A/N: I don't know what fascinates me so much about this pairing, but right now (aside from my Vampire Diaries story) this is my biggest obsession :D
This is smut. Smut. SMUT, ya'll. So if SMUT (maybe with a little plot on the side) isn't your cup of tea, look away now.
WARNING
WARNING
WARNING
IS THAT WARNING ENOUGH?
Just one more thing, and that a huge thank you to the lovely Rose Davis who took the time to read this over and beta. Thank you very much for putting up with me, because I know I haven't been the easiest to work with :3
Kindness is the beginning of cruelty.
One
She twisted the time-turner once, blissfully unaware of the fault within it. One turn; but it kept turning, over and over, until she lost count. Her hand desperately clutched the hourglass, in a final attempt to make the clock stop, but it was no use; colours and shapes flew by her as she stood, motionless. Somewhere in the distance she heard ticking, and a faint trickling of sand, as time slipped between her fingers.
Because time, as it turned out, was a tricky thing to hold on to.
Two
"My name is Tom," he introduced himself with false cheer, "pleased to make your acquaintance, Hermione," the way her name rolled off his tongue was almost sensual, as if he was already trying to charm her.
"Likewise," Hermione muttered quietly in reply as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. Out of pure contempt, she pulled her hand back and hid it in the sleeve of her robe.
"Of course," one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up at the freak gesture, but he still remained polite all through the feast while Hermione inwardly chastised herself for her untimely disgust.
After all, drawing attention to herself was something she wanted to avoid at all costs.
Three
Thump. The book she was reaching for, and several others nearby, hit the floor. She muttered a curse as she got down on her knees to pick them up.
"Swearing doesn't suit you," she yelped and cursed again, surprised by his presence.
"Just go away, Riddle," the weakness in her voice made her wince, and even without looking at his face she could tell he was smirking, "I need to sort this mess out."
"You're a witch, Hermione," he mocked her, "why don't you use your magic?" Angry, but also almost transfixed, she watched as he crouched down and gently placed his fingers under her chin, bringing her towards him. "Unless, of course, you enjoy being on your knees." He murmured seductively, looking into her eyes, "where your rightful place is." She jerked back, coming to her senses as his grip on her chin tightened.
"My rightful place," she sneered, "is nowhere near you, Riddle." He chuckled at her fire, but the laugh was more sinister than amusing.
"I'll never go away," he answered her long forgotten demand, and before she could spit out a clever retort he was gone.
Too close. She let him get too close, and now there was no going back. She let him have her; have her, take her, possess her.
"Say my name," he demanded in between fierce kisses, "say it!" She was trapped between Tom Riddle's body and the cold, stone wall, reduced to a quivering mess; how could she refuse him now?
"No," with her last ounces of willpower and decency, she spat out the denial.
His eyes flashed red. Fingers dug almost painfully into Hermione's hips, and he suddenly filled her with one smooth thrust.
She almost crumbled, a loud moan escaping her lips, and desperately kissed him to stop the inevitable. Tom then said nothing more, and instead fucked her mercilessly, bringing her to the edge over and over until she was begging him for release.
She begged, but she never said his name.
He bent her over a desk, and she breathed heavily in anticipation, throwing her head back with a prolonged moan as he entered her.
"Say my name," he whispered his usual demand as he grabbed a fistful of her hair.
"No," she moaned more than said her usual reply, and he tugged. Hard.
"I want to hear you say my name," he repeated, touching her just right, everywhere and yet nowhere.
"Please!" She couldn't take much more, and as the wave of her orgasm hit her, she screamed some incoherent words.
Never his name.
Four
She looked into his eyes.
He looked into hers.
And suddenly he was in her mind, reaching out, searching, probing, and pain flared within her; he was ripping her mind apart.
"How curious," he mused while she writhed on the floor beneath him, "so many secrets."
"Stop!" She managed to utter, and to her surprise the intrusive presence withdrew. Riddle crouched down next to her, much like in the library, and much like in the library he placed his fingers under her chin.
"Little liar," he whispered in her ear with twisted glee. Her eyes widened, because now he knew.
She stayed quiet; she did not utter a word to anyone after the death of Myrtle. The school's closure was upon them, and more than once she saw Dumbledore give her knowing, disappointed looks during dinners. As if he knew; even though Tom assured her that the old fool had no idea.
"Don't call him that," she suddenly lashed out, and many heads turned at the Slytherin table, shocked at her audacity. Anger marred Tom's features, and he squeezed her hand a little too tight.
"Of course, dear. My apologies," he was not apologetic at all, and after dinner had finished he dragged her out of the Great Hall and held her against the wall by her throat until she swore to never question his authority again.
Not in front of his friends.
"You will not tell anyone about what transpired in that bathroom. Do you understand?" He snapped at her after letting her go, and she nodded her head with tears in her eyes. Guilt raged inside her like an inferno, but she was too far gone to tell.
She had always been too far gone.
Five
She tried to leave him. With angry tears in her eyes (she always seemed to be crying recently) she screamed at him all his wrongdoings while he stood, eerily quiet.
"Say something!" She finally yelled after the silence became unbearable, "you owe me this for what you've done to me!"
"I owe you nothing," he stated calmly, his face not betraying any emotion.
"I hate you," she spat venomously, "I'd rather die than be yours." His eyes widened marginally, but then his face returned to the usual, cold expression. So quickly that she barely had time to blink, he had her pushed up against a nearby wall. It seemed to be a particular fetish of his, walls, she mused briefly before he spoke the only words she hated and loved to hear.
"I'll never go away," as his lips grazed her earlobe, she knew he wouldn't.
Six
At first it was harmless; she laughed at his words, playfully swatted at his hands or touched his arm.
"Abraxas!" She giggled, and he looked at her innocently.
"Yes, love?" His arm linked with her's while she rolled her eyes at the endearment.
"I need to study," despite her comment, she did not let him go.
"We can study together," he said suggestively, giving her a cheeky wink.
"We don't take the same subjects," she winked right back and untangled their arms, "but I'll see you later!" Abraxas grinned.
"Yes, you will," he called out at her retreating back.
She didn't see him for the next two months; he was recuperating from a particularly dark curse. When news spread the following day that Abraxas Malfoy had been attacked (and promptly hospitalised) she felt furious; perhaps even more so, because she knew the culprit.
"What is your problem, Riddle?" She confronted him that same night, cornering him during his head boy rounds.
He was in no mood for games.
"You," he spat out, as if disgusted by the prospect, "you and him were my problem. Half of it has been handled."
"You cursed Abraxas!" She accused, ignoring his comments. A twisted smile crossed his face.
"You are the one who really cursed him, Hermione," his dark chuckling rang in her ears long after he was gone.
"Why did you do it?" Tom took in a sharp breath, not expecting anyone to be in his dorm.
"Why did I do what?" He asked innocently, turning around so she did not see his smirk.
"Don't play dumb, Riddle," she'd lost her temper very quickly, but he was not a patient man either; within a couple of seconds he grabbed her wrists. Within another three, she was pinned to the bed beneath him.
"I'm not the one playing dumb, Hermione," somehow, despite her precarious position, she still managed to glare at him, "you know very well why Abraxas had to be... dealt with."
"Because he talked to me? Is that it?" Her voice increased in volume until she was almost shouting in his face.
"Yes, love," Tom sneered mockingly, and she froze, hearing the all too familiar words.
"He was just-"
"I don't share what is mine, Hermione," he interrupted her explanation, hovering closer than before, "and don't ever make the mistake of thinking you're not mine." He was kissing her, almost violently, before she had a chance to reply.
"Did it make you angry, seeing me with Abraxas?" She asked breathlessly when he began to nip at her jawline. His grip on her arms tightened.
"I wanted to rip you away from him and fuck you senseless until you screamed my name," his eyes darkened even further, "and you will scream my name." Two of his fingers expertly circled her clit, and she moaned, closing her eyes.
"Please," she whispered, just as she had done every time, and the pressure increased marginally until she was teetering on that beautiful edge.
"Please what, Hermione?" He asked, and she opened her eyes.
"Please!" He flicked the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she bucked her hips with a cry.
"Not good enough," he murmured into her ear, sliding one long digit inside her and pumping steadily.
"Oh god, Tom, please!" She cried out, and he smirked in arrogant satisfaction.
"As you wish, darling," he inserted another finger, curling them both and sliding his thumb across her nub.
"Tom!" Now without inhibitions, she screamed his name out as she came. He watched her with that same damned smirk as she slowly descended from her high, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. Shame welled up in her.
He had breached her final wall, and now she was completely his.
Seven
"Kill him." It wasn't a request; it was a demand. Lord Voldemort never asked for anything. Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at the boy who was once her best friend.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry rasped, looking at her with regret, "we should've done more to find you."
"Apologising is a weakness," she murmured in reply, "you are weak, Harry Potter." An arm snaked around her waist, and Harry looked in disgust as Riddle whispered something in Hermione's ear. A smirk slid onto her face in response to his words.
"This isn't you, Hermione," Harry tried one last time, "the girl I knew would never side with him."
"The girl you knew is gone," she countered impassively, steadying her hand.
"I forgive you, I hope you know that." Resigned and tired, Harry Potter hung his head.
"Avada Kedavra."
Boom, my darlings. I went there yet again :D Some people I know would be very ashamed of me ;)
Just the disclaimer left I suppose - Harry Potter and any of its recognisable characters do not belong to me. Just sayin', in case there was any doubt :D