A/N: This is a rewrite, so the story will still be only a one-shot, but hopefully more enjoyable to read than it was before.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except maybe the plot.

Sphaera desiteratum

It was an odd request, to be asked to venture down to the heart of the Ministry. And even more, to be asked so, though she had not yet acquired her status as an Unspeakable.

But Hermione Granger was not one to decline the chance to further her knowledge, even if it was not done the right way. So she grabbed on to the offer, and now after weeks of reading all that she could find on the matter, she was finally ready to take on this little adventure, as she had named her assignment.

Nothing could have prepared her for the vast size of the downward plunge into darkness; the many papers she had read only skimmed over details, the reports not very in-depth. Her steps faltered as she peered down, trying to discern some shapes, anything to indicate what she was about to face – as the reports had managed to skip over this part too.

Mustering up her famed Gryffindor courage, she grabbed on to the handle of her wand; the soft light illuminating only a few steps ahead, and started the long trek down.

Not long after, small puffs of smoke escaped her lips; hanging ominously in the air before vanishing. Each time she exhaled, it became harder to breathe until her chest was hurting and she was grasping the stone-walls, grappling for support to hold up her wobbly legs. Her fingers scratched against the rough surface; searing as the skin tore open. But she kept on walking, though her gut told her to run as far away as she could, her pride could not allow her to turn her back on this.

By the time she reached the bottom, her body had become numb and a sudden hopelessness had filled a cavity within her; like a black hole slowly sucking in every happy thought she had. A rustle of fabric danced somewhere out of her reach, she whirled around trying to catch whatever it was that lurked in the shadows.

'Expecto patronum!'

A silvery mist shot out from the tip of her wand, but it flickered and wavered for only a moment before fading out of sight. A heavy click resounded; echoed against the walls and Hermione steeled herself, wand at the ready.

Nothing.

Silence greeted her, and after several moments of standing there, poised to fight, she continued forwards until she came to a halt, unable to keep on moving. Deciding that it would provide more light, she murmured another choice of word and a blue fire-ball appeared, floating; casting flickering light in a larger area than a simple lumos could manage.

A simple door with little to no design; black in colour and with no visible door-knob appeared, and Hermione stretched out her hand cautiously, fingers dragging over the surface; the tingling of magic humming through her body. Several layers of enchantments had been placed upon the door.

Bringing the tip of her wand over the door, she started a melodious chant – voice rising and dipping until the wooden surface seemed to melt out of sight and another, smaller corridor greeted her.

Curiosity peaked, she quickly ventured down the cramped space, so deep in thought that she did not notice that where the doorway had once been, a blank wall rose.

The corridor seemed to go on for ages, until at last she reached another door, but this time she only needed to push for it to open.

It was not a large room and it became even more cramped by the tall cases filled with books that covered the walls. Hermione's heart thumped loudly in her chest as she stepped in further; both excitement and fear running through her as she moved towards the books closest to the door, finger dragging over the spines. And recoiled.

A chill ran over her body, and she turned away to escape the confines of the small room; but everywhere she looked, books covered the walls. Where was the door? She ran pulled out random books, foolishly hoping that a doorway would magically appear – like they did in those mystery novels she so loved to read.

Soft light danced across the walls; a blue sheen cast over the room and Hermione stopped her movements, not daring to turn around. She breathed in deeply, trying to cleanse her mind of any fear, but her hands trembled, and she could feel her heart beating hard – to the point of being painful.

Opening her eyes – when has she closed them? - she slowly turned around and faced a small, glowing orb, floating in the middle of the room. A mist surrounded the globe, slowly expanding in size; falling to the floor and spreading over the wood. Hermione stumbled away, but a few steps and she was backed against the book-covered walls, blood pumping wildly in her veins. The mist touched her feet; damp and cold it slid up her legs, smoothed over her entire body until she felt it wrap around her in a mock-embrace.

It felt as if hands ghosted over her skin, long-fingered hands caressed her face and she reeled away in shock. The mist had turned solid, and there was a body pressed against her, soft yet strong, unyielding.

'Hello Miss Granger.' a smooth voice said, breath tickling her ear and she had the urge to giggle at the sensation; but the next second she shivered, trying to scoot away further from the figure but she was trapped; arms encased her, trapping her against the wall. 'Don't run away.'

Even though the voice was still smooth, steel hid just beneath the surface; Hermione feared what he would do if she dared to disobey. Still she shook with fear, having a hard time breathing as she felt the breath now ghost over her face – she could almost feel the smirk that was sure to pass over his lips.

His eyes, dark and unrelenting, stared into her own; a flicker of something and she could feel the intrusion in her mind, a caress that dragged out every essence from her and she knocked her head against the wall in her attempt to ward his attack.

'Now, now.' he chuckled, and she tried to suppress the shiver - that had nothing to do with fear – as the scent of mint invaded her nose. 'How fortunate for me, that the Ministry decided to send you to come here.'

'Please – don't.' she pleaded, feebly raising her hands to push him away, but he gripped them tightly and with a forceful push; he trapped them against the wall, chest pushed against her and noses touching.

'Don't try to resist me. We both know it is futile.'

Anger flared up at his words, and she struggled against him; hissing out profanities and trying to wriggle her hands out from his tight hold so that she could reach for her wand; but he was much stronger, and his body pushed harshly against her; she stilled as her eyes widened, the hardness could not be mistaken. Disgust flooded through her; bile rose in her throat, yet a deep, hidden part of her felt a spark ignite, a small flame shot through her lower abdomen.

Her brows furrowed, and lips tightened as she glared at him; he only looked mildly amused, dark hair tousled and a lazy smirk upon his thin lips. It infuriated her how he could stand there, looking so smug as she boiled with anger; wanting to rip his bowels out and claw at him until he bled, staining the room with his filthy blood –

'Quite an imagination you have, dear.'

'Stop reading my mind!' she gasped out, struggling to breathe when he was so close to her; pressed so intimately against her.

His dark eyes flashed red, and she recoiled from the sight, suddenly realising just who she was dealing with.

The hands that trapped her wrists against the wall rubbed soothing circles across her skin, and her mind became hazy, head tipping forward as she struggled to remember why she was there, and why she couldn't ignore the voice at the back of her head and do what she so desired.

Green flashes, red streaks of light. Bodies crumbling, terror; screams, agony, so much agony.

'Stop it! STOP!' she screamed shrilly, eyes burning as she fought with renewed strength, but his grip was as strong as ever and she only managed to tire herself out; breathing heavily and gasping for oxygen. Her nails dug into his hands as she tried to get him to release her; a feverish heat spreading across her cheeks; burning through her like raging fire –

'Would you stop that?!' he said exasperatedly, raising his voice for the first time; like a knife, it cut through her and she stilled abruptly, her mind desperately begging him not to kill her.

'If you have stopped your childish attempts to try and escape, I will explain why I am here.'

His voice had adopted a hypnotising quality, and Hermione had a hard time resisting the urge to close the distance between their lips and –

'Do you see that?' he asked, nodding his head towards the globe that still shone softly, casting a blue sheen that illuminated the curve of his cheekbones and aquiline nose. 'It's the Sphaera desiteratum.'

He smirked with satisfaction at her gasp of horror. Sphaera desiteratum or "Globe of Desire" as was its roughly translated name; a highly mythological object, only told about in tales of old and with no proof of its existence. 'Anything that the person desires comes true.' she whispered, mostly to herself.

'Yes.' he hissed reverently, and Hermione's attention snapped back at him again. Eyes glowing and lips turned upwards; his face twisted into a monstrous mockery of his sculpted face, and she could see the monster behind the beautiful facade.

Visions flitted through her mind, one horrible scenario after the other; all ended with her friends in heaps, unmoving as dark-cloaked people danced around; casting fire to burn away the remains of resistance.

'No!' she sobbed, bowing her head; the sorrow heavy. 'You cannot – no, please!'

He let go of one hand, and brought it to her face; finger tilting it upwards until they met, eye-to-eye and he whispered:

'You believe that you know what I most desire.'

The finger trailed down her neck, across the exposed collar-bone until it came to rest over her beating heart. Her body trembled at the feel of his long-fingered hand; fingers splayed across a large expanse of her chest. 'That the demise of Harry Potter is what I long for.'

Her mind went blank; what else could he desire more than world-domination?

His lips touched the juncture where shoulder met neck; a sharp intake of breath as his teeth nibbled at skin. 'The one thing I desire -' His lips trailed upwards, downwards in mesmerising motions, and she could not think clearly, lost in the sensations that he caused her body to experience.

'Is you.'

It took her a moment to register his words, and she gasped loudly; eyes widening as he raised his head and peered at her through thick lashes. 'I want you.' he whispered, eyes burning and cheeks heating up in feverish insanity; both his arms wrapping around her, pushing against her so that nothing was in between them.

'I want your loyalty and devotion. I want to teach you all that I know, impart my knowledge on you until no part of you is untouched; all of you will bear my imprints, everyone will see who you belong to. You will see no one but me.' he whispered softly, trailing his lips over every naked surface upon her body, his words dragging over her like a spell.

'You will have everything. But you do not desire me. You wish instead to stay with stupid Potter; who cannot see you for who you really are. Cannot see the potential that you hold. But I do. I see what is within; a snake coiled up, waiting to rear its head, drink up the knowledge that will make you great.'

Hermione resisted his words, thought of her friends and trying to bring that love to the surface, hoping that this raw emotion would bring him away. But he stayed put, whispering still; softly, seductively.

'I yearn for you, all of my.' he pressed against her. 'For so long, I have waited. But now, I can finally have you. And with you, I can reach even higher. You will aid me to be the best.'

His lips landed upon her forehead, and blinding light encased them both; she cried out at the sharp pain stabbing her temple, nausea rolling round her stomach as she fought to keep breathing through the pain, fought to keep her head over the surface of consciousness. But the motion of moving caused her such dizziness that she felt herself fade into blackness, faintly hearing murmuring against her ear; arms trapping her against a hard body.

'Meus.' Tom Riddle whispered, a full-blown smirk curving his mouth.

Meus: "Mine"