N/A: Warning: Dub-con. I do not support any type of rape, please don't send me dead babies. Seriously. Writing shit like this helps me to release whatever I need to release. My pervy mind, probably. Cheers.

Disclaimer: Also, JKR and Moffat (shakes fist) are the leaders and I do not own anything.

He had her trapped. As a gesture to the special treat he was planning, the gates of the theatre closed with a significant slam that made the coat hangers in the room next door clink silently even when the resonation wave fell silent. He knew she would be there, he had been paying a major attention to every step she took. His silhouette against the heavy door was slender, majestic and it stood out dark against the light coming through the glass as he was making sure sure his prey wouldn't make out his features just yet. He wore his favourite suit and balanced on his tiptoes with hands in his pockets in a playful but dangerous manner. She was wearing a simple black dress with a coral red necklace, a clutch of the same colour and strap high heels. Her hair was sleek and tied up in a low updo with a few loose curled strands. She was currently facing him, breathless, possibly scared. He knew what she was. A witch. It took him a lot of time and effort to actually find out, but there he stood with the brightest witch of her age trapped like a stray dog in a cage.

Hermione looked around, slightly nervous, looking for other people. She was just about to leave the theatre. When she got back from the loo, though, she found out the whole building was more or less deserted. The only person to be seen was a man currently standing facing her. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he took a step closer. She felt uneasiness in her gut as he circled her and tightened her grip on her clutch. As he got merely two steps from her, she quickly drew her hand into it to pull out her wand. But it was gone.
'Looking for this?'
His voice was as cold as the shiver that ran down her spine. She felt her stomach drop and her hands shake. There was a wand in his fingers. Her wand. Hers. Hermione felt sick as he circled her. She felt a strand of her hair going loose and then being gently pulled backwards unnoticeably. She felt the hairs on her back rise up and her breath got stuck in her throat. One of the curls fell on her back and she squirmed involuntarily. A cackle from behind her made her eyes water. It lasted for a split second before she started racing towards the closed theatre door, panting and trying not to trip over on her high heels. The man grabbed her from behind and she started screaming. He clamped his palm over her mouth and muffled her shrill and frightened voice. And then, he changed. His voice was soft.
'Shh, don't scream. Just calm down. I don't want to hurt you.' Hermione was scared for her life and she couldn't help but let a few sobs escape her throat. The stranger pressed her gently against his soft and warm body. It was a very strange, yet rather repulsive sensation. She concentrated on her breath remaining steady and her body calm.
'That's it,' he said, 'All is okay.'
No, Hermione thought, but yet, she felt a strange feeling of comfort pool in her stomach, which was odd, given the fact this man apparently had no good intentions. His hand smelled like an antibacterial sanitiser, it made her feel a little sick. He turned her around and walked her back into the auditorium hall. It was empty and light. A golden daze made the decorations shine bright. Other times, Hermione would stop to admire them. Not now, though. Now was not the time for aesthetics.
She fought fruitlessly against his strong arms as he shoved her forward. His gaze was, despite all his rough features, very soft. He took Hermione around her waist and fondled her chestnut hair and went over her forehead, which was now coated in beads of sweat as she was scared and nervous. A few strands of hair clung to it. Hermione shivered as he moved it away and then he pulled her closer. She looked down, embarrassed and a few strangled sobs escaped her throat as well as a few tears found their way down her already wet cheeks.
'James Moriarty,' he said and Hermione could finally distinguish a very significant Irish drawl. 'Jim for you,' he looked down in a way a puppy would and then smiled slightly as he brought his lips to Hermione's. She tried to move away, but Moriarty was quicker. His tongue found his way and he enjoyed exploring her mouth.
Hermione shut away the thought of biting him. She could've make him mad. His taste resembled of black coffee as well some essence of alcohol, which Hermione couldn't quite make out. He knew she would react like that. It was a part of his own strategy. Distraction. It was all it led to. To sneak under that pretty dress of hers. Hermione tensed, but he continued to kiss her, forcing her own tongue to interfere, too. Hermione was very puzzled and her mixed feelings did not help. Her body betrayed her, although her mind almost screamed in protest. Silent tears of resistance and desperation streamed down her cheeks and she couldn't help but kiss the stranger.

The moment he started tugging at her panties, though, she suddenly became aware of what was going on and whimpered silently, trying to push his sneaky fingers away. He smiled and then kissed her briefly.
'Just relax.' Hermione wanted to say something defiantly as if it was even possible to relax with a complete stranger shoving his tongue down your throat and possibly wanting to have a good time? Her body, however, betrayed her again. Hermione started feeling aroused. Moriarty continued running along the lining and lacing of her knickers while trying to be more gentle kissing her slightly parted lips. Hermione gave a weak moan. Her hormones were stronger than her and as adrenaline mixed with testosterone, they took a complete control over her confused mind and will. Jim grinned and started to slide his thumb under the hem of her panties. He did not try to take them off just yet, and he did right. He saw Hermione's soft skin flush in anticipation and her pulse was increasing with lust. He waited for this moment. Everything went along his plan.
He stripped the black piece of lingerie and lay Hermione down on the seats. The girl's breath was heavy and there were apparent signs of confusion obvious on her face. She was scared, but he knew she wanted it. Or at least he hoped she did. He was doing this for a reason.
Hermione snapped into reality as Moriarty started taking off his trousers.
'No, please,' she didn't want to beg, but it seemed like the least hopeless option. A smirk appeared on his cheek, showing little dimples on either side of his face and then he took his pants off, showing off his member. (A member of what? Is that a secret club? I wanna join) His Irish accent was becoming nerve-wracking at this point.
'No worries. I'll make it as pleasant for you as I'll be able to.'
Hermione winced as he pushed her deeper into the chair and lifted up her tiny dress properly, spreading her thighs apart. He took a while to watch her sweet innocence. Suddenly, all her reason abandoned her mind and left her there in an empty theatre seat. Her body longed for what JIm could offer her. And his, apparently did, too.

Moriarty positioned himself at her entrance and then leaned in, kissing her deeply, enjoying every moment he could. Hermione moaned anxiously to make him hurry up, her body was too aroused. With a single gentle thrust, their bodies joined in one. Hermione gasped. Now she realised what happened. He did it before someone else could. Ron. Her thoughts, however, got distracted by Jim rubbing her back gently while still kissing her, moving slowly to the pulsing vein on her neck. It was one of the few ticklish spots Hermione had, but his gentleness made her wince in a demand for more.
Moriarty moved in and out again in fluent and consistent movements. His hands moved down her abdomen to her bum and back to her thighs, which he parted a little bit more. He still hasn't broken the kissing. He had to pull down Hermione's dress to reveal her now slightly swollen breasts. He put a kiss between them and squeezed them with his fingers. Hermione gave a moan once again as well as going red in the face.
Jim's movements became faster as the tension between both their bodies rose and was almost at the brink of spilling over the top. Hermione felt it and it felt like someone spilled a warm liquid all over her body. She needed it. She had to have it.
Moriarty had what he waited for. He could only perform his act when she reached her climax. As she did and a louder moan then before filled the theatre hall, he plunged a syringe with a long needle right into the pulsating vein on her neck. Hermione let out a shocked gasp and a tear ran down her cheek as her eyes closed in a forced, artificial form of sleep.

...

Her eyelids felt heavy as if each of them were weighed down with lead. Her stomach felt sick and she wasn't sure if she couldn't move. Her whole body ached, not to mention the dull pain between her legs. When she opened her eyes, though, she realised the horrible image of her own body. There was a bomb strapped to her stomach.

N/A: Any suggestions and ideas or comments appreciated. I would really love some reviews!