It had been thirteen days, sixteen hours, and twelve minutes since he had kissed her. Not that she counts things like this: frivolous things. He was majoring in politics, the same as her, but for completely – no, utterly, different reasons.

Tom Riddle was all power. She often heard him saying things like, "power and those too weak to see it," or "intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings," and then asked her if she understood the reference. Her chest would puff up as she huffed out a, "of course I understand the Salvador Dali reference!"

But that wasn't the most infuriating part of Tom Riddle, no not at all. The most infuriating part of Tom Riddle was that despite his arrogance he was just charismatic enough to charm the teachers. He had the best grades in the class and Hermione was not used to losing. Because that's what this was – a game. Hermione was quite competitive and liked to win, and so when Tom Riddle decides to kiss her at exactly midday on a Tuesday, and she fights him. She battles him with all the kissing techniques that were lost on her ex-boyfriend, Ron.

And he gasps, and he moans, and he does everything that the boys in her romance novels (a guilty pleasure, really) do. And she falls. She falls, and she falls, and she falls.

"'Mione? You okay?" Harry snapped her out of her thoughts. She really had to stop zoning out and thinking about Riddle. Not that she did this often. Oh God, she definitely did.

"Yeah, Harry, I'm okay. Just tired. My classes are keeping me up." She got up to leave, but then she saw a tall, dark figure standing outside the café door. Shit.

She walked out anyway, and Harry just sighed and didn't follow. She knew it was hard on him after the breakup between her and Ron – which she usually just referred to as the situation.

"Riddle." She greeted him. She'd been purposefully ignoring him since the kiss and she could tell it was getting under his skin by the way he tensed up every time he saw her walk straight past him.

"Hermione," he nodded, "You've been ignoring me." Double shit.

She tried to walk past him, but he put an arm out to stop her. She sighed, and loudly. He had an amused smirk on his face, which was both comical and fitting with one eyebrow raised and the corners of his beautiful mouth twitching in opposite directions.

"You're staring, and it's not polite." His smirk grew wider. He looked like that awful comic villain. The Joker, that was the one.

"It's difficult not to stare when you look so comically amused." She said, with a smirk of her own. His eyes quickly darkened into something more sinister and she swallowed loudly. He noticed.

"I'd kiss you if you didn't look so proud of yourself," he mused aloud. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. He absentmindedly twirled a strand of her caramel curls.

"You wouldn't! Not again, I absolutely refuse, and you don't get to just s-stalk me and then – mmph!" She was cut off by his lips pressing desperately against hers. This was nothing like the first time. Before, he was gentle – at least until she pushed back at him. But now everything was rushed, jolting electricity and clashing teeth and biting lips.

Suddenly, she hears the tinkling of the bell attached to the café door, and the moment is broken. "Harry!" She exclaims, "let me walk you to the bus!" She quickly maneuvered out of Tom's embrace – which she hadn't realized she was in and started walking with Harry, who was looking at her with a strange glint to his eye. Tom didn't call her name and for that she was grateful.

Another week of sullen silence on Tom's part and blatant disregard on hers led her to believe this was just a one time (two time, really) thing. She only approached him in class when they had to work on their group project – a project discussing the different aspects and repercussion of the EU Referendum, and to ask the occasional question. He was, after all, the only one in the classroom with better grades than her.

Tom on the other hand regarded Hermione with guarded looks and nasty sneers, as though she didn't belong in Oxford, as though she hadn't worked her absolute arse off to get in, and things were normal. Normal was good. Hermione was just starting to get used to this rhythm when Tom stops her in the hallway.

"I need to get to my next class, so if you'd excuse me," she said in a huff.

"Cor, look," he pointed at the student café, "I fancy buying a treat for my favorite swot." He said it with an uncharacteristic lilt to his voice. It sounded like a faint cockney accent and she didn't allow herself to let the sudden heat between her legs bother her.

"Absolutely not, I have Ancient Politics next, and I am not missing my favorite class to spend time with an arrogant cockney twit like you." She stomped her foot on his instep, and all dramatics aside left him gaping at her from afar.

Malfoy approached him. He can't believe that ignorant bint had just rejected him and then proceeded to bloody wallop his foot. Malfoy must've seen the look of fury on his face, because he sounded apologetic as he informed him that the plan was already in motion.

Abraxas Malfoy was a different breed of cruel – a politician at heart, and an absolute prat at best, but certainly Tom's best friend. It also helped that Malfoy was stinking bloody rich. Malfoy was talking about the plan to infiltrate parliament directly after his graduation in a year, of course. Tom wanted power, and he would do anything to guarantee it.

That bitch in his Modern Politics class made him feel powerful, Hermione Granger – her name practically rolls off his tongue. He has tried everything to make her his. From kissing her gently (Tom doesn't do gentle) to inviting her to dinner on evening to even offering to buy her a snack in the student café. He just didn't understand why she abhorred him so. He was outwardly charming, charismatic, and handsome. He also certainly did not have a problem with his ego, unlike that awful ex-boyfriend of hers… so yes, he's a little bit overzealous, but everyone has their flaws. The fact that she called him out on being a common Londoner however had been the last straw.

It was a week later when she finally gave in to his advances. She was sitting in Advanced Grecian Politics when Riddle walked into the classroom, his usual pompous air suffocating her with every step he drew closer. He sat next to her. She glared at him for a full minute before frowning with resignation of the situation. He simply gave her a secret smile, and she visibly relaxed. Well, at least he's not here to bother me. She had been wrong.

He had slipped his hand under the table and rested it on her knee, lightly tapping his fingers. She gasped at the contact. He simply gave her a contemptuous smirk, and moved his hand higher. She had suddenly regretted wearing her favorite green plaid skirt. He was now at the waistband of her knickers and she could not bring herself to stop him. Truthfully, she had been his for weeks now and was only just realizing it.

"Tell me to stop," He whispered through the curtain of her hair. The professor continued to drone on. She sat perfectly still and waited for him to continue. "Or tell me to go." He smirked.

He knew that she wouldn't admit she wanted him; she was far too stubborn. "It's a simple question Granger."

"Hermione." She said softly, "Call me Hermione."

"Answer the fucking question, Hermione." His common accent was leaking through again, and it only made her want for him grow. She nodded, hoping it would be enough. It was.

He mercilessly rubbed at her through her knickers and she was struggling to keep her breathing normal. He could tell. He moved upward towards her clit. She actually whimpered. Luckily nobody noticed except him, but it was mortifying nonetheless. He simply smiled more predatorily. She was forcing herself not to buck against him.

She was on the edge of her orgasm when he pulled away. She looked up at him wide-eyed and flushed. "You wouldn't," she said.

"Oh, I would, Dove." His accent was thick, and made her thoughts wander to what he would sound like first thing in the morning. He grabbed her hand, and put it on his pants.

"Feel how aroused I am, Hermione. You are to leave this classroom within the next minute. Excuse yourself for a bathroom break. I will be out shortly." She swallowed and did as he said.

She found an empty classroom and placed her bag down, smoothed her skirt, and paced. He had managed to escape the classroom, and sneak up on her.

She nearly shrieked when she felt a hand cover her mouth, another hand coming up to cup her breast. She relaxed against him, and he twirled her, the glint in his eye instantly making her wet.

Six condoms and seven positions later they were utterly spent. His hair was almost as wild as hers now, black and unforgiving and severe, and he had the nerve to ask, "Do I get that dinner date now?"

She was out of breath, but she managed a, "Yes."

- END -

I plan on continuing this and making it a short (maybe six chapter?) fanfiction. If you'd like to leave a review it's greatly appreciated, and I will see you with an update soon.