I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

No conversations with Tom today, I'm afraid. I've got a massive headache so I put a semi-permanent Silencing charm on him. It should wear off in about…twelve hours, maybe…?


Two weeks.

Two bloody weeks!

Hermione felt like hurling a Blasting curse at the wall, as she paced the tiny room that was her prison in Lestrange Manor. Instead she paced a well-worn path into the bare wooden boards, glaring impotently at the window.

Unfortunately she didn't have her wand anymore, since He-Who-Was-A-Pain-In-The Arse had confiscated it.

The Pendant of Ravenclaw flared on her chest, beneath her shirt and she gritted her teeth.

"Don't you dare!" she muttered under her breath, at the familiar feel of him trying to probe her mental defences. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to break them whilst she was awake, but when she was asleep…

Hermione shuddered.

The man was persistent she gave him that. Every night, she had to search anew for the resolution to resist him. He called to everything dark and sensual within the by-the-book Gryffindor Prefect.

Just the memory of his leather-clad hands gliding over her skin and hair had the teenager shivering.

You could have that for real, any time dearest. Just give into me…

With a sigh, Hermione opened her mind to his.

This telepathy had been something they had discovered over the first few days, and it was an annoyance to both of them, although neither let on to the other.

I told you, over my dead body! So unless you're a necrophiliac, get used to it…

Hmm, is someone frustrated today, Hermione?

Don't you have anything better to do than snoop around in my head, like murder some innocent Muggles that never did you any harm? Hermione thought snarkily, before flouncing away from the bed and striding to look out the window. Outside, the summer sun burnt down on the dilapidated grounds of the ancestral Lestrange home.

"My, my Hermione you are frustrated," a familiar voice suddenly spoke behind her, as she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Don't you knock?" she asked sarcastically. Inwardly she was surprised by how unafraid of him she had become. A moment later she felt his cool breath brushing the skin of her neck as he moved her hair aside, and then his wiry, yet strong arm twined itself around her waist, pulling her back against his robed body.

"You should know the answer to that by now, Hermione," he murmured, his magic already sweeping over her body. She moaned and arched back against him, even as his gloved hands glided over her body.

"You don't give up do you?" she murmured, "I'd have thought you would know a lost, Mudblood case when you see one."

"I have until the rest of eternity to turn you, darling," he replied quietly, before his eyes darted to the side. By her bed, was stacked nine or ten Dark Arts books, all unopened.

"Darling? It's darling now? Last week it was 'Mudblood' this, and 'Insolent witch' that, did someone hit you with a Confunding charm?" Hermione snorted, using Tom's distraction to wrench free.

"Of course. Or have you forgotten something?" Tom asked rhetorically, before he grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her back against the wall. There was less than an inch of air between their bodies, but he managed to eliminate even that, as he brought his own mouth close to hers.


Hermione's breath hitched. So far Tom-Voldemort hadn't touched her in the few weeks she'd been here, hadn't come near her except in her dreams. He'd sent her books from the Lestrange library, books of such Dark Magic she'd been shocked and yet also intrigued. So obviously, she hadn't read a single word of any of them.

But what had changed to bring Tom-Voldemort so close to her now? She'd never seen him, not even in her dreams, this close to losing control. Fear spiked in her breast, and she felt the Pendant of Ravenclaw flare, as power flooded her body.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, instinctively reaching out with her magic to throw him away. Dark power wreathed her being, invaded her aura as she used the full force of the Pendant.

Tom smiled grimly at the power building in his little witch's body, felt the purely Dark energy rise within her. Exactly the response he was looking to provoke…

So he was prepared when the tidal wave of power was set free, uncontrolled and wild, and flew towards him. He contracted his hand, using his own power to fight it down, so instead of being blasted through the wall, and probably to kingdom come, he was merely pushed back a few metres.

"Bravo, my dear," he hissed, a satisfied smirk dawning on his lips, his eyes glowing with anticipation. Hermione gasped, as the glow from her Pendant faded, and she realised what she had done.

"You…did that on purpose, didn't you?" she gazed at him, nonplussed. His smug smirk was all the answer she needed.

"Feeling frustrated, Hermione?" he asked again, steadily pacing nearer. Hermione unconsciously stepped back against the wall, her eyes distant.

"You kept me here, locked up like this so I would…" she began, but was cut off by Tom.

"So you would let all that impotent anger, frustration and desire build up until it reached bursting point? Yes, I knew it was only a matter of time, before all those negative emotions were converted into Dark power by your Pendant. It just needed the right…stimulus, my little witch," he explained silkily, as Hermione glared at him.

"You sneaky…..Slytherin bastard!" she exploded angrily, wishing she didn't have to rely on her too-unpredictable emotions to blast him to hell where he belonged.

Tom's eyes darkened with equal parts amusement and annoyance at her cheek.

"And you're an insolent, fool of a Gryffindor!" he replied coldly, at which Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"I've scored marks just as high as yours, thank you very much, Tom Riddle!" she snarled angrily. She didn't move as he stalked closer, until her breasts brushed his chest, obstinately looking him in the eye.

"You should cower and fall to your knees in fear, when I approach," he murmured darkly, his gaze running over her body. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Oh I probably will, but not in fear. It'll be from sheer incredulity at the size and audacity of your ego!" she retorted.

"Cheeky today, aren't we?" Tom murmured, before he took her arms in his hands, forcing her even harder against him. She gasped, as his power flared and rushed over her body, sinking into her mind, forcing her to submit to him.

"Tom!" she gasped, grabbing ahold of his robes to stop herself from falling to her knees. She forced herself to keep up their eye contact, as her knees weakened and her lungs constricted.

Pleasure rushed through her, as she gasped, still defiantly staring into his crimson eyes.

Tom marvelled at the strength he saw in her eyes, frustrating and exciting at the same time.

"And this is why you are a fool, Hermione Granger," he murmured, as the witch in his arms almost cried out from a mixture of pain and pleasure, at the feel of red-hot hands ghosting over her bare skin.


Hermione gasped at the feel of phantoms hands stroking her skin, her Pendant glowing intensely, its sapphire incandescence matching that of Tom's emerald one. But she refused to lower her eyes from the fiend in front of her, as her body broke and she collapsed into his arms, bliss and peace washing through her limbs.

Tom took her weight as she collapsed into his arms, before he laid her on the bed. His gloved hands caressed her hair, almost tenderly, before standing straight before her.

"I can feel your need, Hermione. Why fight me, when I can offer you what no-one else can?" he asked quietly, musingly.

On the bed, Hermione slowly returned to sanity, when she heard his question, and answered it with one of her own.

"Why do you want someone like me? Someone whose bloodline you hate and is young enough to be your granddaughter!" she retorted weakly. "Don't you see that what we're both experiencing isn't real?"

"That, my dear, depends on one's perception of reality," Tom countered, yet the comment was so softly spoken it was to himself alone.

"It all comes from the Pendants, nothing more," Hermione continued, and she couldn't quite distance herself from the sinking sensation in her heart. A moment later she berated herself for it. She would not feel pity or any other emotion for a cold-hearted murderer like Tom!

"You think so?" he replied enigmatically before, in an abrupt turn, he left in a swirl of robes. Hermione stared after him, her jaw ever so slightly dropping.