Intoxication

"And so, being young and dipped in folly,

I fell in love with melancholy."

- Edgar Allen Poe

Chapter 13: Trust

"So, uh- do you want to talk about it?" Pansy eyed Hermione from her spot on the loveseat they shared.

"Nope."

Hermione plopped two sugar cubes into her tea and stirred it with a flick of her finger. Her magic always seemed diminished while she was in here but at least she could do minimal magic. She suspected that Tom was putting magic debilitating potions in her food.

Paranoid of him… For good reason.

If she didn't talk about it, she could keep living in denial. Which was fine because this wasn't real. None of it was.

This wasn't reality. This wasn't her reality.

She was not being held prisoner. Her blood was not keeping Voldemort alive. And she most certainly did not climax the night before. Because there was no way in hell that he wanted her in that way. There was no reality that could exist where someone like Tom Marvolo fucking Riddle ever could have the emotional capacity to desire another human. How could someone like him, a monster, the very scourge of this Earth, have a sexual appetite of any kind?

All of her life spent in the wizarding world, he had always been a threat. Not even a threat – the threat. He was the reason she was relentlessly bullied by the Slytherins; he was the reason why 'mudblood' got carved into her arm by that psycho, he was the reason why everyone had died or was dying or was soon to be dead. He was a plague among the world, scarring the ground with every step, not caring who he infected.

And now –

Everything had shifted. Everything she known to be true about the demon that was Voldemort, turned Tom Riddle, was turned on its head. Recalling when she first saw him at the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been truly terrified. The stories Harry had told her about him paled in comparison. He looked sick. Disgusting and decayed, like a dying serpent. Blood red eyes that shone from across the courtyard that could strike fear into darkness itself.

His hot breath against my neck, his lips in my ear, his hand touching me –

Hermione was sick. Was she really so bewitched by a beautiful face that all of her morals went out the window? Not that her windows in this forsaken room opened besides that one time…

Sleep had evaded her. How could one go to sleep coming down from such a high that was having sexual relations with your enemy and then being given one of the best gifts she had ever gotten?

Her mind was burning with questions. Surely he didn't just have books from Hogwarts lying around. Why would he even have them? The last time she was aware that he was at Hogwarts is when Harry and he had almost killed each other, and it was extremely laughable to think that Voldemort would have waltzed into the library to take some light reading with him.

What was he doing there? She would be naïve to think he went there just to get her books. It had to be for a greater reason, and he just happened to think of her along the way.

He thought about you… He saw books and thought they'd make you happy.

Hermione felt flutters in her stomach as she did her best to mentally stomp on them. It didn't matter if he had thought about her. What mattered is when he was going again. He went there to do something. See something… Find something…

Hogwarts held secrets that nobody would ever fully uncover. It would be impossible to. It was a castle where even the walls breathed secrets. He had to be looking for something that would aide him in his goal. His mission. But what was his goal now? What else could he possibly achieve than just to kill Harry and say 'Yay! I did it!'? He had already destroyed all of the United Kingdom and other parts of Europe. What more is there?

Pushing the thought train to the side of what his end goals were during the night, she could practically see the portkey sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It would still be there assuredly. All the Gryffindors knew to always leave it there should one of their own need an escape. And if anyone needed an escape, it was her. But the only way to get there was through him and he would never willingly let her go unless he felt like he needed her to, that it was his idea. After their indiscretions last night, she couldn't help but ponder if she was just an ends to a means for him or something more.

And as the sun rose that morning before Pansy had graced Hermione with her presence, she finally let her sleepy thoughts drift to him. Not Voldemort, not his missions or goals, but him…

The him that came into her room like a whisper of a ghost, cold wrapping itself around her body like tendrilled silk. His smooth lips against her skin as she finally let herself admit that having him hold her felt the safest she had ever felt. That his tall, broad chest hugging her to him made her feel like nothing could touch her.

His fingertips felt like lightening as they ghosted over her, entering her as if he needed it. Hermione was not a fool to think that nothing would ever transpire between them again. He was inevitable and she was one of his current desires. Looking at him, it was impossible to associate with who he is now to what he was and the more she was forced to spend her time with him, the more she forgot about Voldemort and his insanity.

Yes, Tom was psychotic, but it wasn't without logic. Although he was still hellbent on making the world burn, he was calculated and even keeled. She was loathed to admit it, but he had hypnotized her the first time she saw him. He was exquisite to behold, and it wasn't difficult to see why people were so easy to fall in line behind him in his prime. He had been her only ally when he was a voice in her fluid consciousness and in the pockets of her heart, she had become dependent on it. He had made her feel less alone, less like an outsider. It was easy to turn in on oneself when their most faithful companion was in their head.

For so long she had wanted the smooth, deep male voice to have a physical entity that she could touch and hold. Fate must have cruel plans for her because it seemed her prayers had been answered in the most twisted of ways. The voice she loved so much and the feeling of her horcruxes she coveted had wrapped themselves together in a beautiful man that touched her like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

Too bad it's just Lord fucking Voldemort…

She had to get to that Gryffindor tower and the only way was to get closer to Tom and wrapping herself around him just as much as he wanted to wrap himself around her. Not even she would admit to Pansy that the thought of continuing this sick relationship with Tom excited her in ways that made her both terrified and stimulated in the most delicious way. Would she ever be able to explain this to Harry or Ron? Would they ever be able to understand the circumstances that she has to be forced into to survive?

No.

They couldn't ever find out. And they wouldn't find out. She wouldn't give herself fully to Tom. He liked the game. He liked the fight, and he liked the chase. And she would never stop running. But even she knew she could only run so far before she would run right into his hands. But the goal would always remain. Get close to him to get away.

That's all she had to do.

Get close so you can get away.

"I don't know how you expect me to just ignore something like this", Pansy laughed sarcastically. Like Hermione was being the ridiculous one.

Her face turning stiff, Hermione felt a tightness in her neck that was asking to be loosened.

"Talking about it isn't going to change anything. So, what is there to talk about?"

Sighing loudly, Pansy turned to her. "I know you were a social pariah in school but surely you had girlfriends to talk to about this kind of thing?"

Hermione snorted. "Is that what we're calling my current situation cause if so, hardly. I had few female friends and the ones I did manage to have; we were kind of, uh- busy with bigger things than talking about 'girl talk'."

Hermione's fingers hooking in the air around the words and then a sullen, coarse laugh came out of her.

"The fact that I didn't have time to talk to my friends about boy troubles because we were dealing with bigger problems that were caused by the man I am currently having problems with. What a sick twist of irony."

Hermione ached for an outlet. A duel. A fight. A drink. A cigarette. Anything to get the rage mounting in her out of her body.

Kissing – petting – sex.

Hermione scowled. Well – maybe not anything…

Turning her scowling face to the prim girl next to her. "What would even be the point? It's not like you'd talk to me about your problems, let alone the ones involving boys…"

Pansy's face briefly fell with what could be described as mild hurt. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends aren't we?"

Hermione felt like an arse.

The girl had been nothing but nice to her since their first encounter and didn't ask for anything in return, which in Hermione's case, was exceedingly rare in a time when resources were so limited. The wall of never trusting another person over the years of being betrayed, almost killed, and hunted had turned Hermione into a true cynic. A cynic that never gave people the benefit of doubt anymore and certainly didn't show vulnerability.

But Pansy was different.

She was honest and caring. It may not be everyone's form of caring, but Hermione would be a dunce to not realize Pansy clearly cared for her.

The Gryffindor deep in her gave her a sense of guilt and shame at her callousness.

"We are." Hermione gave her a small smile.

A friend. A real friend…

A feeling of bliss bloomed in Hermione's steel heart and for the first time since she was in school, she felt the excitement and buzz of what it was to make a friend – a true friend.

"So do you have boy troubles then?" Hermione angled her body towards Pansy, her legs folded in front of her to show that she was engaged in the conversation.

Pansy's cheeks tinted pink as she smiled shyly. "Not trouble, but a boy, yes."

Hermione's face warmed at the love stricken expression on her friend's face. "I'm going to take a strong leap of faith and say it's one of the Slytherin trio."

Pansy laughed. "You'd be correct. Theo, to be exact."

Theo Nott… The reason why you're here…

"Oh", Hermione nodded slowly, no longer looking at her friend and no longer feeling the warmth in her face. She was still unsure of what she was ultimately going to do to her old classmate in terms of vengeance. Not sure of whether to rip his heart out and tear it in half in front of him or maim him to the point he wished he was dead because all Hermione felt was a sense of betrayal towards the boy. It's not that they were ever close. They were on opposing sides, but he knew what was going to happen to her and he doomed her to this reality. And it's not like they didn't know each other. They had even been partners on several potion projects.

"I know… You must hate him, right?" Pansy frowned. "He's the reason you're here."

Perceptive.

"Hates a strong word", Hermione stated, not meeting Pansy's gaze. "But I definitely feel some type of way, yes."

"He said you almost killed him."

Hermione smirked involuntarily. "I almost did. Twice, actually."

"Why didn't you?"

With that question, Hermione's fiery stare met her new friends boldly and without helping herself, she said plain as day," It wasn't the right time yet."

"Yet?" Pansy asked, the fear evident in her eyes.

Hermione didn't budge. Her face expressed nothing.

"Yet."

Pansy said nothing as she looked past Hermione. Not at anything in particular but Hermione assumed it was because her statement of the truth probably rattled her friend.

"I'm sorry if that is too transparent." Hermione offered.

"No, it's not that", Pansy shook her head. She didn't look mad. She didn't look upset or even sad. More thoughtful. "I'm just remembering a conversation Theo and I had the other night… Some of the things he said are starting to make sense."

Some of the things he said? In reference to me?

"Was he warning you about me?" Her eyebrows knit together, and an angry flare rose up in her chest. She had just let her walls down slightly to welcome in a friend and she was already being warned off.

Pansy looked at Hermione, but her expression was soft. Understanding.

"He did, but it doesn't bother me. I accepted a long time ago that everyone's lives here are in a constant balance of being taken away at any point and time. If Theo dies by your hand for your revenge, then that is what fate has destined for him. I am not going to apologize for his actions or that I love him regardless of those actions. I know who he is and what he does. I love him anyways. I can't help it. I'm sorry that he took you from your friends and family."

Pansy looked down, like what she was about to say next couldn't be said to Hermione's face but before Hermione could say another word, Pansy looked up at her.

"But I am not sorry enough that I am happy I finally have someone here that I can spend time with and talk to that isn't a man, Death Eater, or male classmate. I am selfish in that I am happy you're here because I'm not as alone anymore."

Hermione was shocked. Her brown eyes wide and for once in her life, she was at a loss for words. Because deep down, she felt the same way towards Pansy. If being captured had any silver lining, it was the girl in front of her that exuded kindness and generosity towards her far more than anyone else ever had. As far as being a prisoner goes, Hermione got lucky with Pansy.

It was time for Hermione to trust, even if it was a little bit at a time in the most unlikely person.

"To be fair to yourself, I wasn't really taken from that many friends or family." Hermione admitted sullenly.

Pansy seemed surprised.

"How do you mean? You were taken from the Order's headquarters were you not?"

"Yeah", Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "But that wasn't home, I assure you."

"They uh- disapprove of my methods."

Pansy said nothing, letting Hermione continue.

"I guess all life is sacred… Cause that's what right. That's what we Gryffindors do. We protect and serve like the best little officers there are. 'Fight for the light! Save everyone we can! Anyone can change!' – Hermione said in a mocking tone – "Even if it's trying to kill you, torture you, maim you, or whatever else these sick fucks can think of. And I fight… Merlin- I fight Pansy. And if it's my life or the danger that's in front of me, I choose to take out the danger every time. And if that makes me heartless, if that makes me a bad person, then maybe…"

Hermione turned her head away from her friend because the words that were easily coming out almost revealed a truth that she wasn't aware of until right now.

"Then maybe I'm right where I should be."

Would fate really be so cruel to her? Was this her cosmic punishment? She always believed divination and looking into the stars for answers to be pointless, choosing to believe that the world was logical. Fate always seemed like a copout to her. That people who chalked things up to fate were just possibly irresponsible and didn't take charge of their own lives or choices. Where did all of that logic get her in the end? Because here she was… In the pits of hell with a Fallen Angel dreamt of nightmares.

"Well, if that's the case- "Pansy's soft voice cut through Hermione's internal spiraling," Then luck is on my side."

Hermione voiced nothing, but she allowed her small smile to say everything. A few more moments of silence passed between the two before Pansy suggested the impossible.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

The grounds were bleak and grey. Dead trees surrounded them, their skeletal branches bent like broken limbs. Although her surroundings were grim, Hermione couldn't help but feel renewed. Hearing the leaves crunch under her feet, the cool air caressing her skin, she inhaled deeply, taking another sip of air when her lungs felt fully expanded.

"Miss it?" Pansy asked, her arm linked through Hermione's.

"Mmm." Hermione moaned in return; eyes closed, her hair dancing in the breeze as she bent her head back, relishing in the moment of feeling free, even if it was for a moment. Out here, Tom didn't feel so large. Out here she didn't feel his claws sinking into her or his velvety voice coaxing her. Out here, her brain had room.

But like everything in Hermione's life, the moment was too good to last; because as she kept her head bent back, her face towards the greying sky, a small gasp was elicited form Pansy that shattered the very fragile piece of glass that was Hermione's peace.

Hermione's eyes cracked open, staying at the blanket of clouds as her eyes fell to the side to look at her companion. Pansy's eyes didn't meet Hermione's but instead the curly-haired girl's neck that was previously covered up by a brown turtleneck that Pansy had provided in the clothes she had given her.

The brown turtleneck that was specifically chosen for today. The brown turtleneck that was specifically chosen for how much of her neck it covered to hide the now yellowish purple love bite that was in the shape of Tom's mouth. The brown turtleneck that helped her forget about what happened. But she should have known…

Should have known that even out here, in the first real moment of freedom she felt with her friend, he would find a way to ruin it. But as Pansy stared at her neck, at Tom's visual representation that he was marking her, the walls of defensive were starting to come up as the walls of trust were going down.

"I said I don't want to talk about it", Hermione coldly stated, eyeing her sharply.

Pansy glanced up at her, her expression cool. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did."

The two girls stood there, assessing each other calmly. Because Hermione could hear Pany's thoughts. Thoughts that Hermione did not care to answer because as much as her reality was thrown, and what was going on between her and Tom was confusing in the most complicated way, it was between them. She would analyze her complex feelings of both animosity for Tom and weird protection later, but right now, she pleaded for the moment to move on. And that moment was shockingly: Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.

"What is she doing out here?" Draco's face was furious at seeing the two girls together. Nott seemed less surprised.

"She needed some air."

Before her eyes, she saw Pansy turned into them. A Slytherin. A Pureblood princess. A woman raised in refinement and ball gowns. As she turned to the two gentlemen behind them, her grip tightened on Hermione's arm, her shoulders held back, her back straight, and her face taut with privilege.

It what she always knew the girl to be in school.

"What are you two doing out here besides disturbing our outing?" Pansy asked shamelessly.

Malfoy sneered. "I went to her room to get her. The Dark Lord has requested her audience."

"Well… He's just going to have to wait."

Hermione's eyes went wide as she whipped her head to look at Pansy who was eyeing the two boys coyly, a smirk pulling at the side of her mouth. Malfoy seemed at a loss for words as Theo frowned.

"Pans, you know she shouldn't be out here", Theo walked over to Hermione and grabbed her other arm, pulling her towards him. "What if she were to escape? What if she hurt you?"

"She is right here!" Hermione yanked her arms out of both of their grips. "And she would never hurt Pansy. Don't be ridiculous."

"And I'm not going to run. This may shock you lot- "Hermione pushed past Nott to stand away from him but closer to Malfoy – "But I don't take the most obvious escape route I see. I will be escaping, I promise you that. But I'm offended, hurt, really, that you thought I'd take the first chance I got. Are we that far removed from school that you two have forgotten who and what I am?"

Crossing her arms, she smirked at the tall Malfoy heir next to her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, ferret, but you were what - second in our class? Remind me again who was first?"

Pansy had a shit eating grin on her face while Nott was actively keeping pulled in to keep from laughing. Malfoy glared at first. The displeasure evident on his face but to her surprise – he smiled – albeit viciously, but a smile nonetheless before leaning towards her.

"You were first", he bit out through his teeth. "I suppose you had to achieve something in your life like grades since you were never going to achieve anything else. Almost like you saw your mundane future."

"One more thing than you ever achieved."

Nott's laugh was let out as Pansy looked pleased at the flushed face Malfoy.

"Come on", he growled, grabbing her upper arm and pushing her towards the building. "Before anyone else see's you out here."

The duo walked away from the young couple as they turned to each other, Nott no doubt giving Pansy grief for letting Hermione out of her containment.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" Malfoy hissed at her, keeping his hands off of her but not his distance.

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically. "What did I do now? I've literally been in a room 24/7 unless one of you lets me out."

"Yeah, and every time you're let out, you put us more at risk."

"At risk of what?"

"Just at risk", he repeated, but his shoulders were tense.

How childish…

Hermione huffed.

"Do you really hate me this much?" Hermione asked, stopping in her place. Malfoy turned to face her. He was wearing a long black sleeve shirt and blank pants that clashed drastically against his fair skin and white hair that was brushed back. She always hated it when he brushed it back, but he had grown into himself. He no longer was the pointed face bully that was too small for his potential and too big for his ego. He was a man that had been through the same war she had been, and he looked tired. Exhausted, even.

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy looked at her, his ashy glaring at her.

"This!" She wagged her finger between them. "You're on-going hatred for the mudblood know-it-all… Aren't we past it at this point or are you still holding on to childish qualms?"

He looked down at her from his tall stance every bit of the prejudiced, rich snob that he was.

"You really think quite highly of yourself your insufferable know-it-all to think that I would care even remotely about you at this point in my life. I barely cared about you when we were in school."

His voice was dripping in anger and malice, his teeth shining in the light, his eyes turned to silver slits as he glared at her.

"Every time I have come across you in the short time that you've been here, every time, you put one of my friends, one of the people I actually care about, at risk. Do you think my 'master' as you so kindly put it has the leniency for all of us the way he has with you?"

Hermione blanched, her heart skipping beats. Was Tom's need for her becoming noticeable so soon?

Malfoy walked towards her, slowly. Each step outlined with words of disdain.

"Do you think he allows just anyone to challenge him so freely? You're here because you are a hostage to getting the Order to reveal themselves. The rest of us are here because we're fucking trapped by our parent's decisions for us."

Hermione's heart dropped just a fraction of an inch at his admittance.

"Malfoy, I didn't –"

He held up his hand, cutting her off.

"I don't need your sympathy. None of us do. What I feel for you isn't hatred. That would mean there is a possibility that I could one day not hate you."

He stood in front of her, his face twisted to something dark.

"You really want to know what I think?"

"I think you are a blemish to our world. An accident that shouldn't have happened. A virus that your mother's body should have gotten rid of. I don't know how you keep managing to maneuver your way out of death, but make no mistake mudblood, your time is coming and when it does, I want to be there to watch. Watch as your entire Order burns in flames with your body thrown on top of it. Then and only then, will the few that I care about not be at risk any longer."

Hermione's body tensed at his words because she could feel every ounce of meaningfulness in his words. She looked up at him, daring herself not to look away as he flashed his canines.

"Stay away from my friends", he bit out. "And if you're ever challenged to duel against me, know that I will kill you. I don't care if you are being used as leverage."

Turning to walk down the hallway, Hermione didn't feel the need to reply. Because they both knew if they were to ever duel, she would kill him too. What was between them was archaic and prejudiced; and she didn't care.

He deserves to die…

He offers nothing anyways.

Shut up…

Why was this still happening? She scowled as Tom's voice echoed through her mind again. Following Malfoy's long strides, they finally came upon two doors that were sealed shut. Waving his wand, Malfoy gestured for her to go in.

"After you."

Her eyes went from Malfoy's outstretched hand to the doorknob and with extreme caution, she turned the knob, stepping through the threshold. The door slammed behind her eliciting a yelp of surprise from her.

The room was warm and smelled like Tom. Musky with a hint of clean and distinctly male.

Oh, God…

She was in his rooms. Walking forward, her whole body on edge, she glanced around the sitting room she was now in and saw there was no Tom. The room was nice. Filled with shelves housing books, some in piles on the floor, some opened. A bar in the far corner, a fireplace lit, a sitting area, and doors she assumed led to his bedroom.

Stay away from that…

Walking further into the room, he still didn't appear. The amber liquid in the glass bottles called out to her, having not had a drink in a long, long time. Cigarette butts were smashed into an ashtray, one was still smoking showing that he was here recently.

Great…

But Malfoy had been right. Tom allowed her leniency, and she was going to take advantage of it. It was clear that Malfoy resented her for it or else he wouldn't have brought it up. Were the others going to resent her? Would it drive a wedge between them and their 'Lord'? What would his followers think if they knew he had depraved himself by kissing and touching a mudblood?

Would they even believe her? Pansy did, but she wasn't willing to get close enough to his Death Eaters to rat him out. But it could be used to her advantage - if they saw him actively favoring her. It was clear to her that they didn't know what he needed her for. Everyone, even Pansy, thought he was keeping her as prisoner for leverage to reveal the Order. Not for her blood… The fools.

Could she dismantle his organization from the inside in her endeavor to get him to allow her to go to Hogwarts?

If you feed into it just right…

"Does your brain ever slow down?"

The glass she was holding dropped from her hand as Tom's voice startled her, shattering across the ground, liquid splattering.

Her heart went into her throat as she glanced at Tom. He looked happy to see her. His face was warm, a pleasant smile on his face. With a wave of his hand, the glass scraped against the floor, the liquid forming itself back into drinkable liquid as it poured back into the glass, the glass overing to her hand.

"No use crying over spilled firewhiskey", he snarked, walking towards her and every previous thought Hermione had right before he startled her, vanished. It was so easy to get carried away in plots and plans and escapes when he wasn't in the room with her because it was easy to forget how intimating and imposing he was. But as he stood before her, the length between them cut, he felt like a force of nature, all-consuming and destructive.

"Thank you", Hermione said, trying to appear confident. She was a lot more confident before their leud act the previous night. He had known how she felt, how she sounded… He had brought her to climax and put her to bed like he cared for her. It was maddeningly confusing.

He reached for the glass in her hand, taking it and setting it gingerly on the countertop.

"Come", he led her to the couch, her small hand in his, his grip firm like he was afraid she would try to run away. He sat down, pulling her down next to him. He left go of her hands and since she had entered this room, she finally felt a sense of relief.

"I imagine you're confused as to why I brought you here instead of me visiting you", he stated. Hermione had to dig deep into herself to find the lioness that had been sleeping since she woke up.

"Visiting is an interesting way of phrasing it", she muttered, "But I suppose, yes."

Tom's eyes twinkled darkly in the lukewarm light filling his room and she knew that he would forever disarm her in his appearance and how he held himself.

"I told you I have things I needed to discuss with you today", Tom recited his sentence from last night to her. "After I had let you rest."

At that comment she could feel her cheeks immediately flushed, the shame and excitement of it refusing to let her look at him.

"You did mention something like that, yes", Hermione nodded. Her skin prickled as his finger trailed over the top of her bent thigh.

"Tell me- have you ever heard of the Cursed Vaults?"

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Pages of texts started laying before her in her mind as the words came together like recited poetry.

"Yes", she nodded slowly, her mind pulling at the different references she had read. "Five legendary rooms that are said to hold treasures of great fortune or terrible destruction. They are believed to be somewhere on the Hogwarts schoolgrounds."

Hogwarts… The books he had gotten for you…

The habit could hardly be helped. Knowledge and putting together pieces of a puzzle excited Hermione more than anything else and as she saw Tom's plans working out in her mind, she couldn't help but show her 'know-it-all' tendencies.

"Is that why you went to Hogwarts recently?" She looked at him with wide eyes. "You were looking for a Cursed Vault? Was it in the library? Have you seen it? How did you know it was there?"

Tom looked positively devastating. His teeth shone like crystals, his black eyes glittering with pride as he moved closer. So close that before Hermione could ask another question, voicing her rapid thoughts, his lips pressed into hers hard. He pushed her deeper into the couch, a deep moan eliciting from deep within him.

Hermione's eyes were opened, looking at his lids that were closed so tightly, it almost looked like he was in pain.

This shouldn't be happening…

Just let it happen.

Shut up!

She hissed at his voice again. Placing her hands against his shoulders, she pushed against him with force. His lips were pink and slightly puffy, his eyes shone with a hazy lust that was filled want and pride.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Hermione whispered. It was awkward. It was degrading. It was hot. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating and if he kept coming at her like this, it was only a matter of time before she became addicted. She had to walk the line of becoming wrapped around him to get what she wanted in the end but not to become so wrapped around him that she would plummet. The line was so fragile that she could already feel herself slipping into his hands.

His sculpted face that surely broke many hearts the first time he looked like this smiled charmingly at her, his cheeks pink with heat. "Because I need you, Hermione. I told you that the first time I took your blood."

I need you… Next time…

His words echoed in her ears. How far they had strayed since then.

He continued to slowly push against her hands so that his lips caressed her skin, a humming warmth filled her stomach.

"You are like none that I've met and it's so – refreshing… There are so few that value intelligence the way that I do. It is a trait that I covet, a trait that not many inherit. So rarely I get the pleasure of meeting others I deem intellectually capable and just now, the way you recite your knowledge, it's like poetry to me."

"But!"

He pulled back, seemingly pleased at how flustered Hermione was in both terror and lust, sitting at the other side of the couch like nothing had just happened.

"I am not bringing up the Cursed Vaults just to test you. I have found one and I believe you are the key to help me unlock and retrieve what is inside of it."

Pushing down her emotions and feelings that were far too complex to unravel at this time, Hermione sat forward like nothing had happened. She had a mission to accomplish. "And you know for a fact it is a Cursed Vault? That it's not just another trick room to lead people on?"

He leaned forward, determination in his voice. "I am positive, Hermione. I would not and do not lie."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yeah right… Like lying would be the worst atrocity you have ever done."

Looking over at him, he did not smile. He did not see the humor in what she had said.

"I do not lie", he stated sternly. "Do I omit the truth? Perhaps – but I do not lie. I have no reason to."

"Omitting the truth is the practically the same thing", she retorted.

"Hardly", Tom sneered. "But that's besides the point. You either believe me or you don't, but it matters not. I will be recruiting you and a few choice others to join me on my next expedition to open the Cursed Vault in question."

She couldn't help herself. She had to know. "Have you found all of them? Or just the one you were looking?"

"The one I was looking for is the only one I have found coincidentally. The others do not hold my interested at this time."

"I wonder what's in it…" Hermione buzzed at the possibilities. "I wonder what it will be like to see it. I've read that the inside of them is enchanting. Like nothing you'd ever seen before."

"Would you like to be with me when the time comes?" Tom asked and Hermione immediately perked up. He would let her accompany him to see something that maybe only a few, if anyone, had ever seen before? Her plans to escape were falling like sand between her fingertips at the once in a lifetime opportunity. But surely she could do both, right? If she played her cards right?

The true pursuit of knowledge was beginning to outweigh her need for escape, and it was sitting in her guilty conscious like a rock.

He could just be lying to her though… To get her to help him. He was deceitful and cunning, and if the Slytherins were known for anything, it was to do whatever it took to meet their ends.

"You would really let me be with you?" She eyed him suspiciously. "You're not lying to me?"

Tom had the nerve to look offended. His black eyes widened slightly as his jaw slacked.

"I just said I am not a liar", he told her, her offense to him clear in his tone. "If I didn't want you to be with me, I simply would have not said anything."

What was his game?! The way he looked at her now, it was like how a boy likes at a girl when he cares about her. Like they were the only two people in the world and like she actually had meant something to him. When did their relationship, if one could ever call it that, take such a swift turn? Hermione felt like she could barely keep up. The denial she had coated herself with from this morning was withering away at the seams as her new reality was taking place. How could someone like him have the capacity to feel such depth for someone like her?

"Why are you doing this?" She repeated in an agonized whisper. "I don't understand what you're getting out of this. Playing this ongoing mindfuck of a game with me…"

He cocked his head to the side as he continued to stare at her with onyx eyes that shone like her darkest desires. Without saying anything, he grabbed her, pulling her to him, and awkwardly positioned her in his lap. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as they stared into each other's eyes, only their breaths mingling and in that moment – he looked human. He looked like Tom. He looked like a 25 year old man that was on a mission to become immortalized. He looked beautiful.

"I will continue to say it", he choked out, his eyes glancing down to her lips before returning to her eyes," I need you."

Gulping her fear down, she met his gaze boldly. "You need my blood, or me?"

He didn't say anything at first. He looked away and in a truth that she would take to the grave, it made her feel sick slightly. Not that he would want her. Not that he was touching her or kissing her.

No –

That he hesitated. That he had to think for a moment, but as she started to spiral at the fear of rejection and the fear of losing her soul, his eyes met hers, flashing briefly to red and then back to black that left her speechless, he wordlessly pressed his lips firmly into hers. And the moment was lost.

Her hands drove into his hair, gripping it slightly as she bent his head back, deepening the kiss. He groaned in approval, his hands moving down to grip her thighs firmly. His tongue searched for hers, looking for purchase, and as she let him, she saw his eyes roll back into his head.

A moment that she would never forget.

But she needed her answer. She let go of his lips and looked down at him, he blinked slowly.

"You."

And with his admittance of truth, Hermione hissed loudly as he dragged a knife that he had conjured against her thigh, blood starting to seep out of her flesh and she would have sworn nothing else would have shocked her. That her kissing Tom Riddle, him letting her accompany him to see a Cursed Vault, her becoming friends with Pansy Parkinson, and her blood being used to keep him young were the most shocking things to ever happen to her, but she would have been wrong. Because as she looked down at her weeping thigh, he turned the handle of the conjured blade towards her. She took the black handle gingerly and gasped as he held out his palm.

"Can I trust you?" She heard him ask. She looked up at him. His face was placid. His voice monotone. Everything about him was stagnant as he waited for her answer.

'Can I trust you?'

It was a loaded question. He was asking several things in that one question. Can I trust you not to kill me? Can I trust you with my lust and desires? Can I trust you to give me your blood willingly? Can I trust you to bring you to Hogwarts?

You have a route to freedom… Swallow your pride for the greater good.

And at that moment, she knew what her decision would be. And the most horrifying part was it wasn't that hard to make it. For which reason, she wasn't sure.

Nodding wordlessly, she held his hand gingerly on her own and dragged the tip of the blade across his palm. He didn't hiss like she did, but she heard him inhale sharply. Red drops prickled at his hand and before he could take the knife away from her, she tossed it to the floor.

He looked victorious. His face beamed at her in understanding and alliance that filled the small pockets of her heart and as he kissed his mouth back onto her hers, clamping her bottom lips in between his teeth, he slid his palm against the open wound of her thigh. Fire poured throughout her veins but as his tongue invaded her mouth and his free hand kneaded into her backside pushing her further into him, she wasn't sure if it was from him taking her blood or him taking her passion.