Chapter Ten: Being Bad Can Be Fun

Professor Merryweather's idea of detention was to allow his two students to quietly study together in his classroom for two hours. For the first fifteen minutes he stood about next to their desk and asked Hermione all about herself. She had to make up a lot of her answers on the fly, but the man seemed to believe what she was telling him without question.

"So then you did not know this rascal until you took the Head Girl position?" he chuckled, leaning over to clap Tom on the shoulder. "You must be a real sweet talker, Riddle, to get a girl against the wall so fast."

"I was rather surprised myself," Hermione said jokingly. "But, as third kisses go, I'd rate that one as pretty good," she added as she winked at Tom and smirked, then started reading her book rather avidly.

"Pretty good?" he scoffed. "Just pretty good?"

"Do you expect me to kiss and tell?" she inquired sweetly, making the men chuckle conspiratorially together.

"Of course not," he said. "I'd never dream of it."

"Well, I'll leave you two young people to your books," Merryweather said. "Mind you don't give the girl her fourth kiss while you're in here, Tom."

"I promise her fourth kiss will not happen in this room, Professor," said Tom as he held up a hand as though taking an oath."

"Good lad," said the man, then left them to themselves.

Hermione began to read, as he expected.

"Are you really going to read that chapter, Hermione?" Tom inquired with a chuckle.

"Of course I am," she said, not looking at him as she continued to read.

"Really?" he repeated, gliding a knuckle along the edge of her knee. Her skin tingled, but Hermione refused to be affected. She had been assigned a task, and she meant to do it. "Hermione," he cooed, the hand gliding up her leg and around to explore the contour of her hip. His other hand slid into her hair, and Tom tilted her face up until she had to stop looking at the book whether she'd intended to or not.

"Riddle, I've never failed to do an assigned task this far, and I'm not about to start now," she complained.

The hand that had been at her hip slid up her back and around to cup her breast as he brought her lips up to meet his. She giggled slightly, remembering he'd promised, but he gave her no time to admonish him before his tongue grazed open her lips and slid inside at her gasp. When Tom pulled her onto his lap, she didn't put up any particular amount of resistance.

His fingers found her hardened nipple and brushed against it, tantalizing the sensitized flesh. She groaned, and he inhaled the sound into his mouth as his hand tangled into her hair, drawing her face closer than ever. He moved her legs so that she was straddling him, and Hermione was so hot and bothered she didn't even try to stop him.

She could feel his hard, throbbing cock beneath his robe and the pants he wore under it. As her sex continued to touch his, the pulsating desire at her core began to attune to the throbbing of his, and their smouldering hot kisses became a bit more intense. His fingers, which had been teasing the nipple to life before, now grasped it and twirled, spiraling white-hot desire straight to her core.

"Tom!" she sobbed into his mouth.

"Too bad we're not in our dorm," he told her as he butterflied kisses down the column of her throat. "Then I could taste you."

"Taste me," she pleaded in a soft, wanton abandon.

Tom chuckled, and bit into the flesh just above his fingers before moving his hand aside to replace the fingers with gentle teeth. Hermione practically squealed.

"Hush!" he said, laughing. "Do you want him to hear you?"

Hermione's face flamed hotly at the thought. And when she thought she could care less if the man did hear, it flamed even hotter. Would she really want the Professor to come back in here and find her on Tom's lap with her breast in his mouth? It sounded kind of hot, but no, not really.

"Did you know Walburga said she intends to have you for herself?" asked Hermione with some amusement as she remembered the jealous girls words.

"I don't give a good damn what Wally said," Tom said with a wicked grin as he intermittently flayed the blouse with his tongue right where the hardened nipple was, making a wet spot on it. Then he brought his lips and teeth back over it again, nipping harder.

Hermione shuddered in his arms. "We should stop," she whispered into his hair.

"I know," he agreed, but did not let go. Instead he cast her a wicked grin around the breast still in his mouth and said, "Being bad can be fun, huh?"

Hermione had a visualization of him saying this to her sometime in the future as death and carnage surrounded them, and it made her shudder again for a completely different reason.

"Not always," she said as she pushed out of his arms and sat in her own seat again.

Tom watched her face, certain that he'd struck a nerve.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked as he leaned his face into her hair. "What made you go into the library, and plagues you night and day? I know something has hurt you, but I can't imagine what it could be."

"It's nothing," she lied, and a tear slid down her cheek. Tom caught it with his finger.

"'Nothing' doesn't make a girl who is thoroughly enjoying herself suddenly slide off a bloke's lap and start crying," he pointed out. "No matter what decade she's from."

"I-" she began, then shook her head and tried again. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Sure, Granger, whatever you say," he agreed, then picked up his textbook and started to read. Seeing this, Hermione took a deep, settling breath, grabbed her book, and did the same.