Author: hpfanf
Pairing:Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger
Timeline: Late 1950s, early 1960s.
Rating: PG.
Type: Drabble.
A/N: This is something I wrote for fun. A small little one-shot.
His Doll
She stirred in her current state of slumber while a small, barely audible moan escaped her lips. Her hair, like always, looked bushy and unbrushed which completely contradicted the fact that she had tried, so very often, to clean it up and make it look presentable or, at least, as good looking as it could good. The almost thirty year old man sitting across from the bed sat in a old mahogany chair looking at the beauty that had entranced him for so long. Every time he had to tried to pretend that he didn't care about her, that he didn't want her, that he didn't like her, her resistance fell as soon as darkness swept over and she gave him a happy and innocent smile.
That innocent smile of hers. If a smile could kill, hers would definitely achieve such an extreme. For so many years he had built a wall of steel around himself, around his followers and his heart. He had guarded his heart by pretending that it doesn't exist; too many times he turned girls away after a night's fulfillment and after getting what he wanted from them. That's all everyone was ever to him. A means of achieving his plans. Nothing could and can stand in his way. They all melted like ice to fire when they stood before him.
Except her. That innocent smile of hers.
What is about her that entrapped him? He knew that she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world. But she was. She was pretty, smart and extremely powerful. She can be sweet and charming at one moment and, in another, completely transform into something mysterious, compelling and gorgeous. She was an exotic fruit; a blossoming rose in a garden of lilies. And, when she came to him, she enveloped him in her aura of lightness; her light and hopeful spirit.
When he was with her, her innocent smile entrapped him and his heart. Nothing in the world mattered.
As long as she was his doll.
His Hermione.
His woman.
He walked to where she was sleeping and climbed over their king sized bed. She was naked in his bed, wearing nothing but a silk chemise that extended down to mid thigh. The red curtains and silk linens were the only ones that ever witnessed the heated passion shared by the two lovers. No one, not even his most trusted flower, Abraxas Malfoy, was allowed to come in his quarters. No women was ever in his bed, even when they were giving them their mind, body and should and were in the act satisfying him.
It was their bed. No one else's. Their domain. Their place of serenity where they can exist and move as they were one soul.
Tom removed the little hair that fell on her eyes and planted a soft and chaste kiss on her red, swollen lips. He looked at her sleeping form and wondered at how quiet and beautiful she looked. After a long night of passion and heat shared by the two lovers, all that was left to do was to turn off the lights and return to the deep slumber of sleep.