Svelte Rose: I put more effort into this next chapter so I hope you think this one is the best one ever. Haha. And oh god I don't know if I'll be able to write smutty smut. I'm a little prudish. blushes
Sienna: gratzi!
Nerys: Tom losing control really hot.
Heidi: that was my favorite comment so far. Haha. I guess we can just assume that they're using protective charms but actually writing in that Voldemort put on a condom would kind of kill the moment.
Hajnalmadar: I like your nick. What's it a reference to? And thanks!
Maripas: I think you'll like the length of this chapter.
MalfoysMudbloodPet: Oh god I wish I was Draco's mudblood pet. purrs
Shedyourmask: I like your nick too. And thanks!
Michaela: evil tom is my favorite kind of tom.
Dooki: heat good.
Rachlhulk: they did go at it again! Lol. Sorry I didn't write it out.
RannayBabiiex3: here's an update!
Bvc: thanks. I really want to keep them as in character as possible.
Jellyacey: I saw you've written 11 stories! That's intense.
Ginny2006: ohh yeah. Power struggle hot passionate sex.
Killtheenviousmoon: I like the Shakespeare reference in your nick. And yeah! Hermione can't deny that he is a foine boy.
Disclaimer: Whatever JKR says, goes.
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Drink From My Cup
Chapter Fourteen: Immortal
"The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for survival. It can't exist without it…
…You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux."
–Hermione Granger, Deathly Hallows
Hermione felt as though the nightmare she had fallen into had suddenly become all too real.
It seemed incredible how she thought she could take on Tom Riddle. The greatest Dark Wizard to have ever past through Hogwarts.
He's only a kid, she told herself firmly.
But so is Harry and look at what he managed to accomplish, replied that obnoxious voice.
During classes they acted as though nothing had happened at all. Tom was a marvelous actor. Even Caity seemed to adore him once again, though Hermione suspected this had been the result of a spell. The entire school assumed that Tom and Artemis were somehow involved… they way they looked at each other and noticed each other in the halls. How Artemis seemed to shiver every time his hand make contact with hers. None of this went unnoticed by the students of Hogwarts as the weeks past. Though not a single student ever wandered in on them alone together, which was curious indeed because it so often happened that a couple would be found snogging behind a tapestry before dinner.
But as it so happened, Tom and Hermione were not snogging behind tapestries before dinner. They were not snogging at all. Hermione had been both frustrated and relieved when Tom had taken to disappearing after classes and not reappearing until dinner time. She had not even seen him in the library (though this may have been due to the fact that Hermione had taken to leaving it at least an hour before it closed). The majority of their contact was during classes when teachers often paired them together. Hermione remembered an instance only a week ago…
"Today we are concocting something a little more challenging. It will take much longer than these couple hours to finish it," Professor Slughorn announced one morning.
"The Ministry asked me to provide them with a generous sample of Amortentia. I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to test the skills of my top students."
He grinned broadly through his thick mustache at the room, particularly in Hermione and Tom's direction.
"So off into pairs you go! The ingredients are already laid out on the table. Consult your books and by the end of class we'll see who will be continuing on with this potion next week."
Hermione had tried to pair with Caity but of course…
"Miss Morgen! You'll be over here with Tom, now. I cannot wait to see what the two of you come up with!"
Caity had shrugged and moved off to work with her best friend Jill.
Hermione had reluctantly turned toward Tom, who was already concentrating on his potion. She settled beside him and began to chop the ingredient neatly and silently. This was how they usually worked, as though he had not taken or she had not given him her self, her thoughts, her memories…
But it was felt between them. Tom could feel her frustration and Hermione could detect his arrogance. This was the only time they spent together since that day in the prefect's bathroom. Hermione knew he was up to something and Tom had no interest in sharing it with her… yet.
So they worked in silence, each adding their respective ingredients at the appropriate time until the potion began to take form and turn luminescent silver. Hermione knew they were doing it right when the appropriate scent began to emit from the cauldron. Hermione's heart hurt as she inhaled the familiar aroma. She thought of Ron, picking up the scent of mowed grass, parchment and—
Something was wrong. That third smell, the last smell, was not the one she was used to. It was not the smell that connected her heart with Ron. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she realized what the last smell reminded her of. She glanced toward Riddle who looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He turned to meet her gaze and Hermione's chest pounded. He looked stoically into her eyes but the Horcrux inside of her revealed the truth. But what was this? Lord Voldemort did not love…
Only a small group of Slytherin boys could guess what was truly going on between their leader and the mysterious foreign student. Angry, though, were they to have been shut out of the details. They felt betrayed by Lord Voldemort but could do nothing to show it. If they took it out on the girl they were done for. If they expressed their anger to their leader… that idea would be laughable if it weren't so dangerous. They spoke to each other behind hands and closed doors and came to a conclusion. Either Artemis Morgen became one of them or she could not be trusted.
It wasn't until the early weeks of December that Hermione discovered what Tom was truly up to. She had assumed it had something to do with time travel and cups and Horcruxes. She had assumed right.
He grabbed her arm one night after dinner as she was exiting the Great Hall.
"Come with me," he whispered into her ear. The tiny hairs on the back of Hermione's neck prickled and she allowed herself to be led away from the crowd of people heading to their safe and warm dormitories. His grip was hard as he pulled her along with him, up to the fourth floor. Hermione recognized the path. They were heading toward the Room of Requirement.
"Tom?" she said questioningly.
He froze and spun around to face her, grabbing her other arm and pulling her closer to him. He glared into her eyes.
"I believe I told you to address me otherwise," he growled.
She couldn't believe he was going to force her to call him Voldemort. The name she had been too afraid to speak for years—the name she had even shuddered after hearing. It was taboo—a curse. To call him that name would be to admit to herself that Lord Voldemort had not gone from this world—that he was still alive and it was her fault.
He glared into her defiant face expectantly and her lips moved on their own accord.
"V-Voldemort," she said quietly.
"A little louder. I couldn't quite hear you."
"Voldemort!" she hissed. She felt like Harry defying the norm. She almost felt a little braver after speaking it even after all she had been through and after all the man standing before her had done, or will do.
Tom did not appear satisfied, but nonetheless, he turned and pulled her to the entrance of the Room of Requirement. He passed it three times and pushed aside the tapestry. He allowed Hermione to enter the room first, following her quickly and shutting the door with a snap. Hermione felt as trapped as she had in Borgin and Burkes.
The room was only big enough to accommodate the two of them and a small table in the center. He motioned for her to sit and she did so hesitantly. He sat across from her, pulling a cauldron and some ingredients out of his school bag as he did so.
"Don't even think about trying to make that damn binding potion again," Hermione said with more courage than she felt.
"I think you will like this one," he said, looking up to meet her gaze. He looked back down at his ingredients quickly and began to create a suspicious looking potion.
"So, Hermione," he said smoothly as he worked. Hermione shuddered as though she was twelve again and someone had just uttered the Dark Lord's name. "That locket, I'm sure, was a Horcrux. I am very pleased to see I eventually find it. I was afraid that my mother had lost it, as it was not passed on to me when she died."
Hermione watched him cautiously. It was not like him to mention his mother. He was far from sentimental to say the least.
"So where did you find it?" he asked, lighting the fire beneath the cauldron. The flames cast an orange glow around the room.
"You know I won't tell you that," Hermione said dejectedly.
He still did not look up, but continued stirring the cauldron with his wand.
"No, I did not think you would," he said as-matter-of-factly. "But that is not why you are here. Do you know what I meant by 'here,' Hermione?"
Hermione felt anger rise up inside of her. He was speaking down to her in a sickeningly condescending tone.
"You mean in this room so you can once again try to make sense of your lonely and pitiful youth by showing off, frightening, and then attempting to totally control me?" Hermione asked in a falsely sweet tone.
She saw his shoulders tense, but he continued with his potion as though she had not spoken at all.
"I mean here in this time. In my time," he continued not allowing her to react. "You are in my time to warn me that there are forces in your time trying to destroy me."
Hermione did not make a sound as she watched shadows dance across his face.
"And it is my job to stop those forces by preventing them from occurring at all. Your hand please." He held out his own for hers.
Hermione almost moved her hand to meet his, the Horcrux inside of her crying out for contact with his skin, but she resisted.
"How are you planning on preventing those forces?" she snapped at him. He had not read enough into her thoughts to know exactly who Harry Potter was or what he had done.
"Because this time around, Hermione, I have you," he said, finally looking up from his cauldron, his eyes a threatening black.
"What makes you think I will join you?" she hissed at him, pushing her chair away from the table. She was only able to scoot back a few inches due to the tightness of the room.
He smirked at her from across the table, his noble features, defined and sharpened in the dim light.
"You already have," he stated simply. "You are my Horcrux. Either you continue to bear my soul or become a Death Eater once I extract it from you."
"And if I refuse?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth.
"Then I will kill you." His face was hard, and his eyes promised he was speaking the truth.
Hermione broke eye contact with him, looking down onto the potion on the table.
"What is that?" she demanded.
And Tom was ready to give her an answer.
"It's an experiment," he said looking back to it. "A Horcrux has never been parted with the object it has been contained in unless the object has been destroyed or, in your case, the Horcrux had been charmed to transfer itself if in danger."
Hermione was shocked. She had not thought he would have willingly parted the Horcrux from her.
"You want to rip the Horcrux out of me?" She was not sure how she felt about this. If he succeeded… he had just said he would force her to become a Death Eater or kill her. If he failed… what could happen to her?
"I thought you would be pleased. This has obviously been a nerve-racking year for you," he paused and met her eyes once more. Hermione felt her stomach clench.
When he spoke again his voice was softer, though not at all gentler. "You are human. You are weak and therefore cannot be trusted with my soul. If anything were to harm you I would be in danger as well. And we wouldn't want that now would we, Hermione?" he asked his voice turning malicious. "Now give me your hand."
Hermione paused, staring into the face she had become so familiar with over the past few months. She did not want to be a Horcrux any more, but if she let him have it he would guard it more carefully than before, and she would mean nothing to him. If she gave him the Horcrux and he killed her all was lost. Lord Voldemort would have won. But if she gave him the Horcrux and became a Death Eater she could remain close to him, ready to strike and destroy the last Horcrux. Hermione thought of Snape. What a difficult position her potions teacher had found himself in. And if a Slytherin could be brave…
Hermione held out her hand.
So could she.
Tom looked at her hand triumphantly and grasped it. Hermione closed her eyes at the contact. She would be relieved to finally be rid of this horrible intoxication of him.
She flinched as she felt something sharp touch her palm and realized that Tom had cut it. She panicked momentarily, not wanting to give something so personal, but he held her bleeding hand over the cauldron as drops of blood dripped into it. The potion hissed and turned from bright red to bronze. Tom released her hand and held the knife to his own, making a similar cut in his own palm. He held his hand over the cauldron and the blood of the heir of Slytherin dripped into it. The potion turned to a green so dark it almost looked black.
Hermione could not help but feel a twinge of admiration for a job well done.
"How does it work?" she asked, her insides beginning to squirm.
"You drink first," he said, picking up a ladle and dipping it into the potion. "I drink once the Horcrux has parted from you."
Curiosity buzzed in Hermione's mind as Riddle readied the potion. Despite her fear and anxiety she opened her mouth to question his methods.
"I thought that a Horcrux could only share hosts if its original container was still intact," she said thinking of what she had learned over the past year. "I destroyed your cup."
Tom's anger was apparent at this statement, but he set down the ladle, staring at the table pensively. He had not turned Hufflepuff's cup into a Horcrux until he was out of Hogwarts. He could not know exactly how he had done it.
"Certain spells and rituals can further enchant the object to ensure its survival," he spoke finally. "On another occasion I have created a Horcrux that could potentially make me stronger in the future. I'm sure you know which one I am talking about," he added, searching Hermione's eyes for the truth.
Hermione nodded. "The diary."
"And did it work?"
Hermione could sense Riddle's growing excitement. His body was tense and his face was solid with eager interest. Hermione felt sick.
"Yes," she said quietly, thinking of Ginny. The hatred she had almost forgotten that she held especially for Voldemort swept back into her. "And nearly killed one of my friends."
"Nearly?" Tom did not seem fazed by the sudden shift in Hermione's demeanor. He was only interested in hearing how his own genius plan had played out.
"It was destroyed," Hermione spat. "As you knew it potentially would. That was a Horcrux you were reckless with."
"How many others?" he proceeded with growing excitement. "How many was I able to create? Besides the cup, the locket, the ring, and the diary? What else?"
Hermione was unnerved by how much he already knew. He had already split his soul twice thus far in his life. After the locket and the cup there was still the piece he would place inside the diadem and Nagini, and the accidental piece that would imbed itself inside of Harry. She glanced at his ring, the ring he did not know was truly the resurrection stone.
Hermione would not answer him. She stared at the spot above his shoulder, avoiding his eyes.
Riddle scoffed. "No matter. This is why I must extract the piece inside of you. You are weak. You couldn't possible understand the pursuit of immortality."
"Not when it involves the suffering of innocent lives, my Lord," she snapped, bitterly.
Tom did not seem to take this as an insult. Instead he sat up straighter in his chair and smirked at her from across the table. She was confirming his future plans and correcting his future mistakes at the same time. And he would keep her close to him to further correct any mistakes he had made before and during her lifetime.
"Yes, I am your Lord now," he said picking up his wand. Hermione flinched. "It sounds very nice coming from those lips." He pointed his wand at the cauldron and the flame turned green. "It is ready."
"Where are you going to put it?" Hermione asked referring to the Horcrux. Her voice failed to hide her growing apprehension. She suddenly felt how close she was in assisting a ritual of the Dark Arts.
Tom raised his eyebrows at her and reached into his school bag beside him. He pulled from it something that made Hermione emit a soft scream.
The locket.
This confirmed the worst of Hermione's fears. It was possible to change time.
"It looks as though you weren't expecting this," Tom said with an amused tone, placing the locket beside the cauldron on the table. "Really, Hermione, as much as you seem to know about me… Didn't you know that as soon as I saw the locket in your mind I would not be able to rest until I found it? Especially now when I knew it existed and would one day come into my possession?"
He had already begun to change his future… a future where he would be impossible to defeat.
Tom held the ladle out to Hermione who was too stunned to take it. He sighed and leaned over the table, gripping her jaw and forcing the potion down the struggling witch's throat. Hermione smacked Tom's hand away as she began to feel the effects of the potion. He sat across from her, gazing at her curiously.
At first it felt as though she had to shiver, but that sensation quickly passed as a new numbing one filled her. Hermione reached up to touch her face and found she could not feel a thing. Tom was watching her with eager eyes as she waited for what was to come next. There seemed to be a moment of calm before everything in Hermione's world caught fire.
Her skin was burning.
She shrieked as what felt like hot flames licked her skin. She looked down at her hands. Nothing. They looked normal but surely there must be something consuming her that was simply invisible. She could see Tom watching her with interest... She closed her eyes, pulling at her sweater, trying to relieve the pain. She was dying. Voldemort was trying to kill her.
Suddenly she felt something cold touch her burning skin. It was the only relief to this agony. The pair of hands rubbed her arms, her legs, any spot of bare skin they could find. Hermione began to shake violently. The hands gripped her tightly as she let out another scream.
After what felt like centuries, the burning began to subside. The hands that had been gripping her moved up to her face. It felt as though a cool cloth was being pressed against her head. She opened her eyes slowly and realized the table had been knocked over and she was lying on the floor. The pair of hands belonged to Tom. She looked at his face and saw it was as unreadable as ever.
"It didn't work," he said quietly.
Hermione groaned and lay her head back down on the stone floor. The last thing she remembered before the day went black was how he lifted her from the floor and exited the room swiftly, clutching her tightly.