Harry’s father wasn’t very nice.
His name was Tom Riddle. Hermione had met him during her first year at Hogwarts when Harry had invited her over the holidays.
Harry was completely enamored by him. She could understand why. He was smart and rich. For every street rat that grew up until he was ten in an underfunded orphanage, Tom Riddle was nothing short of a miracle. He lived in a large manor with servants and more bedrooms than Harry could count on his fingers. When he picked him up from the orphanage with a kind smile and a teddy bear, she was sure Harry felt like he was in a dream.
There was also the small factor that Tom Riddle was magic.
Harry wouldn’t stop gushing about his adoptive father when they became friends in First Year. He would constantly remark how Hermione’s smarts reminded him of his dad a lot. He told her that he was a brilliant wizard who got all the awards and grades when he was at Hogwarts.
That was enough to make Hermione curious, too.
She had looked him up in the Hogwarts library, scouring through every record and tabloid she could find to see what all the fuss was about.
In the end, she thought that Harry was vastly underselling his father’s accomplishments.
Top of his year since the beginning and up to the end of his stay at Hogwarts, Prefect and Head Boy, a model student with glowing recommendations from his teachers, moved on to earn an apprenticeship and quickly earning the title of Master for both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and was now the most powerful spellmaker in all of Europe. He was popular enough in the political world that people were practically shoving him into the position of Minister.
Hermione just had to see him with her own eyes.
She wasn’t jealous, per se. Maybe just a little, but with perfectly good reason! Harry, her only friend, would talk about his father as often as he could if Hermione didn’t shut him up. She could probably handle it better if he mooned over his dad’s fatherly skills or cooking prowess, but it feels almost personal when they’re talking about magical ability.
So with a practiced smile and a boxed cake in her hands, she knocked on the front door of the Riddle manor.
Little Hangelton was remarkably different from her home at Hampstead from what she could see. Harry lived in a very rural area hidden behind fields and trees. The manor was daunting compared to their complex in London. She was reminded of the homes described in the gothic novels she once perused.
Within a second of her knocking, Harry greeted her at the door with a smile much more genuine than hers.
“Hermione!” She was sure her friend would have hugged her if not for the delicate cake she held.
“Hullo, Harry.” Her own expression brightened at his excitement.
She and Harry weren’t the likeliest of friends. He was much more popular than her, for one. He had this whole sob story where his whole family was killed by an unnamed group of dark wizards and he was nowhere to be found afterwards. Fast forward to ten years in a remote orphanage, he was adopted by the Tom Riddle. The child prodigy, master of all trades, and the Wizarding World’s most beloved face.
She never told Harry how him being adopted felt like a publicity stunt.
Hermione, on the other hand, walked into Hogwarts with no legacy or name. She hadn’t expected that a world of magic had just as much prejudice as the muggle world, but you learn something new everyday.
She had a rough start with her classmates. She got sorted into Gryffindor despite all odds. Her bookish nature and uppity personality —although she just preferred to call herself responsible— weren’t very popular with her peers.
Hermione had ended up alone for the first few weeks. That was fine. She spent her time in the library, finishing up her homework and getting as much reading as she could. She told herself that she didn’t care about the mean things said behind her back or how awkward she felt when she ate alone.
It was only through a stroke of luck did Professor Slughorn assign her to partner with him in Potions when Ron Weasley was sick. Harry was less arrogant than she expected and Harry remarked that she wasn’t as big of a know-it-all as their fellow Gryffindors told him she was.
They hit it off immediately after.
Ron and Hermione? Not so much. They were civil with each other when Harry was around, but the two thought it best to just ignore each other as much as they could. They both held their ways very close to their heart and were only willing to forgo their mutual disinterest for each other when Harry was around.
That was why she was the only guest at Riddle manor. Weasley had already gone several days prior.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Hermione!”
“Thanks-”
“Where are your manners, Harry? Invite Ms. Granger inside. It’s freezing out there.”
“Sorry,” he stuttered with a blush. He stepped aside and raised his arm like a well-trained butler. “Come in! We got the fireplace on.”
She did as told and hopped into the manor. She was immediately washed over with a wave or warmth that settled on her skin.
Before she could even react, the same voice that reprimanded her friend spoke to her.
“Good evening, Ms. Granger.”
It was him. Tom Riddle.
He was everything the newspapers painted him out to be and more. He was very handsome and youthful looking. Hermione was sure that he was born in the 1930’s, but he didn’t look any older than forty. He was impeccably dressed in tasteful robes that must have cost a fortune. His hair looked silky smooth and his eyes were pitch black orbs that spiraled like an abyss.
There was one thing the newspapers got wrong, though.
He didn’t feel nice or charming or anything like that.
Tom Riddle was intimidating.
“Good evening, sir.” She hesitantly offered him the cake. “My parents insisted that I bring this for you.”
With just a tiny wave of his fingers, the box lifted from her hands and it carefully floated to where Hermione assumed the kitchen was. It was a careless show of magic, but Hermione knew that it took skill to do that nonverbally and wandlessly.
“Send them my regards,” he said with an easy smile. “Honestly, I thought they’d be accompanying you here today.”
Tom began walking away and the two followed immediately. Harry snuck her a quick side hug before he grabbed her wrist in order to catch up with his dad.
“I told them to just visit the neighboring villages and to pick me up at eight instead.” It was a decision she was beginning to regret. “I thought they’d feel out of place in a magical household and they don’t get a lot of vacation time so… here we are.”
“A pity,” he commented wistfully. “I would have loved to have a conversation with the parents of Harry’s dearest friend. He talks very highly of you, Ms. Granger. All his letters are about how brilliant you are and how much we’d like each other.” He turned to look at her with a smug glint in his eyes. “I trust you’ll attempt to overpass my expectations?”
Who does he think he is? Even my dad doesn’t talk to me like that! “Yes, sir.” She grit her teeth.
“Very good, then.” He eyed her all over before glancing back at Harry. “You may give Ms. Granger a tour around the house. I shall be in my study. Be sure to be in the dining room by seven. Do feel free to enjoy yourselves in your quarters or in the library before then.”
“Sure thing, father!” Harry never released his hand on her throughout the exchange, so he just pulled her along with him.
When they were sufficiently far away from Harry’s father, Hermione felt comfortable enough to share her thoughts. “I don’t like your dad, Harry.”
She thought Harry would be a bit more offended considering how much he admires him. “I figured,” he said carelessly.
“You’re not mad?” She furrowed her eyebrows.
He shrugged. “You’re both a bit competitive and he’s a bit of an arse sometimes. You’ll get used to him, though! That’s just how he is. He’s not the worst person in the world. Plus, when you talk with him more, you’ll see how much you have in common! You just gotta try, Hermione. Please?”
She sighed. She could neve say no to her friend when he gave her that puppy dog look. “Okay, I’ll talk to your dad more.”
He smiled brightly. “Good! He said that you can borrow any book from the library, you know? You can even letter him any questions!”
“Really?” Her eyes immediately went wide and her mind raced at the potential the offer had given her.
Harry nodded, pleased at how much more enthusiastic Hermione became. “Yeah. You wanna see the library first?”
“Lead the way, Harry.” She linked their arms together and they practically ran to the doors of the library.
Maybe Tom Riddle wasn’t so terrible.
They met again at Harry’s quidditch game.
In all fairness, she didn’t really think much about her visit to Riddle manor when it was done. It was simply over. She had borrowed a few books to read over and returned it to Harry when they finished the school year. After that, she didn’t spare another thought for Harry’s household and his father.
But then suddenly he visited Hogwarts to watch Harry play.
He had never done that before despite his only son being the youngest seeker in the century. Harry explained that it was because he was busy, but Hermione stuck her nose up at that excuse. Any halfway decent father would surely attend their kid’s first match!
She didn’t even know that he’d be a spectator until he easily slid next to her spot in the stands. She was doing her best to mimic the other Gryffindors because she still wasn’t quite as enamored with the sport as everyone else was.
The whole affair was awful for her. The sun was hot and she was unfortunately seated behind very tall seventh year boys who screamed and pushed each other as though they were the only ones watching. She could hardly see the court, let alone the tiny figures flying haphazardly in the air. Hermione didn’t have anyone to talk to, which usually wasn’t a problem but being alone in an event made for socializing left her dignity at least a little bruised. She wanted to leave and study for her exams. She simply wasn’t comfortable here at all.
And yet for Harry, she’ll try.
“Enjoying the game, Ms. Granger?” A deep voice whispered conspiratorially into her ear.
Hermione yelped, taken aback by the sudden nearness of the new voice. It almost took her a second to register who it was until she turned her body to face him.
Tom Riddle was here at Hogwarts. It was strange. He looked comfortable enough that it almost looked as though he belonged here and that he never left. To Hermione, it was still surprising to see him. It was always strange to see parents at school. She couldn’t even imagine her own family visiting for any reason at all.
“Mr. Riddle?” She blinked in surprise.
“It’s an honor to meet you again.” He held his hand out to her. Hermione thought that he wanted a handshake so she hesitantly offered her own. To her surprise and utter embarrassment, he gently twisted her wrist and bent over to softly kiss her knuckles.
She blushed profusely. His lips were very soft and his gentlemanly habits reminded her of the male protagonists in Jane Austen’s novels.
The people surrounding them whispered to each other. From what Hermione could pick up, they were acting as though a famous TV celebrity had decided to grace their presence. Hermione suppressed an eye roll, not really caring for how they idolized a man who was most definitely using a persona to charm the masses.
“I’m surprised to see you here, sir.” She knew her tone was a bit snobby, but the statement was genuine.
“Oh?” He turned to focus on her, amused.
She nodded, pretending to focus on the game in front of them. “You’ve never watched Harry’s matches before.” Even after he’s begged you a hundred times....
“I’m a busy man.”
“Too busy for a boy you adopted less than three years ago?”
His smile faltered a bit. “Harry knows that my work is important.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You are largely unaware of the nature of our relationship. We have an understanding, of sorts.” His tone was strange, as though he had a hidden meaning behind every word he said.
“That much is true,” she admitted. “But I can see how Harry reacts to everything you do with my own eyes. You can’t keep disappointing him, sir. At the very least, you shouldn’t have to make him wait for weeks to reply to his letters.”
Hermione knew she was being rude. It wasn’t her place to berate him for being slightly more than absent in Harry’s life. She has never spoken to an adult like this before, certainly not to someone with as many achievements as Tom. She was used to treating older people with respect, a habit ingrained into her since she was a young child.
There was just something about him that made her angry. Most of it came from how much it hurt her when he brushed off Harry like a fly sometimes. The other part of it came from how she didn’t understand how one person could already have everything she wanted. Power and respect. She held him at a higher standard, trying to poke and prod at whatever flaws he showed.
“You seem very protective of the boy,” he remarked as though a little girl hadn’t just told him to be a better father.
“He’s my only friend.”
“That much is obvious.”
Hermione shot daggers at him, but she kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t going to let him get under her skin more than he already has.
Suddenly, the Gryffindor crowd cheered so loudly that Hermione jumped in surprise. She had almost forgotten that they were watching a game. She stood on her tippy toes, trying to get a view to no avail. The burlish higher years in front of her were far too enthusiastic for her taste.
“You’re rather small, aren’t you?”
Hermione scowled at the comment. She wasn’t very short. She wasn’t even the shortest in her year. “Perhaps you’re just too tall, sir.” She shrugged.
“How on earth will you support Harry if you can’t even see him play?”
Getting tired of him very quickly, she grabbed her small bookbag and attempted to leave. “I’ll just find another spot, sir.” She didn’t even look back at him, sure that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from another spat.
She was surprised when Tom’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder, preventing her from leaving. With wide eyes, she turned towards him. He was looking at her weirdly with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
“I may have a solution, Ms. Granger.”
“What is-”
Without hesitating or even waiting for her approval, Tom turned her around and grabbed her waist. She yelped at being carried so suddenly. Eyes turned to stare at them as Tom snugly lifted her on his shoulders, allowing her thighs to sit on his shoulders as though she weighed nothing.
It happened so fast that Hermione could just stare at the top of his head in disbelief. She hadn’t been carried like this since she was a kid! Feeling self-conscious about the whispers and glances sent their way, she struggled and tried to get off of him as safely as she could. It proved to be useless, however, when his two hands held her legs in a vice-like grip.
“Put me down!”
“Why?”
“This isn’t right!”
“Well, why not? You have the best view of the pitch.”
“On your shoulders?! This- this is wrong!” A blush spread in her cheeks.
She felt him shrug. “I see nothing too terrible about this. I’m simply helping my son’s dearest friend watch him play.”
“This is hardly the only way to do that.”
“Don’t you see that seeing us together makes him happy? We are his favorite people, Ms. Granger. He always tells me how much he wishes for us to get along.”
Before she could reply, she saw Harry hover by their area in the stands. It was so quick that she almost missed it, but when Harry spotted the two of them in the stands, his face broke into a large smile. He sped away quickly in search of the snitch, but even Hermione could see that her friend was overjoyed at the thought of them interacting.
“Fine,” she said tensely. “But only because I can see him better from here.”
Tom chuckled and commented no further.
As the game progressed, Hermione slowly began to realize that her private parts had been rubbing against Tom’s nape the whole time. Her heart sped up and her face turned red, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to have that conversation. No. It wasn’t going to happen.
But Tom liked to touch her legs as they hung from his shoulders. It was a hot day so Hermione decided to wear her short socks. She was keenly aware of every caress and stroke he gave her. He’d run his fingers along her calf and touch her knee more often than she deemed necessary.
Hermione still didn’t speak up about it because, to her everlasting shame, a foreign tightness curled in her belly every time his fingers grazed her skin. She could feel herself getting hot down there and she was afraid that if she acted flustered, he’d immediately notice and forbid her from talking to Harry ever again.
So she kept her mouth shut, not commenting even when Tom pulled her closer and closer to him for no apparent reason at all.
She only saw him again in person when her third year ended. Harry invited her to stay for a week during summer break.
She agreed reluctantly, not very happy over the idea of seeing Tom again but nonetheless happy to be able to spend more time with her best friend.
Hermione was surprised that she hardly saw Harry’s father at all. He told her that he was busy with meetings and other such things that adults like him did. Despite Harry’s disappointment, Hermione was very pleased with this turn of events.
They spent practically all of their time together. Harry would floo them to Diagon Alley to go shopping or to eat. Hermione would bring them to nearby muggle towns or London so that they could play at an arcade or go to a carnival. Sometimes, they’d just stay in Riddle manor and enjoy each other’s company in silence. Hermione would take advantage of their beautiful library while Harry would read a Quidditch magazine. If they were really bored, they’d play hide and seek like children or walk around the gardens and talk about whatever they liked.
It was probably the best summer Hermione ever had.
On her last day there, they went swimming to the private lake near the manor. It was very pretty. The water was clear and cold, perfect for the summer heat. The scenery around it was fantastic, as well. Trees lined the area and the mountains from far away provided a wonderful view of the sunset.
They were there the whole day. They brought with them a picnic blanket and a basket that Hermione stuffed with food they both liked. She even brought her radio and several floaties to make it even more fun.
She and Harry played in the water until it was getting close to dark. Harry would chase her around and splash her with water. Hermione eagerly returned the favor, tackling him until they were submerged under the lake’s surface.
Privately, Hermione appreciated how handsome Harry was becoming. He was still very kind-hearted and soft, but Hermione could see how he was becoming much more confident. The way he carried himself and the way he acted resembled more of a teenage boy than an awkward ten-year-old.
She would occasionally spare glances at his body, too. Hermione always prided herself in not prioritizing one’s looks over one’s personality. But Merlin help her, she was just a girl! Of course she’d notice the muscles on his arms and the abs slowly forming on his belly. She even admired the way his features were slowly coming together in the shape of a very attractive boy with a sharp jaw and broad shoulders.
To say she was satisfied during their little lake party would be an understatement. She had full access to Harry’s figure, even being allowed to touch and hug his dripping wet body.
That day would have been perfect, if not for how sore she got right after.
“I’m really out of shape,” she said with a groan as she practically threw herself on the sofa of their vast living room.
Harry laughed. “You probably should have stretched before spending a whole day swimming.”
“I was too busy trying to figure out how to make you treacle tarts this morning.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
Harry grinned at her and happily patted his belly. “They were really good! Thanks, Hermione.”
“You’re welcome.” Her arms and legs were killing her. “I just want to take a bath and sleep the rest of this off.”
Harry cocked his head to the side. “Do you want a potion or something? My dad’s here already. I’m sure he’ll be able to get you something.”
“He’s here?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Since when?”
“A couple hours ago, I guess. He owled me yesterday and said that he’d be back.”
“Oh. Well, don’t bother him. I’m just being dramatic. I’ll probably be better in the morning.” She didn’t really want to face that man for reasons she didn’t want to specify even to herself.
“You can always change your mind.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed. I’m kinda tired!” He emphasized that with a yawn. “Your parents are picking you up at noon, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool! We can just sleep in and watch a movie. We can even order pizza!”
She smiled at him. “Whatever you want, Harry.”
To her surprise, Harry approached her on the sofa. He bent down and pressed a light kiss on the top of her head. He did it so casually —so carelessly— that even Hermione was startled by the burst of butterflies that fluttered in her stomach.
She sat there a bit longer, mind barely able to process the thoughtless peck Harry had given her. It probably didn’t even mean anything to him. He had always been very physically affectionate to her. Maybe she was just overthinking things.
That didn’t stop her from taking a moment to scream into the sofa’s throw pillow as her heart pounded against her chest.
Eventually, she made the journey to her room. Her sore body protested, but it wasn’t like she had a choice. She could bear through the pain or suck up and ask Harry’s dad for a potion.
The answer was pretty obvious.
Every move her muscles did made her wince. She reckoned that her parents would give her painkillers tomorrow if her body still ached. For now, she just had to deal with it herself.
Just as she was about to reach the stairs, a familiar voice called out to her.
“Harry told me you’re sore from swimming.”
Hermione suppressed a groan as she turned to look at the man who carried her during the Quidditch match. He looked just as handsome as always. Curiously, he was wearing a more muggle-like outfit. He wore a white dress shirt beneath a dark blue vest and slacks, although his shirt sleeves were pushed up close to his elbows. His dress shoes were polished and his hair looked just as soft as ever.
She never got over how uncomfortable and inappropriate that moment at the Quidditch match felt to her. She never spoke a word about it to anyone, not even Harry. There were simply things you kept to yourself.
“I forgot to stretch,” she muttered. She just wanted the conversation to be over.
He chuckled deeply and it would have sounded like chocolate to her ears if his words weren’t so sour. “That wasn’t very bright of you.”
She bristled. She was called the brightest witch of her age! Even by Dumbledore! I just know he’s saying this on purpose. “I made us food and it slipped my mind.”
He nodded. “Very well. Follow me, then.”
I could say no in five different languages. “For what?”
“Harry wanted me to give you pain medication, of course.” He smiled. “He’s a very sweet boy, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her mind flashed back to the earlier kiss and a blush crept behind her neck. “Yeah, I guess...”
“I shall give you a potion for your body aches, then. It’s what he wants.”
“Since when do you give him what he wants?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Once you get over your idea of me as a villain and evil adoptive father, the faster we’ll get along. Follow me, then. I wouldn’t dare allow a lady to sleep in pain under my roof.” He shot her an award-winning grin and led her to a basement Hermione didn’t even know existed.
It wasn’t like any other basement she had seen before. Unlike the rest of the manor, this place looked more like a wizard lived there. It was still grand, but furnished more like a storeroom and training facility. Several doors led into potion labs and spellcasting areas. Cabinets were lined with ingredients, both familiar and unfamiliar to her, and dozens of shelves filled with different books lined the halls.
The two entered a room. Hermione guessed that it was his second personal study. It was very pretty inside. Hermione would design her own office like this if she had a chance. Although the furniture was very minimalistic, the few things that remained there were very tasteful.
“Do have a seat, Ms. Granger.” He said her name with a purr.
She sighed and did as asked, simply relieved to give her body a break.
“You are in luck,” he said blithely. He approached her and handed her a small vial with dark purple liquid and thick texture. “I brewed this myself.”
“That doesn’t look like a pain relief potion,” she said warily.
“Very sharp, Ms. Granger. I’d give Gryffindor points if I could.” He twirled his finger and the vial uncorked itself with a soft pop. “It is a potion I created to specifically target body aches and fatigue. It’s better than anything like it in the market because it acts fast and effectively, while also having the added benefit of tasting like lollipops.” He chuckled. “I made this for Harry originally. He was a bit too enthusiastic about flying when I first brought him home.”
“I hope he gave you a Father of the Year coffee mug, then.” She frowned at him.
“Charming as always, Ms. Granger.” He inclined his head. “You may take your leave once I see that you don’t react badly to the potion.”
Hermione did as told and downed the whole thing in a go. Pleasantly, she found out he wasn’t lying when he said the potion tasted like lollipops.
“How do you feel?”
“Better,” she said. “But I'm sleepy.” She blinked her eyes at the sudden tiredness that washed over her.
He smiled. “Come here, Hermione.”
To her surprise, her body obeyed. She felt as though she should protest, but she simply didn’t have the energy to. Her own mind told her to just let Tom do all the thinking for her.
“Sit on my desk.”
She did as she was ordered without giving it much thought. She felt as though she could collapse at any minute, and yet, her body simply refused to fall asleep.
“Remove your shirt.”
She grabbed the ends of the oversized t-shirt she wore after swimming and pulled it upwards until it was off of her. She sat there on his desk, not really caring what he’d do to her as long as she could just drift away.
Hermione was only in her bathing suit now. She wore a red two piece. The bra was tied around her neck and back while a cute knot formed in the middle. Her bottoms were high-waisted, but were unable to hide any part of her thighs or legs at all.
Even though she knew that her outfit was daring, she assumed that only Harry would see her in it.
“Naughty girl.” She heard him whisper distantly. She wasn’t quite awake enough to register his presence. “You swam in that with Harry?”
She nodded with a small yawn.
“My son must be fucking himself in his hand right now,” he said to her quietly. “He must be thinking of you in that. Did you fuck him at the lake? Or perhaps he fucked you?” She shook her head. “Harry must have fantasized about taking you there. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” She hummed in agreement. “He must have wanted to shove his cock in your cunt, my dear. In the water, on the picnic blanket… perhaps both.”
Before Hermione realized what was happening, Tom was already in front of her and removing her bra. She didn’t particularly care. She simply leaned into his chest and let him do all the work for her, closing her eyes with a sigh.
“I had hoped that leaving two teenagers together would inspire more exciting adventures,” he admitted. The bra was discarded on the floor. Tom’s slender hands caressed her small breasts, his thumbs playing with the pink nipples at their center. Hermione moaned softly to herself.
“Don’t you want to fuck my son, Hermione?”
“Never thought ‘bout it.” She gasped as she said those words. Tom took her nipple in his mouth as he kneaded the other one with his hands. She was still so very tired and sleepy, but the mounting pleasure wracking her body was enough to keep her awake.
“You should consider it more,” he said against her skin. “I’d let the you stay here for the rest of the summer if I knew you were fucking under my roof.”
She shook her head slowly. “That’s not-” her breath hitched as Tom removed her red bottoms. She was now fully naked in front of him. “-it’s not right.”
He chuckled. “You’ll find that this is simply one of many things that are not quite right with me.”
Tom circled her clit with his thumb, playing with it as he liked. Hermione moaned and leaned into his hand like a whore. She felt so detached from the situation, and yet, she was living in the moment all the same.
“S-stop.” Her eyes were fluttering with pleasure. Tom was fingering her. She wasn’t even sure how many fingers were inside her, honestly. He was going so fast and rough. Her cunt was slick and welcomed him with ease.
“You’ve got it twisted, darling.” He bit her ear, pounding into her even harder. “I love it when someone tells me to stop.”
The build-up in her belly was unfolding as Tom bent down to lick her pussy as he fingered her raw. She was breathless and unable to prevent the loud moans escaping her throat. Tom pulled her closer to him, kneeling on the floor as Hermione unravelled on his tongue.
When she finally reached her climax, Tom licked her clean as he wiped his fingers on her thighs. He stood up and kissed her on the lips, making sure she responded by opening her jaw.
Hermione stayed there, breathless and barely able to comprehend if what was happening was real or not. She was only vaguely capable of registering the flash of a camera that was pointed at her. She sent Tom a questioning look before she passed out cold on his desk.
Tom chuckled and carried her gently in his arms. He intended on giving her a bath himself before placing her back in her room.
He shot one last satisfied look at the magical camera and the wet stains Hermione left on the table.
It took her until Fourth Year to realize that she has a crush on her best friend.
Largely against her will, Hermione was in Riddle Manor once more. Despite her better judgement, there was an overpowering part of her that most certainly did not want to return there.
She wasn’t quite sure why. She only remembered having a wonderful week with Harry during the summer holidays.
So Hermione agreed to visit Harry, but only for a day. She couldn’t bring herself to stay there for more. A feeling of dread kept nudging her to say no and perhaps next time, Harry. She simply told her best friend that she and her parents would be travelling around Europe, which wasn’t even a lie.
That’s how she found herself in the luxurious library again. She sat by the large windows, preferring to watch the homemade Quidditch pitch in favor of being outside with Harry and Ron Weasley.
Weasley, to her misfortune, was still one of Harry’s closest friends. She had snorted when Harry told her he was coming, too. Hermione didn’t care about him whatsoever, frankly. She was content with looking at their flying forms as she absorbed a book with a cup of tea.
The whole situation would have been very romantic, a pleasant daydream. A little bookworm in a beautiful library watching her dearest friend flying on a broomstick. She could hear his laughter as she sipped her tea, feeling the warm rays of sunset on her skin.
And then Tom Riddle showed up and suddenly everything felt like a nightmare.
“Ms. Granger,” he purred.
“Mr. Riddle.” She tensed, getting up from the floor. She didn’t like how much taller he was than her, despite her going through a growth spurt. She barely reached his chest and Hermione had a feeling that he reveled in the fact.
“Why aren’t you outside with them?”
She picked up her teacup and book from the ground gracelessly. “I’m not a Quidditch fan,” she said simply. “I just thought I’d take advantage of your library. Plus, I can see them just fine here.”
“You and I truly are similar in more ways than one.” He smiled charmingly and, if Hermione had been different, she would have sighed at how handsome he was. “I’ve never been very big on sports in general. I prefer the excitement of an interesting book.”
“Well… good for you.” She had no answer to that. What did he expect her to say?
“Indeed,” he said lightly. “Would you care for more tea, Ms. Granger?”
“Not really.” She frowned, thinking of a reason to get the hell out of there. Tom had the effortless ability to give her the creeps without even trying. “Actually, I-”
“I insist.”
Without waiting for her to answer, Tom put his hand on the small of her back and directed her to the middle of the library, where a single luscious sofa stood proud. He sat on it almost lazily, leaning against the cushioned backrest. He snapped his fingers and a steaming pot of tea appeared on a small table beside him.
Hermione looked around. There was nowhere else for her to sit.
Rude asshole. “Er- I’ll grab a chair from the dining room.”
“No need,” he poured tea in two porcelain teacups. “You may sit right here.”
She blinked. “Where?” She looked around, wondering if he was going mad.
Tom casually sipped his tea. “On my lap, of course.”
Hermione jumped back, taken aback at how cavalier he said those perverted words. “Excuse me?” She barely choked back her response.
He merely inclined his head and impatiently gestured for her to approach. “Your tea is getting cold, Ms. Granger.”
“I am not sitting on your lap!”
“Whyever not?”
“It’s- it’s disgusting and inappropriate and weird and you’re Harry’s father and you’re older than my parents and-”
“You weren’t complaining last year.”
“What?”
He smiled. “Ah, yes. I forgot that you couldn’t remember.” He chuckled. “Little Miss Hermione Granger does have a little bit of a wild streak in her. I should know.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she whispered. A horrible fear was invading her senses, causing her to shiver and choke down a sob. “I’m going to go now.”
She turned to leave, but Tom stopped her. “Before you go,” he said. “You may want to look at these.”
Hermione could only watch in horror as several photographs appeared out of nowhere and presented themselves in front of her.
It was her, naked and moaning. The magical images showed her moving form. Her mouth was open like the whores she saw in movies and her eyes were fluttering open and close. A hand was lazily fingering her cunt, although the camera was unable to capture who the man was.
“I don’t remember any of this.” Tears fell down her cheeks, but she could hardly register them anymore.
“I made sure of that, darling.” He smiled and it didn’t look charming anymore. It simply looked sinister. “You ingested a potion of my design. It causes the user to be verging on the brink of unconsciousness, following orders because the mind simply cannot think of a reason not to.”
“You drugged me.” She slowly turned to look at him, eyes wide.
“I did nothing of the sort.” He shrugged. “You asked for pain medication and I delivered. I vividly remember you telling me that you felt much better afterwards.”
“You- you...” she couldn’t finish her thought.
She had been raped. Hermione was raped. By her best friend’s father, the most brilliant wizard of the century. She had been drugged and raped and she can’t even remember any of it.
The sick bastard even documented the whole thing.
A wave of nausea and panic overtook her like a storm. She angrily shoved the photographs out of her way and stepped back until she felt the wood of a bookshelf. She could scarcely breathe, unwilling to comprehend just what was happening to her. Hermione didn’t know if she should scream or cry or beg or die. The photographs and Tom’s growing smirk taunted her. She knew he enjoyed the power he had over her, that she was at his mercy and her whole being was slowly being offered to him in little pieces she could no longer have to herself.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked and she could scarcely get a word out through her crying.
He shrugged. “I was enamored by you.”
“That’s it?” She slowly shook her head in disbelief. “It- it could have been anyone else? But you chose me?”
Tom snorted. “Don’t be silly,” he said like a father scolding a naive child. “I never pick just anyone. You’re special.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” She hugged herself, but her skin felt dirty. She just wanted to take a shower and forget again. She didn’t want to know anymore. She wanted Harry to hug her and tell her that he didn’t hate her now.
“Of course,” he said, like it was obvious.
“You’re a psychopath,” she practically shouted.
“Come sit on my lap, Hermione.”
“No!”
“You’re underestimating how much power I have over you now.” He sighed. “I could easily send those explicit photographs to Hogwarts’ Board of Governors. They’d expel you, strip you of any chance of education anywhere else, and this stain on your record would prevent you from getting a job in Europe.”
“Then I’ll tell them it was you!”
He actually laughed at that. “Darling,” he said, with his voice sweet like honey. “I own the Board of Governors.”
He was right. Hermione knew he was right. In front of her was the most powerful Wizard in all of Britain, perhaps even in all of Europe or the world. He had friends everywhere and more money than he could bother to spend. If Hermione even attempted to say that his hair was swept the wrong way, the reputation she had cultivated in this world will shamble around his fist. No one would believe he hurt her, much less raped her. She, his golden son’s best friend and brightest witch of her age. A like minded individual. A child.
“What do you want?” Her voice trembled like the rest of her.
“Sit on my lap, Hermione.” She did and he smiled. “Good girl. Was that so hard?”
She sniffed, shaking her head.
“I’d like to tell you something, Hermione.”
She wiped her cheeks. “What?” She felt uncomfortable. She was only in a skirt and Tom had swept it away so that, despite her still wearing it, her bare thighs and panties rested on his thighs. He pulled her very close to him and he curled his arm around her waist. He slowly jumped his leg up and down, causing her to move along with it.
“I know you have a crush on my son,” he whispered mischievously into her ear.
She had no response to that. It wasn’t like he was wrong.
Tom played with her hair. “But did you know,” he teased. “That he has a crush on you, too?”
Despite the circumstances, her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
He nodded. “Despite adolescent romance being beneath me, I thought that you should be aware.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t going to say thank you, that was for sure.
“Have you had any other sexual relations other than me?”
She cringed. She wanted to forget that that day happened at all. “No, sir.”
“That’s rather disappointing,” he said. “Harry’s a young boy. Don’t you think he should be with someone who knows their way around a wizard?”
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
He chuckled deeply. “You needn’t worry, love.” He grinned at her as he caressed her tear stained cheeks. “I am more than willing to teach you.”
That sunny afternoon, Tom Riddle taught her how to take a man using her hands and mouth.
Harry and Hermione fucked for the first time in her fifth year.
It just… happened.
When Hermione first saw Harry on Platform 9¾, she could barely look him in the eye. His father was with him. She was unable to prevent her flinch when Tom Riddle approached her to kiss her cheek. Her body shivered at the contact and she practically dragged Harry into the train.
When they found an empty compartment, the train was moving away from the station and her fear was beginning to ebb away.
“You alright, Hermione?”
Honestly, she almost forgot that Harry was with her. She was so focused on getting away from Tom that Harry had only been an accessory on her arm. She swallowed, hating how her fingers were still trembling against his wrist.
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t seem to believe her, but he felt that she didn’t want to talk about it. “I know what will make you feel better.” He grinned cheekily.
“What?”
“I’ll get you anything you want from the trolley!”
“Candy isn’t very healthy, Harry.”
He shrugged. “Being sad can’t be very healthy either. Plus, you’re a Prefect! Congrats! This is my way of celebrating with you.”
She almost forgot about that. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
Harry surprised her by pulling her into a warm hug. She tensed a little bit until she firmly reminded herself that the arms that snaked around her waist were Harry’s, not his father’s.
It all went downhill when he tenderly kissed her forehead.
Tears formed in her eyes at the soft contact. Throughout the whole summer, she was sure that Tom would show Harry her pictures and that he would be too disgusted to even be seen with her. She could hardly catch sleep at night, fearing that her photos would end up in The Prophet and she’d have nowhere else to go. Her shame and self-hatred were the only things she thought about anymore. They were so ingrained in her psyche that she couldn’t imagine her only friend to think of her any other way. And Harry —sweet, kind Harry— would leave her and she’d have no one else.
Hermione almost couldn’t believe that he still treated her so gently. She could hardly imagine treating herself like that anymore. Her filth stretched below her skin, sullying her inside until she was rotten. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being used, no matter how much she cleaned herself or threw up. Harry was her anchor— without him, she was sure she’d never leave her bed again. She’d just stay in some forgotten corner until she died.
It had been Harry’s simple act of kindness that let her feel hope.
And yet, she found her own way to dirty that hope. She turned it into dust that fell between her fingers.
Because when Harry began to pull away, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from tugging his tie and pulling him down to meet her lips. She felt Harry gasp in surprise, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel him and everything he had to offer until she felt as though there was still something in her that she could like.
The fire only burned further when Harry reciprocated.
As he kissed her, he brought out his wand to lock the door and obscure the view from the windows. Hermione giggled as she pushed him to sit on the plush red seats. She kneeled, placing her knees on both sides of his hips. She grinded her wet pussy on Harry’s hardening bulge. They were still kissing deeply, but Harry had somehow removed her sweater to reveal her perky breasts.
Harry broke the kiss to settle his face between her boobs. Hermione continued riding his erection, feeling her cunt throb. Harry’s fingers reached downward to push her panties aside. He traced her slit, sighing as he felt exactly just how wet she was for him. He played with her pulsating nub as Hermione continued to gasp on top of him, pushing his face against her swollen breasts.
He fingered her, gently at first, before doing it so quickly that Hermione became a moaning mess of pleasure. He smirked against her nipple, more than pleased at how loud and responsive Hermione was for him.
At the back of her mind, Hermione suppressed the disgust she felt when long fingers entered her. Because it was Harry who was doing it. She wanted this to happen.
Not like before.
Harry didn’t stop there. He stopped his ministrations and unbuckled his pants. He pulled them down and revealed his stiff cock. It sprang upwards so eagerly that Hermione giggled to herself. The two friends were blushing and laughing now after the initial fervor was wearing off. That still didn’t stop them from continuing.
Hermione grinded her pussy against his dripping tip. She let out whimpers as she did so, feeling searing hot pleasure ride up her body. She could feel Harry’s shaky breaths on her, singing her praise and lust. Biting her lip, she angled Harry’s cock on her swollen clit. She used it to play with her nub until she felt like she could burst.
“Put it in,” he said quickly.
She hesitated. Despite what Tom had done to her, she was still a virgin in this regard. What if-
“Hermione.” Harry grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “I said put it in.”
His words and the way he told her made her much wetter than anticipated, which was exactly the push she needed to actually do it. She slid down his long cock slowly, moaning wantonly like a whore. It felt so strange yet so unbearably good.
They both shuddered at the penetration. Harry leaned his head back and Hermione moved until he was fully inside her. She moved her hips around, wanting to feel him everywhere.
Harry pulled her in for a kiss and Hermione took that as her cue to move up and down. She was gasping and whimpering as she did so, muffled by Harry’s lips on hers. Harry’s other hand sneakily rubbed her clit as she moved.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he said breathily.
Hermione revealed her neck to him, which he took as an opportunity to give her hickies. “Fuck,” she sighed. “You feel so good, Harry.”
“I’ve wanted to fuck you for ages.” He quickly got bored of the slow pace Hermione set for them. Lifting her hips with the strength only a Quidditch prodigy could possess, Harry shoved her against the wall and pounded inside of her. Hermione could only close her eyes and let out small screams as Harry pushed deeper and deeper inside of her. “I noticed when your tits first began showing. When your legs got longer. When your lips looked big enough for sucking.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. She never realized how strong he was and it made her want him all the more. “Faster,” she begged. “Please, Harry. I want more! Fuck!”
He did as she asked almost immediately. The pace could hardly give her any time to think or breathe. Her lust and desire made her mind go numb. Sex felt so good.
They finished together, with Harry shooting his load in her and Hermione begging his mouth for more kisses.
When they fully processed what had happened, the two jumped away from the other in embarrassment. It was Harry who manned up first and asked her to sit on his lap for the rest of the ride.
They fucked for the rest of the school year.
They didn’t have a label for each other. They were best friends, closer even. Harry and Hermione simply never sat down to discuss the nature of their relationship.
They’d fuck in the classrooms. In the closets. Beneath the Quidditch stands. Inside the Prefect bathroom. In the common room. In the Room of Requirement, where they’d request all different kinds of set-ups.
They were fuck buddies and nothing more, but Harry would always hold her so tenderly and tell her beautiful things when they finished. He treated her kindly, like she wasn't broken or dirty.
It made Hermione fall all the more.
It was a silly little detail.
Really, Hermione felt like she was overreacting.
It was Harry.
Maybe he was being forced to do it. Or he didn’t know any better. Or-
To put it simply, Harry gave his father every single memory he has of them fucking.
This information was shoved into her face when, as she visited Riddle manor the summer before sixth year, she walked into Harry giving Tom a handjob.
That should have been the worst part. It really should have been! An adoptive father was casually letting his underaged son jerk him off as if it were a daily routine. Which, in hindsight, it most probably was.
And yet, that wasn’t the scummiest part of it all.
It was only when she saw that Harry’s head was tilted up so that Tom could look him in the eye did she realize.
He was using Legilimency on his son to watch his memories while he gave him a handjob.
When Tom noticed her presence, he only smirked and placed his wand on Harry’s temple. He pulled out a wispy strand of blue and waved the wand in the air. Eventually, it revealed two hazy figures. One was on a desk, screaming with abandon, while the other thrusted its hips like an animal into the other.
No matter how vague or unclear the images were, she knew it showed her and Harry. Who else could it have been?
She should have been angry at both of them. At Tom for being the most disgusting, perverted man she had ever met and at Harry for revealing their intimate matters like he was telling the news.
And yet, she wasn’t.
She was just numb, almost as though she expected that her brief moment of happiness with Harry would be tainted someday.
“Hermione.”
“Mr. Riddle.”
“You may call me Tom, dearest.”
“... Tom.”
“Very good.” He beckoned her closer to him and she followed like a puppet attached to strings. “Why don’t you kneel down next to Harry on the floor?”
Hermione was reminded of how scared she was to tell Harry how his father had touched her. How he had drugged her and did things to her that she was never able to wash away. She wanted to tell him so desperately, the dreadful experience never leaving her. Not when she and Harry were doing the most mundane tasks, and not when they fucked like rabbits.
She didn’t tell him because he loved his father. He loved him like an idol and treated him as such. Harry never said a word against him, doing his best at school and being a good boy to make his dad proud. Hermione never wanted to take such blind innocence away from him. It felt evil to steal the starry-eyed wonder and turn it into something rotten.
Now what?
“Harry,” she said quietly as she slid into the spot next to him. “What are you doing?”
He looked confused. “Er- handjob.”
She almost rolled her eyes. “I know that.” If she could, Hermione would grab him by the ear and drag him out of the library. She wanted to yell and scream and run away until the two of them were far enough to breathe.
But she couldn’t. Tom was here.
“Then what do you mean?”
“Why are you giving y-your dad a handjob?”
Harry blinked. “Because I love him.”
“That’s not-”
“Harry,” Tom purred with his beautiful voice. “Use your mouth, hm?”
Hermione was about to protest for him, but Harry did as he was asked and put his lips on Tom’s large cock. Without hesitation, Harry slid his head up and down the length. He didn’t even gag or choke, he simply took it like it was natural to him.
She heard Tom groan. Hermione placed her hand on Tom’s knee and squeezed, hoping to get his attention without him getting mad. She didn’t want him angry at her.
“Tom,” she quietly pleaded. “Please stop. He’s- he’s only fifteen.”
Tom shrugged at her statement. “He didn’t complain when he was ten.”
She inhaled sharply. “Ten?” It was almost as though her mind couldn’t comprehend it.
Tom pinched her cheek. “Yes, dear heart.”
Many words popped up in her mind. Pedophilia. Incest. Grooming. Molestation. Rape.
She didn’t say any of them. She was too distracted by Tom’s red eyes and the slurping noises Harry made.
“Why?” Her eyes were wide and she felt tears fall out of them. Tom Riddle, a man with more power and knowledge than she could even comprehend, could have had anyone. Witches and wizards would throw themselves at him everyday for just a spark of his attention.
And yet, he still chose his own son. Hermione was just an afterthought, it seemed.
“I couldn’t help myself.” He sighed. “I am awfully bored with this conversation, darling. Harry, do give Hermione some space. I’d like to try both of you at once.”
The way Harry responded so eagerly to Tom’s words reminded her of a lost puppy in want of attention. Harry’s tongue began to move up and down Tom’s cock on one side. Without warning,Tom grabbed her head and pushed her on the opposite side.
Hermione’s mind went blank. She remembered how Tom forced her into the same position last year and how he had drugged her the year before that. This situation made her recall how dirty she is, how the stains inside of her were still clawing at her insides.
But she still didn’t run or scream or hit him (she couldn’t even if she wanted to)
She wanted to be a good girl this time. She wanted to follow and be obedient and do whatever he wanted. Just to see if it would hurt a bit less.
Tom couldn’t steal something she wanted to give.
So Hermione followed Harry’s movements, hesitantly sticking out her wet tongue to trail along the veins of Tom’s bulging penis. She could feel Tom’s grip on her head relax as he enjoyed the two children pleasuring him.
Tom brought out his wand and swished it over them. Hermione looked down to see that their clothing had changed. They were wearing their Hogwarts uniforms.
“Pervert,” she said blankly.
His only response was to lean down and peck her forehead.
“Harry’s shown me your more intimate exploits.” He patted the top of Harry’s head. Hermione was quiet. “The two of you are quite close now,” he said.
Hermione was too focused on licking to care about what he said.
“We even did it beside the Great Lake, dad!” Apparently, Harry had no problem answering for them. Hermione looked at him incredulously. Harry said that like how a kid would show their parents a good mark on a test.
I feel sick. I want to throw up. I- I don’t like this.
Every time she thought about running, about cursing Tom Riddle until he was a puddle beneath her feet, she remembered how he still had all the photos of her in compromised positions. That shut her up quickly.
“It looks like our guest isn’t enjoying herself very much.” Tom clicked his tongue disappointedly.
Harry’s pretty green eyes snapped to hers. He looked guilty all of a sudden, as if he remembered that she wasn’t just a prop. “Can we go to your room, dad?” Harry gave him his signature puppy dog look. “My knees are killing me and I want Hermione to have more fun. Please?”
She had never heard Harry speak like that before. He sounded like a wide-eyed child with an idol-complex for the only constant adult figure in his life. He sounded so small and young that Hermione barely recognized him. The Harry she knew acted like… well, a teenage boy. This Harry seemed to purposely make himself appear cute and dependent. He made those traits seductive.
She felt sick.
Really, all he needed now was a teddy bear and lollipop to complete the whole age gap fetish.
Tom seemed to grant Harry his request because after he grabbed both of their wrists, Hermione felt the uncomfortable tug of apparition. They ended up in a large room she was unfamiliar with. She looked around and, from the gorgeous dark interior and expensive furnishing, guessed that they were really in Tom’s room.
“Thank you, sir.” Harry smiled brightly.
“Anything for you, darling.” He pinched Harry’s cheek. Hermione gagged.
“Why don’t we give Hermione a good time, Harry?”
Harry hopped on his feet. “Yessir,” he said eagerly.
Without any warning, her friend scooped her up and gently placed her on the bed. She laid there and he crawled on top of her, tracing his finger on her body just like he used to do.
“Harry,” she whimpered. “We can still-”
He shut her up by giving her rough kisses. She gasped, clutching the silk bed sheets as Harry’s hand trailed outside the fabric of her panties coyly. It was such a familiar gesture by him that her body forgot the situation they were in. To her everlasting shame, she felt herself get wetter and wetter the more Harry teased her.
“You’ve done well in conditioning her, Harry.”
Hermione spotted Tom from the corner of her eye. He was sitting on a chair a few feet away from the bed. He was just watching them, his cock out and a cigarette in his mouth.
“Can you remove your blouse for me, Hermione?” Harry whispered into her ear.
It was one thing for Tom to make her do something she didn’t like, but Harry? She kept quiet and didn’t move.
“Hermione?”
“Can we talk about this?” She kept her voice low, afraid that Tom would get angry at her if she spoke too loud.
To her surprise, her sweet and patient Harry clicked his tongue and looked at her with the faintest look of irritation. It reminded her so much of him. “Hermione,” he said flatly. “Just do it or I’ll do it for you. Your choice.”
She was left speechless at that. She didn’t know what to say.
“Hermione…”
“We can still run. We can tell Dumbledore or-”
“Should I have just brought Ginny instead?” He glared at her. “Dean said she was a good fuck.”
She felt cold suddenly.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” She fumbled with her buttons until her chest was open for all to see. She was going to shrug the top off of her shoulders, but Harry stopped her. She swallowed, remembering how much Harry liked it when they fucked with their clothes on.
She heard Tom laugh quietly to himself, but she ignored it.
Harry’s eager mouth went to her breast, licking and sucking as he pleased. Out of habit, Hermione leaned against him. Harry’s skillful fingers entered her wet hole. He started slowly at first, relishing her tightness until he felt like she was ready for more. Hermione eventually felt two and then three fingers move freely in her and she stifled the whimpers escaping her lips. She forgot he knew how much she loved being stuffed.
“Stretch her arse for me, Harry.”
She didn’t even notice that Tom had approached them like a predator. The words didn’t even register in her head until she saw Tom hand Harry a vial that looked suspiciously like lube.
Her eyes widened and she tried to scamper away to no avail. Harry gripped her thighs tightly and spread her unwilling legs until she was open for anything he wanted. He lubed up his fingers until he was satisfied. With a surprising gentleness, Harry penetrated her backhole for the first time.
It felt so weird, like a foreign object was trying to make its way inside of her. Harry tested and probed her arse. He watched her expressions as he switched up the pace, grinning as he figured out what she liked. Carefully, he added another finger and stretched her as far as he could without hurting her too much.
“You’re taking this like a champ, Hermione.” He let out a shuddering breath. “You feel so good, you know? Fuck. I want to nut all over you already.”
She couldn’t answer, her head was empty from the pleasure Harry’s fingers seemed to effortlessly give her.
“Eat her out, Harry.” Tom caressed Hermione’s cheek from above her.
Harry grinned boyishly and hopped down, pulling her waist closer to him. Hermione gasped as she felt his tongue lick the outside of her cunt. She writhed wildly on the bed. Harry played with her clit between his teeth, his eyes focused on her face as she enjoyed herself far too much for her own liking. His thumb would lazily enter her arse, too. Her mouth was open and her eyes were half-lidded, cheeks rosy with lust.
When Harry stuffed her with his tongue in her pussy, she screamed.
And then she felt long fingers in her mouth.
Her eyes snapped open to find Tom directly above her. His handsome face was lazily smirking at her as he shoved his fingers in her gasping mouth.
She choked on them as they slid down her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes as he showed no signs of stopping. He massaged her tongue as he went, gathering as much saliva as he could so that he could smear it on her face. Hermione coughed and gagged, unused to the brutal treatment, but Tom continued like he didn’t particularly care how she felt.
Hermione’s mind was so conflicted. Harry was eating her out so wonderfully, but Tom was practically asphyxiating her. She felt violated, but a growing part of her was actually beginning to like what was happening. She liked it when she was being hurt. She liked it when neither of them listened to her. She liked it when they used her as they liked and she didn’t have to think about how disgusting she was anymore.
“I think she’s ripe enough,” Tom told his son.
Harry simply nodded and stopped what he was doing. Hermione mewled, already missing his tongue on her cunt.
She didn’t have much time to miss it, though.
Tom and Harry switched places, with Tom between her legs and Harry above her face. She yelped as Tom put her in a kneeling position. Harry lowered her so that she was on her hands and knees on the bed. She had a vague idea of what was going to happen and she felt wetter just at the thought of it.
Hesitantly, she opened her mouth and spread her cunt out a little bit further.
Tom slapped her ass in response. “Eager little whore, aren’t you?”
She nodded, her face reddening ever so slightly.
“It appears Ms. Granger likes being used as a cum dumpster.” Tom slapped her ass again. Hermione shivered at the contact and the name he referred to her by. “Why don’t you show your dearest friend a good time, Harry?”
“Yessir,” he said before he shoved his dripping cock in her tired mouth. Hermione looked at him and almost flinched away when Harry spat on her face. Harry spread around his spit on her, liking the way she looked with it.
She couldn’t say anything with her mouth full of cock, so she just sucked him off like a good girl.
And then she felt Tom’s prick slide into her arsehole.
It reached in so deep that she gagged on Harry’s cock in response. Neither man cared. They simply continued as they liked, with Harry reaching the back of her throat and Tom pounding into her as quickly as he could.
Hermione felt like a ragdoll between them. It was so overstimulating. She couldn’t decide where to focus on because of how quick and eager the two were. So she decided to just be limp and let them do what they wanted.
“What if I came inside of you, Hermione?” Tom asked, sweat dripping down his forehead.
She didn’t answer. She was too busy giving Harry a blowjob.
He removed his cock out of her arse and pushed it inside her wet cunt. Hermione tensed, realizing that he meant to nut in her pussy.
She pulled away from Harry to look at him, about to beg him to stop, but Harry sufficiently stopped her by forcing his prick down her throat again. He held her jaw so that she couldn’t turn away again.
To her surprise, Harry pinched her nose closed which prevented her from breathing. She looked at him with wide eyes, but she had a feeling he was enjoying the way he treated her. Hermione tried to remain calm, but eventually she didn’t have air anymore. Harry seemed to take pity on her and let her breathe, before doing the process over and over again.
Tom clutched her hips tightly, wanting more friction between the two of them. The force driving her to swallow Harry deeper and deeper into her mouth. She could think and breathe at this point, but she didn’t care anymore.
“What would they say if the brightest witch of her age was pregnant with my child before she even turned seventeen?” He chuckled, going as fast as he could. “It would be a scandal, hm? They’d expel you, surely. Perhaps your parents would kick you out. You’d have nowhere to go but to me, Hermione.”
She didn’t know if she was crying because of the cocks in her or because of his words.
“You slut,” he moaned. “You just fuck anyone, don’t you? You fucked my son in a train and now you’re fucking someone old enough to be your father. I’m surprised your pussy is still tight.”
“Dad,” Harry said quickly, eyes closed. “I’m coming!”
“Make her swallow,” he ordered. “I want her to feel us inside both of her holes.”
Harry and Tom gripped her tighter and moved as fast as they could before they both spilled their seed in her, Harry finishing first and Tom not too long after. Hermione shuddered, enjoying the sensation of them spilling inside her body.
They pulled away and Hermione collapsed on the bed with her eyes closed, not really bothering to cover up or do anything else. She just laid there with Tom’s cum dripping out of her pussy and Harry’s salty taste on her tongue.
Without another word, she drifted into sleep.
When they graduated, Hermione became Tom Riddle’s only apprentice in Spellmaking.
It was an opportunity offered only to her. The teachers at Hogwarts encouraged her to take the privilege, saying that it was a once in a lifetime chance. She would never be able to get this sort of first class education anywhere else.
So she accepted.
Harry was his only other apprentice. He was going to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Hermione wasn’t sure if they’ll really focus on the defense aspect of it.
When the three apparated to a lovely manor in France to complete their training in privacy, she felt herself tremble as the two men looked at her with eerily similar smiles.