I've returned to you!


She tapped her pen against the desk, her lips twisted into a scowl as she watched Bellatrix lean over Tom's desk. The older woman had pushed the double doors of their lecture open, making her way down the aisle all while swaying her hips and had been commandeering Tom's attention since.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ron nudging Harry, but she kept her head down. It wouldn't do to storm up there, grab Bellatrix by her ridiculously perfect curls, and slam her forehead against the edge of his desk. It would not help, Hermione told herself, but imagining the shocked expression that would have claimed Bellatrix's face - that might have helped a bit.

Hermione penned the exam in silence, her eyes flicking up every once in a while. Tom wouldn't meet her gaze; unsurprising, he was prepared for Bella to out them, and he didn't want to give her anymore to use against him.

The subject of her ire had worn a short pencil skirt that bordered provocative, and there was no mistaking the curl of her lip as disappointment when he didn't rake his eyes over her. Her blouse sat open, the top several buttons undone, exposing her cleavage.

Hermione snapped her pen in half when she leaned forward once much more, and from her vantage point it was clear Bellatrix pushed her breasts together.

"Quit it," Ginny muttered, elbowing her with a sharp glare. "She's trying to rile you up."

Hermione nodded, and when the class was dismissed, she gathered her things, and left alongside Ginny.

That Thursday, Tom's class had been her only, and she found herself sitting in the campus cafe shop after she had parted from her friends, claiming a headache. Ginny had given her an understanding look and shuffled both her boyfriend and brother off in the opposite direction. Her thoughts were a mess, given that she was considering the worst possible outcomes of Bellatrix waging a petty rivalry against her. The first, and the most obvious solution to her was to break things off immediately. It would be the best for his career, and perhaps for her pride in the end if he was forced to choose between her and his status as a professor.

Tapping her fingers against her cup of tea, Hermione knew she wasn't going to do that. He meant far too much to her, in the sort of way that made her heart beat faster, but also in the way that made her want to wretch. It was a...complicated answer to how she felt.

Her phone sat on the table while her textbook was open in front of her, but she hadn't read a word since she had sat down. Yet she jumped for her cell phone with it vibrated against the faux wood.

Everything is fine. She wants to rattle you.

Hermione bit her lip. What will you do if it costs your career, Tom? I think we should discuss this because it's undoubtedly going to blow up in our face. That bitch doesn't want to rattle me; she wants to destroy what I have.

Three bouncing dots solidified her anxiety, and she thought she was going to be sick. But it was as his message was coming through that her phone rang - loud and shrill, earning her dirty looks - with Ginny's face flashing across the screen.

"Hello?" Hermione brought the phone to her ear.

There was a hiccup. "Hermione, I have terrible news."

She shot forward in her chair, the legs squeaking as they scratched the floor beneath her. "Are Harry and Ron okay?" She blurted, her mind already going to the worst, and most irrational reasons she could be calling.

"They're fine; no one is hurt. It's just that.." there was a sound of a door softly closing. 'I'm trying to talk where Harry can't hear me, but the woman that was in our class today? Lestrange something?"

The ball of lead in her stomach dropped. "Yes," she murmured.

"Hermione, I don't know how she knew where you lived, and if you ask me, it's fucking weird. Tom has to do something about her, or I worry her next step would be to physically hurt you -" she broke off, inhaling deeply. "She contacted our landlord to inform him that there was someone living in our flat without being on the agreement."

Her breathing was ragged. "I understand," Hermione whispered, cradling the phone to her ear. "I'll have my stuff packed and out within a few days. I'm so-"

"That's utter rubbish, where would you go?"

She hesitated, already knowing the most likely outcome of this. "Ginny, I'll figure it out. The two of you can't lose your flat for helping me. I would feel terrible. I'm going to go, and I'm going to tell him, and then I will be there to gather my things." She hung up without saying goodbye, cutting off Ginny before her friend could protest further.

Forgive me because I didn't forget that you're just entering a meeting. Bellatrix contacted Ginny's landlord to inform him that a tenant was living there without being on the lease. I don't know where I will be when you're done Xx


Tom Riddle's mood had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. It had started perfectly, with Hermione pinned below him in his bed, with her wrists tied to the headboard loosely, her legs over his shoulders. She'd made breakfast, and he learned that she was horrendous at cooking one thing, and it happened to be the one thing she thought he would like the most.

And so, she'd set off the fire alarm with an omelette.

They hadn't ate breakfast beyond some toast, and he'd laid her across the kitchen counter, sinking to his knees, and bringing her off with his tongue again. Not only did his neighbors now know he had a girlfriend to occupy his time with, they also knew she was quite vocal, and demanding.

It had started going downhill when he bumped into Rudolphus, who muttered under his breath that new evaluations were starting. Like the weak willed man he was, he'd said nothing when Tom's shoulder slammed into his, and the files in his hand scattered. Tom didn't understand why Bellatrix had married such a man.

The woman yearned to be dominated, and it was his mistake to have ever gotten tangled with her. Not to worry since it was nothing he couldn't overcome. Hermione however, he was slightly concerned of her reaction.

It was when the vapid woman had stormed into his lecture in the middle of an exam that he really considered striking a woman. Morally wrong, of course, but hitting a board member's wife would cause Headmaster Dumbledore to terminate him, effective immediately. His consolation was that Hermione appeared to want to do it herself.

It only grew worse when the 'meeting' he had with the headmaster turned out not to be an evaluation, but a witch hunt.

Tom sat in the leather seat across from Albus Dumbledore, whose white beard was ungodly long. Interlacing his fingers, he only leaned back in his chair, his gaze landing on Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife. "To what do I owe you all the pleasure?" His voice was hard. "Forgive me, I was under the impression that evaluations were only conducted at the end of the term, and not by someone so unofficial."

Albus Dumbledore's smile was kind, and fake. "There has been an issue brought to my attention, Tom. How well do you know Hermione Granger?"

His face was stoic as he drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. "You must be joking. She's the brightest student in any of my classes, and quite possibly one of the brightest this university has seen in years." A complete truth, but he would have lied with the same face.

"I've seen how friendly you've been with her, Tom." Bellatrix reached across to take his hand. "Really, I'm concerned about your-"

"Albus," Tom began, yanking his hand away and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I recognize that it was my own foolish mistake to become involved with a colleague, but these accusations are nothing more than Bellatrix Lestrange's jealousy."

"How dare you!" She snapped.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. "Please continue, Tom. If I'm to make any decision I must possess all of the facts."

"Naturally. Nearly after the beginning of the term I began a sexually intimate relationship with Missus Lestrange, though no infidelity was involved." He wanted to laugh as the vapid woman's face heated up, turning red in her anger. "I would like to state for the record," he leaned in towards the small recording device on the table. "Rudolphus was well aware and present for these activities. I ended the relationship six weeks ago, only to have been harassed ever since."

"Missus Lestrange, you must be aware of how-" Dumbledore was cut off as she swiped a glass of water across the table, sending it flying and shattering against the wall.

Tom smirked, "I knew it would cause an uproar, so I attempted to remain quiet. Clearly that's not possible. She will scream of how I'm a liar, but there are recordings, and they are in my posession."

The old man shook his head in horror. "That won't be necessary."

And then, the one thing that made his day even fucking worse, and the only thing that made him want to march back into that conference room and strangle Bellatrix was the text waiting on his phone.

Hermione was the only thing going through his mind at all.


She was hunched over her dresser drawers that night, packing her folded clothes into a suitcase. The very same suitcase that she had used just over a month ago. Harry had tried to tell her that they could sign a new lease, and it wouldn't be a problem. She didn't have to leave, but Hermione pointed out that it was only wishful thinking on his part. Their landlord had been furious.

Still, she didn't have a clue what she was going to do. Her options were limited; she could stay with Tom, but she worried Bellatrix would do the exact same thing she already had. There was Ron, but she was sure she'd rather be homeless than be her ex boyfriend's roommate again. And then, there was home. Not that she wanted to see her parents. If she had to see Jean Granger ever again, she'd say it was too soon.

It all happened too quickly for her to register what was going on: a pounding on the front door, yelling from the living room - Harry's voice being the loudest- and then her bedroom door flying open. She slipped on a sheer blouse as she stepped backwards, falling and slamming her elbow against the dresser. "What are you doing here?" She managed to get out, looking over a disheveled Tom, whose eyes were narrowed, and his jaw was clenched.

"Why exactly do you have a cell phone if you don't even answer it?" He asked her, pinching the bridge of his nose when Harry barreled past him.

"Could one of you, either of you, explain why the fuck Professor Riddle is in our flat?" Harry snapped. "Why would you be calling one of your students anyway, unless.." His head jerked around to stare at her accusingly. "No."

Tom scoffed.

Hermione's nod was barely visible. "Harry, do you remember the night Ginny and I went out to that club? She told you there was a man that I went home with?" At his nod, she continued while scrambling to her feet. "Well, it was Tom; I didn't know he was our professor until we walked into his class at the beginning of the term."

"And you just continued a relationship with him?" He looked shocked.

"Well, no..not at first at least. The reason your landlord learned I was staying here is because Bellatrix, the woman in our class this morning, has it out for me. She's also the reason I was fired from Ollivander's, although I said some particularly nasty things myself."

Harry shook his head. "No, that's not true at all. If there's anyone to blame it would be him. You've caused her to lose her job by getting involved with her, which caused her to lose her flat. You fucking prick, she can't even live with us anymore!" Her best friend, as much as she loved him, worried her as he stormed towards Tom Riddle.

"Harry, stop it, please," she pleaded with him, grabbing his arm. "I'm perfectly happy, but I think it would be best if the two of us could talk in private."

"I've always trusted your judgment, but this relationship is the worst idea you've ever had. The whole fiasco, if this comes out, could lose you a scholarship."

Finally breaking his silence, Tom glared at him. "She will never lose her scholarship because of me." The sound of the promise made her stomach twist.

"Harry, please." He left her with a shake of his head, and the quiet click of the lock of her bedroom door. "My phone was dead." Hermione told him, shifting her weight to the opposite foot. "I'm sorry; I knew I would be too busy packing and I just didn't think about anything else."

He nodded, tilting her chin up with his knuckle. "Where did you think you were going after you left here, Hermione?"

She swallowed at the dark glint in his eyes. "I was prepared to get on the first train and return home. I knew that you would offer for me to stay with you, but that's far too risky, Tom. I can't let you put your career on the line for me, and I-"

He cut her off with a searing kiss, walking her backwards to the bed. Turning himself, he sat down at the foot of the queen size and pulled her to straddle his waist. "Hermione," he said lowly, his fingers tangling in her hair. "It's tiresome when you try to run away from our relationship."

She shivered. "What's tiresome is how you're risking nearly everything you have for me, and I'm not worth losing your career, or your reputation over, Tom."

He nuzzled her hair, his fingers slipping under her shirt. "It's my choice, and I think the decision I've made is clear. I refuse to lose you. Bellatrix is a jealous bitch, and if she thinks it's so simple to tear you away from me," he chuckled darkly as he kissed the spot below her ear. "I'm afraid she's already learned that it isn't."

"It's likely she'll tell your landlord that you're letting me live there as well, you know."

He gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Then I suppose I'll just add your name to my lease."

"That's a large jump in commitment, wouldn't you say?"

He snorted, "I don't do anything by halves. She won't do anything for a while, not after how I humiliated her in front of Dumbledore."

Hermione stilled against the slow movements of his hands, as he rubbed her thighs through her jeans. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"I was under the impression I was due for a midterm evaluation this afternoon. It wasn't. Albus confronted me about my relationship with you."

In a word, she panicked.

Tom's arms locked tightly around her. "Nothing is wrong, love. The only thing the old fool believes is that Bellatrix is harassing me after I cut our relationship short."

Her eyes widened. "Are you telling me you've told the headmaster, your boss might I add, that you cuckolded one of the school board members?"

"I didn't use the world cuckolded, but I'm sure I laid my message across." He murmured, edging her shirt up. "He doesn't believe her."

"Then she's only going to be angrier, Tom." Hermione argued, but she slumped against him as his hands moved to massage her calves. "Moving me in with you is only going to make things worse down the line when Dumbledore does find out. And you know he will, Tom."

"Pack your things, Hermione. If you can believe I would let you just disappear, you're batty." Tom told her. "I'll help you pack; it will fit in my car."

"Harry's going to throw the biggest row this side of the century, you know that?"

He smirked, "I would be delighted if he did."


In the end, Harry hadn't said a bloody word, and Ginny told both her friend, and her professor that they would keep their secret. The redhead added that she wasn't so sure that Harry would be able to keep this secret from Ron for long.

But it was only a week more until the Christmas holiday, and after that he wouldn't be her professor anymore. Lying to the headmaster made Hermione uncomfortable, but it was only a few weeks before they returned to university and Professor Lockhart would be her lecturer while Tom Riddle took another class. It would be simple.

It's what she told herself anyway.

Tom's flat was dark as she stepped inside, carrying a bag in either of her hands. "Could you grab the light?" He asked her, and she dropped the matching duffle bags onto the couch and flipped the light switch. "Bloody fucking Christ,"

Hermione glanced around the room in horror. The coffee table was flipped over, and glass shards were spread over the floor. A vase that she had complimented once before was tipped over, shattered, and it looked as she'd - Hermione had zero doubt it was Bellatrix - stabbed the ceramic shards into the sofa cushions and ripped them to shreds.

The lamp was overturned, the shade crushed with boot prints stamped into the thin material. Photo frames were yanked from the walls, and Hermione dreaded the thought of going into any of the other rooms. Shaking her head, she carefully stepped across the glass, and they cracked beneath her trainers. "I'm going to look at the rest of the damages," she told him quietly. "You should call the police, and file a report."

Tom gripped her shoulder, shaking his head. "Wait here while I check the rest of the house; I want to make sure no one is here."

She folded her arms across her chest. "It's hardly likely she's going to burst out of a closet and-" sighing, she nodded. "I'm coming with you though, and then you should call the police."

"Not bloody likely," he snarled, tucking her behind him as he made his way down the corridor. "I'd rather deal with the bitch myself."

She scoffed, "What are you going to do, Tom? Slash her tires?" Silence followed by a sharp inhale. "Well, make sure you only slash three. If you destroy all of them her insurance will cover it." A squeal tumbled from her mouth as he turned sharply and slammed her up against the wall. "Let me guess, my advice on how to commit crimes turns you on?"

His grin was borderline feral as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "And if it does?" Tom asked her, pinning her to the wall with his hips while he tugged her shirt over her head.

"You should make sure there isn't a psychopath in your flat first - besides you -, and then you should come back to me." Hermione murmured, grinding her hips against his.

Tom reached for the doorknob beside her, peeking inside the bathroom after flipping the light switch. "Wait here for me then," he bit down on her bottom lip hard, pinching her nipples through her bra.

Hermione slipped inside of the bathroom, unbuttoning her jeans and letting them pool on the floor before sliding her knickers down her legs. The backs of her heels connected with the cupboards below the sink as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. She counted upwards in her head, getting to one hundred and twelve before he came back to her, reaching out to cup her face before kissing her roughly.

"I'm sorry for what's happened since you met me," she mumbled, her fingers shaking as she reached for the button on his trousers.

"Fuck if I am," he growled, scooting her forward and parting her legs, sliding two fingers into her slickness. "If I were the sappy sort, I'd probably tell you how you're the best thing that's ever, fuck," he hissed as her thumb swiped across the tip of his cock.

"But you're not sappy," she murmured. "I certainly wouldn't want you any other way. I'm sorry for your flat, but I'm furious because you could have been home."

Tom's fingers knotted in her hair, forcing her to look up at him. "I couldn't give a fuck if I had been here." His voice was ragged, and the anger in his eyes ought to have frightened her.

But it didn't. In fact, it only made her wetter as she tried to move against his hand. "Please."

Tom's fingers slid into her fast, curling against her walls while her legs shook. "You could have been here, Hermione. I'm worried about you, not myself. Did you see what she did to my fucking couch?" Each word was emphasized by his fingers thrusting into her.

"Yes," she gasped, clutching his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin and drawing a drop of blood. "She shredded them."

His eyes flashed. "The thought of what she would have tried to do to you had you been here is why I'm so," he gripped her chin, making her hold eye contact. "Fucking angry."

Hermione shrieked, coming hard over his fingers, and there was little doubt his neighbors heard. "I would have fucking killed her," she bit out angrily, still shaking from her orgasm. "If Bellatrix stormed into this flat and attacked me, you'd better believe I would be the one to walk away."

His chest rose and fell heavily as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Are you so sure about that?"

Hermione nodded, pushing the fabric from his shoulders. "I'm positive that I am selfish enough to let nothing take me away from you, except for my own crippling self doubt."

Yes," he rolled his eyes. "That." He lifted her off of the counter, pushing her towards the shower.

Hermione slid the clear door open, reaching for the hot water, and leaning against the tile wall as Tom took her wrists and held them over her head with one hand. "Spread your legs," he told her, smirking when she did so immediately.

Her nipples stiffened, and he ducked his head down to take one in his mouth, the pads of his fingers sliding against her sensitive clit once more. She whimpered his name. "Please, I just want you inside of me." Hermione begged, her back arching against the wall as her hips jutted out. "Forget the foreplay, Tom, just fuck me as hard as you want to."

He leaned down, his lips next to her ear. "I won't be gentle." He appeared to thrilled at the way she shuddered. "I'll fuck you into this wall, until you're begging for a mercy I won't give you."

She yanked on the stands of his hair, and peered up at him. "I want to take my frustrations out, and I want you to take yours out on me, sexually." She clarified with a small laugh. "It's not like either of us have a class tomorrow...so do your fucking worst-"

He lifted her and thrust into her without another word, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. Her head fell back against the wall, and she raked her nails down his back. "Is this what you wanted, Hermione? Hate sex?"

"It's not as if you hate me," she defended, digging the backs of her feet into his back. "And fuck, yes, it's what I wanted." Her shoulders were slammed against the wall with each thrust, the scalding hot water spraying over them.

Still buried deep inside of her, he stepped out of the shower, throwing the bathroom door open and carried her towards his bedroom, their bedroom she supposed now. Ignoring her warnings to be careful of the shattered glass across the floor, his lips met hers roughly as he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth.

She whined when he slid from her, throwing her onto their bed. The room was fucking trashed, with his dresser overturned, the clothes strewn about the room, and fuck even more broken glass from the mirror, and Hermione saw red. The sheets had been ripped straight off the mattress.

"On your knees, Hermione," he told her, grabbing her by her hips and flipping her onto her stomach. Tom pulled her against him, lining his erection with her dripping cunt, thrusting into her.

She clenched what was left of the sheets on the bed in her hands,as she rocked against him. A broken whimper left her as he wrapped her curls around his fist, pulling them hard as he fucked her roughly. "Oh, fuck," she mewled as his thumb pressed against her arse hole. "Tom."

Hermione quickly realized she had underestimated just how angry he was as she trembled below him. His strokes were quick, and he slammed into her each time he bottomed out inside of her. And she was absolutely sure she'd never been so well and truly fucked. "Oh, my God." She moaned, her cunt clenching around his cock. "Fuck, I'll never be able to enjoy this with anyone but you."

"There isn't going to be anyone else." He snarled, his fingers sliding against her folds before returning to her arse. As rough as he fucked her, it didn't go unnoticed that he was slow with his fingers.

"Possessive fucking bastard." Hermione bit out, and he probably smirked while he did it, but his fingers slid against her clit once, twice, and she was wrecked.

He yanked her up, locking his arm across her chest and biting her neck roughly as he came, his voice rough as he told her that he would "Fill her with his come, and then he would do it again. And how he would fuck her in more positions than she could count before the sun came up."

She collapsed against him, her hands reaching up to hold onto his arm. "I," she bit down on her bottom lip hard, her eyes widening at the words that had been on the tip of her tongue. "Are you okay?"

He nodded silently, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm fine, but we aren't going to stay here tonight."

"Where will we go?"

"We can stay in a hotel room tonight. I don't want you in this flat until the locks are changed, and I've taken more precautions."

"Tom.." she ventured. "It's not necessary." It was useless since it was an argument she couldn't win. "Alright, but at least let me pack a smaller bag. Perhaps you should have taken me to a hotel before fucking me to a point where my legs were jelly."

He chuckled. "I'd have been carrying you anyway; there's too much glass you could step on."

She grumbled, kissing his arm, and giving it a squeeze.


I give you this from my iPad, which might fuck up my formatting, after the shittiest day ever. I look forward to your reviews!