He was watching. The subtle curves of her firm arse and breasts swaying with her frazzled movements had his eyes captured on their every haste movement. The splatter of freckles on her tanned olive skin rivalled the goddesses of Greek Myths. How her brown hair bounced off the curve of her shoulder, frizzled to the point where it could be considered as 'bushy'. Somehow, it had made her more alluring. He could just imagine himself pulling it on those locks of brown hair as he rammed into her hard from behind. A smile slowly crept upon his face.
"So?" she asked teasingly, giving a twirl. But his gaze was entranced by her lips, red and plump from the night before. "What do you think, Tom?"
That was when he realised he was staring at her once more, a habit that had grown too familiar for him. Snapping out of his thoughts, Tom stammered, "Uh...um...I...they're quite delicious, sweetheart."
"Sweetheart, huh?" The brunette raised an eyebrow, still grinning." Hmm, why are you smiling Tom?"
Tom swallowed quietly as he took in a deep breath.
This witch was capable of making him more less than a randy teenage boy with her sweet smiles and soft body. He was really letting himself go so easily, was he not? Had he turned into another of those simpering fools that weakened because of sickly love? No, he was not that. He should stop. Tell Hermione to go, push and shut the door behind her. Not even thinking where she would go next. But there was this quiet voice at the back of his mind, telling him to shut up and ravish her properly. This was what he wanted, was it not?
"Thank you." A crinkle of her dimpled cheek, the brunette's body had turned and had pronounced an open bottle coloured in gold. Her slim legs pranced around, liquid sloshing in the glass. The chair pulls out quietly. Another of her non-verbal theatrics, Tom's facial expression remained with knitted eyebrows, half-smile plastered on his face. Only Hermione.
However, his attention is driven to those fingers grasping the bottle. He reads the greyed label. Beth's Rum in Superior golden spice. Hermione plonks down on the chair. It creaks. He lifts an eyebrow. Just then, his witch proceeds to tilt the mouth of the bottle to her pouty lips, staining the opening with a tinge of pink. A throaty swallow. He wished she was doing that to a particular part of him. Another swallow. Three more after that before the bottle landed on the table with a soft thud.
"Well," a gasp of delight comes from her as her distinct sweet smile returns. She looked at him, "Thank you again, I've been wanting to improve my culinary skills for a while, Tom."
Was it not obvious from the numerous times he had seen her with a burnt pie in that worn down apartment of hers? Well, he can remember that. Dressed in her skimpy lingerie, holding it in her tiny mitten covered hands. Pink lace. One of the prettier cuts she had worn.
"As you know I'm not the best of cooks." She glanced at him with the cheery Hermione look.
"No problem at all, Hermione." He bared his teeth, pulling his lips into his usual calculated smile.
She returned it with a small grin, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Her cheeks had worn the same shade of pinkness he remembered from their romp in the late night that he would deem as somewhat endearing.
While she took messy gulps of the drink as he internalised the sight of the petite brunette drinking her life merrily away with that bottle, not even looking him in the eye.
He interrupted, slowly saying. "Anyway, Hermione. Who was that earlier at the door?"
Did he want to reckon that she was going to deny Goldstein and her fiery confrontation from earlier? He hoped she was better than this. Hermione was a good girl and she would tell him everything.
The loud gulping sounds echoing throughout the room stopped.
"Oh," Hermione placed the bottle gently onto the table. She waved her hand casually. Tom raised an eyebrow.
She explained. "Ministry checkups. They have been particularly worried about me ever since the incident in my flat. Nothing much of a problem, Tom."
Of course, she was lying.
"Really?" Tom raised an eyebrow. He murmured." Hermione."
"Hermione..." No answer. Her eyes seemed to daze off, wearing rather a plaintive look as her fingers grasped the bottle.
"Hermione!"
The witch jumped and stared at him. Her mind seemed to wander off at times and something itched at the back of his mind to take up this opportunity.
"What?" Hermione frowned, looking at him as she tossed her bushy curls behind. "What's with you, Tom?"
He continued. "Come on, you don't take me for a fool, don't you?"
She did not smile at him, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Hmm…" Tom mused. He was good with people. Judging them, how they tick and what makes them crack and fly with their little wings. Take her from the back and she would not even know it.
He smiled at her, "Is Goldstein a problem?"
Of course, she was. To Hermione. To him. To their relationship.
"I care about you, Hermione. That little charade of hers. Tell me what you hate about her. I promise she won't ever be a problem of yours again." Tom murmured to her, staring at her.
He could see it. In the cabin. Shrill claw marks on the wall. And her crazy delinquent son. All Hermione needed to do was to say those two words.
She stared back at him, mouth open seemingly in shock. His witch made a face that looked as if she had eaten a lemon."Tom."
"What?"
"What are you even saying?" She exclaimed with a somewhat suspicious look, along with that doe-eyed fuckable expression she always had.
Perhaps she was not ready then, he mused to himself. Oh, sometimes she was too pure for her own good.
"Oh nothing, nothing." He shrugged, pulling back a simple smile back on his face.
Change the conversation. Say something sweet. Get a treat.
He looked at her and smiled once more. "So dinner tonight? You and me, Hermione?"
The bushy brunette's uncertain look disappears. She nods slowly, watching him warily.
Tom smiled again at her, admiring her. Before he even noticed it, he found his fingers caressing across her cheek. Hermione kept that sweet nervous look on her face, looking down and even biting her lip which he caught. His thumb brushed across her lip as he tilted her chin up to stare into her eyes once more. They were a sort of a medium-dark brown, nothing extraordinary to. But somehow, somewhat he never wanted to stop gazing into them. She was beautiful, was she not? His beautiful angel. A devious minx. His mudblood witch. They could rule the world.
How could Scamander let this treasure through his fingers so easily?
However thanks had to be given to the wizard honestly, everyday Tom could not wait for his daily peek of those photos, drowning himself in the shower with his animalistic grunts, fingers stroking up and down his cock. "Ugh, ugh, ugh." Rubbing across his shaft, seeing himself and the witch in all sorts of positions that he could tell she would love.
Scamander had surprisingly satisfactory photography skills for a discreet personal schoolboy's mission. Now the evidence was laid in Tom's briefcase, in it was exactly 207 copies of moving black and white pictures. Brilliant, really. Vanilla really was never Hermione in the first place. Photo #77 was his particular favourite. Her perky ass up in the air, hands gripping her supple thighs, cock entering her tight pussy from behind. He loved that her mouth was moving so vividly in it, probable sweet whimpers of a mudblood.
He almost let out a breathy gasp when her fingers landed on his wrist and the thumb on her lip went into her mouth. She started to suck it slowly, her eyes still on him. In and out. In and out.
A groan came out of his mouth as the witch smirked back and stopped, pulling his thumb away from her mouth. Hermione shrugged," That was nice, Tom."
"Uh yes," Tom found himself speaking." Very nice, yes."
He gritted his teeth, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair. He grabbed another bite out of her cookies, his pants had suddenly become somewhat tighter from that very interaction.
As he chewed down the sweet dessert, he watched as the witch looked down once more, still blushing and repeatedly tucking that same curl behind her ear.
Suddenly a loud gasp came out from her.
"Oh Merlin," She breathed.
Tom raised an eyebrow as he watched the witch get more flustered.
Hermione groaned loudly. "How could I have almost forgotten? Bugger!"
Hastily getting up, Hermione scuttled off and approached the couch. Tom's eyes followed her swift movements as she returned with a velvet beaded bag in her arms. She placed it onto the table and loosened the strings. Of course, Tom's mind wandered off to the deep end once more with an image of his hands on her back.
The bag swallowed her entire arm as his eyes narrowed at the scene. Interesting, he had never seen anything like that before. An extension charm? Her arm continued shuffling between the contents with soft clinks and clanks.
He would ask her about it later. Partners share.
"Ah finally." His witch exasperatedly said, panting. Plunking herself down onto the worn-out chair, in her hands held an object as she pushed the bag aside. She pushed aside her wispy curls sticking onto her skin and pulled open the cork.
Just as she was about to pull the bottle to her sweet pink lips. His hand grabbed onto her arm and tugged it away. The bottle would have smashed into pieces if it were not for her tight grasp.
"What is that?"He demanded.
However, upon taking a closer look, Tom recognized the bottle from its distinct silvery appearance. His shelf was well stocked with potions like these. Well, he did not exactly want to be a father at this point in time with his numerous bed warmers.
Hermione lifted an eyebrow, she laughed softly as Tom's eyes narrowed at hers, amidst her soft giggling. " I think you know what I'm taking, Tom. You are a master potioneer, aren't you?"
"We have to be responsible, don't we?" Her statement catches him. He frowned.
"Yes, responsible," Tom grumbled, the brunette teasingly touched his cheek with her free hand. A flinch. He grabs both hands as he narrowed his eyes on the woman seated in front of him.
"Oh Tom," She laughed." Cheer up, don't worry about it. I have it all under control."
His voice darkened. "Yet, you have forgotten."
The witch tilts her head, still wearing that silly smile of hers. She quirked an eyebrow, "And what's the meaning of that, Tom?"
Placing softly with a thud, the bottle laid alone on the table. His eyes flickered between it and those big brown eyes of hers.
"You think we are ready to become parents?" Tom asked, his voice turning dark. "Forgetting the potion? Come on, don't think I'm that foolish, Hermione."
Witches that laid on his sheets often repeated those same words. Hi Tom. I am having your baby. You are the father. Please. Marry. Me. More so often, crocodile tears and lies come spilling out of these naive little girls.
"Tom, what are you saying?" She asked.
"What's wrong with you?" Slipped out quickly from his mouth before he could contain his thoughts.
Hermione looked stunned, a visage of hurt before stormy indifference stole its place.
"Well, I'm sorry, Tom," Hermione said irritably. Tom pressed his lips together into a tight fine line as she continued to say. "I'm not perfect. Is that what you wanted to hear? It was one time, I won't forget to do so in the future."
"That's not good enough," he growled.
"Well, excuse you, Tom Marvolo Riddle," Hermione huffed. "I'm not the only one who had consented yesterday night. As I can particularly remember, you were quite an avid participant. If anything, it was a slip of my mind! Alright and besides, if we are planning to be together, we are going to do it together. Not just me, not you but we."
"But it's your responsibility!" Tom let out before he could stop himself, slamming his fist onto the table. The wood rattled, his blow left behind a blunt mark.
Holding his head, Tom prayed the pressure from his shaking palms would somehow drive this sickly feeling from his mind. He breathed hard.
"Work has been buggering me for some time and I think you know that too. '' Hermione said breathily. Her voice cracking, she looked at him with the same expression he had seen from their argument from not too long ago. Big brown eyes. Hurt, betrayal was it? A sign of her despicably detestable sensitivity.
"Really? That's why you have forgotten the fucking potion?" He muttered, running his fingers through his hair. Salazar was this witch ridiculous. "Ready to become a mother right now?"
"Now you're just being ridiculous," She snapped. "I'm barely even twenty, Tom. Calm yourself down."
"The more you want to get snapped up before your expiry date comes. What do you want, Hermione," Tom sneered. " Am I not enough for you?"
"Tom, what are you talking about?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You know it fairly well yourself, Granger." The man in the room growled, he hunched over and looked her straight in the eye. Planting his hands firmly onto the solid beaten wood, he peered at her. "What are we? What do you want from me? Answer me, witch! "
He could see her lips quivering, her head lowering. It took a silence or two. She bites out, avoiding his eye. "I want you, Tom."
It's a lie. A big fucking lie.
"Look, Tom. Listen, we are both adults. Let's talk this out in a sensible and collected manner-"
"Sensible? Sensible? You're one to talk about sensibility?"
"Oh grow up, Tom."
"If we are to be together, I'd expect you, Hermione, to be honest with me. Isn't that what you told me? Trust. If there's no trust, we have nothing." He stared at her.
"Well then, what do you want me to tell you?" She shouted, throwing her hands into the air. A silly melodramatic move by a witch like her.
He burst out, feeling a vein popping. "Why are you here, Hermione? Kilometres away from the big old glamorous city of New York? "
As if she had worn one of those silly American robes.
"Tom, why are you asking me all of this?" She quirked an eyebrow, asking exasperatedly. " W-what's my past has to do with this conversation?"
An anguished dog from the street below had started barking. Its barks grinding on his gears.
His lips blurt out, "Do you even trust me?"
Hermione frowned, looking away.
"What is this? An interrogation, Tom? I don't need to tell you." She shook her head.
" Answer me truthfully." He said, his hand touched her cheek.
"Tom, let's leave it here and forget this conversation ever happened." The witch shook her head, letting his hand slip away. She sat down, her hands creeping up to cradle her head as if nursing a headache.
"I need an answer, Hermione." He demanded impatiently, staring at her.
"J-just stop!" The witch called out, her hands thrusting wildly." Stop asking me about it, Tom!"
Tom let out a scoff, shaking his head. He narrowed his eyes at her," What exactly are you hiding from me, Hermione? Don't tell me I have to go through your min-"
Hermione bristled.
"Don't you even think a second about doing that." She growled, jabbing a finger at him. " We have discussed this before. No fucking legillmency. Get that right into your head, Tom."
"Well then, you should open yourself up more. You're supposed to tell-"
"Tell you what? Tell you that you should stop poking your business into my past!" The witch snapped.
"Poking my business into your past? My dear Hermione, I'm just trying to get to know you-" Tom said before he was being cut off once again.
"You don't need to, Tom," Hermione stated, crossing her arm. She turned her head away, back facing him. " I am completely capable of being on my own. You can't protect me, Tom. I can do so myself. I'm my own free witch. I've told you numerous times already. Don't tell me what to do."
"Yes, I can." Tom defended himself. " And I will- "
Suddenly the next sentence spouted by her catches him off guard.
"Oh, you're being so much like your father." The witch rolled her eyes.
He could hear his heartbeat pounding heavily against his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Tom gaped before he narrowed his eyes at her.
The flash of green that met those icy eyes.
Hands pulled up to shield himself.
A look of terror upon his face.
Hermione knew nothing, he was sure.
He jabbed a finger at her, sneering. " You don't even know a single thing about him, witch. Don't talk about matters you have no clue about."
"Well being insecure aren't you?" Hermione sarcastically said. She bit out," Oh, your mother must not have loved you!"
Tom saw red, he could not stop those words from slipping from his mouth. He felt his voice rising by a few decibels, "Don't you say one fucking thing about my mother!"
"Darling her was a slut, rolling with filth. Oh her, poor, poor her. " That gruff voice came repeating in his head.
Poor, poor her.
His mouth moved.
Oh poor, poor her.
"Look at you, look at yourself. Do you really think I would want a half-blood bastard as my son? Face it mudblood, wake up and see the truth. " He sneered at her, as the red look on her face disappeared and was replaced with a frown.
She started panting, her face scrunching up.
Her big brown eyes were welling up with those pretty tears, her pouty pink lips quivering. He wanted to see those tears rolling down her face, watch her break down and cry.
" She will be your end." The old crone's warning rang in his ear.
What came next was unexpected.
Her palm swung across the air and landed with a loud smack against his cheek.
Tom could feel his fists clenching and unclenching at the same time, blood rushing through his head.
"Fuck you, Tom." Her voice comes out barely a whimper. " Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"
"Have dinner with yourself since you think a mudblood is not even worthy of your attention." She spat at him.
"Don't you ever think all she was ever good for was a lay?"
Storming out of the kitchen, she left and he could feel her frizzled magic as a curtain hastily barricaded up her part of the flat.
"You're not my son. Your wretched mother bewitched me, that crazy little wench. You're no son of mine. Go. Goodbye, you had your time."
Adieu. Adieu. Forget me.
With a flick of his wand, the three desperately tried to escape.
But no one ever avoids Tom's wrath.
Even though Tom did not like the merry and jingle which was Christmas, he wanted to make Hermione and his first Christmas together special. Despite the fact they were not speaking, at least they lived under the same roof. As such he gifted her a box that was placed on her desk, which was left seemingly untouched.
Christmas had truly been a cold affair, it had been exactly 26 days, 1 hour, 15 minutes and 36 seconds since he and Hermione had spoken a word to each other. Whenever he had tried to speak to her, the frosty witch muttered 'go away, Tom' as if he was a fly on her back. He had given her ample opportunities to redeem himself.
He wanted to tear his hair out. Apparently, she did not want his care and protection. Did she even not bother to open it?
A few weeks ago, a 36-year-old pureblood minister was found dead at his home. Funnily enough, somehow his necklace was now in that very box.
Tom was on the verge of shoving her against the wall, ravishing her or the alternative of throwing her out of his flat.
At least things were looking up on his side project which was little Annika Haze.
It had been almost half a year since Tom and a little girl met. He never really expected himself to have found himself associating with her.
Tom was never a great fan of children but she? No, Annika Haze was no child. For her mind was too bright to deal with the jargon of a first year. Marks left on her, a no sign of goodwill from the man who called himself her father.
He wanted to teach her everything he had known and he did. Even with a short amount of time, the girl had mastered subjects years beyond her level. Most fourth years would rather busy themselves with Hogsmeade candy rather than Annika's favourite subject of DADA.
The outer grounds of his witch's old apartment set a place for their lessons; be it a makeshift potions class outdoors with a cauldron and a satchel of ingredients, a striped blue jay to transfigure into a plate or simply a clear stage for their theatrical lessons in the dark arts. Tom had brought her to Olliver's in Diagon Alley the other day. The stubborn girl had initially refused his present of her own wand. But after a threat to stop their lessons, Tom walked home with a trotting Annika, a little gift bag in her hand. He had brought her books too. She devoured them. Strangely there was this warm feeling stuck in his chest he could not pinpoint was what. Not exactly that foreign tingle he felt with Hermione but something else.
Apparation had been an easy feat. When he had landed in Muggle London with Annika, he was so sure the girl might have ended up splinching herself, which would be the end of his little teaching career. But she did not disappoint him, unlike her.
That earlier summer, Tom had so avidly remembered sending a lengthy letter to the headmaster. He remembered laying down references from the old Slughorn to even shrill Merryweather in between the lines. The never less than perfect grades. The numerous awards throughout his seven years in the school. It was his home, after all, students would finally be able to appreciate the dark arts from his teachings. But silly old Dippet had to claim that he was far too ' young' for the posting. He remembered rutting that poor brunette silly in the alleyway, leaving behind splotches of carnal splotches. She would not remember the incident anyway, it was no more than a dream to her. One day, his dream of teaching the dark arts at Hogwarts will no longer be just a dream.
"Incendio." She whispered a spark of lilac-blue shooting from her wand towards the pile of sage. A flick of hungry flames devoured the freshly picked leaves, a fragrant aroma wafting through the air. Tom looked down at his hands and stared at them. He felt clean.
"What did you think, Mr Riddle?" The girl propped a hand on her hip as she grinned at him. Tom looked up and nodded, smiling a little. " Good job, Miss Annika."
"Ahh, I can't wait to attend Hogwarts!" Annika giggled, covering her mouth. She sighed," Just two more years to go!"
The flames danced away merrily.
He had remembered that same feeling, eight years before. The stale air in his room burning his lips as he stared up the crusted ceiling, that letter clutched closely towards his chest.
Tom shook his head at the memory.
The potion had almost finished simmering, possibly in Spring, he would present it to the girl? It would be a great gift for a lone girl with only a reptilian pet to call a friend. A girl who never knew kindness from anyone but a stranger whose intentions lay with laying with her neighbour. A girl whose mind was left to rot after carnal desires, instead of academic journeys.
Perhaps she would have someone respectable to call a parent.
"So what house do you think I'll be in, Mr Riddle?" The little girl asked curiously.
"Slytherin. Definitely Slytherin." A smile crept up his face.
"Oh, you have definitely told me countless times that the Slytherin house is the best amongst all of the houses," Annika said so slyly.
"We are the best after all," Tom said smugly, ruffling his fingers through her curly brown locks as the young witch giggled, the snake wrapped tightly around her arm. Sometimes he could envision a life with her and his witch, but perhaps that was a vision that was too far fetched. Maybe, just maybe it would happen. If Hermione said yes. Yes, she would say yes.
His eye twitched as the girl beamed brightly at him.
Tom had not expected the Black heiress to come back so swiftly with his witch seemingly back on good terms with her. Needless to say, he did not like it a single bit.
She was with those silly disposable friends of hers. The two talking airheads, good for nothing more than warming a wizard's bed. Hermione was better than this. She was a somewhat sensible enough witch, even for standards of a mudblood. He wondered why she even talked to them in the first place, even with their nasty mouths.
He found her chattering away, standing back against the front door with the two witches. It was as if that party had never happened. His fists clenched as his jaw tensed up immediately, jutting forward.
Rolling his eyes, he continued scribing his writings onto the parchment.
Suddenly there was a sharp whistle or two from the doorstep, Tom narrowed his eyes and he turned around to see what shenanigans these witches were up to.
"Oh good morning, Tom!" Lucretia chirped, the witch hopped excitedly while Tom's expression remained vacant towards them as he held his glass of whiskey in his hand. "Tom?"
He turned his back on them once more before his hand gripped hard onto the quill and started scribbling wildly. He muttered gruffly, not looking at them. " Hello, Miss Black."
Of course, he was a gentleman. He had to say something.
"Ignore him, Lucretia," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him while crossing her arms. She muttered loud enough to reach his ears, " He's having one of his princess temperaments today."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows as she continued murmuring these words of insolence. She should be grateful he had provided a roof over her head! He swore this mudblood would be the death of him.
He gritted his teeth before standing up abruptly and shoving his journal into his briefcase, his grey coat sleeving onto his lithe body. He felt as if his blood was boiling and if he stayed another minute in the room, Hermione Granger and her friends would not like what his magic could do.
Tom continued listening in on their conversation.
"Oh," Lucretia's loud voice rang." Come on, Mione. I'm sure Tom won't mind if you just apologised-"
"Apologise for what?" The witch snapped." He called me a mudblood. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is muggle-born. Someone with non-magic parents. Someone like me."
Tom swallowed, his eyebrows still furrowed as his fists softened. Someone like me.
"Oh come on, Hermione." Lucretia sighed." It was just a slip of the mouth. Hermione, we've all said that word at least once in our lives."
"I would forgive him if it was," Hermione spat." But it came from a place of hate."
"Have you told him…"
Tom could only drown out their murmurs, turning around and heading to the kitchen for another glass of whiskey. A place of hate? He liked Hermione, a lot. He was not sure what exactly he liked about her. But perhaps it was her intelligence, how she was the only witch he had known capable of solving such intricate runes and her little magical theories. How she would be found either in a library and not a boutique. He appreciated that about her. She was unique, a rarity and treasures needed to be kept. As for her looks, she was definitely his pretty angel (not so an angel for now) and that lithe body of hers. But all in all, he did not hate her. Could she not see that? Or had her silly mudblood 'moral standards' held her back?
From the kitchen, he could still hear their voices. They were being very loud. What did they want? A big pity party? Hermione should have left them behind. Kowalski and Black were rocks she was lugging on her back.
He heard Hermione murmur, "Tom does not care."
" If it ever boils down to that one day where he's given the choice to kill me. He would without hesitation."
What? Now that was an overreaction.
He never wanted her dead. He never wanted her dead in any way or world.
He furrowed his eyebrows, fuming. How dare she make up such assumptions about him? They had known each other for months and this is her exact impression of him?
"Pray tell, Hermione." Kowalski had started talking. Of course, she had to poke her way into the conversation.
" Why do you even stay with this man? I'm not insinuating anything but it's considered highly undesirable for a witch to stay with a wizard who is not going to be her intended."
Not going to be? Kowalski did make a lot of assumptions and this was one of them.
What he heard next, made his fingers almost lose grip onto the glass of whiskey he was downing.
Tom choked.
"Oh, believe me, Liza. "Hermione replied darkly. "I'm leaving soon."
"Well," The witch replied. "That's fantastic to hear! Where are you going, Hermione? I'm so glad you're finally leaving this cold fish. You deserve better, darling. "
They do know he could hear them, right?
"Mione, please." Tom could hear Lucretia begging. " Tom is not a bad man. He just said something wrong and you shouldn't fault him-"
"Then he should apologise." Hermione seemed to have bristled. Tom did not manage to catch the remaining conversation before he could hear her murmurs again. "...San Francisco…welcoming community...beautiful place… a new beginning."
Now hopping back to the States? Hermione was quite a character. She really was something.
Having finished his glass of whiskey, Tom took a few deep breaths before striding back and magicking his coat on, briefcase in hand.
"Look, Hermione." Kowalski nudged the brunette's shoulder, her eyes still stuck onto him which he had noticed she had been doing this while.
Tom's eyes met Hermione's. Those brown eyes. Those eyes he had stared into, while he lost his senses in her soft body. Those eyes staring back at him, seemingly dead. Where was that sparkle? She pursed her lips.
Tom forced out, his lips moved. "I'm...I'm sorry, Hermione. It was wrong of me to say those things to you. I won't ever do it again, I hope you forgive me."
Normally he would not have apologised, but this was Hermione. She was a necessity.
He had expected her to forgive him.
Suddenly Hermione snapped. "Fuck off, Riddle."
The dark-haired witch beside made a noise.
"Hermione!"Lucretia gasped. "Watch your mouth! A proper witch, even a woman doesn't say such… d-depraved words!"
Tom's eyes twitched as he let out a growl, brushing past them.
Before he made his first step down the staircase, he murmured loudly. " If anything, Hermione. I care a lot about you, I hope you know that."
With that, he left but not catching a flash of those familiar blue sharp eyes of Kowalski's scrutinising his every move.
Maybe it was Kowalski, his final pig in the pen. He was tired of her, after all.
Soon for slaughter.
Life is wonderful. Sometimes you find yourself in unexpected situations, meet new people, new thoughts and ideas…sometimes at the rarest of moments, Tom was able to restrain himself from strangling certain types of people...
But this needed to be done. He still had to make a living, whether he liked it or not.
"Oh, you're such a sweetheart, Mr Riddle!" The woman gushed.
"No problem, Hepzibah." He bared a smile. She was an infuriating piece of work. But a piece of work it is to reach his goals. He was almost at the finishing point, he was just so sure of it.
Tom smiled at her once more.
"Such a charming young wizard," The woman laughed." Surely there's a pretty witch waiting for you to come home! She is so lucky to have you."
"You flatter me too much, Hepzibah." Tom bore a smile, putting on his charming face. "I am very much a free wizard at this point in time."
The thick woman giggled, waving her paper fan eagerly as she sent him a pouty smile, a failed attempt of looking anywhere remotely attractive. "Tom."
"Yes, Hepzibah?" The wrapping paper was nearly sealed up, he took a glance or two at the pompous elderly woman. Today amongst her bodily rolls and slopes, she had donned a set of glittering blue. A waddling piece of fruit. On her wrinkled cheeks were dabbled with two bright red spots. Tom felt he was working in a circus, rather than an antique shop. He curiously enquired," Sorry but if you don't mind, Hepzibah. But may I know why are you dressed so explicitly unique today? Don't worry, you look absolutely stunning as always."
The woman giggled shrilly, "Oh Mr Riddle, don't tell me you've forgotten! Today is the last day of the year. Had to put in some effort in dressing, don't you think so?"
31st December. An itchy feeling. Not like anyone remembered what this day signified anyway.
Just then, Tom did not realise he was daydreaming. An abnormality.
Hepzibah simpered," Ohh Tommmm?"
"Slip of the moment, Hepzibah. I'm sorry, " Tom apologised as he smiled, his eyes detached from the forced expression that had landed onto the bulky piece of shiny grey behind Hepzibah's plump figure.
"Oh, it's alright." The woman fanned herself. "What are you doing tonight, if you don't mind me asking. A young handsome wizard like you-oh! Must be popular with the young ladies!"
Tom let out his usual chuckle, "You flatter me too much, Hepzibah. Work and research tonight mostly. One must be productive afterall. "
Hermione watching too. Of course, he did not say that.
Hepzibah let out a loud giggle that made Tom almost want to tear his hair out from its shrill nature. She waddled around and touched things mostly. Tom was glad that whatever she had touched, she usually bought it. He made quite a large sum of commissions from his weekly interactions with this peculiar colourful attraction. Mr Burkes even gave him a pat on his back, smiled and laughed that old sleaze's laugh. Tom could just smile.
The woman jabbed her fan at a display at a corner of the shop. She asked excitedly, battling her eyes at him. " What's that, Mr Tom Riddle? Quite a masterpiece I would have to say."
Shiny. Gold plated. Ireland. Bought it from a dark market in Lancaster. Tom remembered bringing his hands around the neck. Squeezing.
"Goblin made armour," Tom said.
"Sounds spicy!" The woman laughed, clutching her hand to her chest.
"Indeed it is, Hepzibah. What a good taste you have." He smiled at her and the woman looked as if she was melting in front of him. That was the usual effect he had on everyone. Of course, everyone but Hermione.
Oh, Hermione. His witch.
She was an infuriating piece of work. Yelling at him? No ' I forgive you, Tom'? She really was asking for him to throw her onto the bed and punish her. He had only known of her to be one of the few women in his life who said such uncouth words. It was rude, yes but it turned him on furthermore with her lack of apathy towards such social beliefs. But still, Hermione needed to be taught a lesson and he needed to be harsher on her. Sometimes, he felt he was going too soft on her.
Suddenly, the tattle of the shrill woman was drowned out by the usual chimes ringing against the door.
The soft ringing of the chimes echoed through the room. He lifted his head to gaze at the petite brunette witch wandering into the shop. She could have been any other brunette but with those bushy curls, it was so distinctively Hermione. Wearing a brown trench coat over a simple skirt and blouse. One could see a bit of the stocking worn by her shapely legs. Skin tanned, a rarity to be seen in this cold winter.
She walks in. Immediately her magic reaches out to him as if grabbing him by the arm towards her, drowning him in it. Tom swallowed as he stared at her approaching figure.
He breathes in.
The witch's expressionless face was immediately replaced by a grin as she stood beside the bulbous woman next to her. She turned to face Hepzibah and for a moment, Tom swore he could have sworn her face twitched in a momentary look of pity before a small smile graced her face. Hermione said in the sweetest tone Tom had ever heard from anyone. "Hello sorry Madam, but I could talk to Tom here for a second?"
"Oh no problem, young lady."The woman replied as she giggled, fanning herself." He's all yours."
The brunette seemed to nod at that and turned to face him.
Tom stared at her before the witch cleared her throat.
"I'll reserve the armour for you, Hepzibah." He told the old woman.
"It's fine, Tom. " Hepzibah laughed. "I'll leave you to this young lady here. I have an appointment at the spa to get to."
Hermione seemed to raise an eyebrow at her form of address towards him. Tom had to hold himself back from chuckling. It occurred to Tom that she was jealous of his closeness with Hepzibah. What a joke.
"Good luck you two love birds!" The woman cheered as she waved her fan off at them, her house-elf hopping eagerly behind her with a mountain high height of shopping bags. Tom could see Hermione gap and narrow in anger at the sight of the elf and his little predicament.
She seemed to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him.
"Hi," The brunette witch cheerfully greeted him.
"Hi," Tom said stiffly before moving away from the counter, grabbing along a stack of books that were eagerly waiting to be shelved. He could feel her presence behind him as she followed him towards the shelves. He swallowed.
What did Hermione want?
As Tom moved along the lines of wooden racks, he could feel the warmth of her shadow enveloping him from behind.
Soft sounds against the carpet by her tiny heels that went:
Clouk clouk
Clouk clouk
His fingers slipped onto one of the necks and slid them carefully between the flesh-eating and blinding novels.
It was like in one of those muggle films he had watched when he was a kid and sneaked into the cinema.
A book suddenly falls out of his grip. He bends over to pick it up and just then, at the same time, Hermione had bent down too to pick it up. His hand had landed on hers.
She was quite cold, from her freezing fingers. But they were soft and Tom wished that he could lace his fingers through them right then and now. He watched as her cheeks suddenly turned pink.
"OTIUS FRUCTUM DEDUCERE EX SEXUS." The witch said in amusement. "Hmm, wonder what I can do with this."
Tom rolled his eyes, his hand slipping from hers and grabbed the book from her grasp.
"Hey!" She stood up, hands brushing her little skirt. She protested." I wanted to buy that!"
"Sorry, no can do." Tom said firmly as the feisty witch propped her hands on her lips and demanded loudly." Why?"
"I'm sure you must be very interested in how your mouth and hands can be used for another purpose, Granger." He said sarcastically, shaking his head. Oh, that had been a scene he had seen in his morning takes in the shower.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The witch's cheeks seemed to turn even pinker as she shifted uncomfortably, unknowingly revealing a bit of her thigh to a leering Tom as her skirt rode up," Yes, I did know that considering the title."
Obviously, when that particular title had caught his witch's attention for the first time, Tom had read the book from back to front and could remember every single word written. A wizard's phallus is a unique part of his body, however, it cannot be taken care of on its own...Lubrication is the key to an enjoyable experience for sodomisation… curl your toes when swallowing… ride him on your feet, instead of your knees...
He twitched as a roll of obscene images of him taking her against those shelves flashed through his eyes.
"I'm sure a witch like you, Granger, will be more offended than aroused reading these pages. " Tom said stoically before snapping at her."Have you ever gone farther than the missionary position, letting the man do all of the work?"
A shock and seemingly offended look appeared on her face, freckled cheeks in the shade of bright pink.
Tom turned around to shelf the remaining books.
"Gee, what a great shopboy you are, Riddle." Hermione sarcastically replied before poking him on the shoulder. His eye twitches mechanically as he continues to shelf the books.
" I'll let you know that I like to be choked and have bruises left on my body most of the time. Taking me from the back hard and fast." Hermione said proudly.
"You know one day, Granger, those words are going to come back and bite you." He gritted his teeth. She was really asking for it, was she not? She had better watch her next words because Tom did not know what he would do next. After all, it was just the two of them in the shop. They could do whatever they wanted. Or what Hermione herself wanted.
"Well, maybe...I hope they do." Hermione said hopefully. At the corner of his eye, he could see her bouncing on her heel as she watched him. What did she want?
Tom gruffly said, " Why are you here, Hermione? I thought you wanted me to fuck off?"
Hermione seemed to shake at that. The witch let out a sigh," Look… Tom, I don't want us to be on bad terms. I forgive you. I really… After all, we were very close and... I really like you. A lot."
"I'm sorry, Tom. If you felt if I was hiding anything from you, I promise that I'll be honest with you from now on. I-I like you, Tom honestly. Please?" Oh, his sweet witch. Oh, his sweet darling witch.
She kisses him on the cheek. He breathes in the familiar smell of the sweet jasmine on her skin as he craves to just reach a handout, grab her and do his way with her. Never let her go. But he could not bring himself to do it now.
Tom swallowed as he paused in his movements. Breathing.
"Tonight's New Year's Eve. Just in case, you're wondering where I'm going now." Hermione whispered, her lips kissing his neck. Tom had to take in another deep breath. Heart beating rapidly. " I'll be at the rooftop of Obtshak's. Nice drinks, not many people and a pretty view, I heard."
"Come, Tom." She pulled away from him, she stared at him with a small grin. "You'll love it."
Tom said nothing back and the witch seemed to tilt her head at that before her soft giggles filled the shop.
Suddenly her arms wrapped around him from the back, Tom felt his chest tighten and the sickly stomach-churning feeling came running around. "Goodbye, Tom."
Then she was off, her footpace moderate.
He instinctively watches the witch walk down the cold street through the shop window.
Tom had always been familiar with fire. A box of matches. A lighter. A cigarette. Incendio. Fiendfyre.
He remembered 'playing' with a box with these tiny red-tipped sticks. Striking a stick against the match. One of the older boys pulled at his collar and oops, off it goes.
He remembered not even moving as he watched the boy flinch and do a little dance as the flames surrounded him.
He remembered removing the scene from their heads. Started with the head matron to the three little girls sitting at the side, especially the pretty brunette who always simpered for him. Her name probably started with an A. The gang of impressionable boys had started the forsaken whispers of him, spreading through the home like weeds.
They never really interacted with him after that incident, he remembered.
So he never really understood why Scamander, playboy and a malicious little thing by night and day, could not bring himself to light it up.
Leaves crunched under his boot as the wizard in ragged dress robes, panting. The bruises and cuts really did compliment his looks well. Along with that unkempt persona he always wanted to play. A simple savage, nothingness.
The lifeless body was left limp on the forest floor. Body wrapped in a sack seeped with red.
His hand rubbed away the tears rolling down his cheek as he pleaded, falling to his knees." Please, my lord-!"
Tom rolled his eyes as he whispered his signature crucio, the man shrivelled and let out those delicious screams.
Over the month, the wizard had turned to pleading and collapsing at times. Tom simply could not see the point in letting him have his fix anymore. Besides drugs never did anything good for anyone. Hermione would believe in that, would she not?
"Do it." He said.
The heat fanned against his back as he sauntered back towards the cotton field, the choking smell of acrid copper wafting through the cloudy night. Tom whispered a silent prayer for that poor farmer to come, another of his good deeds for the month.
Time to head home.
Hands in his pockets, as he walked through the freezing night, Tom breathed. Blowing out the cold mist. For once in his 19 years of life, he was unsure of what to do next. To be or not be with her. That was the question.
He sighed.
When he has climbed up the last few flights of stairs, a surprise catches him at his doorstep. There stood a slender witch with her distinctive cloche hat, holding a satchel.
Porpentina Goldstein turned around to face Tom.
"Good evening, Mr Riddle." The woman smiled. Tom watched her wand dangle from the holster ." Is Miss Hermione Granger here at home? I wish to speak to her."
She really could not give up this pursuit, could she not? Was she not tired of playing this rat and cat game?
Tom's eye twitched as he pulled up a smile." Sorry, I'm afraid no."
"Oh," The woman said. " May I now ask about her whereabouts? This is regarding an important Ministry Investigation I'm heading."
And why would he tell her?
"I'm not quite sure." Tom lied." She didn't tell me anything."
The woman seemed to raise an eyebrow. Tom kept his smile on. In disbelief, she continued," Miss Hermione Granger here is a criminal and I hope-"
Intimidation? Did she really think it would work on him? Some old fool she was.
"Oh please save these words for someone else, Miss Goldstein," Tom said, standing closer towards her. "Let's face it here, you're not here on behalf of the ministry. But rather, yourself."
The woman's eyes twitched at him. She sneered at him, " What are you trying to say?"
Apparently, Goldstein was easily offended by such cheap jabs at her obvious moral position here. Head Auror? How did this happen?
"You have been harassing us for months. I implore you to tell me why." Tom said firmly.
Indeed she has. For the entirety of December, he had seen her running around, watching her Hermione. That was his job, not hers. Why did this woman think this would help her find her son?
"Harassing- I-I was not! " The woman gasped. "You're clearly making...some s-strange allegations here, Mr Riddle!"
Tom rolled his eyes. He chuckled, "Oh please, don't lie to me, Mrs Scamander."
The woman's eyes narrow at him. "You don't know Hermione Granger, Mr Riddle. She's dangerous. She doesn't belong here. I-I'm telling you, for your own safety, stay away from her and let me handle this. Nobody knows her. Nobody knows her past. Even her friends don't know much. She's a criminal and-"
"Hermione has indeed been a mystery to me these past few months but don't you think you're possibly nutty in the head, right now? Saying these things about this young lady you clearly know nothing about!" Tom sneered.
The woman scoffed. "Nutty? You're calling me nutty? Mr Riddle, you don't know anything about her-"
Nothing? Had those months of following and observing not said enough?
"I do!" Tom snapped and he continued. " And I think with time, I'm slowly getting the picture of her. "
"And so if you really do see her as who she really is-"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"That she deserves to be locked up in Azkaban-"
"No, she does not."
"Stay away from-"
"Hermione is not a criminal."
" The ministry will be infor-" That was then, her wand flew into his open palm. Tom rolled his eyes before sending a stunning spell towards the shocked witch. Tom approached her, hooping the satchel from her body.
Tom let out a soft chuckle before tapping her hand against her cheek. "You really think it was wise to come running around, Goldstein. Believe me, you deserve to die knowing what your son has done to my Hermione. "
"But I'm reasonable." Tom continued as he smiled at her. " This is for your own good."
"Obliviate."
Suddenly her lips lost their grip and she lifted to look at him in a daze.
"Now you'll forget everything about Hermione Jane Granger. You know nothing about her. She is another nobody to you. You will focus on other pressing cases. You will not care about your son's disappearance and when he receives his justice, it will be just desserts. You will be happy about it. " He instructed. "You will forget that this little trip to my flat never happened and you will go back and spend time with your husband."
"Life is good, Goldstein, don't waste it."
With that, he sent her on a little spell towards apparating away to her home.
At least Goldstein would not be a worry anymore for the both of them, he thought to himself.
Striding back into the flat with the newly retrieved satchel, Tom opened it hastily. Throwing the notes and pictures onto the bed.
Hermione Jane Granger. No Ministry Records. Age 19. Birthday: 19th September, year ? Apparently American. Homeschooled. Freelance runes translator.
Last saw arguing with Galton on 13 September 1945 at 10.16 pm. Witness John Reid says the fight was intensive. Hermione was seen holding up her wand towards Galton…
Pictures showing Hermione at her usual bar hunts...
ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT?
If this got out, Hermione would be gone. No doubt about it.
Tom breathed, shaking his head before gathering the documents, throwing them into the fireplace.
He breathed.
"She's my witch, not yours." He muttered before a soft incendio slipped between his lips.
"No one will hurt her."
The orange flames burnt and burnt. Eating up the inked papers, watching as the smoke wafted through the darkness.
In the background, he could hear the loud cheers and hoots from the gathering crowds. Every witch or wizard wore a sickly smile on their face.
Tom shuffled through the busy street, while witches simpered at the sight of him and wizards glaring after. The usual routine.
Obtshak's was a bar with a rooftop and held fewer people than he had expected. He had heard of it from his Hogwarts days when some of his followers said it was one of the best places for drinks in Diagon Alley. But he was not here for the bar, the party it was throwing, it was to see his Hermione.
Stair after stair, Tom was panting after the last flight. Opening the door, the cold air hit him. He tugged on his coat properly. It was one of his newer coats which he had never worn, it was black and he paired it up with a white blouse and a red tie.
He was wondering what she was wearing. Will she be in her earlier skirt and blouse? Or something unique like nothing at all? He would prefer the latter but not now, for there were a few people- namely couples celebrating with them too.
His eyes wandered, looking for a bushy brown-haired witch.
Then there she was.
He sees her.
She was in a tight lace dress, holding a martini and being surrounded by witches and wizards.
Tom felt his jaw drop, watching her firm bum move under that red layer.
She was simply just standing there.
He walked towards her, not saying a word before clearing his throat.
The witch turned around. His object of amour fou.
Her large eyes, brown with specks of gold in them. A gentle grin she wore. Pink. Plump. Perfect lips.
Their eyes meet.
"Hermione."
"Tom."
They said at the same time. Tom let out a chuckle, while Hermione giggled. He watched as her face lit up. She said," I'm so...happy you're here, Tom."
"What?" Tom replied to the smiling witch who took a sip of her cocktail." Did you really think I was going to let you spend New Year's out alone?"
Hermione tilted her head, crossing her arms which made her breasts pop out even more to Tom's attention. " No, I don't think Mr Riddle would have."
"Back to Mr Riddle, are we?" Tom mused, "Miss Granger."
"Hmm...I wonder if you had been a professor, no doubt I would be saying your name often." She smiled.
"You mean screaming it?" Tom laughed before he darkened his voice intentionally. " Miss Granger, you have been a naughty girl. Please see me after class."
"Oh," Hermione gasped. She smirked before pouting those lips of hers. " Oh Professor Riddle, what have I done wrong? Wait, was it because my skirt was too short? Or maybe I was not wearing knickers and bra today?"
Tom's eyes darkened. He could imagine himself rutting her on a desk and for some reason, she was wearing a Gryffindor's uniform. Her plump breasts bounced as he thrust in and out of her. Then Images of them in between the sheets flashed through his mind as his witch continued smirking at him. He replied, "You don't say."
"I'm very sure you'll be able to come up with an appropriate punishment for me, Professor Riddle." Hermione giggled.
"Be glad Hermione, I was not your professor during your schooling days," Tom said darkly before he smiled at her. " How about we sit down at one of those chairs and get ourselves some more drinks?"
Hermione nodded.
Hours passed and he had to say, it was unforgettable to simply put it. He and Hermione sat down, drank and talked. From ministry protests to runic mistakes, or even a new book release. They discussed almost everything. And Hermione was smiling. She looked happy.
Cheers were building up as someone shouted. " 5 minutes to the New Year!"
Hermione stood up and she reached out her hand to him. Tom lowered his gaze and for a moment, paused before taking it.
They quietly watched the view, which was of the town that Diagon Alley was in. The night sight was pretty, Tom had to admit. He swallowed. This peace was nice.
"Tom," Hermione said, catching his attention. "Look, I'm sorry for not being honest about myself. It was wrong of me to get angry at you-"
"I'm sorry too." The words slipped out of his mouth, " I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood."
The witch continued staring across space, she murmured." It's fine."
"No, it's not." He affirmed, not able to look her in the eye ." I won't even speak of that word again, Hermione."
The next few minutes were quiet between the two of them.
"I want us to be together," Hermione said quietly.
"Alright," Tom replied awkwardly.
So she still wanted him?
He admitted, " I don't mind."
"Really?" The witch seemed to brighten up.
"30 seconds to the New Year!"
"Yes," Tom said, a small smile appearing on his face.
"So I suppose we're official now then?" Hermione mused.
"You could say that, Hermione." Tom smiled at the brunette witch, who was now apparently his girlfriend. His first partner, actually.
The witch giggled and moved closer to him, swaying her hips towards him slowly. She pulled his tie towards her, whispering to him. " Are you planning to have your new year's kiss with anyone?"
Tom chuckled as he replied in feigned ignorance. " Hmm...I'm not quite sure, maybe with that blonde witch-"
"Oh no, you don't," Hermione warned, wrapping her arms around him. Jealous Hermione was quite a sight. Tom could not resist this softness embracing him, putting his hand on her tiny waist.
Their eyes were watching each other as Tom lifted her chin up and moved his lips closer towards hers. He could smell the heavy alcohol on her breath as she giggled.
"3!"
Hermione mouthed, " Tom."
"2!"
He could only just smile.
"1!"
His lips were on hers.
"Happy new year!"
Loud parks flew through the night sky.
When they reached home, Tom remembered not being able to keep his hands off her.
Hermione dragged Tom into her section of their flat, sitting him down on the edge of her bed as she let out fits of giggles.
Tom's head was pounding as he saw the blurry witch get down on her knees.
He raised an eyebrow, in shock. Was he hallucinating? "Hermione, what are you doing-"
"Doing something I should have done earlier." She said as her hands started fumbling with his belt, holding that sweet smile on her face.
Tom groaned as he slapped himself.
This could not be real.
Then, oh! Her lips started kissing against his grey trousers, Tom could feel himself hardening.
"Oh quit the foreplay, H-Hermione..." Tom slurred.
Hermione giggled, "So impatient, Mr Riddle."
Her fingers finally pulled down his trousers, Tom looked down at Hermione who seemed to be salivating at the huge bulge he was hiding in his boxers.
She tugged it down his legs.
Then his cock sprung out, hitting her in the face. Hermione let out a loud gasp, staring at it as though seemingly entranced by it.
Tom would forever play this in his pensieve. His cock catching Hermione Granger off guard.
The brunette's face moved closer to his half-hard cock. Her lips touched the tip which was already dripping with precum. Hermione looked up and whispered," Happy Birthday, Tom."
So she remembered.
Tom hissed as she started kissing all over his shaft, her tiny hands had started to join in.
Suddenly her lips opened to welcome his cock into her silky mouth and her tongue lapped across his slit immediately. Tom jerked his hips, sending his cock deeper into her mouth.
Hermione seemed to manage it, taking his cock even deeper and into her throat. Tom groaned as he watched the prominent bulge of his cock in her throat.
Her brown eyes, wide and open as her red painted lips on the base of his cock as she fondled his balls. Tom would never forget this image. He held her there for as long as he could before she started choking on his cock.
Hermione then let him thrust his cock in and out of her mouth. He grabbed her curls, guiding her on what to do. He groaned, "Oh suck it, suck it, you tease."
"Yes, Hermione, yesssss..." He gritted his teeth as he thrust his cock into her mouth, gaining a rhythm as he did so. Hermione's little moans and hums on his mouth almost made him lose it.
He tapped his leaking tip onto her plump lips, smearing the sticky substance across it. She opened up once more, swallowing it a few more times.
Never could he forget that sweet smile of Hermione as she stuck her tongue to receive the warm seed spurting onto it, swallowing it down.
For the rest of the night, Hermione and Tom caught up and broke the mattress. It was the best birthday gift he ever had.
THE DAILY PROPHET
Spare the child. Son of the critically acclaimed author of the Fantastic Beasts series Newt Scamander loses it.
-2 January 1946
Galton Scamander, aged 18, was arrested on 31 December for the murder of the previous Head of the Ministry of Magic Auror department, Joseph Prewett. He has been found burning his mutilated corpse near the muggle village in Aylesford, Kent. A muggle farmer and the local police department involved have been obliviated. The Ministry has claimed that it has wiped out the memories of those involved and has said it will do its best to find out the truth. As of now, Galton Scamander is on bail and his parents, the famous Magizoologist and author, Newt Scamander and newly appointed Head Auror Porpentina Scamander, neé Goldstein have refused to address any comments regarding the murder. His spokesman, Eric Garrison, however, has said. " We urge the public to not spread any rumours until investigations are completed." The body was found to have been intentionally paralysed...
THE DAILY PROPHET
The arrogance of a monster: recently deceased Head Auror Joseph Prewett tied to young girls, exposing the corruption of Ministry officials.
-5 January 1945
Pictures and documents of the recently murdered previous Head Auror from the Ministry of Magic, Joseph Prewett, have surfaced which was sent in an anonymous source to the offices of The Daily Prophet a few days ago. They depict Mr Prewett, a married man, having non-consensual dalliances who forced himself onto young females. A female Ministry colleague who has agreed to comment has said. " I'm not surprised that Mr Prewett's acts have not been exposed. We have been silenced for way too long. " The Ministry has also claimed the bribery allegations of more such officials like Prewett, were false and has refused to comment any further on the Prewett and Scamandar issue...
Closing his copy of the newspaper, Tom smiled as he took a sip of his tea, while Hermione read out the card that was sent in by Abraxas. "The Osbourne family formally invites the honourably distinguished Lord Tom Riddle to their home." Hermione read before murmuring in annoyance. " It doesn't really say my name on the card, Tom."
"Not a big matter, I'm sure the Osbournes won't mind." Tom shrugged his shoulders before wrapping her arms around her."Besides, apparently, I'm some sought-after idol right now."
Things were looking quite up, Tom had Hermione. They shagged every day, at least thrice a day. Then there was the Prewett and Scamander saga which amused him immensely. It further thrilled him even more that when Hermione found out about it, she had rolled her eyes and looked away.
"Ha ha how humble you are, Tom." The witch rolled her eyes. "Don't forget the crowd of witches and the ministry ready to welcome you."
He was wondering about the job offers he had. A position in the magical law of enforcement would do him and Hermione. He could improve their financial situation and get them their very own place, which was not this dump of a flat. Maybe. Or maybe not. He will see.
"What can I say?" Tom laughed. " I'm just charming."
She sighed." Anyways, the letter from my friend Benny just arrived. He gave us this book."
Saying that Hermione magicked the book from the mail wrappings and onto the table. The book fell onto the table with a loud thud.
It had no title on it.
"No name?" Tom questioned.
Hermione sighed before she sat in his lap," It's the best choice we have now."
"Oh well," Tom chuckled. " I guess we have to find out together, don't we Hermione?"
"Yes." The brunette witched nodded before wrapping her arms around him like he was a giant teddy bear and laid her bushy head on his shoulder. More of these so-called adorable moments had happened these years, it was strange knowing that he had a partner to talk, work and shag. It was even more strange that he had finally captured Hermione Granger's heart. She had started to open up more, he could see it, she was going to slip and he's going to find out everything about her. Because she was his. And somewhat he was hers.
"Tom," Hermione murmured.
"Yes?"
"Will, you ever leave me?" She questioned.
Who knew a little encounter with a feisty brunette in his shop would lead to this?
"No." He whispered.
"Oh really?"
He could see them with possibly a little girl or two in a few years, a house where they will call home. He comes back from his ministry dealings and Hermione comes down the stairs in a revealing dress to greet him. Why would he give this up?
"No, I promise you, Hermione," Tom told her. " I will never let you go."
A/N: Hi guys,
PART 1 IS OFFICIALLY OVER.
So how was this update? Let me know what you think. Yes, I haven't updated in more than half a year. Life had gotten to me. I hope this chapter was not bad, uhh it took quite a while to get it right.
One thing's for sure though PART 2 is gonna be darker and if you thought Tom was not being scary enough in PART 1, then part 2 will definitely change your view on that though.
Hopefully it will be out very soon.
Brace yourselves,
Liz