Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: I want to thank everyone who read, alerted, faved and reviewed.

Special thanks to my amazing betas: Serpent In Red and Cosettex.

xxx

The Prisoner

Chapter 6: Pain and Pleasure

Carefully holding the bag with potions bottles in one hand and the groceries in the other, Ron Weasley was one hand short to open the door. Cautiously, he shook his arm, hoping to dislodge his wand from his Auror holster. Alas, it wouldn't budge. It was designed to withstand a bit of rough and tumble in order to prevent the wand from being easily nicked or have it drop out accidentally during fights. Sighing, he finally resigned to putting the bag with groceries down between his legs. Unfortunately, two bags of potato chips and a cauliflower decided to take advantage of this and made a run for it. Groaning, Ron flashed his wand at them and caught the cauliflower in his hand, dumping it back on top of the rest before summoning the bags of chips, too.

This was becoming the shittiest day of his life. Now he couldn't even summon simple items at once anymore. He could just hear Hermione's bossy voice in his mind, telling him how to hold and move his wand as if he were stupid. Dammit. It was like the gods were against him all the time lately. He hoped Hermione wouldn't mind not going to the Burrow tonight because he so wasn't feeling up to facing his family after the news the Healer had just given him.

Ron closed his eyes – he could already hear George's jokes in his imagination and see his mother's utterly disappointed face. He leaned with his forehead against the door and banged against it softly.

Why had he even listened to Charlie? It would have been better not knowing this. If Hermione found out, she'd leave him for sure. She was so adamant about wanting children lately. Not that he didn't, but apparently, he couldn't. Something else his brothers were better at. Fucking bleeding hell. Just when he had finally become visible to his mother, this shit had to happen. He flashed his wand angrily at the wards around the door and kicked it in, which only resulted in him having to chase groceries down the hall again because his bag tore apart.

He ran after the rolling soda bottle that was bouncing down the stairs when it suddenly flew through the air past him.

Terrific, now she'd seen him being a klutz as well.

However, his face brightened when he turned around and saw that it was only Harry, holding the soda bottle in his hands. 'Need some help?'

'Yes, thanks,' Ron replied brightly. 'Those damn paper bags are a pain in the arse.'

Harry swooshed his wand around, and the bag reassembled back together, filling with all the groceries Ron had been chasing after. While Harry was focused on that bag, Ron quickly took the one with the potions bottles before Harry could get a closer look at them – he'd not spent all that money in Knockturn Alley only to be arrested by his friend for buying illegal, fake fertility potions. But he had to do something. He couldn't tell Hermione he was sterile. And knowing that he was, he couldn't let her continue taking those dangerous potions. If something happened to her, it would be his fault. He didn't want that on his plate as well. It was full enough as it was already.

While Harry was in the kitchen, placing the groceries in the fridge and cupboards, Ron quickly switched the potions bottles in the Muggle medicine cabinet Hermione's parents had given them. He used a Banishing Charm on the real potions, not knowing that Hermione wasn't taking them either but had a different stash (containing her homemade alterations) hidden elsewhere in the flat.

Satisfied he got away with it, he walked up to Harry who stood there holding the last bag of potato chips, unable to find any room in the cupboards for it.

'I'll fix that,' Ron said, taking the bag and tearing it open. 'Want some?' he asked, holding out the bag to Harry while chewing away the handful he'd placed in his mouth.

'No, I am good.'

'Suit yourself,' Ron replied, shrugging. 'I need something to eat before Hermione comes home. She's always so late these days.'

'Yeah, Ron, er … about Hermione …' Harry shuffled on his feet uncomfortably. He had no idea how to bring this up without it turning into a huge row.

Ron pulled the charmed Auror baton from his pocket and placed it on the shelf before he unclasped the metal band around his upper arm. 'What about her?' he asked, turning around.

'Why are you still wearing that Shield Charm Enhancer?' Harry asked, distracted, staring at the device in Ron's hand.

'Because they're positively brilliant,' Ron said, his "duh-uh" facial expression speaking volumes.

'Hermione doesn't think so; she warned me against using them. Don't tell me she didn't tell you to do the same.'

'Yes, but she can't give me any good reason as to why.'

'Well, she's an Unspea–' Harry started.

'I know what her job is,' Ron snapped, getting irritated. 'But she wasn't involved in the development of these things, and all she had to say about them was that she didn't trust the inventor.'

'Good enough for me,' Harry muttered.

'Then you're being stupid. You should see the range my shields have these days. This thing,' Ron said, waving the band under Harry's nose, 'works perfectly. I don't get what's the big deal about it. If you think they are so dangerous, why do you allow your Aurors to wear them?'

'Kingsley pushed them through on McGregor's recommendation,' Harry replied, getting annoyed, too. 'You know very well how I protested against their implementation but was outvoted. I even sent a memo to every Auror that wearing them is optional and not obligated, and that I personally advise against using them.'

'An advice you based on nothing!' Ron roared, flinging his arms through the air, showering them in chips, which they both ignored.

'An advice I based on Hermione. She's never let me down before. If she thinks those things aren't safe, I take her word for it.'

'Yeah, because her word is "just a feeling – can't pinpoint it – I just think there's something wrong with them",' Ron quoted sarcastically. 'She doesn't have any concrete evidence. And she searched for it. Believe me, I saw her investigate one a thousand times when she heard the Auror Department was going to use them. She nearly blew up our house. She's only pissed Moore invented something this useful because he's a disorganised pig who takes advantage of house-elves in her eyes.'

'Well, fine,' Harry snapped, 'wear the bloody things. See if I care if they blow up in your face some day.'

'And watch me say "I told you so" when you get blown off your feet someday because the great Harry Potter was too high-and-mighty to use them.'

'Oh, I don't need this again,' Harry growled, pacing to the door. He grabbed the doorknob and turned around. 'I had to pick up your drunk wife in a dingy pub. I guess she's so happy with you that she felt the need to get wasted in the middle of the day. She's asleep in the bedroom in case you actually care.'

He swirled out, but not before seeing Ron's jaw drop in astonishment.

Ron's ears turned red, and his hand crumbled the sack of potato chips to mush when his surprise turned to anger as all of Harry's words sunk in fully. Furious, Ron threw the metal band against the closed door, and it clattered loudly around the room, settling down in front of their coffee table, finally lying still. Innocently. Unaware of the commotion it had caused.

Ron sighed and dropped in the nearby chair, holding his head in his hands.

This was definitely the shittiest day ever.

xxx

'Hermione – Hermione!' McGregor called out when she was on her way out the door.

The fast, sharp clicking of McGregor's heels told Hermione she wasn't going to get away on time. The lifts at the Ministry were never that fast at this hour. Sighing, she turned around and witnessed her boss pacing towards her with a swinging piece of paper in her hand that looked suspiciously familiar. It had to be out of Hermione's notebook, since the majority of the Ministry was still hung up on using parchment.

She folded her arms over each other and waited, wondering what this was about. She'd not gone to Azkaban the entire day and wasn't planning a visit either. Riddle could just stew in his cell forever if it were up to her. If he thought he had one up on her, he was duly mistaken. She was free to go as she pleased. For a second, her mind cringed in guilt at considering their deal and all the knowledge she let slip through her fingers. However, she didn't feel any guilt at considering him waiting for her. A vengeful smirk erupted on Hermione's face. Who was the boss now? Hah!

'What's the matter?' Hermione asked, pulling her face back into a neutral expression when Katie halted in front of her, panting.

'Moore can't make this work,' Katie McGregor said, holding out the paper. 'He claims there is a bit of information missing.'

Reluctantly, Hermione accepted Riddle's writings and went over it, groaning when she realised Moore was right. It was incomplete.

'I am sure he wrote it all down,' she replied, frowning at the last sentence, which ended in "combine the three ingredients and stir". 'There should be a second paper with the rest of it.' She held out the paper back to Katie.

'Moore might have misplaced the rest,' Katie said, not accepting it.

'Might have?' Hermione asked sarcastically, making a face as she dropped her hand.

Katie snorted. 'Well, you know what he's like. I can't even get paid house-elves crazy enough to clean up his disgusting workplace.'

'Okay, I'll ask Riddle to write it down again tomorrow.' Hermione pocketed the paper inside her trousers' suit.

'We need it tonight, Hermione.' When she saw Hermione's face darken, Katie quickly added, 'I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. But we really need that potion for a covert mission abroad asap.'

Wasn't she ever going to get a break? She'd so planned not to go today.

'Fine,' Hermione snapped, 'I'll get it tonight.' She swirled around and pressed on the lift's button again as if that would make it come faster.

'Everything all right?' Katie asked carefully.

'Department of Mysteries, level F,' a cool female voice called out when the grills opened to Hermione's utter relief. She stepped into the lift.

'Just peachy keen,' she replied, tipping her imaginary hat at the frowning McGregor when the lift closed.

How was she going to get revenge on him if she was going to show up anyway? When the idea sprung to mind, Hermione giggled gleefully. She just needed to stop by her flat to change into something more … comfortable.

xxx

Doris was on duty at Azkaban, and her blue eyes ran curiously over Hermione's leisurely outfit. 'No time to change?' she asked with humour, getting out of her chair and walking to the counter.

'Didn't feel like it,' Hermione replied, removing her wand from her baggy, grey tracksuit's pocket.

Clothing demands, pffftt… If he weren't delivering, neither was she. She was really looking forward to the expression on his face when he'd see these "lovely" garments, especially her weathered pink trainers. Vengeance was hers. Hah!

'Besides, I wasn't at work,' Hermione explained further. 'McGregor felt the need to bother me in my free time.'

Doris huffed. 'Don't you just hate it when that happens?' she asked rhetorically as she locked up Hermione's wand and gave back the plastic bag, containing her notebook and pen, before pushing a thick, leather book towards Hermione. 'Sign here.'

Hermione scribbled her signature in the prison's logbook. The letters briefly glowed, and a time stamp appeared next to her name. 'See you later, Doris.'

'Be careful down there.'

'Will do,' Hermione said offhandedly as she moved through the door and went down.

She flipped open the door to his cell and paced inside, halting in front of the table and demonstratively dropping her bag on it with a distinct thud. After a while, Riddle finally looked up from the book on complex potions dilemmas and turned his head carelessly to her. His dark eyes flickered swiftly over her appearance. However, to Hermione's irritation, his face remained utterly composed, not revealing any emotion at all. Then, he smiled brightly.

'So, did you see any improvement yesterday in your wandless skills?' he asked lightly.

Uh?

Dumbfounded, Hermione just stared at him. This wasn't the first subject she'd been expecting him to address. Actually, this wasn't a subject she'd been expecting him to touch at all. Not when there were filthy trainers and a tracksuit staring right at him. And not when it was seven o'clock in the evening instead of nine a.m.

'No wandless Cleansing Charm?' he asked knowingly, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

Her mouth dropped. 'Cleansing Charm, how did you know?' she asked disbelievingly; then, she suddenly noticed how clean the floor was today and the Knut dropped before he had the chance to respond. Surprised, she added, 'You had me fall on that filthy floor deliberately? But you didn't know in advance we'd be talking about the Bell Jar, so how could you–? Oh, you'd given me something else to practise on then,' she deduced rightfully.

'Indeed,' he merely said, smirking before flipping his legs off the bed to sit on the side as usual. 'You were becoming more and more evasive about the wandless casting subject every time I inquired about your progress. When I stopped asking, you kept silent. So, I figured if you weren't volunteering the information, it meant you hadn't succeeded yet. Since you're an accomplished witch, I knew you could do it – you had to be simply blocking yourself. Fear of failure, I presume,' he said knowingly. 'I had to do something drastic to get you over that. Don't tell me it wasn't incentive enough for you to finally succeed?'

Now, she felt conflicted. On the one hand, she still was irritated that he'd tricked her like that and had left her hanging to boot, too. On the other hand, she'd felt increasingly awful about her failures, and it was like a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders when she'd performed that Cleansing Charm wandlessly. It was such a relief she no longer had to worry about it. She was really thankful he'd helped her past that blockade. In a sense, it was incredibly considerate of him.

Merlin, and she'd thought he simply didn't want her. He obviously did. Otherwise, he wouldn't go to so much length for her. Oh, and she'd said all those horrible things about him in her mind yesterday and today. Now she felt like a cad for standing him up the entire day and showing up in her tracksuit. What had she been thinking?

Her expression appeared to be enough of an answer to Riddle because he became positively pleased. A bit too pleased. It grounded her.

'Do you ever do anything without ulterior motives?'

'Hmm…' –he looked at the ceiling in faux contemplation– 'let me think.' After some time passed, his dark eyes met hers again. 'No, I don't think I ever have. I am not that boring, Hermione, and I have many,' his tone of voice turned suggestive, 'ulterior motives when it concerns you.'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Was he saying there what she thought he was saying? She wasn't sure anymore. She'd been wrong so many times now, thinking it would happen and then nothing, zip, zilch. Plus, she looked horrible and had not obeyed him at all. He couldn't possibly want to shag her tonight, could he?

Still, there was a feral glint in his eyes that said otherwise. It simultaneously aroused her and made her want to bolt in fear because it held something dangerous, something so forbidden one should never consider it. No, it would be the sane, logical and rational choice to leave. Immediately.

Yet, her feet stayed still. Immobile. Perhaps she wasn't as rational as she'd always thought?

For she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay. She wanted him to want her to stay.

'What's in the plastic bag?' Riddle asked, interrupting her train of thought.

She briefly shook herself as if settling down her ruffled feathers. 'My notebook and pen,' Hermione replied quietly; she felt a bit embarrassed about her appearance and behaviour now. 'Moore misplaced your previous notes on the Lagochilius Potion.'

Riddle snorted. 'Why am I not surprised?' he muttered, opening the bag and pulling her notebook out.

'Because he's always a mess?' she suggested lightly, trying to divert her own attention away from the mess she'd put herself in.

Amused, Riddle looked up, his eyes flickering over her body demonstratively. With it, he effectively screwed over any chance Hermione had of altering her thoughts.

'Hmm… yes, I really abhor messy people. Disgusting.'

Blushing vehemently, Hermione swallowed. Damn. She knew her clothes would become an issue. She'd been surprised he'd not kicked her out immediately or said anything about them before. She'd put them on to provoke him. Now she was regretting that move because he wasn't ripping them off her body and "punishing her hard" as her mind had briefly fantasised about. No, he let her suffer, naturally. This was so humiliating. She'd never been much of a chess player, Hermione realised, for her clothes had become an obstacle instead of an asset in what she wanted to accomplish.

Riddle was again ignoring her and scribbling rapidly in her notebook. 'Tell McGregor this is the only time I am rewriting anything. Should she or her insipid staff lose something else, they're on their own. I am not a mimeograph.'

'Okay,' Hermione said meekly, making a mental note to copy his notes for her department herself from hereon.

But why was he just bloody writing now? He'd gone from making suggestive remarks to business-like mode in a flash. Why? She was right here! No more issues with wandless magic either, and surely, he'd want to do something about her disgusting clothes? Or perhaps there were more ulterior motives not to shag her?

Godric please, don't let there be, I'd go crazy.

Shuffling on her feet, she wondered how on earth she could turn things around. There was nothing she could do about her choice in clothes here. Without magic, she couldn't charm them into a skirt and all.

Ooooh, perhaps she could get it done wandlessly in the corridor?

Turning on her heels, she was about to walk away.

'Where are you going?' Riddle asked sharply, looking up from his work.

'I–I wa–wanted,' she stuttered, not finding the courage to say what she'd wanted to do as she looked over her shoulder and shut her mouth when she saw his icy expression.

'You're not going anywhere, Granger. I'm not done with you yet.' His index finger made a rotating motion, ordering her to turn around again, and as if she were a puppet on a string, she obliged. 'Stay,' he barked when she was back where she started.

Suitably nervous, Hermione scratched the back of her neck while her eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at him. She'd only wanted to go and change.

For him.

Surely, he must have realised?

Her eyes landed on him. His head was bowed to the paper, his black locks framing his pale face. Such great hair, she wouldn't mind ruffling her hands through it again. And speaking of hands, she barely restrained the moan that threatened to erupt from her throat as she considered how it would feel if those long, slender fingers would touch her. Her eyes focused on his hands. They really were beautiful, as everything else about him: strong, thin and powerful. Hermione could tell he was nearly done by the way he wrote with more forceful strokes. He always did that when he reached the end of his writings. When he finally placed down his pen, he looked at her clothes disapprovingly.

'You remember my promise, don't you?' he asked darkly.

I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week.

'I remember,' she said hoarsely, nodding.

'Good,' he replied practically purring. Then, his tone of voice turned commanding and dark. 'Come here.'

And she went, excitedly looking forward to all the things he would do to her. This time she was absolutely positive he'd take her fully.

She was right.

Lying in his arms afterwards was comfortable. She'd never felt more protected, never felt safer in her life. It was a cathartic experience, being the subject of the sole attention of Tom Marvolo Riddle. No man had ever made her feel like this before in her entire life. Hermione never wanted to lose this feeling. She wanted to stay in this delicious, relaxing, satisfying moment forever. With him.

'You'll have to do something for me. Tonight. Without question,' he ordered as if he'd known what she'd been thinking.

'Sure, whatever,' Hermione said loosely, snuggling against him.

He pulled her closer, pressing her firmly against his body as he placed a kiss on top of her head. She could practically hear the smile in his voice as he said, 'Perfect. That's settled then.'

xxx