Random drabble, not for anything in particular.

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I want you.

He trails his fingers across her cheekbone, smirking as she shudders away. Her back hits the wall and her eyes grow larger with fear - he likes that. Pushing both hands into her shoulders, he pins her, taking a second to observe the terrified expression on her face before forcing his lips against hers. She shrieks into his mouth the first time.

I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire.

The second time she relents. They are sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, at midnight, alone. When he stalks over to her and throws the book she has been reading to the side, she glares at him, mouth opening to chide his ridiculous behaviour. He pulls her up by her collar roughly and yanks her into her chest, capturing her lips again. Although at first he feels her limbs tense against him, eventually she relaxes, her lips begin to move with him. He feels a hot tear against his cheek. It is not his.

I want to watch you lose control.

He fucks her later that night, in the Head Boy's private quarters. He pushes her down onto the bed, not bothering with niceties and tears her clothes from her body with a flash on wandless magic. She cringes at first, covering herself with her hands, so he lowers himself onto his knees and forces her legs apart. She whimpers as he places his mouth against her outer lips, then, as he sucks hard on her clit, she moans his name. Her hips tighten around his head, but his hands keep her legs firmly apart.

I want to watch you lose.

"Tom!" she screams, cunt tightening around him as she climaxes. He says nothing, just growls and thrusts into her again, clutches her thighs between his fingers, digging in his nails. What he does is hard enough to hurt. She cries out and he sees weakness.

I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me.

He leans back in the armchair, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray in front of him. She watches from across the room, lounging on the bed, hair spiralling out of control. He observes her, twisting his ring around his finger absent-mindedly. She never averts her eyes from the glinting black stone that was encrusted in the centre. Smiling, he rises from the sofa and heads towards the bed, pushing his shirt sleeves up past his elbows.

I want to write my secrets across your sky.

In Potions, he reaches his hand under the table and runs his fingers up over her thigh. She turns her head and stares at him with wide eyes. His hands slip into her underwear and he begins to gently rub her clit, round and round. The touches are soft, enough to make her wet, but not enough to bring her over the edge. He notices her hands shaking, the way her brow furrows as she struggles to concentrate, to keep silent.

I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back.

The next time they fuck, this time against the wall of a deserted corridor on the fifth floor, he looks into her mind. She is so far gone into pleasure that she doesn't notice his further intrusion. He sees war. The future. He sees Lord Voldemort. Horcruxes. He sees the cup, broken and dying in her hands. Her hands are covered in blood, his Death Eaters lie dead at her feet. Rage bubbles in his chest and he fucks her harder, scraping her bare skin against the wall. She cries out - this time he sees a warrior, not weakness.

I want a list of atrocities done in your name.

The smoke curls out of his mouth in tendrils. Alone now, he wanders around his quarters, letting the cigarette smoke wash away the scent of her. At first she had been fun, a challenge - but now she was so much more. He could kill her. He should. But the idea repulses him and he finds himself making excuses to keep her alive. Her knowledge of the future is precious, she could guide him - Lord Voldemort would not make the same mistakes again.

I want to throw you.

He never lets her leave his side, despite her protests. He tells her that he loves her, a lie of course, but he thinks that she'll be swayed by this. To his chagrin, she isn't.

She merely replies, "You shouldn't be."

Then she straddles his hips and lowers her cunt onto him, causing him to groan in satisfaction. When he comes he breathes her name for the first time.

I want you to know that I know.

"Hermione Granger, born 19 September, 1979."

She freezes, dropping the glass of wine that she held. It shatters on the floor, causing both of them to flinch. She turns, fixing him with a determined stare.

"You know."

"Yes, I know."

There's a long pause. Tom curls his upper lip, Hermione places a hand subtly on the wand in her pocket. Neither move, say for the rising and falling of their chests.

"What happens know?" she asks, her gaze hardening. He feels the daggers shooting from her stare

"Take your clothes off and get on your hands and knees."

I want to be your secret hater.

They hate each other, deep down. It's obvious from the way they fuck - always hard, bordering on painful. She leaves scratches as he bites down, he tightly grips her neck as she pulls on his dark curls. They both know one of them will break one day, but until then they will keep fighting.

I want to stop destroying you but I can't.

She knows how this will end.

I want you to watch as I take it all.

Hermione raises her wand to his temple as he shouts her name in ecstasy.

And I want and I want and I want. And I will always be hungry.

"Avada Kedavra."