Terms
The next time she woke, Hermione was still in pain. She had been cleaned, changed, and tucked into a bed she did not recognize. Her heart sped up. Where was she now?
She tried to push herself into a sitting position, but that only served to send a spike of pain up her arm. As she bit down the groan, the door opened, and Dobby appeared in the doorway.
"Miss should rest!" He rushed into the room to fuss over her. "Dobby, sorry Miss, Dobby, so sorry Dobby let mean lady hurt Miss."
The moment she saw the boy, her heart settled; he wouldn't be very far from Harry or Riddle, which meant she must be in one of their guest rooms.
"You didn't know, Dobby." Hermione let herself lay back as a new worry occurred to her. Why had Riddle banished her from his room? "How long have I been out?" She asked as she reached up to feel her eye. It seemed the swelling had gone down, but someone had put a bandage over the injury.
"Miss has been hurt for two days. Dobby will bring Miss tea?"
"That would be wonderful." She nodded and let her eyes close as it made her a bit dizzy. She was far from recovered.
A few minutes after the boy had left, the door opened once more. Figuring it was Dobby with the tea, she worked on sitting up more slowly, this time.
"You are awake."
She looked up to find Riddle standing in the doorway.
"I am." She wondered how long it would be till he banished her from the house entirely. He knew who killed Rookwood; they couldn't have found their way to save her without knowing who was behind it all.
"Do you think you can walk?"
Her throat tightened, and she nodded as her eyes shifted to the bandage around her arm. The scar was going to mean trouble getting a new placement in a proper house.
"Yes." She wasn't completely sure if had the energy to do something as draining as walking, but if he kicked her out, she wasn't going to let herself seem weak in his eyes.
"Show me." He was still standing in the doorway, and his looming made her skin itch.
Hermione shifted in the bed and worked hard not to show any pain on her face as she got to her feet and took one step towards him.
Riddle smirked and opened his mouth to say something when Harry was pushing past him.
"What do you think you're doing?! Get back in that bed!" He ordered, and Hermione was glad to have an excuse to sit down. "This is your doing, I'm sure." He gave Riddle a glare over his shoulder before he set about propping her so she could sit more comfortably in the bed.
"I'm fine." She was pleased with how strong her voice sounded.
"If you reinjure yourself, you won't be."
She let him fret over her as she watched Riddle lean in the doorway. Why was he just standing there? If he was done with her, why not have Harry tell her to leave? He wasn't the sentimental type to dwell over things that were no longer useful to him.
"How did you find me?" Hermione asked to distract herself from the weird anxiety she was feeling over leaving them behind. She made sure to direct her question to Harry as she worked to keep her attention on him and not the man looming in the doorway.
"Dobby came to me the moment he saw you go down. By the time we returned, you were being carried away. Dobby followed them as I went to contact Tom." He motioned with his head back to Riddle, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from looking in the man's direction.
"Dobby followed them back to their stronghold and then retrieved us. You worked as quite the perfect bait to reveal Rookwood's murderers."
"He doesn't mean it like that." Harry cut in before Hermione could respond. "But with the evidence, we retrieved many of the members of The Hallows are going straight to Azkaban."
"Who were they?"
"They are a group connected to the Church, whose mission is to seek out other groups that would go against divine law," Riddle explained. "Only a handful of members were rounded up after we made our exit."
Hermione slowly nodded as she considered what that would mean for her. Was she still in danger from the group? Or had they gotten what they wanted?
"I don't think the German was the leader." She wasn't sure if she had already told them her thoughts or if she had dreamed it.
"Gellert Grindelwald. It is among those arrested and probably answers to someone within the Church itself. We'll see if anyone tries to get him released."
"They're a fringe group; I doubt anyone important has anything to do with them."
"So, what is your next step?" Hermione refused to let herself look in Riddle's direction.
"Harry insisted we put you in here while you are recovering."
"What does that have to do with the case?" Harry asked as he frowned at his friend.
"She doesn't care about that. She wants to know when I plan to rid myself of her. And as previously discussed, that has nothing to do with the case."
When she finally looked up at him again, Riddle was looking down at the threshold between room and hallway. His feet were firmly outside the room.
"I'm well marked by other people's attention." She didn't need to look in the mirror to know she was still thoroughly bruised and beaten. "Worse than before."
"You are."
"Some of these marks may never go away." She brushed her fingers over the bandage that hid the word now carved into her skin.
"You shouldn't worry about that now." As Harry tried to reassure her, Riddle looked back up in her eyes. His gaze swept over her from, continually assessing, before he looked back at his feet. Some might mistake his attention to the floor as a show of shame, but Hermione could tell he was only calculating the exact distance between them. "You need to recover before you even think of anything else."
"So I can at least stay until I recover." She refused to let Riddle's words give her any hope. He loved to play games, but that didn't mean they were an invitation.
"Of course!"
"If you must."
Harry's and Riddle's words mixed oddly. The doctor sounded shocked she would even need to ask; the investigator's voice gave no hint of any emotion. A moment later, Riddle turned and left her alone with his partner.
"Don't let him fool you; he's quite upset you were hurt. I think he's fond of you, not just the…" Harry waved his hand in the air in a motion she could only assume meant sex. She decided then to put him out of his misery.
"We've never…" She moved her hand in the air as Harry just had.
"But you two have been-"
"Sleeping in the same rather large bed."
He turned a bit pink, and she laid a hand on his. "Nothing is ever exactly as it seems, especially not with Mr. Riddle."
"I'm quite aware. It would be best if you still stayed here until you're recovered. I don't know…" Harry licked his lips and looked uncomfortable. "Tom doesn't react to things like a normal person. He's been stewing over your kidnapping and injuries. It is my professional opinion that you be able to stand without pain before you are alone with him again."
"I don't think you have to worry, Harry; Riddle doesn't like broken things." She closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of everything in her head.
Harry let out a humorless laugh. "You may think you know him, Hermione, but that is one thing you have dead wrong. Tom prefers the broken things. Much more interesting." He gave her one last bow of the head before leaving her alone.
It was well after dark when Hermione pushed herself carefully out of bed once more. She pulled off the bandage around her head and touched her tender face, blinking to make sure her sight was unhampered by the beating.
It took longer than she would have liked to make it down the short hall to Riddle's room, but she found the door ajar when she got there with a light shining from the crack. Hermione pushed it open and found Riddle sitting up in bed reading. He had been waiting for her.
He said nothing as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. He waited as she undid the lacing of her nightdress and let the fabric fall to the floor. She could feel his eyes like a physical touch as he took in every mark and blemish her captors had left behind. His attention turned to the bandage still on her arm, and then he looked back up into her eyes expectantly.
She swallowed the knot in her throat as she removed the bandage; Hermione hadn't had the nerve to look at it.
"What did you tell them about me?"
"Only that you're a lot smarter than they give you credit for." She stood only a few feet from the door. She was already tired from getting to the room, but she refused to show any more weakness than she had already revealed.
"Do you think I'm a Death Eater?"
"That would depend on what Voldemort is." Hermione knew a man like him would never follow a simple idol.
"He is their leader. They call him a god, but only the most devoted have ever seen him in person."
"Are you pretending to be one of them to help Harry?" She asked because she did not think he would follow a faceless leader with any true devotion.
His lips twitch in a bit of a smile. "I have been recruited to their most minor ranks. That is why they call me their pet investigator."
"I wondered why you would let anyone call you a pet; we both know you much rather be the Master, m'Lord." She couldn't hide the way her exertion was making her breath come faster, but he made no mention of it as he left her to stand feet from the bed.
"Why are you here, my pet?" He asked as he allowed his lips to turn into a pleasured smirk. He was waiting for something, but what?
Hermione carefully lowered herself down onto her knees and put her hands behind her back. She took a slow breath to calm herself before looking back up at the only man she would ever want to do this for.
"Please, m'Lord?"
He slowly got out of the bed, making his way to the wardrobe and taking his time as he pulled on his robe and carefully tied it in place. She hadn't expected him to be putting on clothes, but it was one of the things she enjoyed about Riddle.
"Potter is worried that I could harm you in your current state." Riddle approached, his posture perfect with hands clasped behind his back. He looked down at her; his expression shadowed in darkness. "Why are you here?"
Hermione's heart was racing for an entirely different reason as she looked up at the monster she desired.
"I want to know where I stand."
"Aren't you kneeling?" He mocked.
"If you're planning to keep me, I want more defined terms. If you're not, I would prefer to know now."
"What do I pay you for, Miss. Granger?"
"That is the question of the night." He moved closer, forcing her to crane her neck back to keep sight of his face. "You like to own people."
He chuckled softly. "I like to own you, but what services do you provide?"
"I do what you tell me to do." She wasn't sure what he wanted from her just then, and it made her both nervous and excited. She always knew what a client wanted, and the fact she couldn't read Riddle like a book made him as unique as he claimed.
He crouched down in front of her, their faces close enough to kiss. "I pay you for information, the ability to look at your form any time I wish, and for you to sleep in my bed. Anything between us beyond that has nothing to do with our business relationship. I do not pay for sex. I do not pay for your submission beyond what I just defined."
"How long do you wish to retain those services?" He was asking her to truly submit, not to pretend as she did for clients.
"Until I-"
"No more of that." She cut him off before taking a calming breath. She knew he didn't like to be interrupted, but she had had enough of trying to guess when she would have to move on. "I need to be able to make plans for my future. I require a timeframe."
"A year in a day." He came up with that answer too quickly. He had planned for her to ask.
"Starting when?"
"Whenever you sign." He dropped a stack of papers in front of her, but it was too dark to make out anything more. "A formal contract to retain your services."
"When did you have this drawn up?" Hermione tried to make out the words on the page; she wasn't about to sign anything she couldn't read.
"That doesn't matter. It details what I require from you and your payment. Your compensation will include room and board, though if you sleep anywhere by my chambers, you will be charged rent at market rates. I feel it is quite fair."
She set the papers aside and looked up at him. He was standing over her again; did he think she would sign them on his word?
"I'll look at them in the morning."
"The point is to separate any professional commitments from personal desire. If you are kneeling here for me because you think it will benefit you in some professional way, you should return to the room Dr. Potter arranged for you."
Hermione looked at the pile of papers as she considered what she wanted next. "I've never mixed my professional and personal lives before." She admitted as she chewed on her bit.
He grasped her chin so suddenly it caught her off guard, and she whimpered from the pain as he aggravated her injuries.
"Have you ever been with a man outside of a professional way?" Though his tone was as calm as ever, his touch told how much he cared about the answer.
She couldn't help but laugh. "Most men would be more concerned by the fact that I have sex for money, but what would bother you is if I ever had sex for…" She tilted her head in his grasp, aggravating her bruised jaw further as she considered her words. "...what? Pleasure? Attachment? Love?" His grip tightened on her last word.
"I've never been with a man outside of work. I don't have the time, and most men don't want to claim a whore for anything more than a bit of fun."
Riddle's hold loosened, and she smirked up at him. "I'm kneeling here because I want to see if you can live up to my fantasies."
"You fantasize about me?"
"You and my perfect room."
"Did it help?"
Hermione closed her eyes as he gently stroked her cheek.
"It was a useful distraction, but not a perfect one."
"We shall have to work on that."