Author's Note (PLEASE READ): This is chapter three of my story, and you'll notice that it is significantly longer than the other two, but I just felt like a lot needed to happen in this chapter. Please take note that this chapter is M for a reason. It contains explicit sexual content, you have been warned! All that aside, please review this story if you read it. Any advice/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated by me, because I still feel like I have a lot to learn and improve on. Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

.........................................................................................................................................

CHAPTER 3: The New Plan

During the next three days at Riddle Manor, Anya felt as if she only half existed. With the curtains drawn, the lights out, the door shut, and the black satin sheets of the bed covering her body, it was easy for her to disappear into a world that consisted of only her darkest thoughts. She felt as if she was trapped in the never-ending maze that was her mind. No matter which path she took, the ending was always…dead. Or death. Why should she still live when she had nothing left?

Her only world was destroyed. There was no dress shop, no Aunt Hilda, no Lower Thornbrook anymore. There were no survivors, I made sure of it, he had said. Him. Tom Riddle. He and those people had destroyed her life…those monstrous people that had crowded around her, pointing, laughing, and staring at her suffering. The compass, which had been the only guiding force in her life, was also gone. Tom Riddle had that too. He seemed to have everything: her memories, her future, and most likely the rest of her life.

Anya rolled over towards the window, her eyes reluctantly opening. The drapes were closed, but still the tiniest sliver of white light could be seen. In a sudden impulse, she pulled herself out of bed and walked sluggishly towards the window. She opened the curtains slowly, allowing her eyes to get used to the brightness of the day outside. She looked down at the ground below her and saw that the fall from her window would easily be enough to end her suffering. Anya did not need to think twice about what to do, for she felt as if there was nothing left to live for. She opened the window, stepped onto the ledge, and took a deep breath. She braced herself to jump, ready to end her miserable life, when something extraordinary happened.

A beautiful white dove flew into her room; it had come out of nowhere. It began running into the walls and furniture, flying erratically in circles until it eventually became tangled up in her green bed hangings. Anya carefully stepped off the ledge of the window and ran to help the poor creature. She untangled the hangings and freed the dove from its prison. It had stopped moving and seemed calmer as she held it gently in her hands. She felt its warmth, its soft feathers, and its heart beating. The dove turned its snow-white face and looked at her with beautiful brown eyes. Anya smiled for the first time in three days.

She walked over to the open window and carefully released the dove. It flew away in a flurry of beautiful white feathers, its wings beating quickly. Anya watched it until it disappeared into the distance and she could no longer see it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air, allowing it to fill her up. She then opened her eyes and observed the view outside her window more closely.

For a fall day, it was remarkably clear outside. The sky was a brilliant blue, and not a cloud was in sight. There was a slight breeze outside and she heard trees blowing in the wind. As Anya looked down at the grounds, colors seemed to be magnified and every flower and bush seemed to be more beautiful than ever before. She stood for a long time, admiring the view and letting her senses take over. She had never felt so alive.

Her encounter with the dove, as short as it was, had completely changed Anya's outlook on her situation. The dove had been lost, confused, and trapped like her, but eventually it had found its way out. It had only needed a little help. Anya thought that perhaps there was a way out of this situation, that perhaps not all hope was lost. Maybe she just needed a little help, or a push in the right direction. Even though many things from her past were gone, she would always have herself, and her own choices to make. At least I have my thoughts…At least I know who I am, and I only belong to myself.

*******

Tom Riddle needed another plan. He sat at a desk in one of the many studies of Riddle Manor, twirling his raven feather quill with one hand while his head rested in the other one. A blank piece of parchment lay below him with the day's date, November 4, 1948 sitting squarely in the upper-right hand corner. Tom was frustratingly unable to write this very important letter, because other things were distracting him.

It was that Muggle girl, Anya Blackburn. He had not seen her for three full days, for she had locked herself up in her room. Undoubtedly disturbed by what she overheard, he thought. Tom suddenly put down his quill, his eyes narrowing in malice. His plan had failed. She was not supposed to have overheard that conversation. In his mind, the plan had been perfect: he assumed the part of the hero who rescued her from death; she believed him. He became the charming, irresistible Tom Riddle who gave her a taste of luxury; she began to trust him. Then, it had all been ruined.

Tom knew that there was very little chance of gaining her trust after what had happened. His plan would have to be altered; something would have to give. Tom supposed he could always do the usual business: torture the information he needed out of the girl and then dispose of her when she was no longer useful. But sometimes that could be so boring. It was nearly always the same every time, and after they were dead it was incredibly anti-climactic; the thrill of the chase was gone. Suddenly, Tom had a stroke of genius. His handsome face twisted itself into an extraordinarily evil smile. No, this time it will be different, he thought.

As he began to formulate the new plan in his mind, Tom realized he had completely forgotten about the letter he was supposed to be writing. Resolving to take care of business before pleasure, he picked up his quill again and began to write. For many long minutes, no other sound could be heard except the quiet scratching of his quill. At long last he put the quill back in its holder, perusing the letter he had just written, the emerald green ink still shining.

Dear Mr. Borgin,

I hope this letter doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, as we haven't spoken in a few months. I'm writing to request a meeting with you, and as soon as possible. I must speak with you in person about a very important matter that has come up. I can't reveal too much in this letter, in case it is somehow intercepted, but this is something I know you will be very interested in indeed. I have found something extraordinary and powerful, something entirely different from anything I have ever seen before; but I need your help. The reason why will become clear to you when I see you. I hope to receive your owl soon.

Sincerely,

Tom Riddle

It was perfect, cryptic enough to make Mr. Borgin wonder about what the "very important matter" could be, but not so vague as to diminish his interest in it. Tom would send that letter later, however, as he now had something else to take care of: the new plan.

He pulled out another piece of parchment and began to write again. Tom thought more carefully about this one, taking his time to craft perfectly worded sentences that hid his true intentions. He smirked as he finished the small note, folding it in half and placing it into his pocket. It would not be put into use until later, for something very important. Tom stood up from the desk and pushed in his chair, feeling quite accomplished. As he set off down the hallway to Anya's room, the plan began forming perfectly in his mind. Tom knew nothing could stop him now. After all, he had always liked a challenge.

*******

Anya jumped when she heard a knock on her door. She quickly glanced in the mirror and was surprised at herself when she saw fear in her eyes. She shook her head as if to erase the expression from her face and looked defiantly at the door. What do I have to be afraid of? she told herself reassuringly. She thought of her encounter with the dove, remembering how it had affected her. She suddenly felt much braver, as if she could accomplish anything. Anya took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to open the door.

Tom Riddle stood at the entrance to her room, wearing a charming smile on his face. Anya's stomach lurched, and she did not return his smile. She noticed that his hands were suspiciously behind his back. She knew it could have only been him knocking, yet she still felt surprised to see him there. All feelings of bravery and accomplishment quickly died.

"Good evening, Miss Blackburn," he said smoothly. Anya inclined her head back at him stiffly.

"I do hope that everything has been going well for you these last few days. You seemed to mysteriously disappear, and I must say…I was more than a bit worried about you," he said softly. Anya defiantly stared back at his smug face. This time he wasn't going to fool her. She straightened herself up to her full height, trying to project an air of confidence, but to no avail. He towered over her form, his eyes burning into hers; his smirk grew wider. Anya mentally conceded defeat, her eyes lowering.

"I give you permission to leave your room now, whenever you'd like. That's all I came to tell you," he said, amused by her attempts to intimidate him. With that, he left as suddenly as he had come.

Anya slammed the door behind him, making no attempts to hide her frustration and anger as she threw herself onto the bed, her head in her hands. She didn't understand why he affected her that way. Just moments ago she had had one of the most beautiful experiences of her life, and now she was feeling just as horrible as before. Whenever she had an encounter with him, she became tongue-tied, nervous, and insecure. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how positive she tried to think, she could not stand up to him. There was something about him that was not normal, and it frightened her so much that she could do nothing but submit to him.

Anya decided that she'd rather be imprisoned in this room forever than to see Tom Riddle again.

*******

Anya shifted uncomfortably in her bed, listening to the sound of twelve deep bells striking midnight. The clock was somewhere far away, in one of the many rooms of Riddle Manor, but the sound rang loudly in her ears, keeping her awake.

She was already restless enough, as she was still thinking about her earlier encounter with Tom Riddle. Anya tried unsuccessfully to force her thoughts about him out of her mind. For at least another hour she tossed and turned, her frustrated mind wandering infinitely. At last, she could take no more of it and she quickly got out of bed. She thought that if she took a little walk she'd eventually feel tired enough to fall searched in the dark for her desk, finding it and then feeling around for her candles and matches. Eventually a candle was lit and placed into a candleholder. She retrieved a long white robe from the armoire and fastened it over her nightgown, grabbed the candleholder, and set off through her door.

The hall was pitch black, the light from her candle barely penetrating the darkness. She walked to her right for a few minutes until she found a staircase that led to an upper floor. Anya had not walked these stairs before, even when Tom was giving her a tour of the manor a few days ago. She normally would have avoided an unknown situation like this, but tonight she felt in the need of a little adventure. She gathered up her robe and began to walk carefully up the stairs, holding the candle in front of her body so she could see her feet.

After successfully ascending the stairs, Anya began to walk to her right when she suddenly stopped. She had heard a strange noise coming from somewhere nearby. She paused to listen, and was shocked when she heard another noise, a low moan, followed by a gasp which was unmistakably from a woman. Anya felt a strong impulse to investigate, even though she knew that she shouldn't. With every step she took she told herself not to go through with it, but soon enough she was at the door where the sounds were coming from, her hands shaking slightly. Surprisingly, the door was open a few feet, and Anya cautiously looked into the dark room. What she saw was such a shock that she nearly dropped her candle.

The moonlight that illuminated the bed clearly showed the outlines of two figures making love, their bodies entwined like snakes. The man was on top, thrusting into the woman below with vigor, his hands pinning down her arms as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Anya couldn't tear her eyes away, realizing with horror that the woman was the one she had seen three days ago, whose wild appearance had frightened her so much, and that the man above her was…Tom Riddle.

Although she only gazed at them for a few seconds in real time, to her it lasted an eternity. The woman must have noticed the change in the light from Anya's candle, and she jerked her head towards the door. Anya did not know what her own expression was, but when the woman looked at her, she saw her face turn from surprised, to furious, then to smug. With the woman's haughty expression etched in her mind, Anya fled the scene as quickly as she could.

Tom looked down at Desdemona and noticed that she was looking not at him, but towards the entrance to the room. He stopped his motions and glanced at the door, seeing no one there. He quickly pulled out of her, much to her protest, and ran to the hallway, just seeing Anya's robe glide out of sight down the stairs. So she had seen them… He smirked, imagining with amusement what thoughts could possibly be running through her mind.

"My Lord, please!" whined Desdemona. He whipped around and shot her a spiteful look. At once she stopped whining, her face was suddenly fearful, and that only aroused him even more. He smiled cruelly at her and quickly pounced back onto the bed, pinning her down with his weight and engulfing her mouth with his own.

Soon enough, their encounter was finished. As usual, he left the scene quickly, drawing his cloak around him and walking briskly back to his own room. He felt no attachment to Desdemona whatsoever, but she had come in handy when he needed her. Being the only woman Death Eater, and having taken her away from her horrible life as a prostitute on Knockturn Alley, it had been easy enough to seduce her, and now she was practically his slave. Tom thought amusedly about the possible rivalry that could emerge between Anya and Desdemona; that is, if it all went according to plan.

Tom began to mentally compare the two women. It was like comparing a crow to a dove. Desdemona was dark, impure, and twisted while Anya was fair, innocent, and, he could tell, good-hearted. Anya was certainly much more of a prize than Desdemona, a prize for the annihilation of Lower Thornbrook and the discovery of Gryffindor's compass. As his prize, she was something to be spoiled, her purity corrupted, and her mind submissive to his whims. A future slave…

Tom realized he was beginning to get carried away. After all, she was a filthy Muggle, no better than the rest of their disgusting brood. But was she? Whenever he was in her presence, he felt something emanating from within her that he had never sensed from any other Muggle. There was something different about her, he knew, but what was it? Hopefully, he would find out soon enough, if everything went according to the plan.

Yes, the plan, Tom thought. Now that he was thinking about things more rationally, Tom realized that he was glad that Anya had seen him and Desdemona. If anything, it increased the chances of his plan implementing itself successfully. He would do it tomorrow, he decided, his face satisfied as he observed his handsome features in the mirror next to his dresser. For a brief moment, his eyes burned scarlet.

*******

Anya had been studying the small note in her hand for the past half an hour. She had found it in her room late that afternoon after she had come back from bathing.

Dear Anya,

I know that you have many questions. For these past few days, you have been kept in the dark, and for that I am deeply sorry. I desire to make things clear for you; you should not have to continue to be subjected to this. Please have dinner with me tonight.

Sincerely,

Tom Riddle

The handwriting was impeccable, with long, sweeping, and intricately written emerald green letters. The few well-crafted sentences that were written on the small piece of parchment had such a strange effect on her. The brevity of the note surprised her, and yet she felt as if there were a hidden meaning to his words. She turned her attention to the parcel placed neatly in the center of the bed. The note had been placed on top of it, and she had not yet opened it. Anya was curious as to what could possibly be inside. Knowing Tom Riddle, it could be anything. Anya reluctantly opened the parcel, her eyes widening in surprise.

Inside it was an incredibly beautiful dress. She pulled the sweeping fabric slowly out of the box, another note falling out in the process. She quickly opened the note, noticing it was also written in Tom Riddle's handwriting.

If you accept, please wear this dress tonight.

She looked more closely at the dress. It was the deepest color black she had ever seen, even darker than the sheets on her bed, and the material was of the smoothest satin. It was far from modest, as there were no straps, and the v-neck line was very low. The skirt classily flared out at the bottom. An elegant pair of black high-heeled shoes was also included in the parcel, which was meant to accompany the dress.

Anya felt like her head was spinning. The note was intriguing, cryptic, and it certainly enticed her to accept his proposal. The dress only sweetened the deal, and she began to remember the last time she had seen Tom Riddle…and how incredibly handsome he had looked. But he destroyed your world! said a foreboding voice in her head. Anya tried to cast that aside, yet it was true. He had admitted it himself when she had eavesdropped on him. She should never have dinner with a monster like him!

But her mind kept remembering the note. He had said he was going to make things clear to her, and that he was genuinely sorry that she'd been kept in the dark. Maybe there were some things going on that she could not comprehend just yet. What if there was a reason all this had happened? Should she jump to conclusions so quickly? Perhaps, she had caught him in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Anya glanced out the window; the sun was setting, casting an eerie blood red light into the room. She knew that he'd be knocking at her door soon, to see if she had accepted. With one last look at the note, Anya made up her mind to give him another chance and began to undress.

As she put on the sleek dress, she was afraid that it would be too big for her, as she could step into it quite easily, but as soon as she pulled it up, something interesting happened. The fabric seemed to tighten around her, conforming perfectly to every curve of her body. Somehow, the zipper seemed to have already been zipped up, although Anya was sure she had unzipped it in order to step into the dress. She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror; she had never looked more beautiful.

The darkness of the dress contrasted stunningly with her skin, making her look even paler. The paleness did not look unhealthy, however, but it was as if her skin was glowing. The skirt of the dress trailed regally behind her, the satin swishing as she walked. She blushed as she noticed that the neckline of the dress gave her substantial cleavage that she didn't know she had. Although Anya was somewhat embarrassed, she had never felt more like a woman in her life.

She slipped on the shoes and walked over to the armoire, eventually finding a beautiful black and silver barrette for her hair and some make-up that would compliment the dress. She brushed, applied, smudged, and reapplied until she thought she looked perfect, and then stood back to view herself in the mirror.

Her eye make-up was in dark hues, but it accentuated the soft hazel color of her eyes. Her eyelashes had already been noticeable, but with the black mascara it made them incredibly long; her eyes looked larger and more mysterious than ever. Her lips were painted with a deep crimson lipstick, her cheeks shimmering with blush. Her wavy brown hair was drawn back in an elegant bun with the barrette glittering at the top of it. Suddenly she heard a quiet knock on the door. Anya didn't hesitate to answer it, knowing who it was already. Her heart beat quickly and her body quivered with nerves as she slowly opened the door.

Tom Riddle stood behind the opening of the doorway, and was surprisingly not wearing his usual smirk. His face was quite serious; it looked as if he was trying to suppress a reaction to something. She noticed him staring intently at the dress, and she saw his eyes narrow a fraction. She looked at him uncomfortably, waiting for him to speak. His sapphire blue eyes met hers, and at once he gave her a captivating smile.

"I'm glad to see that you've accepted my invitation. You look incredibly beautiful, Anya," he said quietly. He bowed slightly, took her hand, and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers. Anya felt color rise familiarly to her cheeks. He had never called her by her first name before. He offered her his arm and they set off through the dark, candle-lit hallways.

The walk was completely silent; Anya was too nervous to say anything, and Tom was focused on his own thoughts. The plan needed to be executed perfectly, for it was very unlikely that she could be charmed a third time. One single mistake meant the end of all that he had worked toward so far.

"Tom…where are we going?" said Anya when she noticed that they had walked right past the dining room.

"We'll be having dinner in my parlor tonight. Since it's just the two of us, it'll be much more intimate," he spoke with a flourish. Her grip on his arm tightened.

After a few more minutes of wandering the numerous hallways, Tom finally stopped them in front of a beautiful set of mahogany double doors. He opened them for Anya, allowing her to walk in first, and she laid eyes on the small but luxurious parlor.

There was a small but intricately carved dining table was situated in front of a beautiful marble fireplace, with two cushioned chairs on either side. A fire had already been lit and was flickering quietly in the darkness. Besides the glowing orange light from the fireplace, there were a few scattered candles lit on the walls. However, the room was mostly shrouded in darkness, and Anya could not make out the other pieces of furniture in the room. It was as if the table was meant to illuminated, but isolated from everything else.

Tom pulled out the chair for Anya and she sat down, noticing that their dinner was already served for them. A spread of luxurious dishes was placed carefully across the table; from the finest cuts of meat to vegetables she had never seen before, fancy garnishes and salads, classic puddings and potpies, and a variety of fine wines. Anya realized that she could not remember the last time she had eaten, and she had certainly never eaten such decadent food before. The only thing she wanted to do now was eat this wonderful dinner. She didn't care about anything else in the world, and as she stared longingly at the spread, she didn't notice that Tom Riddle was staring at her just as hungrily.

"You must be starving, Anya. Please help yourself," he said. He no sooner finished those words than Anya began to serve herself quickly, sampling each of the dishes. He observed her eat for a while, Anya taking no notice of him. He could tell that she was still trying to hold back her extraordinary appetite as she daintily ate with small bites; he supposed she didn't want to appear too much like a pig to him, even though her hunger must be overwhelming her.

His eyes roved slowly over her dress, noticing the way it fit perfectly to her curves. Her bare, pale shoulders seemed to glow in the firelight, and the shadows of her cleavage enticed him. She was not the Anya he had seen before; she looked like a dark, seductive goddess. Tom continued to stare hungrily at her as she ate, for he no longer had an appetite for food.

As Anya's hunger began to wear off, she became aware of Tom's piercing stare. She looked up at him for a few seconds, feeling uneasy when he did not look away. There was an alluring glint in his sapphire blue eyes, and she could see the flames of the firelight flickering in them. Her Aunt Hilda had told her once about the stares of men, and how deceiving they could be, but those warnings escaped Anya now. She felt transfixed by his gaze, his eyes told her so much and so little at the same time. She longed to know what he was thinking, and what his intentions were.

In this odd light, he looked more handsome than ever. His wavy jet-black hair was cut short and parted neatly to the side, a wave falling gracefully over the left side of his forehead. The flickering flames emphasized the slight hollowness of his cheeks, the planes of his face, the high cheekbones and strong jaw. At long last, he broke the silence.

"Is there anything you wish to ask me, Anya? I'm sure you must have many questions," he took a sip of wine, his eyes not leaving hers. It was true; there were many things she could ask him. She bit her lip, deciding that she should get straight to the point.

"Why am I here?" she said meekly. He put down his goblet, leaned closer to her, and smiled mysteriously.

"There's so much you don't yet know, Anya. There's so much I could tell you. And yet…I'm not sure how you would handle it," he chuckled. Her eyes flashed defensively. She looked at him indignantly, as if to say that she could handle whatever he had to tell her.

"Have strange things ever happened to you when you've been upset, Anya? Have you ever desired something so much, and found it to be yours very soon? Have you ever seen things that no one else could?" he paused. "Do things ever seem to happen…like magic?"

Anya stared back at him, not blinking, intrigued by his words. Her mouth opened slightly. How did he know? She looked down at her hands that were shaking slightly. Tom's smirk widened.

"You are not alone, Anya. I, too, share these things with you, and so do many others. You may have thought yourself strange, abnormal your whole life, but you are not, my dear" she looked at him intensely. Somehow, she knew what he was going to say.

"Magic exists, Anya," he was leaning across the table now, his face a few inches from her own, his eyes burned into hers.

"You are a witch, I could sense it when I first saw you," he said, sitting back in his seat, "and I am a wizard…that compass you possess is a magical object. You know this as well as I," Anya knew it was true, for this compass was never like any of the other ones she had seen. Its behavior had always fascinated her. She also did not doubt Tom's words, but all of this came as a great shock to her. And yet, somehow she had always known this; she was different…she was a witch.

"And now, Anya, I am the one who has a few questions for you. How did you, a witch raised as a Muggle, come by this compass?" he asked, bringing his long-fingered hands together in front of his chest.

"I-I've always had it, Mr. Riddle, since I can remember," she said uncomfortably. She felt as if he was beginning a sort of interrogation. "I was told by my Aunt Hilda, who raised me, that it belonged to my mother. I never knew her, or my father. They died when I was a baby," Tom raised a well-groomed eyebrow. Anya briefly wondered if she should tell him this much so soon. But for some odd reason, she felt an attachment to him, now that he had told her exactly what she was. It was as if she had never known her own identity until now.

Tom thought about what she had said. If that compass had belonged to her mother, then that meant that her mother had been a witch. And if Anya had been raised as a Muggle by her Aunt, then that meant that her father must have been a Muggle as well. Anya was a half-blood, with a witch mother and a Muggle father…like him. He stared at her intently.

"Please call me Tom," he flashed his dazzling white teeth. "I'd like to know more about you, Anya. How old are you?" he said pleasantly.

"Nineteen," she said. Tom smirked. The plan was unfolding quite well. She was becoming much more comfortable with him now. Soon he'd have her willingly revealing all of her knowledge to him. The corners of his mouth twitched in anticipation.

"If you don't mind me asking, Tom, how old are you?" Anya said uncertainly. She had always wondered.

"I'm twenty-one; twenty-two in less than two months," he smirked. "But, my dear, let's get back to business. You must know exactly how this compass works…" his eyes took on a hungry look and he leaned forward in anticipation. Anya paused, unsure of what to say.

"Well…no. I don't, honestly. I don't think my Aunt ever knew, either. My mother left no note behind with the compass. But the arrow is quite strange; its movements are very erratic, there's never a pattern to them, but it must point to something significant…" she trailed off, looking fearfully at Tom's face. For a moment he had looked absolutely furious; she could have sworn that she saw a read gleam in his eyes. But now, his face was calm, only a little disappointed, and then he smiled at her again. She felt as ease. It must have just been the light from the fire, she thought.

"Thank you, Anya. That is quite useful to know. I appreciate your cooperation," he said matter-of-factly. Suddenly, he stood up from the table and walked slowly over to her, offering her his arm again.

"Shall we?" he said, giving her a look that he knew would have made any woman swoon. Anya cleared her throat, blushing slightly.

"Of course," she said softly, and they set off through the parlor and back through the hallways to her room.

The atmosphere was different between them as they walked. Tom knew she was lying to him; she must know more about the compass, otherwise she wouldn't have tried to escape from Lower Thornbrook with it. Yet, this didn't upset him as much as he thought it would. Overall, he was pleased with how the plan was working; so far it was a success. Now, all that was left was the very last part of the plan…he smirked in anticipation. Anya, in the meantime, was feeling different than she had ever felt before. She was consciously aware of Tom's step, his breathing, and the feeling of his arm as she held it. She wanted to turn her head and look at his handsome features once more, as she knew the night was quickly coming to a close, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

As they reached her room, she felt frustrated at herself for not interacting with him further. She walked quickly into the dark room and turned to say good night to him, when she noticed with shock that he was following her in, and he was closing the door behind them…

She stood in the dark room, her senses heightened. She heard him walking to her left, towards the window, and he opened the curtains, revealing the shining night sky. He turned his face to hers, smiling mysteriously. She stared at him as he walked towards her, getting closer each second. Soon their faces were only a few inches apart, she felt his breath on hers, the heat emanating from their bodies.

"That dress you are wearing…it belonged to my mother. Well, at least that's what the people at the orphanage told me. Since it was her most valuable possession, she left it to me, they said. I never thought I'd have much use for a dress, but it looks ravishing on you," Tom said this well thought out line in barely more than a whisper. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers.

Anya's body stiffened at the contact, although it had been what she wanted. He kissed her slowly and chastely at first. They embraced, his arms enveloping her possessively as he deepened the kiss. His long fingers trailed slowly up her spine to the nape of her neck and she shivered at his touch. He broke away from the kiss and fixed her with his handsome stare, removing the barrette and watching as her brown hair fell down in waves on her bare shoulders. He slowly backed her against the wall and began to kiss her again.

Tom knew that he was an expert at this; he could easily come off as passionate if he wanted to, although he never meant any of it or felt anything towards another person. He prided himself on being able to charm anyone he needed to. He would easily seduce anyone if it meant that it would further his aspirations somehow, and all of this was part of the plan. If he could successfully seduce Anya, she would only feel closer to him, and in turn the bond would deepen; she would trust him even more. Seduction would only help his chances of eventually seizing that compass.

Tom caressed her bare shoulders and neck, continuing to kiss her. She gasped as his left hand trailed down her cleavage and found her right breast; he used this opportunity to insert his tongue deeply into her mouth. His mouth engulfed hers as both of his hands now covered her breasts, his thumbs teasing the erect nipples through the fabric. He began to gently kiss her neck, sometimes nipping and licking the soft skin, Anya moaning softly as she felt his breath on her ear.

He pulled away from her and his gaze traveled over her body. Although Tom knew that seduction wasn't necessary, it helped that Anya was beautiful, and even he desired to possess her.

Anya watched as he eyed her body hungrily and she blushed, feeling shamefully enticed by their encounter so far. She had never felt like this before, having never been with a man, and she was both scared of and longing for something more. He pulled out a long, wooden stick from the pocket of his dark suit and she gasped. He chuckled.

"It's only a wand, my dear. All witches and wizards should have one. Don't be afraid, Anya" he said seductively, and with a flick of his wand, her dress fell from her shoulders onto the floor. She cried out in shock as the cool air hit her exposed body, but before she could do anything, Tom was upon her again, his hands beginning to explore her more thoroughly.

As his tongue invaded her mouth, Anya shivered and gasped as his fingers slowly caressed her right thigh. She squirmed slightly against him but his grip was quite strong on her. She moaned as he began to gently rub her through the fabric of her underwear. She felt herself quivering from his frustratingly simple touch, wetness pooling between her thighs. Suddenly, he swiftly tore off her underwear and pushed her down onto the bed.

Anya was shocked by his sudden roughness, while Tom was aroused by the emerging fear in her eyes. He stood over her naked form, quickly removing his jacket and loosening his tie. Anya watched, frozen, as he began to slowly unbutton his crisp, white dress shirt. As he bent down to remove his shoes and socks, Anya's desire for him began to fade into fear. She knew there was no turning back; he was going to take her.

Anya stared wide-eyed at his erection through his sleek, black trousers. She watched as his long, pale fingers hovered over the zipper; he wanted to see her reaction to him. He gazed lustfully into her eyes as he slowly unzipped his trousers and brought down his undergarments with them, unleashing the evidence of his desire. Anya gasped, her eyes wary of him; she had never seen a man naked before and the length and hardness of him surprised her.

Tom slowly crawled on top of her, his eyes darkened with lust, never leaving hers. As he began to kiss her again, Anya forgot about her fears and her desire for him returned with full force. She instinctively pressed herself against him, her back arching and her body rubbing against his wantonly. As her tongue began to fight for dominance with his, Tom moaned, shocked and aroused by her unexpected actions, and he began to slowly kiss his way down her neck and chest. Anya cried out as he took an erect nipple into his mouth, gently licking, sucking, and biting the soft skin. She was now considerably wet, and her hips began moving, her body craving some type of friction down there. Tom noticed her reaction to his ministrations and he moved his hand down to gently circle her clit with his thumb. Anya clutched at his back, her body shivering and writhing as he took her other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same treatment, while his thumb constantly circled her clit with varying pressure.

He stopped kissing her breasts, but continued to work her with his hand as he sat up slightly to look at her. The hazel color of her eyes was darkened with lust, her eyes hooded slightly. She gasped and panted as the pleasurable sensations made her body react in ways she couldn't control. Tom smirked as he slowly inserted a long, pale finger inside of her, moaning at her wetness. Anya shuddered as he began to gently move his finger in and out of her. He stared into her eyes, watching her facial expressions change as he teased and stretched her opening, preparing her for him. Suddenly he removed his hand, tasting her essence on his fingers as she watched. Tom smirked and leaned down to her ear.

"You taste delicious," he whispered. Anya moaned softly. She couldn't believe that she was doing this, sharing herself with another man, allowing him to explore her most intimate areas. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him spread her legs gently, his body lying on top of hers. Her eyes closed and she moaned as Tom rubbed against her opening, gently teasing her with his length. She was drenched there, her skin swollen, and she arched her hips into his, her body speaking for itself. Tom could take the enticement no longer, and he swiftly plunged into her.

"Anya…" he whispered roughly into her ear as he began to movie slowly in and out of her. Anya's back arched at the pain, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Tom moaned loudly at the feeling of her warmth and wetness tight around his cock. He brought one hand below her back, bringing her into him at a steeper angle, stimulating her even deeper than before. Anya finally began to feel the familiar pleasurable sensations again, and she gasped sharply as Tom began to rub her clit at the same time. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, drawing him in even deeper, submitting to him fully.

He began to move faster within her and Anya felt the friction building up and up. Their bodies were one, their breath quick and eager, the heat almost unbearable. Tom suddenly pulled himself out of her, and then quickly thrust deeply inside her, and that was enough to bring her over the edge. She cried out his name sharply, her entire body convulsing and shaking underneath him. The feeling of Anya contracting and squeezing his length, pulling him in even deeper brought Tom to a very powerful orgasm. He spilled himself inside her as he let out a guttural moan.

They lay there panting heavily for a few seconds, relishing in what had just taken place. Then, Tom slowly pulled himself out of her, Anya shivering at the friction. He chastely kissed her lips, sweeping a tendril of hair off of her shining face as his sapphire blue eyes pierced hers once more. Then, he slowly stood up, dressed himself, and left after bidding her a good night.

Before Anya succumbed to her exhaustion, her eyelids slowly closing, her last thought was that she no longer belonged only to herself. No matter what happened in the future, a part of her would always belong Tom Riddle, the man who had destroyed her entire world.

.........................................................................................................................................

That's it for chapter three! This chapter was especially difficult for me to write (I got frustrated a lot...) so I'd greatly appreciate advice and/or constructive criticism. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it :)