Intoxication

"Dream of me. Only me."

- Nosferatu

Chapter 15: Broken Floors

"How's it going with Pansy?"

Draco's voice echoed through the empty street of lower East Sussex. Cracked cobblestone made way through dilapidated homes that housed only memories. The Slytherin Trio had been sent on a specific mission that they were not to disclose to anyone, according to their Master. To find a woman that was rumored to reside in the carcasses of the homes. They were given no description, no hints, no clues.

Theo thought it was pointless. What could finding one woman do for them? They already had Granger and the horcruxes had been returned to their rightful owner. Theo hardly thought this one person that had been sent out to find would show them the way to the Order. If Granger didn't know where the Order was located, what good would some random beggar be? If finding the Order was still even the point to anything…

"Fine, I guess", Theo shrugged. "Just getting through day by day?"

"Is she still-?" Blaise started asking but was immediately cut off by Theo's temper.

"Yes!" Theo snapped, his eyes blazing. "And I don't want to discuss it further than that."

His two friends nodded their understanding and continued their pointless search. Empty steps echoed around them like little bells as the only sound that was emanating from the isolation around them. This torn apart town looked like the one before it, and the one before that. They all seemed to blend into one ashen covered dystopia that not even insects wanted to live in. Houses blown apart to show their insides of a once beloved family home. Cars abandoned in the streets, still and dirt covered like headstones marking their plots. It was sad. It was lonely.

It was because of them.

Theodore Nott was many things. He came from a very wealthy family and was raised solely by a father who wanted nothing to do with him except to pave a way into securing a spot as a Death Eater. He got relatively good grades in school and was not overly popular but found himself comfortable between Blaise and Draco, happy to remain in the shadows but never behind. He stuck to himself for most of his life and appreciated comfortable silence that he so rarely received now. Silence was in abundance around him – comfortability was not.

He believed in their work, in a way. He thought magic to be superior. How could anyone not? They were supernatural beings that exist purely to create the impossible. What were the laws of physics to magic? What was religion and philosophy to someone who could use star dust as an ingredient in a potion that could break every law known to man? Is it so wrong to hide from the world when you are the superior race? It wasn't difficult to believe in Voldemort's vision. It was revolutionary.

But as he looked at the scorched Earth around him, he didn't see Voldemort's vision.

Theo saw Voldemort's carnage.

Voldemort's relentless determination.

Voldemort's damnation.

Theo wanted to coexist, albeit maybe a little better off than muggles. But he didn't want to decimate them. He had no problem casting an Avada if he needed to, but he so rarely did. It wasn't in his nature. Violence should be avoided if it could be helped. What could violence solve that an open thought educated debate couldn't? Wasn't that the point of the muggle's politics? Yes, war happened, but not before words were exchanged. Voldemort didn't even try to reason with them or talk to them. He went in straight for the kill with that dead, cold withering glare that he possesses.

The one that Hermione possesses.

Thinking about Granger sent a shudder through his spine. He didn't understand what Pansy saw her. Granger didn't evoke nearly the same amount of intimidation and fear he had for the Dark Lord, but she was horrifying in her own way.

There was no doubt that the war had messed her up in a bad way.

Gryffindors and Slytherins were never meant to get along. Like fire and ice, both powerful, but together, can't be. He always thought of the two houses being like two sides of the same coin. Both wanted greatness, both pushed themselves past what others could perceive as normal or healthy, but for who they accomplished these great feats for was the difference. Slytherins were for self-preservation, as anyone should be. Cunning and calculated, they made great adversaries, but for those only they deem worthy. Gryffindors valued everyone. It was nauseating. People betray you. People always put themselves first. Slytherins always did… Take Potter's parents for example. The disgusting rat fellow that was their best mate threw sent them to their grave the first chance he got. And he was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!

The 'Golden Trio' in school was a source of contention for his fellow snakes. Theo never really saw the point in hating them so openly, but he certainly was not a fan. Like most Gryffindors, the outwardly, vocal self-righteousness of the group was repetitive and cliché. Weasley was a shoo-in for the House of Red and Gold, but Granger actually surprised him. And of course, the Boy-Who-Lived got sorted into Gryffindor. He actually heard a rumor that he asked the Sorting Hat to place him in Gryffindor. That the hat originally wanted to place him in Slytherin! Theo could hardly believe it. It sounded too grandiose to be true. If Potter had been sorted into Slytherin, he couldn't help but think Voldemort would have gotten to him a lot sooner saving everyone all of this… Mess.

As their years of education progressed, he couldn't help but think Granger would have fit better in Ravenclaw. Every. Single. Class. Hers – was the first hand up, waving frantically like the answers on her tongue had a life of their own. They just couldn't wait to come pouring out of her mouth and shower her fellow classmates with the grace of intellect. It was horrendously annoying and hilarious. Annoying because her shrill voice chittering away the answers first thing in the morning was enough to drive anyone mad, but hilarious for the fact that every time she got a mark higher than Draco, the marble faced boy would turn red and curse the girl's name to oblivion.

It was odd to him that Potter and Weasley befriended the girl so closely. The three of them in school were just the epitome of what Dumbledore represented. He used Potter has an icon, an angel, of all the was righteous and good in this world with Weasley and Granger as his wings to keep him afloat. It made Theo want to retch at times. How could the three of them not see that Dumbledore was using them to see out his own visions? And how dull and blindly they followed him, fighting for a cause that Granger and Potter certainly had no right to be in. They weren't brought up in their world. They weren't raised with their beliefs.

But no…

They just couldn't help themselves. Because that's what Gryffindor's do. And after their Fifth Year, after hearing what happened between Harry, Voldemort, and Dumbledore at the Ministry, he didn't wonder anymore why Granger was sorted into Gryffindor. Her sheer stupidity at ignoring her own self-preservation was answer enough. She valued bravery over knowledge.

The dumb girl.

But now – it had all changed. She didn't have that Golden Trio glow about her. She didn't seem warm and comforting in a way that even Theo couldn't ignore in school. She had radiated kindness and civility to anyone who dared enter her space. Her knowledge, although annoying, was at times inspiring and remarkable in its own way. She seemed unbreakable.

But now, she was shattered. Something or someone, at some point, broke her into pieces that were too fragile to put back together. There was a cold, harsh air to her that seemed to bite at your skin if you were unfortunate enough to find yourself at the end of her wand. When he had been held captive in their pathetic display of a cell, she had come to him alone. The useless duo hadn't flanked her side like they always had everywhere they went. She didn't even seem to mind.

Now that he thought about it… Granger didn't even try to rescue them when the Death Eaters had come for him and the horcruxes. She had only protected herself and her own well-being.

Her own self-preservation.

Something school Hermione never would have done. She would have fought until her dying breath to make sure everyone had escaped. Theo almost rolled his eyes as he pictured what Hermione Granger of but a few years ago would have done…

Hermione Granger would have fought valiantly, staring down the face of fear and Death because that's what Gryffindors bloody do. She would have fought alongside Pothead and Weasel, casting spells and hexes, but not anything too life threatening or dangerous because Merlin forbid they use a spell that would actually incapacitate someone, and they would try to save as many as they could. She would use stupefy until her wand arm was exhausted and then I don't know… Plead with them, I guess, until maybe Death Eaters just put down their wands willingly and the vain, self-righteous Golden Trio would emerge victors and bow upon their cheering crowd while flowers rained like praises around them.

But Hermione did none of that.

She went to him, blasting his cell open and held him essentially hostage at wand point, and used him as an actual human shield.

"Avada Kedavra."

The most forbidden words that could ever be said by a witch or wizard and there was no hesitation. None. It was as natural as breathing to her. The words flowed out of her mouth in a fluid second when a Death Eater appeared before them. The suddenness that she had said it, there was no way for her to tell if it was a member of the Order or a Death Eater. There was no possible way for her to register that in the split second the person appeared – but it didn't matter. She cast the most Unforgivable regardless.

And as Theo trudged along behind his friends, still searching in vain for this mysterious person that was supposed to be here, he realized – it didn't matter to Granger who was at the end of her wand at that moment. It didn't matter if it was someone she knew or a Death Eater. Hell, it probably wouldn't have even mattered if it was Weasley or Potter. What mattered was her. Her getting out. Her escaping and possibly escaping away from everybody not just Death Eaters.

But why?

His eyebrows knit together as he stared at his boots kicking up dust. Why did she want to get out so desperately? Everyone always wanted to survive, he understood that, but hers was a desperation. Hers was a need. She didn't grab her friends; she didn't grab any of her belongings. The only thing she had on her was her wand.

And the horcruxes…

Theo's head lifted up as they heard a clatter of bricks falling beside them. Immediately all three of the young men drew out their wands. Next to them was a row of flats, their only inhabitants being shadows. But one had emitted a noise that the others hadn't. With wands raised, Theo followed his two best friends, masks on, posed to kill, as they tentatively walked towards the front door that was slightly ajar.

Inside, the wooden floorboards groaned under their weight, a smell of musk hanging in the air.

"I'll search the top floor", Draco quietly instructed. "You two search the bottom. If you find anyone else but a woman, kill them."

Blaise nodded his understanding, as the three split apart. The three friends, once school chums that laughed and joked the day away, talking about students and teachers, and their future aspirations now turned into stoic killers that were trained to be soundless as they pillaged - deadly and accurate like a blade slicing wind in half.

Each room turned out to be more empty than the last as Theo stepped through the house, Blaise's faint steps like a whisper behind him. He was unsure if the family that resided her was murdered or fled, but however they left, it was quickly. Items were strewn about, clothes still hung in closets. Pictures that were once cherished moments now under a layer of soot, giving a physical metaphor for how forgotten the family was. The story was getting old, the war was getting tiring, their cause was slowly dying; and the resentment was slowly building in Theo. Resentment towards his father, resentment towards his friend, and especially resentment towards Voldemort. How could someone who was all-knowing and all-powerful be weakened so many times? The feat that their Dark Lord had recently performed was nothing short of jaw dropping and fear inducing, but it was the principle.

How much longer were they going to have to do this? How much longer were they going to be errand boys for his deranged visons?

These are dangerous thoughts…

If Voldemort ever peered into his mind, he would be extinguished like a sputtering candle flame, and worse, Pansy would be killed. Slowly and surely, most likely in front of Theo to make it that much worse. He had to get control of these wild thoughts if not for his sake, for Pansy's. Eventually her debt would be fulfilled, at least that's what he told himself. And when it was, he would finally be free to take her somewhere where they could live peacefully. Where she could finally rest.

Just bide your time and be a good solider…

"Have you seen anything?" Blaise asked, coming up behind him.

Theo shook his head. "Besides dust bunnies, no. Maybe it was just a loose brick that fell."

Blaise sighed and stretched his back, raising his arms over his head. "Maybe. I didn't even want to come out to this."

"Me neither", Theo rolled his eyes. "It would have been nice to be given more a clue as to who we are looking for, anyways."

Blaise nodded in agreement as he walked over to a turned over chair. They had made their way to the back of the home into a kitchen that had been turned about. Picking up the chair, he sat down, propping his elbow on the rickety table.

"Just more mindless errands", Blaise commented.

Theo took the chair opposite of him. Did he dare voice his own thoughts? His own doubts?

"Are you happy Blaise?" Theo prodded, putting feelers out.

Blaise scoffed, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth that contrasted against his dark complexion. "What kind of fucking question is that mate?"

"C'mon, I'm being serious."

"Of course I'm not", Blaise smiled sadly. "What is there to be happy about? I miss my mom. I miss being home. I'm sick of being cold, I'm sick of constantly looking over my shoulder. I'm tired, man. But I gotta do what I gotta do."

"And what do you have to do?" Theo asked. He was mildly surprised at his friend's open honesty at his question and relieved that his friend was just that. His friend. That they could still be honest with each other and talk. In their line of work, people always took the chance to undermine someone else in front of Voldemort to make themselves look better, but it hadn't worked for his friends. He hadn't turned them against each other.

"I have to keep going until he has won", Blaise shrugged casually, like the answer should have been obvious. "We have to keep going until he thinks he's done. And when he finally achieves what he is wanting, maybe then we can all finally have peace."

Theo nodded, saying nothing. Blaise said until he has won. Not we, meaning that it's possible his friend doesn't view what they're doing to be aligned with his own beliefs anymore. That there was a chance Blaise didn't want to be doing this anymore than Theo.

"What the fuck are you two doing?"

Draco had come into the kitchen, his pale face sporting a smear of dirt against his otherwise flawless features.

"Making lunch clearly", Blaise gestured to the kitchen.

"Do you even know how to make lunch? Or anything for that matter?" Draco sneered.

"You're one to talk! What have you ever made besides people being miserable?" Blaise shot back. Theo cracked a smile.

Draco smirked, his grey eyes flashing with amusement as he approached his two friends. "I didn't see anything upstairs. Anything down here?"

"We wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation if we had found anything." Theo told him, as if it was obvious that they didn't find anything.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Alright, fair enough. Well let's get going. This place is giving me the creeps."

Theo stood, elbowing Blaise's side," Finally Draco feels the way he makes everyone else feel."

"Creepy, pale bastard", Blaise snickered. "Looks like a ghost that haunts us."

"C'mon!" Draco shouted. "Before I knock you both about!"

Theo laughed as Blaise went ahead of him. In the darkness that clouded over their lives, it was the moments of brevity with his brothers that made it all worth it. In a moment of relief, a moment of peace, it all came crashing down as Theo took one step forward on the wooden floor that looked as tired as Theo felt, his foot went through the floorboard.

"Fuck!" Theo yelled and in the second it took for Blaise to turn, wand raised, eyes wide with shock at what he was seeing, the rest of the floor gave way, and Theo fell through into the pit underneath.

"Theo!"

"Aren't we done doing this song and dance?" Hermione groaned as she followed Tom throughout her street of houses. Right after another he just barged in, would witness in her memories in either their entirety or just glimpses, and then would move on to the next house. She couldn't find rhyme or reason of why he stayed for some and left for others. What she did know was that her head was starting to hurt, and she was getting tired.

As she followed Tom into another house, she didn't even put up a fight anymore. He walked with ease through each doorway like he belonged to them. It seemed futile to fight against him at this point. Hermione felt she was completely losing her grip on reality. The other night –

Can I trust you?

No. He can't. And he shouldn't but as he handed her the handle of the blade that sliced into her thigh, she had never felt such a strong sense of longing and desire. The heat of his hands against her, the feeling of his sculpt body against hers felt like it was molded to fit around her. How soft his black waves actually felt as her fingers navigated their way through his scalp, relishing in the way he moaned as she pulled his hair back – like he wanted it to hurt too. Like he needed it to. His eyes fused to hers and in that moment, when he asked her such a forbidden question, the hilt on the blade in her hands, she was torn. She wanted to feel his body against hers as she plunged it into his neck, watching the blood red crimson flow from him, her blood finally free, her torment over. But hatred cannot be found without passion and in that, he made her feel the most.

Everything about him incited passion in her.

The winds between them have shifted since that night. Their blood exchange was intimate. He had been sweet. Kind. Gentle. He had shown her a completely different side of himself. He even wanted her by his side when he broke into a Cursed Vault. Something that she didn't even know firmly existed. He showed her a level of caring that she had never experienced before, and it came from him of all people. Hermione was loathed to admit but there was a twisted part of her that wanted to know if he could understand her. Understand the coldness in her, understand the decay that was in her heart and how broken she felt.

Why she was so torn that night when he asked her that question was because, yes, she wanted to kill him, but the other part of her, the louder and passionate part of her, wanted to allow him to drag her down with him. Drag her down into the depth of depravity and allow him to wrap himself around her like the serpent he was. He blossomed feelings in her that she was still too stubborn to identify but felt intoxicating. His hands groping her, holding her like she was a kept secret, his tongue like liquid horcrux plunging into her mouth were entirely too suffocating to deny, and she wasn't ready yet.

She had a golden opportunity to drive a dagger into his heart. The end of the war was in her hands, underneath her, pinning her with lust in his eyes and his hands full of heat – and she did nothing. Actually, worse than nothing. She fueled his youth and gave in to temptation. The searing of her thigh as it funneled into his hand was drowned out by the sinful lust that was Tom. Because Tom was all-consuming. He was beautiful, enchanting to look at and to be on the receiving end of his desires felt like Lucifer himself was in love with you. There was no denying that he had an attraction. Hermione felt it as she grinded herself into his lap as his free hand pressed her waist as he drove against her, separated by the layers of clothes between them. Their breaths clashed, fast and hard against each other like hot and cold winds creating a storm between them. His red lips seared into hers, biting down her neck, sucking and teething in places all while murmuring sweet nothings against her skin.

"So perfect – so soft – keep grinding – want to taste you – want to feel you around me – you feed my soul."

At that, she could feel his grip tighten around her heart as every kiss from him felt like a brand on her skin that displayed to the world that she was a traitor to the Light and everything she held near and dear.

He had apparated her back to her room after he felt their night had ended, placing her in bed after placing a hot kiss against her lips that felt like an omen. An omen that promised he would be back and that whatever was between them was nowhere near over. He had left her without a word, leaving her wanting to relinquish the ache she felt between her legs and the ache she felt in her heart as it broke.

Tom hadn't come to her the next night or the night after that, and as she slept on the third night, she felt her conscious stirring as he probed into her mind.

"You know, it's quite rude to infiltrate someone's mind when they're sleeping", she called after him as he stalked to the next house. He had already seen over 20 memories of her tonight and she was being pushed closer and closer to the brink of splitting. He hadn't said a single word to her the entire time.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She thought she would have felt awkward or shy seeing him after that night, and she had at first, but now she was just tired.

"Are you deaf now or just dense?" Hermione muttered, but still he continued. He hadn't even looked at her or made eye contact this entire time. Just one – after – another, houses opened, memories seen, repeat.

Another ten went by.

Hermione could feel her pulse behind her eyes, blood rushing in her ears.

"Tom – I've had enough", she groaned to him, holding her head, but still he ignored her.

Another five.

"Tom", Hermione gritted out. Her patience was nonexistent. Her anger was mounting and as he reached for another doorknob, it didn't open. He shook the handle once. Twice. Nothing happened. She watched from her place in the front yard, fury ebbing off of her as she saw Tom sigh heavily and finally turned to look at her.

His fair face, etched in perfection with black eyes that shone like the night sky finally settled on her honey brown, his red lips set in a line.

"Darling, I need you to open the door." His voice like silk.

Darling?

Hermione scrunched her brows together as she frowned. "No. I've had enough."

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his long fingers, he looked put out. Frustrated. Like she was the one being unreasonable.

"Open the door, Hermione." He said from behind his hand.

"No, Tom."

His hand fell lifelessly by his side. Her musings about how careful and gentle he was with her the other night were gone. This was who she knew him as. This was who he was. He looked venomous. Displeasure coated his features.

"Open. The. Fucking. Door. Hermione. Now!" His voice vibrated against her skull; each word annunciated to make their point.

Hermione's face contorted in displeasure at being bossed around in her own mind by a man who had no right to even be in it. She was sleeping. She was at peace, and he came when it was convenient for him and interrupted her. Hermione was done. Closing her eyes, she searched. The world around them started spinning, wind picking up, the clouds above her childhood homes darkening like a thunderstorm moving in, as she searched for her opening.

"Darling, stop", Tom's voice called out over the wind, but Hermione pushed it to the side. She didn't think she would have to resort to these measures, but he was pushing her to it. Hermione just needed to search for the opening. Find the opening and pull the cord and it would all come unraveling around them. No more houses, no more memories. Seeing her life was a privilege, not his right.

"Hermione!"

She sat up, choking on air as strong hands grasped her shoulders, easing her to bend over so she could catch her breath, blood streaking out of her eyes and ears.

"Drink."

The coldness of a glass bottle touched her lips as she wretched her head away.

"I'm not asking."

Firm fingers pinched her chin and pried her mouth open as the sweet liquid was poured into her mouth causing her to choke. The hand moved to her throat and stroked downward firmly.

"Just swallow – good – ease it down – good girl."

Her nerves smoothed, the blood stopped rushing, and air filled her lungs. Her body was eased back, hands still on her shoulders as she fell back into her soft bed, an arm remaining wrapped around her shoulders as she was pulled against Tom.

"Why do you have to resort to such drastic measures?" He asked innocently. If Hermione hadn't been so exhausted, she would have been shocked at his audacity.

"My drastic measures?" Hermione's raspy voice asked. "You were pummeling your way through my memories like it was a race against time. I can't handle that much, surely you must know that."

At that, she felt his grasp on her shoulder tighten just slightly. He was on the bed next to her, his back against the headboard as his long legs were straight ahead of him. She noticed his shoes were off and his feet were clad in black socks.

Typical.

His right arm was wrapped tightly around Hermione, holding her small frame against him, her body flushed with his side. The position was so casual, like something any couple would do as they went to bed together. Her body felt flush, the proximity to him made her feel buzzed.

"I have a lot of ground to cover, and it's important to know what your limit is."

Cover? What is he covering?

"Are you looking for something specific?" Hermione asked. What could hurt to ask the obvious question. "Because if it's Harry's location, I don't know where he is, and I don't have knowledge of every safe house."

"No." The one word coming out like a statement. "It's not the Potter child's location. I don't care about that right now."

Woah, what? What the hell? Isn't that what his goal has been the last 20 years?

Her head started swimming. Was all of this not meant to get Harry? What was the point of keeping her? What was the point of continuing this war?

"You're not looking for Harry?" Hermione pushed herself up to look at him, her hand placed on his chest for stability as she gawked at him. All he did was smirk at her in that infectious charming way that made her heart flutter and made him look far younger than he was.

"Not at the moment." He eyed her, the look in his eyes knowing that it will drive her nuts to not explain more. "The time for that has not come yet."

"Not yet? So, there will be a time at some point?"

"Perhaps."

Hermione huffed. He was purposely being aloof with her.

"Then why the memory scanning?" She tried asking a different question.

"Because of reasons that I am not ready to disclose with you." He said it so matter of fact that it seemed silly she was questioning him.

"Because it's not time yet?"

He flashed his canines at her, making him look sharper, more alluring. "Because it isn't time yet."

Hermione frowned as she laid back down, her head resting against his shoulder as her hand was placed over his chest, his heart firmly beating underneath. Thoughts plagued her. It mattered not that he had started twisting a lock of her hair in his finger or that his heart was beating just a bit faster.

Thoughts swirled and spiraled until they all became tangled into a giant knot that made her head throb harder.

She needed to move. Jumping out of Tom's embrace, he looked at her, startled at her sudden movement as she began to pace rapidly back and forth in her room.

"Darling, come back to bed", he held out his hand to her.

"No." She muttered as she bit her thumbnail, her footsteps thudding softly against the carpet.

You're drowning in thoughts. Get them out.

"You said not yet", Hermione started, looking at the floor as she continued to pace.

"Yes, but – "

Hermione held up her hand to him as she continued to turn, pace, turn, pace.

"Please don't talk, Tom."

He leaned back, an amused look on his face as he watched Hermione walk back and forth.

"You said not yet", she repeated. "That it isn't time to get Harry yet, but you will at some point. But that has been the goal hasn't it? Since he was a baby – was to get him because he was the reason you were vanquished the first time. But why wait now? Was getting him not the reason for all of this war? All of this death? But now you're hesitant. You're waiting. Waiting for how long? Waiting for what? You're waiting for something. Yet… That word – there is a timeline. There is a timeline you're following. A new line you have made for yourself. Why? The first time he met you, on Professor Quirrell's head and you were vanquished again. The ritual our Fourth Year that he witnessed when you finally were resurrected into your, uh, snaky form – you continued to seek Harry. And now –"

Hermione turned to look at Tom. Tom who was looking at her, his face placid but his eyes shone with desire and intrigue, his jaw set.

"You're most recent reincarnation", she waved her hand to display him. "But you're waiting."

Her hands on her hips as she walked in circles, zig zagging her way through the room.

"You're doing things out of order. You're changing the flow. Why? Historically, you would be finding a way to Harry so what changed?"

Hermione stood still, tapping her foot and looking at the ceiling. Why would he stop? What would make him stop from doing what was his normal?

Death. Failure.

Hermione's eyes fell to the beautiful man that sat silently on her bed, his head bent back against the headboard as he eyed her like a predator.

"This is your last chance", Hermione quietly said. "You aren't going to get another chance, are you? You're making this one count. If you went after Harry now, you would lose again, and all of this would be for nothing."

Tom said nothing, but his chest rose and fell heavily, his nostrils flared. His eyes flashed to red causing Hermione to jump back slightly.

"What else?" He demanded.

"You're waiting on something. Waiting to do something. You're calculating. You're planning. Something is going to change isn't it, Tom? You're going to do something that is going to change the way the tide has always been flowing and it's going to flow towards you, isn't it?"

Silent as the night air, smooth like water over ice, he stood from the bed and stalked towards her, darkness falling over them with every heavy step towards her. Hermione's breath hitched as he reached her, their chests almost touching so she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

"You're going to do something awful, aren't you, Tom?" Hermione whispered, fear gripping her as the magnitude of how powerful and terrifying the man before he was behind his breathtaking face.

"Yes", he admitted. "And you're going to bear witness to it all."

At that, he gripped the sides of her face as he pressed his lips into hers so hard their teeth clashed. His fingers dug into her scalp causing it to burn as he gripped hard at her roots. His cool breath exhaled like smoke against her face, the scent of tobacco and spearmint overwhelming her senses. Hermione placed her hands against his shoulders and pushed him back. Reluctantly he relinquished her, his lips now swollen, his eyes shining red. The redder the eyes, the more dark magic that flowed in their veins; and his were so red that she was convinced his blood would be black if she hadn't seen it herself.

"You're doing something to my mind", Hermione shook her head as she walked away from him. "I can feel it. I can hear it."

"Hear it?" At her confession, his eyes slid back to black as his head tilted to the side. Hermione realized her mistake too late. She hadn't meant to tell him that she was still hearing little musings of his voice at inconvenient times.

Too late now.

"Yes", Hermione nodded. "Surely you know."

Tom shook his head, but she could tell his own thoughts were turning. "Truly I didn't, but I find it fascinating. What was it you last heard?"

"Just now", she waved a hand. "I heard you say I had a lot of thoughts, and I should speak them out."

Tom's eye widened slightly. He was definitely hiding something.

"Is that what you have been doing to my head?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Planting your voice?"

He immediately shook his head. "No, I am not planting my voice. It must be an after effect of having my horcruxes on you. But I'd like for you to tell me when it happens again, please."

"Why should I?" She had no right to be defensive about this issue, and didn't really think it caused for it, but anything to do with pleasing him ticked her off.

"Because that's not normal and I have theories, but I need your cooperation if I am to prove them right and share them with you", he stated. She hated that he had a point, that he was poking into her academic prowess.

Hermione nodded, keeping her arms cross over her tightly, her back slightly turned to face him. His presence was beginning to feel too overwhelming. Space was needed to breathe, and he was suffocating, all-consuming. Coldness swept across her back as she felt him come up behind her. He said nothing as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his nose against the tip of her ear. How fast he transitioned to red-eyed Dark Lord to wispy Tom Riddle. It was a marathon she was beginning to get burnt out on.

"I apologize for overstaying my welcome in your mind."

His apology was formal. It was a statement. It was shocking. He was saying sorry to her and although she knew it was only because he would be invading her mind again, she still appreciated it, nonetheless.

"Do you forgive me?" He hummed, his hands now tightening on her waist as he slowly pressed himself against her. Hermione's eyelids fluttered slightly at the sensation of how full his chest was against her back, his mouth dancing across the top of her head.

"Only because I have to", she managed to mutter as one of his fingers started playing with her waistband. He was delicately swaying her forward and back, each time pressing her further into him.

"Do you want me to help make you feel better, darling?" His voice came out like dark sweet liquid, causing her insides to bubble. She said nothing as he pressed a searing kiss on her neck.

"Do you want me to make you forget everything going on around you?"

His teeth bit at her skin, enough to leave a bruise, but she did nothing to stop him. Her arm went up and grasped his hair as his mouth made its way up her neck to her ear.

"Do you want me to make it hurt Hermione?"

With a harsh exhale, Hermione nodded her head twice. Because she wanted him to make it hurt for punishment for her giving in to the most forbidden of acts, for her debasement.

But as she waited for him to ravage her, she felt his cool lips hiss out words that made her form a pit in her stomach.

"Well, I'm not going to", he bit out, his voice harsh with bitterness. "I'm going to leave you wanting, leave you unfulfilled. I want you longing for me. I want you to dream of only me. I want my lips to be what you think about. I want you to imagine my hands between your legs, my tongue tasting your sweetness. I want you to want me to fill you with every bit of cum I have to offer you until your cunt weeps with it. And when you can barely take it anymore, when you are aching for me to relinquish you from the demons you have sicked upon me, I will give you what you want. When, and only when, you are crawling to me, desperation dripping from your lips, will I satisfy you. When you plead for me to take you, I will ravage you until you're broken into a thousand mirrored pieces, shining with my desires and your acceptance that I am your inevitable. I am your anguish. I am your unspoken want."

Tears were flowing from Hermione's eyes as her lips curled in despair at the weight of each cursed word he flowed into her. Every word poisoning her heart as sorrow seized her. She had desired him but like with most everything that had to do with him, she had underestimated just how much he was going to possess her. Because Voldemort liked trophies and that's what she was. A trophy that he was going to consume.

An inevitability.

His fingers pressed into her waist, gripping it so hard her skin was feeling numb.

"Do you understand my terms?"

Hermione's sob was his only answer as he shook her slightly.

"Answer me."

"Yes!" Hermione choked out, bending over slightly to create space between them. He let go of her with a slight push, but she fell to her knees regardless. His footsteps walked past her towards the door, but he stopped just short of leaving.

"Look at me."

Barely picking herself up off the ground, her water stained eyes connected with his malicious, dazed red eyes.

"If I find out anyone is doing to you what is only intended for me, they will die."

With that departing declaration of violence, he left her in melancholy desperation.

Desperation to be free. Desperation to escape.

Desperation for want.

Because as he listed all the deplorable, improper things he wanted to do to her, she wasn't disgusted. She wasn't horrified. She wasn't upset. She had become heady with want.

Hermione wasn't crying at the horror of his graphic descriptions.

She was sobbing at her want of them.