Hey Guys...
I know a lot of you probably want to murder me right now, I'm making excuses to not update. Soreeeh..Real life is MURDER. Exams, exams and MORE EXAMS. I'm going crazy! If not that, I've got coursework to do.
Grrrrr...
I'll get more wrote in the Holidays.
Anyways, this was lurking in my documents, so here you go!
All Lyrics are taken from the lovely Lady GaGa's "Judas"
Enjoy!
Judas
"You'll never get away with this."
"Oh, but my dear, I already have."
Hermione flinched as smoke was exhaled in her face. Tom smirked, reclining into the sleek leather chair. She was bound to her chair by a long rope that was thickly wrapped around her by the crazed Bellatrix who shrieked in glee as she did so, and as she struggled, the harsh material irritated her sensitive skin.
She hated him with every fibre of her being. She hated his smirk, she hated his dark eyes that roamed over her like she was a pile of shit beneath his highly polished shoe- she just hated him.
"It's a terrible habit Riddle, smoking," she spat, narrowing her chocolate eyes at him. He just smirked, quirking his lips into that incredibly annoying way that made her grind her teeth together. She was sure she would need work on her teeth after she escaped from this hellhole. Her parents would be delighted, she though sarcastically. He took another drag from the cigarette, staring at the young girl intently.
She was a strange girl, Hermione Granger.
"Why am I here, Riddle?" Hermione asked, using the name of his Muggle father, knowing that it would anger him. And it did. His dark eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, until his nose was nearly touching his.
"I think you know, Granger," he sneered, slapping her suddenly. She cried out, and tried to cup her cheek that was throbbing in pain now.
He wasn't in his best mood.
She hated him with a passion- but she still was captivated by him. His thirst for knowledge to rival her own, his aristocratic features that looked like they were perfectly chiselled by Michelangelo, and his demeanour that screamed 'worship me.' She never would, of course, but secretly, she admired him.
She glared at him through watery eyes, shifting in her chair to be as far away as she could from him. He chuckled, took another drag of the cigarette, and again, reclined into his chair.
"I just don't understand, why me?" she murmured, "what do you want?" She looked at him, and he let his eyes roam over her body, lust shining in his eyes.
"Oh God- No!" She said, hysterical, and tried to push her chair back.
"Relax, mudblood, I would never sully myself with you," she sighed, relaxing in her seat.
"Or maybe," he muttered, standing, taking one last drag then dropping the cigarette to the floor, and stubbing it out with the heel of his polished shoe, then pacing forward to the girl who closely resembled a deer caught in headlights. He pinched her cheeks with his thumb and index finger, tilting her face upwards.
"Enjoy it mudblood, while it lasts," and with a predatory look in his eyes, harshly attacked her lips with his own. She squealed, though it was muffled by his lips, and she stared into his eyes with hate, as he stared back into hers with triumph.
"Succumb, mudblood," he whispered, running his tongue over her lower lip in that ohsonice way that made her shiver and gasp, and his tongue promptly entered her mouth, and she sighed, her resistance starting to slip, and her eyes fluttered closed, and she started to respond.
Oh baby, it's so cruel...
She woke, her lips swollen and a violent shade of red. She had bite marks along her bare shoulders, and a large blood red hickey on her neck.
She groaned, rolling over in the bed to try on go back to sleep. Wait- bed.
She saw a tuft of inky black hair sticking out of the duvet, and her heart rate sped, her body turning into a state of panic.
He hadn't- they hadn't. Had they?
She looked down to see her body completely nude, only the pure white duvet keeping her modest. She reached out a finger, towards him, afraid, but felt a sense of...confidence?
She ran the finger along his shoulder and up to him neck. He moaned, flipping over and towards her. Her mouth dropped open, and after a few panicked breaths, screamed.
His eyes flew open, and chocolate brown met emerald green.
"Hermione?"
I'm just a holy fool...
"Oh my god," Hermione muttered, holding her face in her hands, as Harry brought her a cup of tea. She was mortified. It was one thing to be naked the presence of her best friend, but to also be caught naked, in bed with your best friend, by the rest of the boys in your year.
Oh, the shame.
"It's okay," Harry said, sitting beside her on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room. She was dressed in his Gryffindor seeker shirt that was two sizes bigger than her and draped over her body like a sack, though it clung to certain areas in a way that made Harry gulp visibly. He had hurriedly given them to her, along with a pair of boxers, after she had ran out of the boys dorms in only his duvet.
"It isn't that bad..." He murmured, as she shakily sipped at the tea.
"Not that bad! Harry, I was naked, in your bed...Now they're going to think we...you know...had sex," he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running his hand through his hair, making it stick up even awkwardly than it already was.
The sick bastard, she cursed Tom Marvolo Riddle, and hoped he died a very, very painful death.
"Oh god." She said again, her shaking becoming violent, and he reached over to take the mug from her hands as the hot liquid started to splash over the sides.
"What?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her quivering shoulders.
"He...He undressed me," she said, feeling sick, and leapt up, running for the bathroom. Harry followed after, and as she vomited into the toilet, he held her hair back for her. He could hear her crying, her wails drowned out by her violent vomiting. He waited patiently until she finished, and flushed the chain as she slid to the floor and laid her head on the cool ceramic bowl.
"Come on Hermione, we need to get you out of here," he whispered, and slipped his arms under her legs, lifting her easily off the floor, and supporting her back with the other. She whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his neck.
He set her down easily on the sofa, and covered her body with a woven maroon blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. He crouched down in front of her, resting his head on the cushions.
"Hermione, at least he gave you back to us. Do you know how worried we all were, you were gone for three weeks. Three weeks. We thought you were dead." He brushed some tendrils of hair back from her face that felt like it was on fire. She pursed her lips, angling her head towards his hand, which was a relief to her, cooling her flaming face.
She sighed, as his hand cradled her face.
He climbed onto the sofa, lifting the blanket and settling under it, moulding his body to hers, draping his arms over her slight body.
"Harry," Hermione murmured. The boy in question grunted.
"I missed you," she said, before closing her eyes. He waited until he breathing deepened and slowed, before kissing her lips lightly.
"As did I Hermione, as did I."
I wanna love you, but something's pulling me away from you...
"How did you get in here?" She asked, setting her book aside. Her smirked, lifting a shoulder before lurching towards the girl.
He roughly kissed her, and she responded with the same strength and passion that shocked him, and he broke away quickly. She smirked, running a finger down his cheek.
"I'm not afraid of you anymore, Tom," she said, leaning forwards and kissing him with such gentleness that shocked him to his very core. He frowned when she leaned back, and she saw his face had broken, the angry, arrogant facade gone, leaving only an innocent, confused child, who had never been treated with such care.
She liked it.
When he comes to me I am ready, I'll wash his feet with my hair if he needs...
They were almost like Jesus and Judas, Hermione thought. One of them people worship, the other, evil, as most thought.
No, Hermione thought, Riddle didn't betray Harry. It couldn't be.
She pondered on the thought, but then later decided to forget it.
Jesus it my virtue, and Judas is the demon I cling to...
"Harry!" Hermione screamed, tears pouring from her eyes. Harry turned away, shame evident in his eyes. Tom held her to his body, smirking proudly at the boy who lived.
"See Harry, she's mine, give it up." Tom kissed her for effect. She had succumbed to the demon too far not to respond.
Tears slid down her face when Tom's lips left hers, Harry's emerald eyes showing the emotion that felt like a blow to her stomach- hate.
"I'm sorry," she cried, pushing Tom away, and stumbling towards Harry, who was backing away. Wrapping her arms around her best friends neck, she wept, and wept harder when she realised he wasn't even responding. Not holding her, not pushing her away, just standing motionlessly.
"Harry," she said, clinging to him.
"Leave," he muttered, pushing her away, and then she was caught in his grasp.
"Au revoir," Tom smirked, raising a hand in farewell, then apparated away.
When they were in his room at Malfoy Mansion, she pushed him away roughly.
"I hate you!" she spat at him, the tears flooding from her eyes at a faster pace now.
"No you don't Hermione," Tom murmured, his hands grasping her hips and bringing her flush against his body. He kissed her softly, his lips moulding easily to hers, smirking when he felt her respond and her arms wrap loosely around his neck. He broke away from her lips, trailing soft kisses down her throat, then continued upwards, up her chin, across her cheekbone, until her reached her ear.
"You're in love with me."
But I'm still in love with Judas, baby...
"What were your connections to Tom Marvolo Riddle, commonly known as Lord Voldemort?" The minister of magic asked. Hermione stared at him blankly, looking at nothing in particular, but seeing everything at the same time.
Her eyes were sunken, the once chocolate brown iris' were now a inky black. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and if that is true, Hermione's soul was dead, the once vibrant intelligent girl now a living corpse. The once bouncy curls were now a frazzled matted mess. She didn't care though, she didn't see the point of caring. Her skin is now a sallow pale colour that clings to her bones. She was only 25, but her physical age was 80. Her lips were cracked, and pressed together in a thin line, refusing to open.
"She isn't responding, there's no use, sir," a member of the jury whispered into the ministers ear. Reluctantly the minster suspended the trail, though in the back of his mind, he knew there would not be another one.
Hermione Granger was broken.
Broken by war, death and loss. Tom, her beloved Tom, had been killed a month and three days ago, and since then, Hermione had recoiled into herself. Her stopped caring, and let herself be arrest by Aurors.
She would never recover; everyone knew that, she was too far gone now. She was a shell of her former self.
That was the price to pay for loving Judas.
So I hope you liked it, and hopefully you'll hear from me soon. :3
Review and I grant onto you Tom Riddle, who I'm sure you'll love ;)
Au Revoir! *disapparates*