Intoxication

"You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you."

- Emily Bronte

Chapter 12: The Library 

"Why the fuck are we here?" Blaise lifted his nose in disgust as a young Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and himself appeared in front of a ruined Hogwarts. The massive castle, that was home to so many, a safe refuge for learning and seeking greatness, turned to rubble by the young man that stood before it. Huge chunks of stone that were stories high littered the pathways; walls that held secrets now reduced to ash. The trees around the property, now overgrown as nature slowly started taking back the school and turning it into a sanctuary for the long-forgotten animals that a once burly groundskeeper took care of. Bones of forgotten lives littered the ground like forgotten relics of a war that didn't have a chance to be won. It was impossible to decipher if the bones belonged to students or Death Eaters but as Tom Riddle stalked towards the entrance of the Great Hall, breaking the bones down to dust as he stepped, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He hadn't been here since his last encounter with Harry Potter. And he had almost died. Again. He was sick of losing. Sick of that kid always getting the better of him. He would not underestimate him again just because of his young age. The boy was more powerful than he ever gave him credit for, and he always managed to get out of every situation Tom had ever cornered him in by the skin of his teeth.

But not this time…

They couldn't get the better of him this time. This was his last chance. He had no more horcruxes. The only remaining one he had was Potter and he wasn't willing to get close enough to the boy to get that part of his soul back. It would all be different this time around anyways. He had a secret weapon now.

The girl.

Hermione.

Even thinking her name did something to him. He had been impulsive. He had been irrational.

And he didn't care.

As they stalked forward, Tom purposely ignoring Zabini's vapid question, he let his thoughts drift to his pet.

I kissed her. I ravaged her. I have no regrets.

It was regretful in that moment. Horror had washed throughout his young body as he ran from her. Ran from the depravity of what he had done and how low he had stooped. Disgust for kissing what was practically a servant. But when he returned to his room after her rejection, seeing the blood dripping from his mouth from where she bit into his tongue, he realized he wasn't disgusted. He wasn't even angry.

He was enthralled.

He was intoxicated.

He wanted to taste her again.

Feeling her small body pressed against his, the feeling of her hips when he pressed into her, the soft sighs that flowed from her as he folded around her… How soft her mouth felt and the noises she made… Tom already knew that like the blood he needed from her, he was going to need this again.

After having calmed down, he saw no reason why he couldn't pursue her for carnal pleasures in his pursuit of corrupting her soul. He replayed the scene thousands of times over in his head in the two days he hadn't been back to see her.

Her memories that he had watched formed a weird feeling in his stomach that he hadn't felt since he was a young schoolboy having a crush on the Head Girl. Her calloused, truthful response to not giving a shit about her classmate's death almost made him take her right there.

Tom found her extremely contradictory, and he was going to help her see that. She preached and harped about how insane he was and how evil he was when her words were dripping with the same. She was just as bloodthirsty and ruthless as him.

He knew they would make a powerful, formidable team and she would just have to see that. Plain and simple. He was not ready for his new confidantes to know all of this yet. They were too close to her and had to many prejudice views. The only one Tom could see understanding would be Theodore. He had a certain intelligence that his two friends just didn't have.

But it was still too soon.

Hermione had to be seduced. And not just in a sexual way, but in every way. She had to become more broken and one thing Tom knew how to do better than anyone, was how to break the people around him. He had decided on his methods just last night. After his field trip with his confidantes, Tom would start training her. Training her hard. Letting her get her aggression out. Hell, maybe even kill people if he didn't want to bother with them anymore. He would start giving her more freedom. Be nicer to her when he needed her blood. Talk to her and make her feel comfortable.

Seduce her. Overwhelm her. Enrapture her.

His thoughts had drifted to her this morning and a half sleepy haze, he had finally relieved himself of the desire he had mounting in him. If he hadn't, Hermione would have had a most surprising visit.

Picturing her spread before him on his bed, like a fruit that had just got plucked from its tree. Ripe and juicy, tender to bite into. He would stand before her, looking down at her as she writhed and moaned, beginning him to take her and he would, but slowly. He would crawl up her body, taking his time to bite and lick his way up her body until his mouth found that sensitive spot that would weep for him.

Would she taste as good as her foul lipped mouth?

Would she cry for me as I brought her to ecstasy?

He wanted to bend her in half and ravage her, his tongue thrusting in-

He had reached his peak before he was even able to finish his fantasy. And that's all it was. A fantasy.

For now…

"My Lord?"

Malfoy's voice cut through Tom's indecent thoughts like a knife, and he didn't know whether he wanted to strangle the boy for interrupting his fantasy of his pet or because of how annoying his voice was.

Both.

"Yes?" Tom glanced over his shoulder, but didn't meet Draco's eyes.

"May I ask what we are doing here?" Draco looked around with unease.

"I am looking for a door."

The three men looked between each other with quirked eyebrows as they followed their leader deeper into the castle and shockingly, towards the library.

The hallowed halls that once held laughter, talking students, and talks of greatness now echoed with each step. Not even the ghosts were around as if the memories of them were slaughtered in the Battle of Hogwarts as well. There was no color – no sound – and no life.

It was truly haunting.

And Tom basked in it.

What was once heralded as an impenetrable fortress, he had reduced it to rubble. Besides killing the old man, this was his next greatest achievement.

And yet…

There was a part of him that missed it. Chalking it up to nostalgia, Hogwarts was the first thing that ever felt like home. He had never really found that place after graduating, and he didn't know if he would even now. It was another reason why he grew to detest Dumbledore. All he wanted, all he needed was to just stay there during the summer. In his younger, more vulnerable years, he had begged the professor to please make an exception, please just let him stay for the summer. He would even work and help take care of the school. Just please let him stay. And the answer was always:

No.

It wasn't allowed and no exceptions could be made.

Bull. Shit.

He even asked the old man if he could go with him one summer out of pure desperation and the old man laughed. Laughed at him like it was a joke. Like torturing kids and withholding food from them at an orphanage was something to laugh at.

He was made to feel like a fool for even asking and that was when he knew. Dumbledore was going to die at his hands.

It was poetic really. Dying at the hands of a student he tried to "save". Save by bringing him to a place that he could never stay at and refused to hire once he became Headmaster. It was the death Tom was most proud of.

"Shit!" Draco stubbed his foot on a rock as they walked into the library.

Blaise snickered. "Don't worry mate, I don't think Madame Pince is here to scold you."

"I wonder what happened to her…" Theo pondered as Tom led them to the Restricted Section. Tables were covered in dust, chairs knocked over, and the windows letting sunlight in had been blown out. Vines and weeds now making their way into the room.

"She died." Draco stated. "I saw her body when I was on the way to the Room of Requirement, you know, on that day."

"Oh." Theo replied quietly. "She was nice."

No one replied to his comment, but Tom felt his shoulders tense.

"She was as useful to books as water is", Tom commented. "We need to go to the back of the Restricted Section."

When they reached their destination, wands in hand, they cast lumos to light their way. The air felt heavy and stale. No light was close enough to light their way and you couldn't see two feet in front of your face. There were no shelves around them. In fact, it seemed they were in a vast space.

"Where are we?" Draco's voice could be heard.

"Past the restricted section." Tom answered, looking around him like he was expecting someone to walk up behind him. With a flourish of his wand, Tom cast a large orb of light so it hovered in the air above them, basking the room in a faint glow. The last shelves they walked past were acting as a pathway to the octagon shaped room they were in. Bookshelves lined the wall and dust, and cobwebs hung everywhere.

"I don't remember this room being here", Draco walked around looking at the old, ruined books that lined the shelves. "And I thought I knew everything about this castle."

"Not even remotely, Malfoy." Tom said darkly. "This room appears to those who know to look for it."

"Oh, like the Room of Requirement?" Blaise asked.

"Not at all", Tom shook his head, still eyeing the shelves closely. "This room appears to those who have knowledge of what it's hiding."

Blaise looked to the side of the wall he was next to. "What's it hiding?"

"A door." Tom murmured as he stalked over to a bookshelf that looked no different than the other bookshelves in the room.

"Revelio."

Tom stood, smirking confidently, as he took a step back for the bookshelf to swing itself open revealing a wooden door, a faint green glow emanating from its cracks.

"What the fuck…" Draco whispered.

"What's in there?" Theo asked, a hint if nerves evident in his voice.

"Something legendary", Tom answered, pressing his ear to the door. He heard a low hum and he felt victory in his chest starting to swell. If the legends were true, the first part of his new plan of becoming a God were right behind this door.

Draco stepped up behind Tom. "Are you going to open it?"

Tom turned to the group, eyeing them with caution. "Not yet. We don't have everyone here."

The three looked puzzled at him.

"You can't mean the older Death Eaters?" Theo quirked a brow.

"It is not time for you three to see what I mean", Tom turned to them, his sentence the final statement on the matter. Because great leaders need great followers, he was allowing the three of them to join his inner circle and in doing so, they were allowed certain allowances; but those only went so far. And they had reached their finish line.

Tom turned to the bookshelf, pushing it close and making sure to seal it before turning back to the three men behind him.

"Be sure to keep this to yourselves, gentlemen", Tom told them matter-of-factly," Or you will force my hand. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, my Lord", the three nodded and said in unison.

As the four of them walked out of the secret room and towards the exit of the library, Tom lingered.

"Give me a moment", Tom told them. "I will meet you three at the entrance."

The three of them nodded and continued out of the library, not bothering to ask why or questioning. Tom turned to look at the bookshelves. Many nights he had spent pouring over these ancient texts, learning as much as he could about the world he had been deprived of for so long. Even at a young age, he yearned to know everything. Knowledge was power and Hogwarts' library had it in abundance for the taking. In his first years as a new student at Hogwarts, naïve and new to the wizarding world, he was often mocked and ridiculed for choosing to study instead of playing quidditch or hanging out with friends. It was found out almost immediately in his first year that his home was an orphanage and that he was only there because of Dumbledore's good graces.

Tom had loathed it.

Not only Dumbledore for making it such common knowledge, but he loathed the students, especially his Slytherin classmates. They were relentless in their crusade to make him feel inferior. Like he didn't belong. Their judgement and condescending remarks assaulting him every chance they got. Like it was his fault that he got sorted into their house. But in truth, it was his fault. He was the Heir of Slytherin and when word of that got out, he was invincible. He had turned from pauper to prince overnight. Girls were begging to marry him; boys were falling in line like the ants they were.

It was a truly pathetic display.

But even after finding out his rightful place among his people, he still always made time for his academics and pursuit of knowledge. He never stopped. Not until every book was read, and he almost did it if the librarian at the time hadn't explicitly forbidden him from the Restricted Section.

Tom smirked. He still managed to get a couple of books out without her seeing. And now here he was. Young again with the entire Restriction Section free for the taking. He didn't even want them anymore. The library held a far greater treasure for him. But he meant what he said to the three men who had left him.

It wasn't time to take it yet. They didn't have everyone. This was just a preliminary mission. To make sure that it was actually here, and it wasn't just a myth and that there was no one standing in his way to access the room. He had been right, and he would be back when the time was right.

Sweeping one final gaze around the now ruined library, his eyes lingered for a few seconds on several book spines that he knew were particularly good reads having read them himself.

It's not like anyone will miss them…

Hermione felt like she was suffocating.

Her body convulsed with every inhale she took like the air around her was toxic.

She felt sick. Disgusted. Revulsed.

Turned on. Like she had a million butterflies in her stomach that were begging for his tongue to open her mouth and unleash them…

She felt like a betrayer of the worst kind.

And it wasn't like she was super concerned with Harry or Ron ever judging her in the past by the choices she has made over the last few years or how cold she had become towards them, but even she knew this was too far.

She had kissed the enemy.

The worst enemy.

The enemy to all mankind.

And had liked it.

Even now as she sobbed into her pillow, her body curled as small as she felt, she knew that the worst part of all of this – was that she wanted more.

He was captivating. All-consuming. His body had wrapped around her like a serpent as his tongue had invaded her mouth until all she could taste was the cold ice coming out of him. It felt like she was drinking a horcrux, his dark magic sliding down her throat like syrup.

He had held her like all women crave to be held.

Like she was his lifeline and was an inch from dying. Her head was still sore where he had gripped her hair so tightly, her neck raw from his harsh love bites. Hermione didn't need a mirror to know that his teeth marks still marked her skin like a predator ripping apart its prey.

And that's what she was to him.

His prey. His pet. His whore…

Hermione leaned over her bed as she wretched. But it wasn't at the disgust she felt for him. It was the disgust she felt for herself. How could she have so easily been swept away by a good looking face? Was she so desperate for affection that she would stoop so low?

Was he as bothered by this as her? Was he as besotted as she was?

Am I besotted?

He had invaded her body, her veins, her mind, like a sickness. But it didn't start with the forbidden impromptu kiss. No –

It started with his magic. His – her – horcruxes. His shattered soul that she coveted at all costs. Looking back now, she didn't even remember what logic led to her keeping them safe. Perhaps it was because she was heralded as the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age'? Perhaps it was because she was the Golden Girl, the Gryffindor Princess? Perhaps it was because she was just in the right, wrong, place at the right, wrong, time.

Sitting up in panic, Hermione started shaking violently, her body covered in goosebumps as his voice rang out again. Why was this happening? Anger and frustration started mounting in her body at a rapid pace. Why was this happening? Why did it come at random times, the last one being when Malfoy was yelling at her? Breathing harshly through her nose, her jaw clenched tight she was over it! She was sick of that son of a bitch snaky fucking bastard, and she was done being here under his circumstances.

How dare he?

How dare he kiss her and make her feel lust filled teenager while he paraded around like the psychopath he is?

How dare he make her feel this way, like she was betraying every muggleborn witch and wizard because she had become obsessed with his horcruxes, his dark magic when she was vulnerable and alone. She was a blood traitor, and the worst kind. Because even now as she fisted her blanket in her hands, bile rising in her throat as her face felt hot with anger, she knew all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around his neck and have him hurt her more in the only way that would satisfy both of them.

Hermione needed air.

But the windows wouldn't open for her. Having tried when she was first placed in this room looking for an escape route, she had known they were charmed shut.

But the room felt so heavy with suffocation. All of the air in the room had been sucked out and only his dark magic remained, and it was killing her.

She needed air.

Rushing to the window, Hermione's voice cracked into broken cries as she tried opening it and it stayed shut.

"Please!" She begged as she pushed against the latch. "I just need air. I just need to breathe!"

To her utter amazement and disbelief, the window cracked open slightly. Not enough to where she could escape, but enough where she was able to push her nose and mouth between the wall and open windowpane and inhale deeply.

Tears pricked her eyes as she relished in the fresh dewy air that swiftly made its way into her lungs. It had been too long since she breathed in fresh air. The sky was overcast, basking the world in a grey filter that looked as bleak as she felt. Lions were meant to run free, not be caged up.

What was she going to do?

"Do you mind if I come in?" She heard someone ask from the door behind her, but she didn't bother to turn around. She knew Pansy's voice at this point.

"Granger!" Pansy exclaimed behind her and heard her running footsteps getting closer.

"Granger, are you okay?"

All it took was for Pany's arms to go around Hermione's shoulders and she collapsed into her. Sobs wracked her body as she felt waterfalls of tears pour out of her eyes and onto the girl's cashmere cardigan.

"Hermione, breathe", Pansy whispered as she held her new friend tightly, soothing her hair. "It's going to be okay, just breathe."

"Nothing about this is okay", Hermione's voice cracked. "Nothing is okay at all."

Hermione pulled herself back to look at Pansy who was holding her shoulders in her hands. Hermione was sure she looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin raw from rubbing. She felt as sick as she looked.

"Hermione…" Pansy's eyes went wide. Hermione could spot horror in someone's eyes anywhere and Pansy had it. The girl's jaw tightened as her eyes stared at Hermione's neck.

"What is that?"

Hemione immediately got up and closed her sweater around her tighter.

"What is what?"

Pansy got up slowly, eyeing the Gryffindor like a hawk. "I may not be as smart as you, but I know what a love bite is and that is a particularly nasty one."

Hermione wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. "I don't want to talk about it, Pansy."

Pansy said nothing at first, but the tension between them was growing taunt.

"It wasn't Theo was it?" Pansy asked quietly behind her and Hermione would be a fool to not miss the concern in her voice.

"What?" Hermione turned to her disbelief. "No! Why would you ask that?"

Pansy looked relieved for just a moment before looking confused again. "I know Draco would never do that."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione scoffed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. She was congested from crying so much and her nose felt entirely blocked from the air at this point.

"No, thank God."

But the brief moment of brevity turned sour when both girls made eye contact at the same time. Hermione could see the genuine terror enter her face as Pansy took in Hermione's haunted expression.

"Hermione, no…" Pansy whispered, fear seizing Pansy as Hermione could see the true nightmare of her own situation finally dawning on the girl.

"Hermione, tell me he didn't." Pansy shook her head, a pleading desperation in her eyes because they both knew what it meant if Hermoine confirmed what Pansy was afraid of. It meant that Hermione was marked. It meant that the lines of prisoner and captor were blurred. It meant that Hermione was royally fucked.

Swallowing loudly, Hermione exhaled a shuddering breath. "I would, but I've never been one to lie."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as Pansy gasped. Her entire body was tense. Her skin felt like it was made of glass, and she was about to shatter any moment. For someone as cold as she always thought Pansy to be, the girl was surprisingly warm and comforting in her moment of despair. Pansy wrapped her arms around Hermione and as the two girls held each other, Hermione felt the same mutual understanding as her new friend. That they both needed comfort and each other in this den of vipers.

"I don't know what to do Pansy", Hermione cried, her chin on Pansy's shoulder. Pansy pushed her back slightly to look at her as Hermione talked.

"I don't even know what happened", Hermione continued. "He just came at me like a shadow. Completely suffocating and all consuming."

Pansy ushered the two of them to her loveseat and she continued to hold Hermione's hands.

"Granger, did he-… Did he force himself on you?"

The words lodged themselves in her throat as she forbade them from leaving her lips. She bit into her lip so hard that she could taste the blood pricks in her mouth.

"Hermione!" Pansy shook her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze.

Keeping her eyes screwed shut, Hermoine shook her head quickly, tears falling freely.

Silence stretched between them for an eternity before Pansy spoke.

"I am not judging you."

If there was any sign of reprieve in this onslaught of sorrow, it was Pansy's words because that was not what she was expecting to hear. This entire time the guilt of what she had done, the betrayal that was flowing over her, had been the only thing she was thinking of. How everyone around her would be disgusted and repulsed by her actions and judge her so harshly.

But not Pansy.

Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but acceptance and a sisterhood of understanding coming from her. It was a feeling she had never felt before and as she continued to look into Pansy's large brown eyes, she couldn't help but see the silver linings of what it meant to be a Slytherin. How harshly Hermione had judged them for lewd, selfish acts. How they always put themselves first and only watched out for those they deemed worthy. But there was more to them than that. It wasn't elitist. It was choosing those they deem worthy because not everyone was worthy of their care, and it made you feel special if you were chosen and trusted. Pansy didn't look at her with judgement in her eyes because in their lives, in their house, they do what they want, and they don't apologize for it. And there was nothing wrong with that. So many times, she was tired of the criticisms and comments that Harry and Ron made towards her, but here, with Pansy, a girl that despised her their entire time in school, she had never felt so understood.

And it was nice.

"Listen.." Pansy continued, still holding Hermione's hands. "I am the last person to judge anyone for what they do with others behind closed doors."

"I don't need to know what happened and to be honest, the less I know the better. Just be careful Hermione. I know he has morphed into someone new, and he looks handsome and young, but he's still the Dark Lord. And if there is one thing that the Dark Lord is good at, it's reading people and manipulating them. Be cautious. He is as psychotic as he is beautiful."

There was such caution in her tone that her words panged like knives into her heart.

"I fear I don't know what to do, Pansy", Hermione's voice rasped. "He is going to come back. Probably tonight and I don't know if I can trust myself."

The Slytherin Princess said nothing as she looked to the side, nodding subconsciously as she was thinking, no doubt, about Hermione's horrendous situation.

"I don't know", Pansy smiled sadly." But if anyone could figure this out, it would be the incessant know-it-all Gryffindor from school."

Hermione cracked a twisted smile before looking away.

"I've gotta get out of here, Pansy."

"Let me be the first to know when you figure out how."

"You're here. Aren't you?"

Tom chuckled from deep in his throat as she heard his robes shuffle with movement.

"Are you that attuned to me now?" He asked sweetly from behind her spot on the couch.

"The room is colder with you in it. Like it doesn't want to house you."

"You're in a chilly mood."

Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him and his stupid teasing smile he had on his face. His black eyes were glittering in the dusky light penetrating the room, haloing him in a warm hue that didn't suit him.

"Being held captive does that to someone, I suppose", she snarked and moved to her feet. She was determined to stay on defense with him in the room. Hermione refused to admit that there were flutters in her at the sight of him. Looking just as beautiful and dark as he always did, she was fixed on only seeing the ugliness within him.

Tom moved towards her, smooth like a panther advancing on its prey. "You weren't so chilly the other night."

A sardonic smile was plastered on his face flashing his canines at her as his beautiful black eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks. How a man born to be an angel could be so evil…

The mention of their past transgressions made her cheeks flare. She was not expecting him to be so candid during their next visit. She was sure that he was going to avoid it just as much as she wanted to. Not bring it out into the open for her to examine.

"As you recall, I bit your face", she crossed her arms and turned her back to him so he wouldn't see her face turning red. "I am surprised you'd show your face back here so soon after kissing a mudblood so willingly. Shouldn't you be hiding?

Poking a bear was always a good idea, right?

"Why would I be hiding?"

"Out of shame?" Hemione offered, begging, pleading to the universe that he would just go away. But luck was never on her side. The coldness just got closer which, to be honest, she was slightly relieved about because of how hot her body was getting.

"What do I have to be shameful about?" He asked huskily into her ear, his lips grazing the top as he bent his head down to her. Hermione did her best to suppress a shudder, but it was in vain.

"You kissed a mudblood", Hermione reminded him. "What would your sheep think?"

Keeping his lips against the top of her ear, she felt him tilt his nose into her hair and inhale softly.

"Good thing I don't answer to them. They answer to me."

"How annoying I must be then because I have no intention of ever answering to you", Hermione breathed out a quiet laugh, a sick smile playing on her lips. The flutters were getting stronger. Her hand went to her chest to quiet her pounding heart.

Tom growled. "You are the most annoying, my dear." He pressed his chest into her back, his hand moving her hair to the side, his lips moving from her ear down to her neck. Hermione's breath hitched as his left hand held her hip in place, his right arm snaking its way up her torso, slightly hesitating between her breasts, going towards her neck. Tom's hand covered the front of her neck as he gripped it softly, turning her head slightly to the side as his lips found the sensitive part of her neck that made her toes curl.

"You should probably go then before I get too annoying", Hermione moaned softly, her eyes now fully shut as she relished in the feeling of him lightly biting and sucking at her neck. Her hand went up on its own accord and went into his hair behind her, her fingers tangling in his soft black locks. Her other hand resting on his that was on her hip.

Tom's lips left her throat as he whispered in her ear, his voice deep and raw with something that Hermione was both tantalized and horrified by. "I don't think you want me to go."

Why was she letting this happen?

It felt so good – and so wrong – and so right – but so depraved. Just a few moments earlier with Pansy she was forsaking her very own existence and not even 5 minutes alone in her room with Tom, Voldemort, she was melting in his hands.

He reads people and he manipulates people...

Pansy's words echoed as a warning call.

But Tom's raspy breathing and wet, swollen lips were silencing the warning swiftly. It's hard to ignore pleasure when one has gone without it for so long.

And Tom was good at it. Too good.

His right hand still held her throat as he continued to place chaste kisses against her skin, but his left hand had moved to her waistband, his fingers now sliding against her smooth skin that was hidden underneath.

Hermione moaned from her chest. "Tom – I want you to go."

Her response was him moaning in her ear as his finger followed the curve of her hip lower past her waistband, but not quite low enough where Hermione would have liked him to go.

What are you saying?!

Fuck it. There was a part of her that wanted this. Wanted it really bad. What the fuck else did she have to lose? She was a captive. She was his prisoner. She had no friends or family left in this world and everyone that should have been her friend judged her and condemned her long before this. Would this be the worst thing she has ever done? According to Harry, she was already too far gone to bother to save. What if she did sleep with the enemy? What if she did let herself have what she wanted for the first time in a while?

Because being wrapped in his arms, his lips like ice and fire as they ghosted over her skin, his fingers delving deeper into her waistband, it was like making love to a horcrux. The only things that ever made her feel alive. And right now – she felt fucking alive.

"Are you sure about that?" Tom bit her earlobe, his fingers dancing across her waist. "Because I don't think you want to."

His fingers on her throat flexed slightly, his lips now fully against her ear, his hot breath invading her hearing. "Are you wet for me, my pet?"

My pet…

She wanted to scold him. Wanted to slap the ego off of his face for talking to her in such a way but what was the point? Because as he asked, she felt herself getting warmer and hotter as her thighs pressed together. His fingers were constantly teasing her as she silently begged them to go farther. But Tom wasn't one to give in. He wanted to hear her beg, and she knew it. Her fingers tightened in his hair as she felt herself squirm – her body tense, begging for release. Release that she only ever achieved with his horcruxes on her.

It had been her darkest moment when she was free. One night, after a particularly awful fight where she took more lives than she saved, she went back to her room feeling like a zombie. There had been no tears cried, no victory felt. She was hallow and she needed to feel. The horcruxes wrapped her in their dark cocoon – her magic blending with his in an out of control spiral and before she knew it, in a true moment of yearning and desire, she had made herself reach a climax with his ring against her most sensitive part of herself and his necklace clutched between her breasts.

It was dark.

It was erotic.

It was intoxicating.

And right now, wrapped in Tom's arms, that feeling was coming back. He felt just like his horcruxes did and it felt familiar. She had missed them so much since they had been destroyed and now here they were, in human form that she could touch and could touch her back.

And God, did she want it.

"Just say the word, Hermione", he continued petting her and kissing her neck. "Just say the word, and I can make you feel so much better than you ever have before."

Just give it to it. No one has to see…

Fuck it…

Hermione nodded frantically. There was no smile. The was no easing into this. Just blind panic and frenzy in her as that was all he needed. In a second, he slid his hand down the front of her - his fingers now ghosting over her panties that were soaked from the ongoing game that they were playing.

Tom hummed appreciatively. "I knew you were wet for me."

Before she could scold him for his narcissism, Hermione bent slightly against him, her back to his front as his fingers slid past the side of her panties and caressed the edge of her folds.

His breath was now coming hot and fast in her ear as he continued to stroke her dripping folds. Hermione fidgeted on her feet at the teasing of it all, her eyes squeezed shut.

And before she could stop herself, her voice came out in quiet agony. "Please, Tom…"

Apparently that was all he needed because his hand tightened firmly against her neck as his fingers slipped past and finally started circling her clit.

"Oh God – "Hermione moaned as she gripped his wrist.

Tom hissed. "God is not in this room."

He continued to circle her clit in maddening ways that even she didn't know how to do, and it felt. So. Good. Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Only I can make you feel this good", he bit into her ear and without warning, he pushed a finger inside. Inside. Hermione bucked into his hand as her grip tightened on his wrist.

"Yes, Tom – just like that."

She would regret this tomorrow. Probably even right after this was done, but right now – with his fingers in her, his lips hot against her skin, she thought fuck the Order. Fuck Harry and Ron for never taking my side. Fuck the 'Light' for always being dark and fuck anyone who judges me for what I do what needs to be done.

Because like Pansy, Tom certainly never judged her for her indiscretions. Tom continued to pump into her. Hermione felt deliciously filled as he inserted another finger into her, the sounds of her desire for him filling the room. She was embarrassed at how turned on she was but got over it quickly when she felt him bend her over slightly, grinding hard into her backside and she felt it. Just how much he was in the moment with her. He moved his free hand to underneath her shirt and pushed past her bra, not even bothering to ask if it was okay as he twirled her nipple in between his two fingers. His teeth gnawing and biting into her now sensitive neck.

He was an animal, and she was truly his prey.

Grinding into his hand, Hermione was fully lost in the moment. Her breath coming out heady and harsh, sweat dripping down her temple as she moved his hand in her.

His words coming out in strings of desires made her heart pound and heat swell in her.

"That's it baby. That's it – use my hand. Use my hand to come with. Your cunt feels so good. It's just as soft as I thought – That's it – Are you going to come for me? I've wanted to touch you for so long – use my hand baby – use my hand – you're so beautiful when you cry."

She was crying. Tears were falling down her face as agony was filling her just as much as his fingers were. Her spirit and her body were torn in two – that's what he was doing to her. Despair and desire splitting in half.

It was all over in a second as she finally felt herself crashing down around them, stars in her eyes as her head fell back on his shoulder, sobs wracking her body as she shook in his hand.

"That's it", he whispered as he kissed her temple. "Come down nice and easy."

Her legs gave out from under her, and he thankfully caught her. Sweeping her legs out, he carried her now empty body over to the bed, the gravity of what they had done not quite settling in yet.

He laid her down gently, pulling the covers up to hide away how tiny she felt. Hermione's eyes widened as he continued to make eye contact with her as he lifted his shiny fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

His eyes closed as he seemed to savor it. Opening his eyes, he moved like a viper as he leaned over her, arms on either side of her as he bent his head low, their noses almost touching.

"Next time, I'm going to taste it from the source", he smiled darkly, his eyes filled with a hazy lust. "Do you understand?"

A pit formed in her stomach. "Yes." She nodded, her soul still void of emotion.

"Just to show that I am not a monster, I will let you rest tonight instead of taking your blood."

Hermione said nothing, but apparently that was the wrong thing to do because he looked annoyed a second later.

"Is that not nice of me?" He demanded.

Hermione quickly nodded her head. She would say anything if it meant he would just leave. And it was clear what drove him. He liked being praised. He liked being begged. He liked winning. And clearly he wanted her. That much was obvious. Surprising him, Hermione raised her hands and cupped his face softly.

"That is very nice of you", she said pensively, hoping he wouldn't see the panic in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired."

Immediately his features softened as his anger dissolved from his face. It was terrifying to witness.

"Of course, my pet", He bent down and kissed her forehead. "This was a lot for you. Rest and I will return tomorrow. I have several things I need to discuss with you."

Hermione wanted to cry. She begged for Death to take her when she first arrived here, and her prayers had been answered. Death certainly had taken her tonight and was seemingly going to keep her.

Hermione did nothing but nod her understanding. Tom thankfully relinquished her and started walking towards the door but stopped just short of the handle.

"Oh, I got you something by the way", he told her from his spot. "It's on your bookcase."

And before she could get up and look, he had left, shutting the door firmly behind him. For a moment, she didn't think she had the strength to get up and look, but curiosity killed the cat. Sitting up, she leaned forward and saw books lining the shelves.

When did those get there?

Getting up slowly, the soreness between her legs was already evident, she walked cautiously to the shelves. They were old, but still in good condition. Whoever had owned these obviously had cared for them greatly. Opening the cover, she flipped through a text on ancient runes in Egypt that looked familiar when a stamp on the back of the cover caught her eye.

Property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She had seen this book before! Right there on the check out card was the small, scribbled front of: Hermione J. Granger.

A small smile quirked on her lips as she recalled checking this book out in Year 1 when she was on a real Egyptian Gods kick. She was about to put the card away when someone else's signature near the top of the card caught her eye: Tom M. Riddle.

Closing the cover, she checked every book and yes, they were all from Hogwarts. Briefly forgetting about her leud act just moments prior, her mind started racing. He had gone to Hogwarts. When had he gone? Was it recently? Who would just have these books in their possession? He had to have gone there recently in hopes to find something about the Order. Would he be going back soon?

All of the pieces were scattered but they were coming together. He wanted her and he had brought her a present. He was manipulating her. For what? To join them? Was he gearing her up to recruit her? To fight for him? To seduce her to be on his side? Hermione could get closer to him than she previously thought because if she could get close enough to him for him to trust her on another trip to Hogwarts, she could get close enough to the Gryffindor tower that housed a portkey.

Freedom could be closer than she thought.