Author's Note: Review please!
cosettex, thank you for proofreading and editing. You are great!
Disorder
Chapter 1: In The Hotel Room
-Present-
The room was large, dark and gloriously decorated, a luxury carpet covering most of the parquet. Floor to ceiling windows were closed, with laminal silver curtains. In the middle of the room, sat a magnificent canopy bed, with a man sitting in it. His eyes appeared through the shadows: snake-like, and red whose pupils were vertical. He stayed motionless watching the naked female body laying on the carpet. Her skin was full of cuts, her whole body painted red with her own blood. The girl's arms and legs were at weird angles, and Voldemort was shocked to see her lips move. He crouched down and watched carefully. Yes, she was breathing, and from her bloodied lips issued quiet and terrible sounds of rasping, laboured breathing.
Voldemort felt like he was going mad. This can't possibly happen.
"T-T-Tom ..." she moaned, painfully. She could not even open her eyes, she had been tortured and raped, by him, for days. The last memory she had without pain was the one in the forest, standing in front of him.
"I'm here, my little one," said Voldemort softly, and she heard more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse.
"Tom ..." she said again with a diminishing voice. "I ... I ... remember."
"Of course you do," said Voldemort, looking down at Hermione. He was nearly smiling. "But I don't believe you."
His white hand found his wand on the bed and held it with his long fingers for a moment before having the wand touch her forehead gently.
"Close your eyes," he said, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her.
She started breathing faster, as if trying to open her mouth. But she could not even move a hair. And she heard it one more time-
"Crucio!"
Her screams echoed in Voldemort's head.
-Fifty-four years ago-
Young Tom Riddle was laying on scattered sheets and had put his hands under his head comfortably.
The four corners of the bed were surrounded with sculptures, carved from black marble; everywhere you looked, you could see priceless antiques and unique works of art. This room belonged to a private suite of a boutique hotel in London, which served only esteemed witches and wizards.
The man had done everything that he came to that room to do, and his naked body was covered with a thin layer of sweat. A single beam of daylight entered the room through a break between the tulle curtains and roamed over his shapely body.
"Close your eyes, Tom," said a girl's voice.
"All right," said Tom, but he did not close his eyes. Instead, his dark eyes turned to the direction of the sound. This was not a curious glance, and it was difficult to tell what it expressed.
The door to the bathroom opened, just a little, and wisps of vapour slithered and twirled into the room through the open door.
"Don't open," said the girl shyly. Tom did not respond, he winked and continued to look at her.
The girl was wrapped with a towel covering her breasts and her groin, but only barely. Another towel was sloppily wrapped around her hair, and it could not hide her bushy brown curls completely. Her facial features were smooth, rounded, and unassuming; her cheeks, just for that moment, had a slight blush. While she was stepping into the room on her tip toes, her brown eyes focused on the parquet to make sure she wouldn't slip. Her teeth were clenched around her lower lip in concentration.
Before she released the towel, to be sure that Tom kept his eyes close, she turned her head towards him. At the same time, she rose her left hand to block her own view.
"You- you're looking!" she said, blushing nervously. Her cheeks turned red, and she knew very well that her embarrasment was not because of his looking, but his nakedness. She paused on the landing, then tried to act normal again. She gave him a smile and took a sneaky look at his nudity, though she was still slightly embarrassed.
"I said, close your eyes, so I can get dressed," she said, wishing to find out how to stop blushing.
Tom smirked, but did not respond. She sighed. Finally, she gave up and and dropped her towel, but not in a sexy way. She quickly put her clothes on, but Tom was not disappointed anyway.
He watched every move she made, her eyes, her mouth, her hands, the water drop sliding down from Hermione's neck, between her breasts, to her lower body. He watched her stuffing her wand in her pant pocket. He watched like a curious child, and he enjoyed it.
She stood right in front of him and bent down before fondling his dark hair, her lips a kiss away from his lips.
"Say you love me," Tom commanded harshly against her lips, he looked as though he was afraid she would disappear or something.
Her heart leaped. A shiver danced up her spine. "I love you," she whispered.
They kissed.
"Go on now, you will be late." he purred.
She stayed. She knew what will going to happen when she left the room. She wanted to stay more, so she waited, and waited.
"What?" Tom smiled at her face.
She kissed him, as hard as she could. "Nothing," said softly. Then, she turned from him quickly and marched slowly to the door, not looking back.
She left and the door closed behind her.