Coming down from her high, Hermione registered how Tom lifted her up and laid her gently on the mattress. She was still tied up and she felt that there was a wound bleeding on one of her thighs.

"Now that I've had my pleasure, it's your turn," Tom announced. His one hand stroked her belly carelessly while the other pushed her legs apart.

"Tom," Hermione objected wearily, "You can't be serious. Please, untie me."

Amused, his eyes flashed. "What, the night is just beginning. What kind of man would I be if I denied my wife her pleasures? One is not enough for you, don't you agree?"

Slowly he let his hand slide between her thighs until his fingers encountered her folds. Triumphantly, he grinned at her. "And you clearly want it too. You're really wet, my dear."

Mortified, Hermione looked to the side. Her body ached, her throat was sore, but still the arousal had a firm grip on her. Even after one orgasm, she wanted more. The way Tom reduced her, limited her world to just him and her own pleasure, made her ache with lust.

"Are you really telling me you don't want this?" teased Tom before he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

A hoarse moan escaped her. She was still exhausted, unsure whether she could continue. But Tom's fingers buried deep inside her triggered a pleasure she had never known. Motionless, she was at his mercy, but that was precisely the attraction. Greedily, her body reacted to his every movement. She felt his fingers inside her, hot and slick from her own wetness.

"Look, love, I know what you really need," Tom murmured to her. He reached for his wand, made his own clothes disappear, and then bent naked over her as one hand returned to her thighs. "Just surrender."

Again, he sank two fingers deep inside her while his thumb massaged her sensitive knot. Another moan tore from deep within her. Finally, Hermione closed her eyes and allowed him to drive her inexorably to orgasm with his fingers.

"Look at me when I'm inside you!", Tom snapped at her sharply. Immediately she opened her eyes again and stared at him wearily. He grinned. "That's better. We don't want you to forget who you're here with."

Faster and faster, he moved his fingers inside her, never releasing her gaze. Her breathing was intermittent, alternating between gasps and whimpers, while at the same time she noticed Tom himself getting hard again. The room was filled with the wet sound of his fingers inside her, her lust-filled moans and the little cries of pain that escaped her again and again when her body felt it had to become active itself.

Tom's gaze was concentrated on her as he studied her every reaction. All shame fell away from her. It did not matter that she was obscenely tied up on Tom Riddle's bed, it did not matter that she had her legs spread wide. The only thing that mattered was his fingers inside her, rubbing against her inner walls, faster and faster, without ceasing. What mattered was the sweet pressure spreading from her centre to the very tip of his fingers. She needed this. She wanted to come, she needed to come. She needed release. Her whimpers grew louder, morphed into lust-filled little screams.

There it was again, that blackness inside her. Hermione felt the orgasm approaching, a tremor gripping her weak body. The unknown beast inside her cried out triumphantly. She wanted to come, she wanted to let Tom Riddle bring her to climax.

But again, she had underestimated him. Just when she thought she was about to fall off the cliff, he let her go. She almost begged him to let her come at last. Instead, Tom grabbed her roughly, turned her onto her stomach, ignoring her cries of pain, and opened her bound legs as wide as he could.

With a single, relentless thrust, he was inside her. Hermione came instantly, driven by pain and shock and the divine feeling of being completely filled. As she surrendered to the waves of her climax, Tom kept sinking into her with quick, hard thrusts. While her body trembled, pushing against Tom, he clawed his hands into her hips, taking her as he pleased, with no regard for her or her pain.

Very slowly, her senses found their way back to reality. The orgasm ebbed, leaving pain and fatigue mixed with contentment. Tom was still inside her, relentless, unyielding. She felt something break inside of her, as if a knot of tension finally snapped. Sobbing, Hermione buried her face in his mattress and gave herself over to that feeling, letting Tom take her for his own pleasure.

His thrusts became more uncontrolled until he finally came inside her with a loud, almost agonised moan. Obviously exhausted himself, he simply let himself sink down on top of her, breathing heavily, covered in sweat. Again, Hermione's consciousness drifted into blackness.

Only peripherally did she notice the ropes suddenly disappear. Too exhausted to move, she allowed Tom to take her gently in his arms and lift her up. Carrying her, off the bed, through a door she had not noticed before. Then he lowered her down and suddenly she was surrounded by warm water caressing her limbs. There were Tom's hands massaging her legs, massaging her neck.

"I'm so proud of you, Hermione." His whispered words came to her as if through a fog. "You did really, really great today. I'm proud of you."

And even though she knew, just knew, that she should not do it, that it was dangerous, exactly what he wanted, what he was aiming for, she leaned her head against his chest and cried. Let him embrace her as she cried out all her exhaustion and anger and hatred as he caressed and stroked her comfortingly.

oOoOoOo

Abraxas could not hide the fact that he was worried. After he, Rufus, and Hermione had received the Dark Mark the night before, he had felt terrible. A strange restlessness had taken possession of him, as if he had to do something, only he did not know what. At the same time, even that morning, he still felt physically drained. The fact that Hermione had not turned up for breakfast in the Great Hall and was now not to be found in the common room did not please him. Who knew how a petite woman like her dealt with the unknown physical consequences of the Dark Mark?

And why did Tom seem so extraordinarily amused? He sat there on the sofa in front of the fireplace, leafing through a book as nothing ever happened. Was he not worried about his girlfriend?

Abraxas was losing patience with himself. He was still a Malfoy. Tom was his friend and a powerful wizard to whom he had sworn loyalty, but he had nowhere near earned enough respect that a Malfoy would be afraid to question him. He would no longer sit silently by and tremble whenever Tom gave him a nasty look.

"Tom?"

As if he had just been waiting to be addressed by him, Tom looked up from his book and smiled at Abraxas. "Yes, please?"

"Do you know why Hermione wasn't at breakfast this morning?"

A smirk that Abraxas could only describe as insinuating flew across Tom's lips. "Certainly."

Several times Abraxas blinked. Was Tom challenging him? And why was he grinning so dirtily? It was not like his usually controlled friend. As neutrally as possible, he huffed, "And why wasn't she there?"

Tom flipped the book shut and looked straight at him. "Why don't you go and ask her yourself? I'll be happy to give you permission to enter the girls' dormitory."

He did not expect that. Tom was okay with him going to see Hermione in her bedroom? Alone? Why was that? Tom had to have a reason. After all the jealousy he had shown, he would not allow a man to visit his girlfriend just like that, alone.

"Don't look so sceptical, my friend," Tom interrupted his thoughts, "I am quite serious. I know you're a good friend of Hermione's, and I know you're a good friend of mine. I may be jealous at times, but even so, I can see that you are a loyal, decent man. So why should I distrust you?"

This went against everything Abraxas had experienced from his friend so far, but he saw no reason to complain. If Tom allowed him to seek out Hermione, he would jump at the opportunity. He could worry about what Tom's real motives were later.

oOoOoOo

Dressed only in her short nightgown, Hermione sat on her bed and read. She did not feel like breakfast, not after that night. The fact that she had found a vial of contraceptive potion on her bedside table after waking up, like the times before, had hardly surprised her. In that respect, Tom was extremely careful.

Apart from that, she was still a mess. Tom had shown a new side of himself again - and brought out a new side in her. Even this morning she could still feel the wounds on her body. In several places the rope had chafed so badly that she had bled. Red or purple welts stretched all over her skin. She had cried more than she had in a long time.

But when she woke up this morning, she felt good. Light. Relieved. The terror of the night faded, leaving only a memory that brought heat to her face. Tom had tormented her, but she had come through it. She was stronger than she would have given herself credit for. At least, those were the reasons she gave herself for feeling good when she woke up. She knew that was not the whole truth. Just as she knew that her pain yesterday had been all too real. She did not know what she would do if Tom asked her to do something like that again.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Ironic, Hermione wondered if Tom was going to bring food to her bedside like a good lover.

"Come right in," she called, not bothering to dress presentably.

The door opened, but instead of Tom, Abraxas entered.

"Oh!" she gasped and jumped up from the bed. What was Abraxas doing here? How had he been able to enter the corridor? Had he lost his mind, entering her bedroom after all Tom had threatened?

Abraxas, meanwhile, turned a deep shade of red. Hermione became aware that her nightgown ended just below her bottom. Blushing as well, she went to her wardrobe to look for a dressing gown.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she opened a wardrobe door.

"I wanted to know how you were. And Tom said I could ask you directly."

Hermione froze in mid-motion. Tom knew Abraxas was here? Had probably even indirectly sent him here himself? Resignedly, she lowered the arm that was about to reach for a cloak and turned back to Abraxas. "Is that so?"

Something in her tone had to have alarmed Abraxas, for he finally lifted his gaze and looked directly at her. But instead of giving her an answer, his eyes widened in shock. Hermione followed his gaze. At Merlin.

"Hermione," Abraxas whispered with open horror, "What is that?"

She had not seen fit to cover her injuries. What was the point when she was alone in her room? After all, she could not have guessed that Abraxas would come in.

With two big steps he was with her. "What is that?"

His voice trembled as if he had to laboriously suppress anger. Overwhelmed, Hermione stared at him. What was she supposed to say in response? She could hardly tell him what had happened between her and Tom that night. But equally, she could hardly make up an excuse, for the marks left by the ropes were so obvious that even Abraxas would interpret them as such.

"Abraxas," she whispered helplessly and put a hand on his cheek. This good boy was up to his ears in something he was no match for. Her heart overflowing with affection, she wished she could save him somehow.

Trembling, he grabbed her nightgown and pulled her to him. "Was that Tom?"

She swallowed. "Don't make me lie."

His head sank to her shoulder, his breathing heavy as if he was trying to control his anger by taking deep breaths. Hesitantly, Hermione ran a hand through his long blond hair.

"I can't..." he continued, then broke off, shaking his head and straightening up to look her straight in the eye. "What kind of man am I to allow a lady to be abused while I watch on?"

Hermione had no answer to that. She could have said that she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but he would not have understood that. She gave him a sad smile. She wished he would leave. She wished he would disappear, ignore her, just leave.

She wished he would hug her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Abraxas whispered. And then his lips were on hers, his arms pulling her against his strong chest.

She wanted to push him off her, to scream at him for what he was thinking, to reproach him. But instead, she closed her eyes and returned the kiss. It was so tender, so gentle. Full of attention, Abraxas caressed her lips, expressing with his body what his words were unable to do.

Abruptly he ended the kiss and let her go. His already pale face lost colour. "I shouldn't have done that."

Grimly, Hermione nodded. "Yes. You shouldn't have."

His eyes widened. "I didn't mean to... Merlin, Hermione. Are you going to tell Tom?"

She laughed in exasperation. Why on earth did Abraxas not see what was happening right now? What was he a Slytherin for? She shook her head. "No, Abraxas, I won't. This should be our secret, don't you think?"

He stared at her for seconds, but finally nodded. "Yes. Yes, it should. I'm so sorry Hermione, I don't know ..."

Quickly she put a finger to his lips. "Don't be sorry. We both know how we feel, don't we? But ... I think you'd better go."

His expression turned sad, but he agreed with her. "Yes. I should go. It's just ... I can't forget what Tom did to you."

She shrugged. "You can't undo it. You can't stop it from happening again. But it helps me to know that you know."

For a moment Abraxas looked like he was going to say something to that, but then he seemed to change his mind. He stroked her head once more, then turned and left.

The door had barely closed behind him when Hermione threw herself on her bed and cried. She was crying for herself and she was crying for Abraxas. Tom was just a devil. When Abraxas said that Tom had given him permission to visit her, Hermione had immediately understood what he was aiming at. Only Abraxas did not see it, and so he had fallen blindly into the trap. And she herself had let the trap snap shut, had not stopped him.

In a single night Tom had managed to trap her in his net and through her made Abraxas his pawn for good. After all this time, did she finally do the wrong move? Had she lost?