distance between them and his mouth pressing against hers.

Releasing a noise of surprise, he took full advantage and forced his tongue into her mouth, consuming and devouring her like a man starved and her hands came away from the armchair and fisted into his silken strands of hair, tugging. His groan travelled from his chest and into her mouth as his hand reached up, removing the clip from her hair, the wild, slightly damp curls tumbling down her back and over her shoulders, his hand quickly gathering as much as it as he could in one grasp and tugging. Her moan was caught in his mouth as he used his grip to angle her head however he wished, his tongue brushing the length of hers, swiping over her teeth, ghosting against the roof of her mouth, exploring and devouring the hot cavern.

His magic surrounded her, pressed against her heavily, brushed over her skin until goosebumps were left in its wake. It made it her dizzy, it made it hard to think clearly but Hermione was of the opinion that would make things easier. It would prevent her from second-guessing her decision, from worrying and most importantly, it allowed her to feel. For years she'd been under so much pressure and stress, for years she had to put others' needs before her own and she was expected to be on top form every moment of every day. But now, now it was her chance to forget about everything and the expectations that surrounded her, at least for a little while.

He drew his mouth back from hers, burying his face against her neck as he lavished kisses, nips and licks against her skin. She felt his mouth curve into a smirk when she tipped her head to offer more skin and a whimper let her, both from the attention he was paying to her neck and because he'd pulled his mouth from hers.

Once her lungs were no longer burning with the need for oxygen, with her grip on his hair, she tugged his head back from her, angled his head and then fused their mouths back together, catching his groan when she took control of the kiss, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, her tongue soothing the sting and then slipping through his parted lips. He allowed her control for but a few moments before he dominated her, his arm slotted around her back, tugging her closer to him and Hermione feeling the growing, hardening length pressing against her core.

She drew back from him, sucking in a breath, her eyes opening to see him watching her with his dark, heated gaze. Her stomach had long since started knotting with desire and her arousal had formed at her core, being unsurprised if he were able to feel the dampness of her underwear against his clothing.

In a split second, an understanding passed between them without words being spoken and she lunged forward at the same time as him tugging her back to him, their mouths colliding as Hermione's hands uncurled from his hair and moved to his shoulders, slipping beneath his robes and pushing them off his shoulders and down his arms. He reluctantly released his grip on her hair and unfolded his arm from around her, allowing the sleeves to fall down his arms. Before he had the chance to hold her against him once more, Hermione's hands settled against the hem of his jumper and she lifted it, Tom drawing back from her long enough for it to clear his head, his mouth latching back onto hers and he tugged his hands free, carelessly dropping the jumper to the ground.

Both of his hands buried in her hair, her wild, tangled curls twisting around his fingers as hers were busy loosening the knot of his tie and slipping it from his neck before she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, tugging it from his trousers and pushing it over his shoulders.

She pulled back for air and her glassy eyes took in the sight before her, Tom's hair messy and dishevelled, his eyes dark and heated, his mouth red and bruised, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing. God, his chest!

Of course, he was absolutely fucking perfect! She thought in annoyance.

His chest, stomach and arms were lined with muscle, something that was usually hidden beneath his uniform and robes and it didn't surprise her. Although she knew he didn't participate in sport and games, he was downright genetically perfect, no doubt his father being the same. Sometimes it was genetics. And not only that, the magic that she and Tom performed, it was incredibly draining, particularly during the learning stage. It required physical and mental strength and endurance. Over time, it would've built up and strengthened him, almost like an exercise routine.

Her gaze moved lower, seeing the dark trail of hair that started below his bellybutton and disappeared into his trousers, her eyes following it and landing on the visible bulge in his trousers. Trapping her lower tip between her teeth, she lifted her gaze, seeing the arched eyebrow and slight smirk that met her. Even when he was aroused he was annoying.

Silently, she removed his hands from her hips and she climbed off him, his eyes following the movement of her hands as she brought them to the sash on her robes and untied it. Shrugging her shoulders, the lilac silk slipped lower and down her arms, pooling to the floor around her feet.

She stood before him wearing something Tom had never before seen, something he never wanted anyone but him to see. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her cheeks flushed with colour, her lips red and bruised and her hair surrounded her in a cloud of messy curls. She wore what looked to be a nightgown of sorts, only it was made of white silk with lace detailing about the hem, it fell no further than mid-thigh, thin shoulder straps kept the nightgown in place and the fabric fit to her curves.

With so little fabric the majority of her body was free to his gaze, Tom noting that same thin line that travelled across her throat from before and as his gaze lowered to track the rise and fall motion of her chest, he saw something peeking out from beneath the fabric. A scar he presumed, one that was thick and an odd purplish colour. He wasn't certain what had caused it or how large it was, for that, he'd have to get a better look.

His hands gripped the armrests of the armchair when the chill in the room brushed against her, highlighting the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra as he could see the hardened peaks of her nibbles through the silky fabric.

Unphased, she held her hand out to him in offering and he took it without hesitation, pulling his shirt from his wrists and allowing it to drop to the floor. Silently, she turned and pulled him after her, leading them up the staircase and to her bedroom. Tom took only but a moment to see that it was very familiar to his own and everything was neatly organised and had its place, something that wasn't surprising to him. When his eyes darted to the bed she was leading him towards, he felt both eyebrows rise high, seeing the pale blue silk sheets and her name being monogrammed in the corner of each pillow. Even Malfoy didn't have such a luxury nor did he have his name or initials sewn into his bedding or clothing.

She released his hand as she stopped by the bed, her attention moving to drawing back to the covers whilst he took the opportunity to mutter a spell, his socks and shoes being removed and finding purchase with his other items of clothing by the armchair.

Satisfied, she turned to face him, their eyes locking and then in an instant, their mouths were fused together, her hands were in his hair and her legs were folded around his waist with his arms supporting her weight. He took the remaining few steps forward and lowered her onto the bed, his body covering hers, one arm supporting his weight and the other exploring the soft, warm body beneath him.

He trailed his fingers over her thigh and down her shin, reaching as far as her ankle before travelling north and up to her chest and without warning, his hand covered her right breast, his palm brushing the hardened peak beneath the silky material, catching her pleased sigh in his mouth.

Her hands slipped from his hair, ghosting over her back and shoulders, the muscles beneath his skin twitching under her touch before she brought them to his chest, smoothing over his torso. Without hesitation, she reached for his belt, nimbly unfastening it and the button and zip on his trousers, her hand boldly shifting beneath his boxers and wrapping around his hardened length.

He hissed against her mouth before burying his face against her neck, lavishing her skin with nips and kisses, being sure to mark her as his. She muttered something and he felt a cold lubricant cover the palm of her hand as she began to pump her hand over him, dragging her nails over him teasingly, applying pressure and twisting her wrist. He groaned against her skin, feeling her smugness in their combined magical auras.

Not to be outdone, he brought his hand away from her breast and slipped it beneath her flimsy nightgown, feeling both surprised and not, at the feel of the damp lace that covered her core, Tom feeling the heat radiate from her. Without warning, he buried his hand under the waistband, slipping his fingers through her folds and spreading her arousal, his mouth tugging into a pleased smirk when she gasped, a moan falling from her lips.

He teased her, continuing to stroke his fingers through her folds until she shifted her hips, trying to get what she wanted and when she didn't, she cried out in frustration and tightened her grip on his length, a hiss falling from his mouth at the pained-pleasure.

"I swear to every god there is, I will kill you," she threatened through a growl, the nails of her free hand digging into his lower back painfully.

Smirking, he gave her what she wanted, his fingers circling her entrance before two slipped inside, a low moan that had his length twitching falling from her, her head fell back against the pillows and her body arched against him, allowing his fingers to move deeper. Her hot, silky walls fluttered and she moved her hips, fucking herself on his fingers as he drew his head back, his eyes watching her intently. Her eyes had fallen shut, her hair surrounded her in a halo of wild curls, her cheeks were flushed pink and her mouth alternated between being open as she panted, and her teeth being sunk into her bottom lip.

When he aided her, crooking his fingers, a cry caught in her throat and she continued her pumping motions over him, timing them to the movement of her hips and his fingers. His breathing grew heavy, his head swam and he clenched his teeth, fighting back the looming release she was quickly bringing him to.

Not to be outdone and remembering her many jibes about his sexual prowess, he was determined to prove her wrong. He was determined to make her cry, beg, scream his name until she lost her voice. Until he was the only thought in her clever brain. Until he was the only thing she wanted. Being reminded that she wasn't a virgin, that someone had had her before him, he was determined to ruin her for anyone else, to ensure she craved only him.

It seemed only fair given that she'd ruined him.

He was going to show her what it meant to be his. What he could and would give her.

Feeling the fluttering of her inner walls around his fingers, he pulled his hand away from her, a disappointed whine falling from her lips, her hand pausing in her movements over his length and her eyes opening, half-lidded and glaring at him.

Fighting back the laugh, he pushed himself away from her and to his knees, his eyes locked with hers as he reached beneath her nightgown, hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down her legs, Hermione lifting her hips to aid him. Once they'd cleared her knees and he dragged them over her feet and dropped them to the ground, she reached down and gripped the hem of her nightgown, arching her back and tugging it up and over her head, throwing the item of clothing to the floor carelessly.

Her eyes caught his, seeing his dark gaze slowly examining her naked form, the expression on his face giving the impression that she was his last meal and he couldn't wait to devour her. Something she honestly didn't mind. But if he denied her release again, she would kill him.

When his eyes finally landed on her torso, sweeping over the rise and fall of her chest, that heated, lustful gaze twisted into anger, spying the thick, purplish scar tissue that almost seemed to cut her torso in half; it starting just shy of her right shoulder, travelling between the valley of her breasts, snaking beneath her left breast and ending close to her left hip.

"Who did that to you?" He demanded, his eyes snapping to her briefly before falling to the scar once more.

"They've been taken care of," she replied, her voice somewhat huskier than before. Whilst Dolohov was alive in that time, he'd died during the Battle of Hogwarts in her time.

"And your throat?"

"Dead," she promised firmly. Bellatrix had also died during her time but she was yet to be born in that time.

His gaze shifted lower, landing on the collection of scars in-between her right hip and bellybutton, there being eight or nine of the small incision sized markings.

Hermione sighed and reached up to brush her hair back from her face. "Self-induced, technically. We walked into a trap and in order to escape, we had to jump out of a second-story window," she explained. "Now, when you're quite done staring, I was led to believe you were the Slytherin Sex God, or did you spread that rumour yourself after the string of complaints that were left?"

She'd made similar comments before and they'd never before bothered him, but now, he found that some of his ego did crumble at her words. Narrowing his eyes at her smug expression, he decided that not only was he going to prove her wrong, not only was he going to ruin any other wizard for her, but he'd enjoy doing it.

His hands settling on her hips, he tugged, a squeal of surprise falling from her mouth when she slid against the silk sheets and closer to him, her naked form being sprawled out before him, her legs falling open wider to accommodate his larger form. He lowered himself onto his hands, pressing them on either side of her head and his face hovered before hers.

"You have no idea what you've just unleashed upon yourself," he promised softly.

She stared back, lifting her chin defiantly, her eyes blazing with fire and heat.

"I assure you, I can fake it very well," she fired back.

Unsure whether he should be amused or offended by her reply, he settled for pressing his mouth against hers, stopping any further retorts as he forced his tongue between her lips, hers ready to greet him. Her hands reached up and fisted into his hair tightly, her legs folding around his hips and she tugged, pulling his lower half to press against her, Tom feeling her heat and arousal seep through his clothing.

Her nails scraped against his scalp and she pressed her hips against his, searching for friction. He smirked against her mouth, holding perfectly still and refusing her what she wished. She growled in frustration, the sound travelling from her, into his mouth and down his spine. He shifted his weight onto his left arm and with his right, his fingers travelled the length of her torso, dancing over the scar tissue and circling her bellybutton before covering her breast. She arched against him, pushing her chest into his hand forcefully and wriggling her hips in search of friction.

"Tom!" She snapped in irritation, dragging her mouth from him, gasping for breath and glaring up at him. "I can see why they'd complain," she taunted. "Whilst you're certainly good with your hands, you've clearly no idea how to use your..."

His hand clamping over her mouth silenced the remainder of her jibe and he glared down at her. Salazar, if she wasn't so damn powerful and intelligent, he'd kill her for being so annoying.

Giving her exactly what she wished, with a muttered spell, both his trousers and boxers vanished, leaving him just as naked as her, his hardened length nudging against her stomach. Their eyes remained locked and silently, she released her grip on his hair and reached down, her hand circling his length, pumping over him as she shifted her hips and guided him to her entrance.

"I'm going to fuck you like no one has before," he vowed softly and without warning, he thrust his hips forward, filling her in one swift and sharp movement.

A choked noise caught in her throat as she struggled to breathe and her eyes slammed shut before opening wide under the pained-pleasure. It had been far too long since she'd last had sex, she realised, feeling the ache in her pelvic area from his none too gentle intrusion. Not that she'd expected gentle, Tom Riddle was many things but gentle was not one of them.

She stared up at him through her wide eyes, expecting to see his smug expression and being surprised to see he appeared to be struggling with his own reaction, his eyes closed, his head bowed and his jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth, a series of hisses slipping from him, as her body surrounded him with its tight warmth.

God! Was he... Speaking Parseltongue?

He took a visible breath and his eyes opened, the darkened, dangerous orbs locking with hers, his mouth twitching into a smirk. He drew back slowly and then ploughed forward, Hermione's gasping moan being muffled by his hand, his eyes burning with heat and fire as he watched her, her arms folding around his back and her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin.

He stretched his arm a little higher, resting above her head and his body stretching out and pressing hers into the mattress and silk sheets beneath her. He lifted his hand from her mouth, her pants, gasps and moans no longer muffled and filling the otherwise silent room, and he set it against her hip, grasping tightly, his head bowing with his forehead pressing against her shoulder as he kept up the rhythm of his quick, sharp thrusts.

"Oh!" She said breathily, her head tipping back and her body arching into him.

His head lifting, he stared down at her, seeing her flushed skin, glassy eyes and teeth sunk into her lip.

"There?" He checked, his mouth twitching into a smirk, not stopping in his movements.

"There... Right there..." She confirmed, nodding her head vigorously. "Don't you dare stop!" She warned.

Smirking, he ensured he hit the same spot inside of her every time, her noises growing louder, her nails biting into him, her legs tightening around his hips, her walls fluttering around him until he shoved her over the edge. Her body clamped around him tightly, keeping him to her, her eyes slammed shut and her head fell back as a breathless cry fell from her.

He paused briefly when she slumped into the mattress, allowing her a moment to recover as well as taking a moment for himself. He was nowhere near done with her and admittedly, he had been close to losing control of his restraint, entirely too close for his liking. He was usually much more controlled and composed.

He'd bedded witches with bigger breasts and rounder arses, witches that were curvier and slimmer, witches that tripped over themselves to please him, witches that were prettier and more submissive, witches that were without scars and terrible attitudes. And yet, he'd never wanted to do to them what he wanted to do to her, he'd never wanted them with the same hunger as he wanted her.

She did fight back. She did have an attitude. She wasn't afraid to insult him. She wasn't perfect, far from it physically with her mass of hair and scars littering her body, and still, as she lay before him naked, exposed and vulnerable, no one had looked at him with such confidence, with no self-consciousness or worry. She hadn't cared for his opinion on her body or appearance. She wasn't expectant that he'd do all the work as her mouth latched onto his or his neck, her hands gripped fistfuls of hair and clutched at his shoulders, her hips moved in tandem with his and he'd felt her attempt to roll them so she might be on top but he'd used his large frame to pin her in place. She truly didn't care for his opinion of her and neither did she want anything for him. She didn't want his power, his favour, his affection, his promise of marriage. In that moment, she'd simply wanted him to fuck her.

All of that combined with their entwined magical auras filling the room, making it stuffy and warm, fighting off the chill in the castle, it made it difficult to concentrate, to focus on keeping control. He didn't want to lose control, to seem vulnerable or weak, but she was making it difficult.

Opening her eyes, she saw the conflicted, concentrated frown on his face and she released a breath, drawing his attention. His expression morphed into one of smug pride.

"You did not fake that," he stated confidently.

"How would you know? As I said, I'm very good at faking it," she fired back.

"Oh? Was your ex terrible?"

"No, he was fabulous, absolutely wonderful. Certainly better than you," she taunted.

Smirking, he resumed his thrusts, sticking to the same quick and sharp movements, angling his hips so he hit that same spot every time, Hermione's eyes widening when she realised his intentions. He was going to force her into another orgasm, just to prove a point and when he did, he would be unbearable and she might actually kill him.

Reaching up, she latched her mouth onto his, swiping her tongue over the seam of his lips and slipping it inside to meet his when he opened for her, Tom soon taking control from her, devouring and consuming her. Needing to breathe, she tore her mouth from his and blazed a trail of kisses over his cheek, down his jaw and to his neck, nipping and sucking at his skin.

She could feel the approach, her magic singing in the air, her heart pounding in her ears, her toes curling, her hold on him tightening, her stomach knotting painfully tight... And then it was gone. A tidal wave of pleasure rushed through her, extinguishing the heat of the fire that surged through her blood. Stars burst before her eyes, she went light-headed and she drew her mouth from his skin, her head tipping back.

"Fuck!" She breathed out.

She heard his groan from deep within his chest and he stilled in his movements once more, taking a quick breather. Opening her eyes, her vision spotty, she saw his bowed head, felt his fingers gripping her hip tightly, saw his reddened skin with mouth-shaped marks, his cheeks flushed and his expression one of agony. As though he were in pain by restraining himself. Seeing that, she came to a horrifying realisation.

He'd already gotten her off twice (something her Beater had been capable of as well) and the second time, he shouldn't have held back and because he did, she knew that meant he wasn't done with her. He was going to force her to do it again and in all honesty, she wasn't sure her body could take it.

She was already tired and her skin slick with sweat, sticking to the silk sheets beneath her, and she was starting to get cramp in her arse.

Tom's gaze suddenly locked on hers and her expression must've given away her thoughts as he smirked at her, arching an eyebrow in challenge. A groan fell from her, a combination of annoyance at his smugness, being tired and when he drew back and thrust forward, once more continuing with his movements.

She shifted, trying to find a way to make herself more comfortable and without missing a beat and seeming to know, his hand lifted from her hip and came up to her leg, shifting it to hook over his shoulder. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed at the change in the angle of her body and the easing of the cramp in her arse.

"Look at me," he commanded and with some effort, she was able to lift her heavy eyelids. "Had enough yet?" He asked, the arrogance evident even through his pants.

Sweat slicked at his skin, glistening in the firelight, his pupils were blown wide and his hair messier than she'd seen, it being damp with sweat and falling into his eyes. She deliberately clenched her pelvic muscles, her mouth twitching when he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed and his head bowing.

"No, I can do this all night," she replied.

And in a move that took him by surprise, she gathered all of the strength she was capable of and rolled them, Tom lying flat on his back with his head propped up by a pillow, Hermione's hands pressed firmly against his chest and holding him down and she shifted her hips as she straddled, making herself more comfortable.

He stared up at her, partially surprised and partially in challenge. Tipping her head to the side, her mouth pulled into a smirk when Tom tried to move his arms to hold onto her, only she'd cast a mild Sticking Charm, keeping them in place against the mattress.

He glared at her in annoyance and Hermione smiled sweetly in response, taking control and setting her own pace, wishing to slow things down for a moment or two. She'd been quickly building to her third orgasm given how sensitive her body was from the previous two and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bringing her undone multiple times in one session and so quickly. She'd expected him to be somewhat of a selfish lover, and although he'd gotten her off twice with the intention to do it for a third time, she suspected he was mostly doing it for himself, to prove a point, to prove to them both that he could do it.

As she moved her hips over him, she paid attention to what made his breath hitch, the muscles of his abdomen contract and his hips thrust upwards to meet her. She made sure to focus on him and not herself, admittedly, already being thoroughly satisfied and if Tom was going to force her to come again, she would make sure to bring him exceptionally close to his own release, hoping that he wouldn't be able to hold back a third time. If he did, she was certain he'd make her do it for the fourth time and that might just kill her. She wasn't convinced she'd survive a third time yet.

She could feel his control slipping in the aura of their combined magic, could see it in his expression as he struggled between letting go, allowing her to do whatever she wished and taking control. His gaze locked on hers, his eyes flashed with fire and need, his jaw clenched and from the corner of her eye, she saw the movement of his hands clenching into tight fists.

Assuming she was getting the better of him when his eyes closed and he groaned deep in his chest, she was surprised when he suddenly sat upright, his hands settling on her hips and tugging her closer against him whilst he pulled her into each of his thrusts. In all honesty, she was surprised he'd taken so long to break free of the charm. She'd used the simplest one she knew but she took it as a compliment, knowing that she'd distracted him to the point where it had addled his brain and he'd been capable of casting one of the simplest counter charms to exist.

His mouthed latched onto hers and her arms folded around his neck, her hands alternating between tugging at his hair and scratching at his back and shoulders. One of his hands snaked up, gathering her hair in one grasp and tugging, a gasp falling from her when her mouth unlatched from his.

She felt herself approaching the edge, teetering off it dangerously. All she needed was that one nudge to send her flying.

"You're close aren't you? I can feel it," he panted, his warm breath mixing with hers.

"Tom! Just do it," she breathed out, frustrated.

Laughing, he leaned back slightly, making it so her little bundle of nerves was sharply nudged with each thrust and she moaned, her head tipping back and her eyes fluttering closed. Her walls fluttering around him, a high pitched whine fell from her when she tipped off the edge, going dizzy and struggling to catch her breath, but knowing that she absolutely wasn't capable of doing it again, she forced herself to continue moving her hips, clenching her pelvic muscles as tightly as possible and she latched her mouth onto his neck, raking her nails down his back.

His hold on her tightened as a series of hisses fell through clenched teeth and she felt his body go taut as he found his release. Thankfully, thought Hermione.

She slumped forward against him, her hold on him slackening, her nails soothingly scratching at the nape of his neck as his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his fingers absentmindedly drumming out a rhythm against her skin as they both caught their breath.

A few moments later, Hermione tiredly slipped from his grasp and collapsed onto her mattress, staring up at the ceiling and brushing her hair back from her face as Tom laid back, folding his hands behind his head, neither concerned for their current nudity nor the chill in the castle, them both being warm from their activities and the stuffy magical auras in the room, neither seeming inclined to detangle and return to their owners and Tom and Hermione being too tired to force it to.

"Not bad, Tom," said Hermione, breaking the silence, her voice soft and tired.

Tom scoffed. "Three times, Hermione."

She shrugged. "You're not the first to give me multiple orgasms."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want, I don't care," she replied.

He didn't need to know that her favourite Beater usually didn't have the patience to get her off three times in one session, she was always happy with her two orgasms, no matter how he got her to that point.

While it didn't surprise her that Tom had done that to her despite her taunts and jibes, she was a little annoyed he'd proven her wrong. He'd either had plenty of practice or he was just a natural, something that she wouldn't put past him given that there wasn't much he wasn't capable of perfecting. The wizard was downright annoying in that regard.

As she lay boneless on her bed, feeling light, as though she were floating, she set her hands against her stomach and clasped them together, crossing her legs at the ankles. Soon, she'd get up and go to her bathroom to clean up, or at the very least, she'd cast a Cleaning Charm. Not only was she sticky and sweaty but she could feel their combined essences covering her inner thighs and she grimaced. But right now, she needed a moment to find the strength to sit up.

"What caused it?"

"What?" She asked softly.

"The scar."

Sighing, she opened her eyes and tilted her head, seeing he did the same and his gaze locked with hers, once more ice-blue in colour. Good, she thought. That meant he'd calmed for the time being and he wasn't going to insist on having sex again.

Not only was she tired, not only was she a little sore, but she wasn't certain she wanted to have sex with him again. Part of her hoped that now they had, she'd gotten it out of her system and she wouldn't, and the other half, that was rearing to go. She wished she could put it down to hormones. She hadn't had sex in a long time, she'd been frustrated and horny, and he was handsome and powerful. He was the forbidden fruit. She shouldn't have wanted him but she did. And although she didn't feel guilty for sleeping with him, she wasn't certain she wanted a repeat performance no matter how good it had been or how much he'd satisfied her.

"I was sixteen," she started, her brow furrowing into an unhappy crease as she remembered the flash of purple light striking her down in the Department of Mysteries.

All she remembered was searing pain, darkness and then waking up in St. Mungos. It had been incredibly hard to keep from her parents, particularly when she'd been on a strict treatment regime for three months and her potions had been delivered to her through owl post. Luckily, her parents had always been at work during those deliveries and it was easy enough to sneak away if she had to take her potions when they'd been home.

"I don't remember much. We were duelling and outnumbered, I never saw his face and I didn't know his name. I remember someone raising their wand to me and I cast a Silencio, forcing them to cast non-verbally. There was a flash of purple and then searing pain and I woke up in the hospital. The Healers were unsure of what the curse had been, only that it should've killed me. Neither I nor my father recognised it, we didn't hear the incantation and we couldn't place the wand movements."

His brow furrowed in thought. "He created himself," he stated knowingly.

"Yes, he did, and because of that, the Healers struggled to treat me. I was on a three month potion treatment regime. I survived not only because my magic kept me alive long enough to be taken to the hospital, but because I forced him to cast non-verbally. Something he'd clearly never done before and it weakened the effects of the curse."

"And your throat?"

"I think that one is quite obvious and it's one of the most recent ones. I was captured and when I was rescued, I was held at knifepoint before I was able to escape."

"What happened during your capture?"

"Something I don't wish to talk about... Please, respect my wishes," she added, seeing he opened his mouth to argue and surprisingly, he nodded slowly. "Are you cold?" She asked.

"Embarrassed, are we?" His mouth twitched, his eyes pointedly looking down the length of his body before doing the same to her, lingering in certain areas.

"No," she answered honestly. She'd come to accept that her breasts weren't as big as Lavender's or her arse as round as Ginny's. Mentally, she was far older than her physical age of eighteen and she'd learned to accept the things she couldn't change about herself. If he didn't like her body, then it was tough luck, and she wouldn't be made to feel ashamed of herself. "And that is the last time I show concern for you," she sniffed.

"Concern?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, concern," she confirmed. "Now, get out."

"Excuse me?" Both eyes raised high on his forehead.

"Get out," she repeated.

"You don't want me to stay?"

She snorted. "Please, I highly doubt you make it a point to stay overnight after a tryst. I wouldn't be surprised if you erase their memories, only allowing the witches to remember what you wish so you can control what they tell others, preventing the spread of gossip... Oh God, you do, don't you?" She said, seeing his blank expression. "Hell," she snorted and shook her head. "Are you going to Obliviate me?" She arched a questioning brow.

"No, I want you to remember everything," he smirked. "And not only am I highly aware of how private you are, just as I am, but you also don't have any friends."

"Just the way I like it," she nodded.

No one could replace Harry, Ron and Ginny, so she'd decided early on to keep to herself and focus on her task without distraction. That had worked out wonderfully, hadn't it?

"And back to my point, not only do I doubt you stay overnight after a tryst, but I certainly don't want you taking up space in my bed and hogging my blanket. I tend to spread out like a starfish when I'm sleeping."

He snorted. "We've shared a bed before," he reminded her. "You hardly moved, you were in the same position you fell asleep in when you woke the next day."

"Not by choice," she pointed out, "And I'd been drugged and was under the added influence of a Sleeping Draught," she shrugged. "In any case, you best get back to your dorm."

"No, I don't think I will," he replied, crossing his legs at the ankles, his arms shifting further beneath his head to prop it up a little more, the muscles in his arms twitching at the movement. "Your bed's quite comfortable. And silk, monogrammed sheets? I never expected that."

"Your bed's just as comfortable with the Egyptian cotton sheets," she argued.

His mouth twitched.

"Ah, whilst one is soft against the skin, the other is smooth and cool, perfect given the warm temperature this night."

She scowled. "I'm going to pop to my bathroom and if you're not gone by the time I get back, I'm going to hex you," she threatened.

He remained unphased, offering a smile and a little wave of his fingers when she sat up, reached for her nightgown and slipped it on. Grabbing her wand from the bedside table, she stood and pressed the tip against her abdomen, muttering beneath her breath, a golden-hue forming before fading.

"Ah, Contraception Charm, I'm glad you remembered," he remarked.

She lifted her eyes, seeing him nakedly lounging on her bed without a care in the world.

"I'm on the potion, too," she told him before muttering the charm once more. Seeing his arched eyebrow, she said, "I have no desire to find myself pregnant, so I make it a point to cast the charm twice, no matter if I'm already on the potion. It doesn't cause harm to be thorough, particularly when the potion can wear off earlier than expected and the charm's not one hundred percent effective. Now, remember my warning."

With that, she turned and headed for her bathroom.

~000~000~000~

She'd been gone no more than fifteen minutes and she'd decided to hop through the shower as opposed to the Cleaning Charm. After drying, brushing her teeth again and slipping on a clean nightgown, similar to the previous one only this one was silver, she left her bathroom and returned to her bedroom, stifling a yawn on the way.

Stepping inside, she released a sigh at the sight of Tom still being completely naked and having fallen asleep in her bed. His chest rose and fell smoothly, his face was turned away from her and his hands were folded on his stomach.

She nibbled her lip, deciding whether or not she should wake him or simply climb into bed and go to sleep. She came to the conclusion that she didn't have the heart to wake him, not only did he look peaceful, but she admitted he'd worked hard and gone above and beyond to satisfy her that night, no matter his motives. And despite having been a thorough and willing participant in their activities, she couldn't quite process the thought of sleeping beside him as if they were partners, companions, lovers.

Grumbling to herself, she flicked her wand, the blanket shifting until it covered Tom's naked form from both her gaze and the chill that was picking up in the room, and then she turned and headed down the stairs, seeing most of Tom's clothing being thrown about the floor and the fire in the fireplace was dying down. Her eyes flittered to the couch and despite it being comfortable to sit on, it was not comfortable to sleep on. She was aware she could easily transfigure it into a bed, but thinking of Tom sleeping in her bed on her silk sheets, she couldn't stop thinking about Egyptian cotton sheets.

Her mouth twitched. Yes, that's what she'd do. He'd made it a point to sleep in her bed, so she'd return the favour. That would teach him.

Striding over to her robe, she lifted it from the floor and slipped it on, tying the sash tightly. She summoned her favourite slippers and a hair tie, pulling her hair atop her head and securing it in place, and after casting a Disillusionment Charm, she took her leave. She quickly and quietly made her way to the dungeons, using every shortcut and secret passageway she knew to not only avoid the patrolling staff members, but to be free of the cold sooner.

When she reached the dungeons and came to the portrait, she searched her mind for the password, being certain she'd heard Tom speak it before.

Hoping it was right, she said, "Basilisk venom," rolling her eyes when the portrait opened silently.

Stepping inside, she didn't bother looking around, instead she headed for the boy's staircase. When she reached the first step, she felt some resistance from the charms preventing females from having access, but they didn't appear to be as strong as she remembered the charms in Gryffindor Tower being, and with a shove of her magic aura, she was able to pass through with ease.

She climbed the stairs until she reached Tom's dorm, frowning when she realised she didn't know the passcode to enter. Scratching at her chin thoughtfully, she scoured her mind, thinking of any possible answers.

She tried 'Chamber of Secrets', 'Parselmouth', and 'Gaunt' until she said, "Horcrux," blinking in surprise when the door clicked and opened for her.

Smiling to herself, she stepped inside, closed the door behind her and headed straight for the bed, pulling back he blankets, kicking off her slippers, putting her wand on the bedside table and removing her robe, setting it on the end of the bed, before she slipped under the covers and shifted to the middle of the bed, happily sprawling out.

Yes, this would show him, she thought.

~000~000~000~

Saturday 25th November 1944

Tom woke the next morning to a dark sky and rain pelting against the windows. His eyes opening and adjusting to the little light in the room, through blurry vision he took in his surroundings, quickly realising that he'd fallen asleep in a bed that wasn't his own.

Pushing himself up onto his hands, his eyes darted to the empty space beside him, feeling the coolness of the sheets and realising that it had been empty for a while, unsurprising given that he knew Hermione to be an early riser. He was a little annoyed that he'd fallen asleep before she'd returned from the bathroom, having wanted to see her reaction to his disregard for her request that he leave, but in his defence, he'd been tired and uncertain that his body would physically withstand the journey back to the dungeons. Not that he was complaining; when he'd come to her rooms the previous night, he hadn't intended or expected for things to happen as they did, he'd only intended to speak with her.

Admittedly, she had worn him out, something he'd worked exceptionally hard to hide from her, not wanting her to know the true extent of the effect she'd had on him. Whilst his motive had first been to prove her wrong in regards to his sexual prowess, by the time she'd approached her second orgasm, that was when things shifted and it became increasingly difficult to keep his composure.

There was just something about her, something that other witches didn't have. Something that was intoxicating and addictive, something that drew him to her. The feel of her soft, warm body pressed against his, of her hair and magic surrounding him, of her hands clutching at him, her moans and cries filling his ears, her naked body and relaxed, sated expression drawing his gaze. He hadn't wanted it to end. And so he'd put in more effort than he ever had before.

To him, sex was a physical activity that one partook in when stress relief was needed. But for him, he had other methods of relaxation; hiding away in the Restricted Section, visiting the Room of Requirements and occasionally visiting the Chamber of Secrets, something he hadn't yet found the courage to do again after the release of the Basilisk, Warren's death and Hagrid's expulsion. Dumbledore was watching too closely to attempt anything of the sort.

There were always witches that all but threw themselves at him and when he felt that particular itch arise, he chose carefully, but it wasn't an activity he performed regularly unlike most of those he surrounded himself with, not when he had other things that needed his attention. If he was remembering correctly, the last time he'd felt the itch had been the previous school year before he'd left for the summer. And he hadn't felt it again until he met her. He was more of a taker than a giver, but with Hermione last night, he'd been the one to give, and he gave her everything he had. And honestly, he'd do it again. He found he wanted to do it. Not because he'd promised her satisfaction in all areas, but because he wanted to.

Reaching up, he ran a hand through his hair and his eyes darted about once more whilst he strained his hearing for any sign of Hermione still being present. He'd heard the shower running the night before and therefore wasn't surprised to hear silence, neither did he hear footsteps, the shuffling of books or humming. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd woken, gotten herself ready for the day and squirrelled herself away in the library. It was a Saturday after all, that was where he tended to find her after she missed both breakfast and lunch.

As his eyes took in the wardrobe, chest of drawers and her trunk sat by the foot of the bed, he contemplated doing a little digging, wondering if he might find something she didn't wish him to or if he might discover something that would reveal more about her, but as he turned his head towards the window to see the rain slowing, his body froze still, spying the phoenix that perched on a stand, her beady, black eyes watching him intently, as if knowing what he'd been planning.

Discovering that her familiar was a phoenix was still something that had yet to be fully processed, given the rarity of such an occasion, not only due to their suspiciousness regarding humans, but their few numbers, too.

Deciding against rummaging through her belongings, having the feeling the phoenix might take offence to him violating its mistress in such a manner, he shifted in the bed, the silk sheets sliding against his bare skin and he reached down and grabbed his boxers and trousers from the ground, slipping them on and standing from the bed, not being completely comfortable with parading around naked before the phoenix.

Tipping his head in acknowledgement in an effort to show respect (knowing phoenixes often resembled their mistress or master in personality, which meant it would have an attitude just as Hermione did and he did not want to make it mad), he left the bedroom, the soft white carpet protecting his feet from the chill of the stone floor beneath.

Descending the staircase and crossing the brown carpet beneath him, he gathered his shirt and tie from the ground and slipped them on, not bothering to fasten his tie. He then reached for his jumper and pulled it on before dressing in his socks and shoes and slipping on his robes, checking that his wand still sat in his pocket. He drew it and cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself before taking his leave, silently making his way down the corridors and to the dungeons. He wasn't expecting to see anyone given the early hour and most didn't emerge from their dorms until after nine, but still, it was best to be cautious. Anyone who saw him wandering the corridors with his less than put together appearance would connect the dots and that wasn't something he wanted.

As he entered the deserted Slytherin common room and headed to his dorm, he muttered the password and stepped inside, closing the door behind him before he paused, his eyes widening slightly at the sight that met him.

He'd assumed that Hermione had woken before him and left for the library, he hadn't expected to walk into his dorm and find her snuggled under the covers of his bed as she slept peacefully. She lay on her side facing him, a pillow being pulled against her as she held it to her, all but spooning it. Her features were soft and relaxed, her hair tied back from her face in a knot atop her head with a few strands having escaped. Her pale skin contrasted against the dark green of his bed covers and he could see that she lay diagonally across the bed.

She hadn't been joking, he realised. She did take up the whole bed. Observing her, he came to the presumption that she'd likely returned from the bathroom the night before and found him asleep and refusing to sleep beside him, she'd left, coming to his dorm in retaliation, thinking that it would annoy him. It didn't, he realised. In fact, he didn't mind it in the slightest, strange given that he liked his space and privacy. The night she'd slept beside him after the Halloween Ball, he'd woken the next morning feeling more rested than he remembered. He woke to the feel of her magical aura surrounding him and even now, with her sleeping and being unaware of his presence, being vulnerable before him, he could feel her magic drifting to greet him.

A thought flittered through his mind. How had she gotten in? He was certain she wouldn't have known the password and knowing that the magic on his dorm wasn't as powerful as the magic surrounding the common room entrance, he deduced that she'd simply dismantled it, eradicating the need for a password.

She made a little noise in her sleep and his eyes darted back to her. Smirking, he left her to her sleep and crossed to his bathroom, intending to shower and ready for the day. Salazar knows he needed it.

~000~000~000~

Hermione awoke in a bed that was familiar to her, a bed that she'd woken in twice before. Groaning, she rolled onto her back and stretched her body out, her arms lifting over her head and her back arching, Hermione groaning when her back clicked and she slumped into the mattress with a satisfied sigh. Pushing the fallen strands of hair back from her face, she rolled onto her side, snuggling into the warmth the covers offered and her eyes closed before they flew open, widening slightly at the sight of Tom Riddle stood in the doorway of the bathroom. He casually leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, his hair damp and a towel wrapped about his hips but being otherwise naked.

"Urg! What are you doing here?" She grumbled.

He arched an eyebrow. "This is my dorm. What are you doing here?"

"I thought that was obvious," she rolled her eyes. "You slept in my bed so I thought it only fair that I sleep in yours. Why? Does it annoy you?" She asked innocently.

His mouth twitched. "No."

"No?" She echoed, deflating.

"No, I'm not opposed to you sleeping in my bed."

She frowned in disappointment and he chuckled.

"What time is it?" She sighed.

"Last I checked, not long after seven," he shrugged.

She rolled over onto her back, her hand coming up to her mouth to stifle a yawn and then she pushed herself up into a sitting position, moving the pillow she'd been previously spooning behind her to prop her up.

"It's quiet out there?"

He nodded. "Most don't make an appearance until after nine o'clock."

"That should make sneaking out easier," she said to herself, running her hands over her face and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, taking a moment to cast a quick Breath Freshening Charm.

She much preferred using a toothbrush as not only was it habit, but manually cleaning her teeth ensured it was done properly as opposed to the quick work of magic. Once she returned to her rooms she'd brush her teeth but for the time being, she'd settle for the charm.

Lowering her hands, she blew a curl out of her face before saying, "For God's Sake, put some clothes on," seeing Tom still stood in the doorway with nothing but a towel for coverage.

He smirked. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, I've seen more shirtless men that you have," she assured him. "It's chilly in here, you'll catch a cold."

"Ah, is that you showing concern?" He arched an eyebrow. "Twice in the space of twelve hours, my, I truly am flattered."

He pushed away from the door frame and approached, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, his head tilted slightly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" He asked angelically.

"That," she replied, eyeing him warily, seeing his too innocent expression.

His mouth twitched and his eyes flashed as they trailed her covered form, only being able to see her shoulders and arms but that didn't seem to bother him.

"No."

"No?"

"No. What happened last night..." She paused, his mouth twitching into an arrogant smirk as she searched for the word. "Well, it happened and you certainly proved yourself capable of..."

"Satisfying you? Pleasing you? Fucking you like no one else has?" He interrupted.

She scowled at him, folding her arms over her chest.

"The point being, it happened. And honestly, I'm not sure I want it to happen again."

"Excuse me?" He questioned, his arrogance fading into surprise.

"You heard me. I'm fairly certain that it was just my hormones acting up. I hadn't had sex for a couple of years and then you were suddenly there. The itch has been scratched and now I've gotten you out of my system."

"You said you'd be mine," he replied, his eyes narrowing, his hands folding into fists, the muscles in his abdomen and arms visibly twitching and his magic slowly drifted about the room, Hermione taking a deep, calming breath and fighting off the addling effects it had on her brain.

"No, I never. What I said was, 'I agree to be yours and you will be mine?'" She quoted. "I was simply seeking clarification. I didn't agree to anything. Now, if you don't mind, I best return to my own room and ready for the day."

She gripped the edge of the blanket and threw it away from her before shifting off the bed and retrieving her slippers. Standing, she found Tom stood before her, staring down at her with his slowly darkening eyes, the blue morphing to onyx.

"I know you want me."

"Do I?" She challenged.

"Yes," he said confidently. Lowering his head, he muttered, "If you truly didn't want me, then you'd stop me. If you don't want me, then walk away."

Hermione stared up at him, her eyes wide and fearful, watching as he drew closer.

"Stop me," he commanded, his mouth inches from hers. "I dare you," he challenged.

Her heart pounded, her head swam and her stomach knotted, and when his lips brushed hers, her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered closed. She slumped against him, her arms reaching up and folding around his neck, her hands fisting into his damp hair and she pressed her mouth firmly against his.

She felt his smirk and heard his triumphant chuckle as his hands settled on her hips and lowered, reaching just beneath her arse before he lifted her, Hermione slotting her legs around his hips and crossing her ankles behind his back.

That familiar tingle raced through her, fire dancing beneath her skin, her magic flowing free and mingling with his. All because of a kiss.

She knew she was screwed. Now she knew she did want him again. It wasn't just a one time thing. There something about him. Something about his powerful, intoxicating magic that swarmed her, something about his comforting scent of citrus and power, something about his infuriating smirk and arrogance. She shouldn't want him, she knew that it was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. She should hate him, despise him, loathe him. She knew what he was going to do, she knew of the suffering he'd caused, she knew he was going to destroy the world she loved so much, but she reminded herself that he hadn't done it yet.

Right now, he was still a teenage boy, a teenage boy that was angry at the world, that was still learning, that was hormonal. There was still time for someone to have a positive influence on him and convince him otherwise, to convince him to turn his power and intelligence to another purpose. He could change the Wizarding World for the better. And she had to be the one to make that happen. She would be his most trusted confidant and advisor. She would steer him right.

Sighing when his tongue parted her lips and met hers, Hermione tasting his minty toothpaste, she tightened her grip on his hair, feeling her back pressing against the dishevelled bed covers and Tom hovering over her. He drew his mouth back, dragging his lips over her cheek and down to her neck, Hermione tipping her head to offer more skin, sighing happily when his hands moved to cup and palm her breasts over the silk of her nightgown.

She shifted her hips, searching for friction but not finding it, his chuckle of amusement vibrating against her skin.

"Do you want me, Hermione?" He muttered against her ear.

"No," she breathed out.

"Liar," he responded.

His hands fell lower, curling around the hem of her nightgown and he slowly lifted it, meeting no resistance from Hermione as she arched her back and then lifted her upper body, allowing it to clear her head and shoulders. Her nightgown hit the ground and his hands returned to her soft, warm body, feeling the raised scar tissue as his fingers danced across her torso. One hand shifted to her breast, cupping and kneading as the other continued south, a hum or approval sounding from him when he found there was no fabric acting as a barrier to her centre. It seemed that although she'd showered and dressed in clean clothing the night before, she hadn't deemed it important to adorn knickers. And in that moment, he very much approved.

His fingers slipped through her folds, spreading her arousal before he allowed two fingers to enter her, his thumb reaching up to circle the little bundle of nerves. She gasped for breath, her body arching against him, her hold on him tightening.

"Do you wish to change your mind?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her skin.

"No," she said breathlessly, stubbornly shaking her head.

Feeling both amused and exasperated, he knew he had to do something else, something that would break her control, that would get her to admit what he already knew.

He moved his mouth lower, peppering her chest with kisses before his mouth closed around her nipple, his chuckle sending a tingle down her spine when she arched into him and tugged at his hair painfully, her nails digging into his scalp. Her hips rocked against his hand and he moved his mouth to the other breast, lavishing it with attention. When he felt the fluttering of her walls around his fingers, he drew his hand back, Hermione whining in protest and lifting her head, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.

Undeterred, he unwound her legs from his hips and moved his mouth lower, travelling down her abdomen, his tongue tracing the length and shape of her scar before he placed a kiss to her left hip, his mouth moving towards her bellybutton and then moving lower. He settled himself between her thighs, his shoulders nudging her legs wider and he lifted his gaze, locking with her now wide and glassy eyes, seeing her mouth parted with little puffs of air leaving her. Smirking, he lowered his mouth and took a tentative swipe through her folds, Hermione crying out, her body sinking into the mattress and her hands burying in the covers.

This was something he'd never done for any of the witches he'd bedded. He neither had an interest nor saw the point in such an act, but with her, he found himself wanting to give her this pleasure. And as with everything in life, he strived to be the best and to perfect it.

Her arousal was almost overpowering to his sense of smell and he briefly noted that as he took another swipe with his tongue, she seemed to taste like tangy honey. Fitting, he thought.

Given his lack of experience in this area, something he wasn't going to admit to her, he thought it best to simply act confident whilst he experimented, seeing how each action would affect her, mentally recording her reactions, from cries to muttered obscenities, from her body arching to her legs trembling and snapping shut, trapping him. At that point, he used his hands to pin her in place, feeling fairly confident that he was doing well with each swipe of his tongue, suck of his mouth and teasing dip into her entrance.

He released one hand from holding her in place and buried his fingers in her, hearing her breathless cries as he used his mouth and tongue in tandem, her hips rocking against his mouth and fingers and when her walls fluttered around his fingers, he twisted them in search of the spot that would end her. He found it and she cried out louder, her hands twisting the bed covers in her fist and her back arching as her body trembled. Tom nursed her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure and he didn't stop until she slumped into the mattress, boneless.

Smiling smugly, he pushed himself to his knees, briefly cleaning his face with the towel around his hips, his dark eyes taking in the sight before him. Hermione lay sprawled on his bed, her chest heaving, her mouth parted as pants left her, her eyes closed and her skin flushed pink, from her head down to her breasts. She was beautiful.

"Are you certain that you do not want me?" He asked.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused as she stared at him. "Two can play that game, Tom."

He arched an eyebrow, watching her as she slowly climbed to her knees and moved closer to him, her mouth fusing to his, surprising him when she parted his lips and slipped her tongue inside, seemingly unbothered by the taste of herself on his tongue. Before he had the chance to take control of the kiss, she drew back, her mouth blazing kisses over his cheek, down his neck and moving lower. She licked and nipped at his abdomen, tracing each ridge and line with her tongue and when she reached the towel, she had it unfolded and thrown to the ground faster than he could blink.

He took a steady breath when her hand wrapped around him, pumping slowly and lifting her eyes, looking up at him under her lashes as she sat on her knees, her tongue darted out and swiped over the head, gathering the pre-come. He inhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists and his eyes closed briefly before opening again. He expected her to tease him, to draw it out, to make it painfully slow for him, he didn't expect her to open her mouth and lean forward, the head of his length disappearing into her mouth as she sucked, her tongue swirling around him as if he were a sugar quill.

He hissed, his hands coming up to her hair, releasing the mass of curls from its restraint, it spilling down her back and over her shoulders like a cloud. Much better, he thought. His hands burying in her hair, the soft, curly strands tangling about his fingers as he stared down at her with his dark, heated gaze, watching and feeling as she teasingly took more of into her mouth until she couldn't take anymore, her hand curling around the remainder of his length and the other settling against his hip, her nails digging into his skin and her grip tight.

She worked her mouth over him, hollowing her cheeks and bobbing her head, her tongue tracing patterns and shapes, in fact, he was certain she was... She was spelling her name.

He tightened his grip on her hair, gasping out a rushed series of hisses that he was unable to contain, his hips snapping forward and his gaze locked on hers as she looked up at him from beneath her long lashes, her eyes fluttering closed every so often. When she moaned, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine and over his length, his head tipped back and he clenched his jaw, trying to hold it off. And it was working, until she dragged her teeth over him and did something with her tongue, her hand tightening around the base of his length and she released her magic, it deliberately slamming into him. He would swear the force of it almost knocked him over.

He didn't warn her, he knew she knew what she was doing to him and she looked completely unsurprised when a series of hisses escaped his clenched teeth and his body went taut as he found his release, filling her mouth. Without blinking, she swallowed everything he had to give her and when his grip on her hair slackened, she drew back with a 'pop', releasing her hold on him and reaching up to swipe her index finger over the corner of her mouth, gathering anything that escaped.

She leaned back, staring up at him smugly as he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling and he set his hand against the bedpost to keep him upright.

"Do you want me, Tom?" She asked lightly.

His gaze snapped to hers, seeing her completely unphased or unembarrassed about her nakedness and what she'd just done to him. Now, he'd had blowjobs before and no matter how enthusiastic the witch had been, there'd always been embarrassment and blushing afterwards. Hermione didn't have that problem. She was too confident in herself and her body, not caring what anyone thought, especially him. She didn't need reassurance from him, it was one of the things he respected about her.

She was confident and she'd known what she was doing. That brought the realisation that she'd done it before, no doubt with the one that had taken her virginity. He felt possessiveness flare up within him.

"Yes."

She blinked, taken aback by his response, by the sheer conviction he'd put in that single word.

"Do you want me, Hermione?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," she finally admitted.

"See how much easier it is to admit your feelings?" He tipped his head.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when there was a knock on the door. Taking a breath as annoyance welled within him at being interrupted, especially when Hermione was naked and in his bed, Tom climbed from the bed and reached for the towel, wrapping it around his hips and securing it. Approaching the door, he peered over his shoulder to see Hermione pulling the blanket to cover her form, holding it securely in place, only her shoulders and arms showing.

Opening the door, he peered around the edge to see it being Malfoy and he opened the door wider, stepping into view, his form partially hiding Hermione.

His eyebrow arched and his mouth twitched in amusement, seeing his usually composed follower at a complete loss for words as he stared shamelessly, his eyes darting between him and over his shoulder at Hermione.

Tom looked behind him, seeing Hermione lounging in his bed, without a care in the world, still covered by the blanket as she ran her hand through her hair, trying to tame it. Despite the covers, it was painfully obvious she was naked beneath it, and the mouth-shaped bruises that had formed from the night before were clear to see, as were the fading red marks from earlier that morning. Tom was aware of the bruises on his own neck, having seen them in the mirror after stepping from the shower and he glanced down his body, spying the fading red marks on his chest and stomach. The marks she'd given him before she'd taken him in her pretty little mouth.

"Yes?"

Malfoy startled, his eyes darting back to him.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy cleared his throat. "I simply thought it best to ensure you were well. When you did not show in the common room before we headed to breakfast, we grew worried."

"Well, as you can see, I am very well," he smirked. Malfoy shifted on his feet, understanding why he'd not shown in the common room. He'd been otherwise engaged. "Thank you for your concern."

"Yes, and I am well, too. Thanks for asking," said Hermione lightly.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, arching an amused eyebrow, seeing her completely unconcerned about the fact she was naked in his bed and covered by only a blanket whilst one of his followers stood in the doorway.

"Good morning, Abraxas, do you mind if I call you that?"

He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet and darting a questioning glance to him. Tom nodded his permission that he might address her in her current state of dress.

"Good morning, Miss. Nilrem. No, I do not mind."

She arched an eyebrow, her mouth twitching. "In that case, you may call me Hermione. Say, would you mind being a dear and fetching me some tea. I'm parched."

"Oh... Of course," he blinked slowly.

"Wonderful, perhaps some breakfast, too? I've worked up quite the appetite."

"Anything you wish," he replied, bowing before taking his leave after Tom dismissed him with a silent nod.

Closing the door, Tom turned towards her and arched an amused eyebrow.

"I don't believe Abraxas has ever been asked to fetch tea before," he commented.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It seems fitting, doesn't it? A Pureblood being treated as a house-elf. I've been treated unfairly and unkindly by many who believed they were better than me. I admit, I quite enjoyed giving him a task one might give a servant. How the might Pureblood has fallen, waiting on a Half-blood."

His mouth twitched into a smile. He'd always enjoyed her vengeful side, even if this was remarkably tame compared to what she'd done to Carrow and Macmillan.

"I don't believe he will appreciate such treatment," he remarked.

"I don't particularly care," she shrugged her shoulders once more. "He's too afraid of me to refuse," she said, Tom's mouth twitching in pride. "And it's not as if I'm asking him to clean my rooms and do my laundry. I simply asked if he would bring me some tea and breakfast and once he returns and I have eaten, I will take my leave, ready for the day and head to the library. This not how I planned on spending my morning."

"Are you complaining? This is much better than spending the morning in a dusty library."

"That's debatable," she argued.

He chuckled. "It's adorable that you think I'm going to let you leave."

"Excuse me?" Her voice rose slightly.

"I'm not done with you yet."

"For God's Sake," she sighed, burying her face in her hands. "I can't take a repeat of last night, especially after this morning and I do have studying to do. We've that exam in ancient runes and Arithmancy next week."

"We both know you already know the material, more so than the professors."

"Did you just compliment me?" She lifted her head from her hands.

He shrugged. "It's true, just as the same is said for me. If it were allowed, we'd have both graduated by now and be free of this hell hole."

"You're so cheery in the morning," she deadpanned. "Seriously, stop, it's as though you've been hit with several Cheering Charms. I can't stand it."

"Very funny," he rolled his eyes, approaching the bed.

He grasped the edge of the blanket and tugged it away from her, Hermione scowling up at him as the chill in the room hit her skin, it breaking out in goosebumps. He held his hand out to her in offering and she eyed it cautiously before slipping her hand into his. He pulled her to her knees and folded his arms around her, tugging her forward and into him, his mouth lowering and pressing against hers.

She sighed, her arms looping around his neck and his tongue moving into her mouth, Tom noting that she'd cast the Breath Freshening Charm again, likely to rid of the taste of him on her tongue.

Before either of them knew it, he'd lifted her from the bed and she'd wrapped her legs around him, her back hitting his bedroom door as he pinned her in place with his body. His hand was buried between them, his fingers moving in and out of her as she moved her hips, her noises of pleasure muffled by his mouth. She reached down, pushing his towel down his hips until it pooled on the ground around his feet and her hand circled his hardened length, pumping over him. She cried out when he unexpectedly shoved her over the edge, her head tipping back and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. It came out of nowhere and she'd had no warning.

Smirking arrogantly, he allowed her a moment to catch her breath before he was positioned at her entrance and with a sharp thrust, he filled her. Her breath caught in her throat and her head thudded against the door as it tipped back, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly and her nails digging into him.

He groaned, his head tipping forward to press against her shoulder and when she wriggled her hips impatiently, he chuckled before drawing back thrusting forward, repeating the sharp, fast rhythm from the night before, something he seemed to prefer.

She clung to him tightly, gasping and panting for breath, her noises of pleasure catching in her throat, her body tightening around him as his mouth worked at her neck, her back colliding with the door on every thrust. When she felt herself approaching the cliff, she knew she wouldn't be physically capable of dealing with a repeat of the night before, not when he'd already gotten her off twice that morning, the smug bastard.

And when he changed the angle of his hips, nudging her little bundle of nerves with every thrust and finding that spot inside her, she tipped over the edge, her body clamping around him tightly, Hermione crying out and she shoved her magic against him, Tom swaying both under the force and from supporting her weight.

His eyes widened before they snapped shut, his jaw clenching, his body going taut and a series of hisses falling from his mouth. He slumped against her, pinning her against the door as her hands ran soothingly through his hair as they caught their breath.

"Do you agree to mine? Will you help me?"

His head lifted, his gaze locking with hers.

"I will agree to help you only if I believe it is the right thing to do. If you wish for me to do something for you that I do not agree with, I won't do it. And whilst I will agree to being yours, I do not and will not belong to you. I am capable of my own thoughts and feelings. I am a human being, not a house-elf nor an object one owns. Agreed?"

His mouth set into a straight line, not looking pleased with her words but knowing it was the best he was going to get from her, he nodded.

"Agreed."

He set her back on her feet and Hermione padded over to the bed, collapsing onto it, staring up at the ceiling with Tom doing the same beside her. Barely two minutes passed before there was a knock on the door and Hermione grumbled in annoyance. Couldn't she enjoy her post-orgasmic bliss in peace?

She pushed herself up into a seating position, her eyes searching for her nightgown and robe, but she couldn't see it.

"Where the hell are my clothes?" She demanded.

Slowly opening an eye and appearing to be in no rush to answer the door, he slipped his arms behind his head, propping it up.

"House-elves likely took them to be washed," he shrugged. "They don't need to physically collect them, their magic does it for them."

"I have no clothes, I can't traipse through the castle naked," she pointed out.

His mouth twitched before he rose to his feet, crossing over to his chest of drawers, digging out a pair of boxers and trousers before he quickly slipped them on. He then removed a shirt from the drawer above and threw it to her, Hermione catching it and quickly dressing, doing up the majority of the buttons, being unsurprised to see that the sleeves fell past her wrists and the hem past mid-thigh.

She tugged her hair free and fasted one more button, feeling it was a little too risky and when she lifted her gaze, she saw Tom's tilted head, his ice-blue gaze and his twitching mouth.

"What?"

"You look good in my clothes," he remarked with a casual shrug of his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you say that to all the witches."

"No, I never allowed any of my previous trysts anywhere near my dorm or bed, and neither did they require the need for any of my clothes, not that I'd have cared if they did."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm a special case then?"

"I don't want anyone but me seeing you in any compromising or intimate settings," he replied, his eyes flashing possessively.

He crossed over to the door and opened it, Malfoy and Dolohov being stood on the other side. Whilst Russian appeared to be unphased, the slight twitch of his mouth giving away his amusement, Malfoy looked entirely uncomfortable, his face flushed pink and his eyes locked on the tray he was carrying.

Tom knew he could've easily levitated them, eliminating the need for a helper, but he also knew that Dolohov was a nosy twat and he wouldn't miss an opportunity such as this. Whilst Malfoy held the tea tray fitted with a teapot, two cups and saucers, two teaspoons, a pot of sugar cubes and a pitcher of milk, Dolohov held a tray that sat some fruit, toast, bacon and sausages.

"Morning," Dolohov greeted cheerily, not bothering to hide the fact he was peering over Tom's shoulder to see Hermione stood behind him, dressed in only his shirt.

Following his gaze, Tom was unsurprised to see the remnant glow of the Contraception Charm, no doubt having been cast twice. Putting her wand on the bedside table, she lifted her gaze to the wizards in the doorway.

"Dolohov," she greeted calmly, unashamed of her appearance or of the activities they'd been partaking in no more than ten minutes ago.

Tom realised that they'd obviously returned with Hermione's requested items around the time he'd been fucking her against his door, which is why they'd waited a couple of minutes to knock. It was too much of a coincident for them to have returned just after. He should've had the thought to cast a Silencing Charm. Whilst he wanted everyone to know that she was his, he didn't want them to see or hear her so intimately. No, that privilege was only for him.

"Lovely morning, no?" She asked, pushing her hair back from her face, his shirt rising slightly before lowering back into place when she dropped her arm.

"Yes, for some more than others, I see," the Russian replied, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Then perhaps you best sort your attitude and stop picking on those weaker than you. You might find your morning starting as mine did. Women don't like bullies," she shrugged.

Dolohov scowled at her and Tom arched an eyebrow at Hermione in amusement but he stepped aside, allowing Malfoy and Dolohov to step inside so they might set the trays on his desk, Tom noting Malfoy's gaze refusing to look towards Hermione. For a man that boasted about the number of witches he'd bedded, he was easily embarrassed.

"Blyad," muttered Dolohov, after setting the tray on the desk and turning around. "Your back!" He exclaimed with wide eyes.

Curious, Tom crossed over to the floor standing mirror in the corner of his room and turned, looking over his shoulder at his reflection, surprised to see the red scratch marks that littered his back, some from the night before and some from that morning. Some appeared deeper than others where she'd actually removed the skin and others would fade without injury.

Tom looked to Hermione, seeing that she looked unapologetic, in fact, she looked pleased with herself as she folded her arms over her chest and her mouth twitched.

"What?" She questioned innocently. "I'm like a cat, I like to mark my territory, and you can't say anything," she said, gesturing to the mouth-shaped marks on her neck that were unhidden by his shirt.

Malfoy flushed darker and Dolohov eyed her curiously, Tom's gaze narrowing furiously. He knew that look. He was sizing up his witch. Sizing her up in the same manner he did to witches he wanted to fuck. Oh, hell would freeze over before that happened. He'd release the damn basilisk from the Chamber and have it target the Russian bastard before he let that happen.

"Abraxas," greeted Hermione. "Thank you for bringing breakfast, you're a lifesaver."

"Hermione," he mumbled in response, refusing to look at her, something she found incredibly amusing.

"Out," snapped Tom. "Return in one hour and bring the others with you."

Dolohov and Malfoy were quick to obey and didn't need to be told twice as the door closed behind them.

"Okay...?" Said Hermione slowly.

Not wishing to explain himself, he crossed over to his desk and took a seat, looking to Hermione expectantly. Rolling her eyes, she approached, her wand in hand and making as if to conjure a second chair but he reached for her, tugging her to sit in his lap, arching an eyebrow at her surprised expression.

"We shall eat breakfast and once I've held a short meeting, you will return to your rooms, ready and I will take you to Hogsmeade this afternoon."

"I was planning on going to the library," she replied.

Reaching for the teapot, she filled both cups and then put it aside. After adding a splash of milk to her own cup, she added a third to his before dropping a sugar cube in and reaching for the spoon, stirring it. He nodded in thanks when she set it before him and after stirring her own tea, sans sugar, she set the spoon aside and brought the cup to her mouth, taking a delicate sip, sighing as the hot liquid slid down her throat and seemed to warm her from the inside out.

"You may do so tomorrow..."

"Oh, may I? How very thoughtful of you," she interrupted with a roll of her eyes, something he chose to ignore to avoid an argument.

"I wish to take you into Hogsmeade. There have been many rumours floating around the castle and today, we will make our relationship official and known to the public. Of course, we will be scrutinised by many," he said, not needing to say who he was referring to as she already knew. Dumbledore. "And so we must do our best to hold a united front. You as my girlfriend and I as your boyfriend."

"Wait...You want more than just sex?" She questioned, looking truly baffled.

He wanted them to be official? Publicly? He'd put labels on them? Well, there goes her expectation of a purely sexual relationship. Something she'd have been more than happy with. She'd rationalised having sex with him. There didn't have to be feelings involved, there were no expectations and people had sex with those they hated all the time. See, rational? Having an actual relationship with him was something she might morally struggle with.

"I did promise to satisfy you in every way, did I not?" He arched an eyebrow, finding her silence amusing.

"You did," she finally said.

"Then that settles it. Meet me by the entrance doors at noon, and dress for the weather, it cold and raining today. Hermione Nilrem, I'm taking you on a date."

Merlin, what was the world coming to? Thought Hermione. Tom Riddle was taking her on a date as her boyfriend.