Tom/Harry

Disclaimer: Don't own anything

Warnings: Taboo material (BDSM) that might be weird for some people, and of course, Harry's potty mouth.

Chapter Two:

"I'm not some….sacrificial lamb, or whatever else crazy you were thinking."

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Bloody hell this could NOT be happening to him! 'For the love of all things good and holy, God…why me?' Harry lamented as he looked around the sparsely lit club. He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting, but definitely hadn't signed up for this.

There was a dance floor with people dancing and a bar with people drinking. There was a lounge where people were talking. And that was all. No whips or chains hanging from the walls. No girls dressed in little school girl outfits. No sexual depravities or people taking part in. It was all…normal.

It looked just like a regular club. Sure a little more lavish then the ones he went to. The people at the bar were drinking champagne instead of beer, and the people dancing were listening to something other than the normal dubstep music DJs played. 'It's just a normal club.'

He'd let Draco dress him up, put makeup on him…all for nothing. Not only was his male pride irrevocably damaged, but now he was going to be the center of attention if he took his coat off. The whole point of his current outfit was the blend in. Looking into the sea of smartly dressed men in three piece suits and women in gowns dripping in jewels, Harry looked like kid invited to the wrong party.

"Where gonna need you to ta take off the jacket," one the bouncers mumbled, bringing Harry back from the fringe of his almost panic attack.

"No!" he said strongly, tugging Draco's coat around him like a security blanket. He was not taking of the coat. There was no way in hell that was happening. He had been embarrassed enough just letting Draco force him into the clothes. If he took off the coat, Harry was sure he'd die of shame.

The burley guard was unhindered by Harry's protest. "You can't ave the jacket on. We ave to search you-"

Harry's eyes snapped away from the club to glance at the man talking to him. "Search me? For what?"

"We don't know…that's why we ave to search in the first place." He spoke to Harry as if trying to explain to a child why they shouldn't touch a hot stove. Harry didn't even have enough time to feel offended before the other bouncer grabbed his arm, and proceeded to yank it out of the coat. He struggled valiantly, unwilling to lose the only thing protecting him from the gazes he knew he was going to attract. His breath caught when the second bouncer grabbed his other arm, roughly tugging the jacket until he bared before their eyes.

Even in the darkness of the club, Harry could see both the men's eye widen at his attire. Or lack thereof. However, stubborn as always he refused to be cowed and glared at both of the offenders without remorse. He'd patch up his pride and dignity later, but right now he had to put on his brave face. He would not let anyone see him sweat.

"Obviously, I don't have any weapons," Harry said coolly. "So if you don't mind giving me my jacket back."

The bouncers were broken out of their surprised stupor at the sound of Harry's voice. The one currently holding his coat broke into a deviant smile that made the hair on Harry's neck stand up and his stomach plummet at his words.

"No, I don't think you'll be gettin it back mate. See, we gots orders to follow. Else…we'll be bouncing at Chucky Cheeses," he said with a satisfied grin on his face.

'Curse Draco to all seven layers of hell,'

"Look, I'm sorry about my friend. As you can see he's a prat. He didn't mean anything by it, so…just let me have my jacket so I can be out of your way."

The other troll shook his massive head. "Uh uh."

Harry stared at bout men, horrified. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He'd found himself in some pretty crazy predicaments before, usually at the behest of his friends, but this one took the bloody cake. But what could he do? Keep arguing with the two Neanderthals, consequently wasting time finding Ginny. Or finish what he came to do as quickly as possible and be out before his nerve wavered.

He sighed. "Fine," and turned away from the cackling guards and headed for the bar. Hopefully he could take a seat there, try to look as inconspicuous as possible, find Ginny, and be out before anyone even noticed his presence.

Up in the VIP section, Ginny was having the time of her life. So far the night had been everything she thought it was going to be and more. At the very beginning of her plan, of course she had some doubts, but now, it seemed like everything was coming full circle. She'd waited for this moment for almost three months, and it was happening.

He wanted to draw up a contract with her, and Ginny's heart soured at the future possibilities that awaited her. It was all so surreal.

When she began her correspondence with Tom Riddle a couple of months prior, she was just looking for answers. Some insight into the thoughts in her head and the feelings in her soul. She would even go so far as saying that she was looking for understanding, caring and maybe even a friend. But the more emails she exchanged with the elusive man the more she realized that that wasn't what she had been searching for at all. No, what she wanted was a mentor. Someone to guide her, teach, and help her along her own journey into this lifestyle that she was interested in. And Tom was going to be the one to do it. Surreal indeed.

To think that what started as a quest for stronger reading material had three months later landed her in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle taking an interest in her. It was all so overwhelming, but she wasn't afraid. This was what she wanted, and she was honest in her answer to Tom when he asked her about it. The intimate conversation replayed over in her head.

"You're young, Ginevra." He always called her by her full name. She used to hate it, but the way Tom said it made her feel older, more mature, and all of a sudden more worthy of his attention. "Sometimes interest can be mistaken for true desire. What makes you so sure that this is what you truly desire?"

She thought about lying to him. But she had already lied once and didn't want to make a habit of it. Plus, she didn't think this topic was something she could get away lying to him about. Tom Riddle was one of Britain's most infamous dominants. He was picky in his selection of submissives, a firm man people said, often bordering on cruel and sadistic. But the people that had the honor of being chosen by him were so enthralled, sang his praises so loud that his repute and nature made sure he was always in the highest demand. He had experience. She wanted that. And to get the best experience possible, she needed to be honest and upfront. She'd already lied about her age, telling him she was eighteen instead of sixteen. Some dominants would have taken her nonetheless but she knew Tom Riddle wasn't one of them. Trust was one of the biggest parts of the lifestyle and she had already tarnished it, even though it was with good intent. But she promised herself that she wouldn't lie to him again.

What made her so sure that this was what she truly desired, wanted above all things?

"Nothing," she'd whispered voice clogged with uncertainty. "I don't know that this is what I truly want. But I want the opportunity to find out if it is." She took a deep breath, steeling herself before going on.

"I'm not afraid of trying. That would be stupid. But I am afraid of trying for the wrong reason. That I'll go with the right intentions, but lie and fake my way through it. And that's not what I want. I want to try…but I need the opportunity, the experience, even if I can only make it through once…I need that to be real. I'm not always sure why though?

"Sometimes I think this nothing more than a base desire to be with a man. The idea of what a man should be is differs from person to person. To me, men are creatures who know what they want, have no need for petty games, and conquer their desires. I want to be conquered. Boys don't know what they desire, not really. Let alone how to take hold of it. I'm so tired of boys. I'm tired of being in charge all the time. Being the mature one, the one that makes the choices, the one that leads. I can follow someone. I want to follow someone. But no gives me the chance.

"Other times, I imagine I'm simply interested in the idea of someone trying to break me. I say try because I'm really confident in my ability to not only remain intact, but to do so with a bit of cheek and sass. I'm stubborn, resilient, sometimes stupid in my unwillingness to back-down, and the idea that I would bend to anyone's will other then my own is laughable. And it might seem conceited for me to say all this, having only books to go on, but I am just that conceited to believe so until proven otherwise. I want someone to try and prove me otherwise.

"Finally, sometimes I chalk up this desire as the fallout of too many BDSM books that I've romanticized. The Story of O, Exit to Eden, Dances with Werewolves, Chronicles of Sleeping Beauty, Justine, even Venus in Furs, and all the modern ones you find in the naughty section of any bookstore. Admittedly, most of these stories don't conclude with the stereotypical 'happy ending,' but those are kind of unrealistic anyways.

"I want to see, and learn, but mostly I want to experience. And I really, really hope that it's everything I've been hoping for.

"So I guess what I'm attempting to say without being overly cliché, which I think is impossible at this point is that I know what I want…but I don't know what I want. Honestly, I'm not even sure what I want you to say, or what I expected when I came here tonight." The end of her little rant seemed so anticlimactic. She'd just bared herself to a man at least ten years her senior in the hopes of something that she couldn't even name properly. It was exhilarating and life threatening all at the same time.

For his part, Tom Riddle has just listened and watched. By the time her little explanation was over, he would have said he was almost fascinated with the girl. Almost. Her desire, as she had just articulated was perhaps the most honest explanation he had ever heard from anyone. The honesty was refreshing, and her almost innocent curiosity was…cute. Most people didn't understand what the lifestyle meant; only what they thought it entailed. To hear the young and clearly inexperienced Ginevra speak so openly just about endeared her to him. Except Tom Riddle didn't do endearments, and while interesting, she was still just like the rest. Curious, besotted, and easily enthralled with and by him.

Their email correspondence had been more for the girls benefit. How she stumbled upon the Chamber of Secrets website, he'd look into later, but there was a spark in her that he could see in the first email. So he continued conversing with her. She had a lot of questions, a lot of theories, and a lot of eagerness that continued to grow with every response he sent back to her. And like a newborn puppy waiting amougnst its littermates to be picked up and brought home by it's new master- that's how she looked at him when they had finally met in person tonight. That's how everyone looked at him.

Truth be told the only reason he indulged her was because he was indeed on the scout for a new potential submissive. His last long term affiliation had ended about six months prior to their meeting tonight and he could feel the dark desires in him stirring relentlessly. Of course he could have partaken in short term dalliances, and he did on occasion. But that got old quickly. Playing with a toy that wasn't your own provided more hindrances then was worth the actual session. He left always feeling unfilled and never sated. An unstated Tom Riddle, was a bad Tom Riddle.

He looked across the mini table at his guest. She was pleasant enough. The red hair was vulgar, but he could look past it. She had that look on her face like past potentials before her; eagerness, adoration, and a willingness to give all for the smallest chance at his affections. She was new to the lifestyle. It would be fun to train her, he supposed. And there was a bit of potential. So why did he still feel so bored?

He didn't do well feeling so jaded, but it seemed like that was all he was capable of experiencing for the past couple of months. Nothing satisfied him anymore. Everything in his personal life had suddenly become a bore, and it shouldn't be like that. He was at the zenith of his power with his company and still rising. He'd accomplished one of his goals, making the cover of Forbes only two months ago. He had everything he wanted, and what he didn't have, he could get. So the feelings of restlessness and from where they stemmed, Tom was at a lost to say.

Normally when these bothersome bouts of boredom hit, he took a submissive. The lifestyle suited his innate need and desire to dominate, control, and be obeyed. That's why he made the Chamber of Secrets. So that not only could he indulge in the dark recesses of his soul, but he could do so with other like minded people as well. And most of the time that was enough. But now, even his favorite pastime had become just another bore. He was just so tired of it.

Tired of the look, tired of how easy it was to beguile people with a few words, a charming smile and a handsome face. Tired of the easiest with which he procured all his partners and the almost repetitiveness in which his dalliances began and ended.

There was a time when every person he took was a new territory to be conquered, a new victim to break, a new student to teach. He exalted in the time and effort, in the journey, that he took and forced his companions to go on. There was a time when the looks of adoration aroused him and the worship bestowed upon him was more heady and filling then the most expensive of wines. And he missed it.

The girl was interesting, yes, but nothing different. Nothing special. In the end she would prove to be just another faceless individual that wouldn't be worth remembering. Someone to be grouped along with his string of partners and forgotten just as easily as the others had been. He wanted to sigh. The monotonous nature of it all was almost enough to make him sick.

He stood up, and the girl almost had to lean back to look up at him, such was his exponential height. Taking one last drag of his cigarette he flicked it carelessly on the floor (someone would come clean it up) and began walking down the stairs that led to the VIP section. He'd offered her a contract and he knew she was going to accept. Even a novice such as she was not unaware of his reputation and the prestige that came with being his current plaything. No one ever resisted becoming the so called apple of his eye, even if it only lasted a couple of months. That was one thing all his submissives had in common. All his contracts ended after three months. That was all the time Tom was allowed before he grew bored.

She stood quickly almost stumbling in her haste and excitement before following in line behind him. Without words they made their way past the lively dance floor and bar, heading towards the back of the club. His office perhaps? Ginny was about to ask when she felt a sharp tug on her arm that made her whip around, only to lock gazes with a beautiful pair of familiar green eyes.

"Ginny?" Oh shit, it was Harry! All she could do was stare into the face of her first crush, and present good friend. Oh god, what was she going to do? What was she going to tell him? What…

"Harry, what the hell is on your face?" she asked completely perplexed by the darkness around his eyes that made the green even more prominent. "Is that…oh my God, Harry! Why earth are you wearing eyeliner?"

Even in the dark Ginny could see the bloom of color grow on Harry's face. "We aren't going to focus on me right now Ginny," he muttered angrily. "What the hell are you doing in this place?" he asked, but didn't wait for a response as he begin dragging her towards the entrance. "Ron has been worried sick about you. Can't believe you'd pull a stunt like this-"

The shock of seeing Harry in the last place she expected to see anyone rendered her speechless, and while her mouth was taking a hiatus, her eyes took in Harry.

There were absolutely know words to describe how amazing Harry looked in the ridiculous outfit he was currently wearing. She knew her brother's best friend ran track all during high school, and it defiantly paid off. While not overly muscular there was underlying hint of toned muscle in his lithe body that made Harry look almost powerful. His outward physical strength however was squished in combination with the tight leather pants that were hanging low on his hips and-

Was that what she thought it was? Gaining control of her body she put her foot down and yanked her arm out her friend's grip. He wheeled around looking like he was about to say something furious at her, but Ginny beat him to the punch. "Harry, are you wearing a thong?" Ok, now she was completely scandalized. There were something eyes just should never see. The tantalizing glimpse of the thin strap of black peaking up out of his tight pants, and resting contentedly on his creamy hip was one of those things.

"Ginny, you are never to speak of his again. I had to dress this way to come rescue you-" wait, rescue her? "from being a sacrificial red-haired lamb sent to slaughter-" ok, that was just creepy, "so it's really all your fault!" Oh it was?

Glaring at Harry, Ginny placed her hands on her hips in a very Molly Weasley-like impersonation of her mother. "I don't remember asking you to come and rescue me Harry. I'm here because I want to be…not because I'm some….sacrificial lamb, or whatever else crazy you were thinking. Now leave," she said firmly.

It was Harry's turn to be shocked. That ungrateful little chit. He'd sacrificed his pride and his dignity to come and find her. He was wearing leather and make up, and a bloody thong…all so he could come and save her. And she didn't want it. Well that didn't matter because he was did not subject himself to Draco's cruelty for nothing. Play time was over.

Gripping her hand again, this time more firmly, Harry's poisonous green eyes contracted in righteous anger and determination. He was going to give her a piece of his mind, but before could utter a word…they were interrupted by a cool voice.

"Does their seem to be a problem here?"

And just like that, Ginny's night was shot to shit.

Oooohhhh Ginny's been a bad girl, making Harry suffer unneedlessly and lying to Tom. He won't be to happy about that either.

Next: Tom and Harry offically meet, and the depth of Harry's determination is called into question.

Review and let me know what you think. This chapter was hard for me to write for some reason.

-Peacock