Ah. Here they are. This one is rather short because I was just trying to get something updated for you guys because I'm honestly the worst person I know. Who literally makes someone wait a year for two chapters? Two chapters that probably aren't even worth waiting an entire year for? Me. I do that. It's been a long goddamn year you guys don't even know. I would need to create an entirely new chapter with ten thousand goddamn words to tell you about this long ass year I have been through. I have however been going through this chapters and continually working on them, editing them and deleting and rewriting them as the year has gone by. I'm actually pretty happy with how What They Don't Know came out. This one, it's eh. But it's here and the new chapters definitely won't be taking a whole fucking year to come out. So that's a good thing.
Anyway, The Apple story is another completely different ballgame and I haven't touched that since I finished chapter two so I guess I need to get my ass kinda on the ball for that one. Though I can't find my fucking outline that I wrote for it so I'm guess I'm just starting from scratch and that's sort of okay because honestly looking at it I can't even remember where I was even going with it.
Sorry for being an asshole. Leave Reviews and such!
"So your dad is already there?" Hermione settled herself in the jet seat across from her.
"Yes, daddy dearest will be at the hotel waiting for us." He kicked his shoes off and propped his feet up onto the seat next to her and she wrinkled her nose.
Hermione had never once been in private jet and felt oddly out of place in the extravagant interior of the plane she was seated. It would be one thing to call this a jet however, it seemed rather large in size and it was filled with rather sizable amenities including a large bathroom with a marbled shower, a bedroom towards the back with a large feathered bed and a small kitchen.
"I think this jet is actually nicer than my house." She leaned her seat back relaxing as the jet began to move down the runway. "How long is the flight again?"
"From here to Novosibirsk is about a good six hours, depending on how this winter storm goes though. From what I've heard, there's a rather heavy storm floating over Moscow so we might have to fly around and that could lengthen the flight, but who cares. You get to spend an entire day riding a private jet alone with me. What could be better than that?"
"I could think of many things that could be better than this, like this very large book I brought." She leaned over to reach into her carry-on bag to pull out the voluminous novel she had brought with her.
"Atlas Shrugged? That seems like an odd choice of book for you. Doesn't seem like something I would have caught you reading. You seem more like the classical type, and you are. I've seen many of the things that you've read, I hardly catch you reading science-fiction."
"Oh, because you know so much about me?" She scoffed her hands gripping the arms of the seat as the plane leaned up into the air. She glanced down and saw that her knuckles had turned white from clenching the arms.
"More than you know about me, we've been over that." He leaned forward placing a gentle hand over her tightened ones. "Relax, we're not cliff diving, we're just flying. Tell you what, how about I tell you some things about myself to relax you."
"How will that relax me?" She allowed her head to be leaned back into the seat by the pressure of the plan tilting back.
"I was born here, in London. My father was a very important man then, but he loved my mother anyway," He interrupted her and she found that no matter the fact she was seemingly terrified of the plane ride for some reason, she felt captivated to listen to his story. "He was always working after I was born but he was around enough to where I can remember him. My mom was always around though, all the time. She stayed at home and even though my dad wanted to get a nanny so they could go out more, my mother refused."
He spoke with the utmost casual tone and it seemed almost off-putting, like he was distancing himself from what he was telling her and she realized that her fingers weren't clenching the seat anymore.
"It had to have been when I started school, I began to notice things. Maybe not notice, but maybe something changing. My father wasn't around as much, he was moving up and even if he was home, he was always in his office working late into the night. I could tell my mom was resenting him, she never spoke about him around me and always pretended to not know where he was or what he was doing when I asked. Eventually I got used to it though, must've been when I was twelve when I realized that my parents weren't even ever in the same room at home. My mom of course always went out with us when we had to go to events and we always had to go."
She watched as the look on his face turned slightly, his tone becoming slightly bitterer.
"My mom was beautiful you know, gorgeous. My dad would joke when I was younger about how lucky he was, she could have had any man she wanted and she chose him. I guess he didn't actually feel lucky or maybe he'd have been around more often. My dad always gave me whatever I wanted, so did my mom, whatever I asked for and whenever. I never wanted anything though, I was probably just ten or so years old when I realized how little I cared for material things and how little I cared about what I had or what was given to me.
"I probably could've guessed something had happened, because I came home from school, I was in the ninth grade and both my parents were home. I'm a smart guy Hermione, I mean, ask anyone but it never dawned on me how weird that was until later. I mean, my parents had been in the same room for years that I could remember unless it was a public affair. I walked in and my parents were talking and then there was someone else there, but he was…out of place."
"Out of place?" Hermione hadn't even noticed that the plane had aligned itself and the seatbelt sign had turned off.
"He was dressed in a robe, my dad's robe."
Hermione felt her insides freeze, she knew where this was going. She could have guessed and put two and two together when he'd given her that speech a while back but she just hadn't thought about it. She suddenly realized she wanted him to stop talking, she didn't want to hear what happened next. She didn't need to hear it.
"I was confused but not so much, my dad was waving this magazine in the air and my mom was yelling and this guy was yelling and I just stood there and they didn't even see me. They just kept yelling. My mom had been sleeping with this guy for, who knows how long. It explained why she'd stopped spending time with me, why they left me at home alone all the time. Why she finally decided to get that nanny…she was bored with me and my dad. So the slut,"
The word made her jump, her stomach clenching in on itself at hearing such a hate filled word come from his mouth. She can't say she knew Tom as well as he knew her but she knew that he rarely…no he never spoke about someone the way he just did about his mother. She'd never even heard him use that tone of voice around her.
"Got bored and decided instead of trying to talk to my dad or spend time with me or even just leave my dad and save us the pain and humiliation, she decided to fuck some random asshole. Some random nobody no name asshole she met in the store one day because he told her she was pretty. My mother was a well-known figure, she had to be with my dad. We had to play the happy family, but she ruined it. She got careless and got caught shagging up with this dick in some filthy cheap motel and it got out everywhere.
"It took my dad two years to fix what she'd done and honestly she could've cared less. She acted as if my dad had deserved what she'd done to him and that it was all for the better. She even told him what a mistake it was for them to even have had a child together, whether or not she knew I was there I don't know. By then, I'd had it, I got into it. I wasn't going to stand there and let that whore-"He spoke the word with such a heavy venom that her skin filled with goosebumps. "Sit there and talk about how I was a mistaken and act like it was my dad's fault that she decided to sleep around and ruin his career."
"Tom-" Hermione desperately wanted to switch the subjects, when he asked her if she wanted to hear more about him, this isn't what she thought he meant.
"Anyway, I haven't seen my mother since then. She's tried a good few times to contact me and apologize but it's a little hard to make up with someone who thinks you're a mistake you know?" He unclipped his belt to stand up and walk over to a small mini-fridge to the left of the sofa she sat on. "What else would you like to know?"
"I'm sorry." She wasn't exactly sure of what else to say, what on earth were you supposed to say to someone who tells you a story like that?
"Everyone was sorry, I don't need any sympathy, and I'm not hurt."
Hermione wasn't as stupid as he would like to think she was, she could tell by the way he told the story and the distance at which he told the story that this very much did affect him. She wasn't going to argue with him or try to convince him of this fact however, the last thing she needed was a six hour flight with an angry Tom; she needed to change the subject.
"What is your favorite color?" She crossed her legs and accepted the soda that Tom held out to her.
His eyebrow cocked but a small smile pressed into his lips.
"Green. Not lime green though, what an obnoxious color. I hate neon colors, they're too bright and they annoy me. Emerald Green though, that's my favorite." She sipped on the drink and the carbonation caused her to wrinkle her nose.
"How's about a favorite book?" She picked up her book and twisted it in her hands.
"The Picture of Dorian Gray, without a doubt." He took a seat next to Hermione and grabbed the book from her hands, flipping through the pages. "It's certainly more appealing than this nonsense."
"I would have to disagree, though it's a rather good book, I'd have to say I find this far more appealing. Although, I can see why you'd find it to be your favorite. I'd say you two have something in common." She smiled at him.
"I'd say we do too, we're both unbelievably good looking and know that things in life that are most fun are full of sin, however we both too find out leading a life of sin and amoral behavior isn't always what it seems." He leaned back against the coach reading a page from her book.
"You're still rather narcissistic and sinful to have learned a lesson though, aren't you?" She raised her eyebrow at him.
"I don't seem to understand why that's such a terrible thing, to be narcissistic. Am I to be ashamed of how good looking I am, of how smart I am, or rich? I mean am I to be ashamed of all those things?"
"Maybe not ashamed but perhaps less egotistical about those things. What about your favorite type of music?"
"Hmm, good question. I don't listen to music too much, but when I do it's mostly classical. I can't deal with all that metal and bashing instruments, too much going on. What do you like?"
"I can listen to quite a few things, though I hardly listen to metal though." She allowed herself to lean back into Tom and he welcomed her, his arm coming around her softly to play with her hair. She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of it. "What about your favorite movie?"
"Oh, now movies. I watch quite a few good movies. I'd hardly say I have a favorite, although I do love a good horror film." His fingers made as though he were making intricate braids in her hair.
"I don't watch too many horror films-"
"That doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, you love romance movies."
"Is that a bad thing? There's nothing wrong with romance movies. Besides, they're much more realistic than your stupid horror movies. The chances of some stupid monster coming from under my bed are far less likely than being swept off my feet at a ball or have someone sing to me below my window. Those are much more likely, wouldn't you say?"
"Realistically I suppose so, but honestly that stuff is so corny it would never happen. Someone singing to you below a window? That would be just downright creepy and I'd probably call the police and tell them some nutter is stalking me."
"I'm hungry, what is there to eat on here?" She stood up suddenly looking towards the front of the cabin where a small kitchen resided.
"Ah, my lady is hungry. I shall send for some food. He smiled, bowing slightly at her before walking towards the front of the cabin and disappearing behind a door leaving Hermione all to herself.
She took this moment to sit up and travel towards the back of the plane to look at the areas she'd only had a chance to glimpse before she came to the main cabin. It was definitely a lot nicer than her house ever would be. The knobs and faucets in the bathroom looked to be coated in pure gold and the shower had rain-like shower heads coming from the sides and the ceiling. She was tempted to go in and test it out, but she didn't trust Tom enough not to peek inside. There was even a large cabinet that held a towel warmer.
The bedroom was just as elegant, the mattress a soft expensive feeling memory foam and the duvet soft and filled with what felt like thousands of soft light feathers. She laid down on the bed and closed her eyes feeling like her body was sinking in the bed.
Hermione couldn't help but feel almost awkward about this whole thing. She remembered growing up looking at all the kids that grew up like Tom and feeling a sort of envious disgust at how they flaunted their wealth, flaunted the fact that their lives seemed so perfect. She glared at the petite little girls that climbed into their fathers Bentleys and flicked their neat straight blonde hair in their nice designer clothing. It wasn't that Hermione didn't have nice things growing up or that her parents weren't well off, it was more or less that these children always tended to act like they were above God himself. Hermione's family certainly didn't make as much money as some of these families did, but they were certainly making more than the average.
Hermione had friends at school, not a lot, but enough to keep her from being severely unpopular. No matter how many friends, the more popular and rather richer students still seemed to always find something to tease her about or in general just being a downright bitch. She knew before she was even thirteen years old that she would never allow herself to reach that kind of life style or be brought into it. However here she was, riding on what she felt had to be one of the nicest planes she'd ever ridden in.
Hermione's former self would have punched her present self in the face if she knew what she'd gotten herself into, dating one of Britain's most prestigious politician's son and riding in a lap of luxury to some swanky ski resort in Russia. She could hardly believe it herself that she was here, that she'd let herself get this far invested into someone like Tom Riddle. It had to have been some kind of reverse psychology, him somehow tricking her into thinking how good this trip sounded. She almost felt guilty about the part of her that was so excited about being here and experiencing this.
Out of all of the feelings she was experiencing over this trip, guilt was probably the smallest. Ever since she'd started 'dating' Tom, she'd awake every morning with this ball of anxiety sitting heavily in her stomach. She couldn't ignore it and although throughout the day a part of her could lessen it's weight, it sat still every day all day. It panged roughly whenever Tom came into her line of sight and almost made her stomach explode when he touched her, and now that she was here, alone, for an entire month mentally preparing herself to share a bed with him and the anxiety had become a cancer, spreading through her body attacking her every cell.
"Mind if I join you?" Hermione jumped and her eyes popped open to see Tom making his way over to the bed to lay beside her. "They're making us lunch, but it'll be a little while. I guess you found a way to keep us busy until it's ready?"
"I don't think so- Tom!" She gasped as he rolled over to put himself on top of her, straddling her and holding her hands down. "Tom! Get off!"
She pushed at him but he smiled and grabbed her hands, holding them above her head and placing his face merely inches away from hers.
"Hermione, you said you loved romantic movies. Just close your eyes and pretend that this is one of those movies and I'm the hot strong man who whisks you away to the bedroom to make sweet love to you."
He wouldn't let her finish whatever she was going to say because within a moment his lips were pressed down on hers and his free hand that wasn't holding her hands came under her head to hold her head gently to his. He seemed rather quick to dispel her of any qualms about what was happening because he quickly let go of her hand and grabbed her body to flip her over to come on top of him.
Her body pressed down onto his and his hand moved to her hip and the other tangled into her hair his lips moving as heavily and deeply as she would allow. It almost felt like he was trying to pull her body into his, to mend it with his own. The anxiety she had felt was easing away softly, a feeling of hot warmth replacing it, this feeling that traveled through every pore in her skin causing every inch of her body to become incredibly more sensitive. Hermione's body unconsciously rolled itself against his body and Tom groaned into her mouth, spreading the fire further down from her stomach.
Tom's hands moved and grabbed her hips, though the feeling of his fingers digging into her should have hurt, instead it just made her want even more, the pain of his grip melting into a thick pleasure and she moaned back at him when his grip forced her hips to grind against his where the feeling of his passion was pressing thickly into her inner thigh, his pants doing him no service to hide it. She felt her body blush at the feeling of such intimacy though Tom seemed to pay no mind. He grabbed and moved her hips harder, grinding her body harder and Hermione found that every time he moved her body against his, it stroked the fire causing it to burn further down between her legs where it was so hot and heavy she thought her body might explode and he seemed to sense it.
He pulled away from her mouth and his lips rained down on her neck allowing her to breath but then his lips were on her ear whispering.
"Tell me how good this feels," He pushed her hips into him harder and this time he rolled his hips up to meet it and she moaned aloud at the feeling it gave her. "This is what you want, let me show you."
He hardly had to move his hands anymore, her body now working on its own to move against him. She felt like her body was becoming heavier and her breaths were coming out more as moans than breaths, but she felt like she wasn't going to be able to get enough. Tom moved one of his hands slowly, guiding it slowly up her shirt where it found her soft skin, his fingers skimming along her stomach teasingly making her body work for more. She rolled her hips down to meet his body again and his fingers reached her chest grabbing softly and massaging in his palm and she moaned softly, the feeling so foreign to her.
"Mr. Ridd- Oh my!" Hermione had never moved so quick in her life.
The woman who entered the room quickly turned away from the scene she'd entered on, her hand coming up to shield her eyes but not quite shutting the door. Hermione scrambled away from Tom as though he'd hurt her, her face burning so heavily with embarrassment she was surprised her skin wasn't boiling. She struggled to pull her shirt down doing her best to keep her face turned away from the woman at the door.
"Yes, Margaret?" Tom was all casual, his face showing no trace of embarrassment or of any type of wrong doing.
"Y-Your lunch is r-ready." The woman named Margaret sounded like she would like nothing more than to shut the door and leave and never face the two of them again.
"Thank you, Margaret. You can leave now." Tom smiled charmingly at her but Margaret wouldn't have seen it, shutting the door before Tom had even finished his sentence.
"Tom!" Hermione came across the bed smacking him in the shoulder, ignoring the laughter that was now spilling from his mouth.
"She should have knocked, honestly. You're acting like she walked in on us shagging, we were just kissing." He sat up and began fixing his shirt collar which had rumpled during their kissing. "If she had given us a few more minutes, she might have walked in on something a lot worse."
"I can't face that woman again, she probably thinks I'm some floozy!" Hermione stood up and ran a hand down her hair trying desperately to fix the frizz. "I don't know how you get me into these situations."
"A floozy, and you get onto me for using words no one else uses. Are we in the 1920's now? Would you perhaps like a flapper dress to go with that vocabulary? I wouldn't be too concerned, I've known Margaret for some time now and I'm at least eighty percent positive she's sleeping with the captain, but you didn't hear that from me."
"How on earth would you know something like that?" She stood up off the bed moving towards the door waiting for Tom to follow her.
"Oh, I saw them having sex in the captain's bathroom once."
Lunch was in room off of the main cabin with a table (that had to sit at least fifteen people) where Margaret, who refused to catch eye contact with the either of them, served them salmon with a rather fancy looking salad.
"Thank you Margaret, I'll call you if I need you." Tom smiled at her and Hermione sent him a glare, knowing he was doing it to further embarrass the poor woman.
"You're awful, you know that?" Hermione took a sip of the soda next to her plate.
"You didn't sound like I was so awful a few minutes ago. In fact, if I do recall-"
"No, you don't have to recall. Thank you, I get your point."
"Can I ask you something?" He gave her an enquiring look.
"You will anyway." She shrugged.
"You claim that you don't like me and that you don't want to date me, yet here we are. Now nearly a hundred miles away getting ready to spend the next month together and share a bedroom, an actual bed and you still are quick to claim you don't like me? Why would you agree to spend this entire month with me if you really didn't like me, if you really didn't feel something?" He set his fork down and gazed her with a calm look on his face.
"If I really didn't like you, I wouldn't be here. No one is saying I hate you and obviously I don't…I just…you're annoying." She felt her face turning red, unsure of what exactly she wanted to say.
"You don't have to make any excuses, I guess I just wanted to make a point and let you think about it. Much like the point I made back at school, nearly the same actually. The point I'm trying to make here is if you weren't trying so hard to hate me, you might actually enjoy my company." He shrugged slightly and picked his fork back up to continue eating his food.
She pursed her lips and felt her stomach clench in on itself slightly, knowing that he was mostly correct. She pushed around at her food picking at it slightly watching him carefully though he looked quite unaffected by anything that had taken place. She finished her food slowly in silence, the awkwardness of their short conversation making her stomach cringe.
"I wasn't trying to upset you, you know. I was just making a point, Hermione." He led her back towards the living area of the plan where a small couch and flat screen television were settled.
"I'm not upset. I'm just thinking. I don't have any specific thoughts really going through my head, just rapid thought fire." She settled onto the couch and crossed her legs meticulously.
"What would you like to watch then? I've decided that we will have no book reading. You won't be able to pay attention to me talking or stare at me for awkwardly long periods of time if you've got your nose shoved into a book for this whole flight and we'll be here for a while." He walked over to the cabinets that surrounded the T.V. to reveal a massively large collection of DVDs.
"No, you're not picking," She stood back up immediately and walked up next to him, sticking an elbow into his side to push him away and held her arms at her waist to keep him from coming back. "You'll just pick something frightening or action-y and I don't feel like watching terrorist having their plane blown up while I'm thousands of feet in the air."
"Air Force One was my first choice, but if you're going to be so picky than go ahead. There's more on the other side." She rolled her eyes and began to quickly read through the multiple titles available to her.
It was obvious to her that many of the movies were not picked for a woman and that they had all been chosen most likely to entertain Tom or even his father. They were all gruesomely hardcore action-packed movies with the obvious few horror movies thrown in or a suspenseful thriller. She quickly sorted through the first cabinet and made her way to the second and found that as she moved farther down in the second, the movies became older and the genre's slightly more random.
Hermione could only take a few guesses why but had to imagine it had something to do with the fact that many of the movies she liked were what Tom's mother also liked and she even found the point at which they stopped and became progressively manlier in choice. She finally reached closer to the bottom and gave a good a-ha! And picked out her choice.
"Well let me see then." Tom looked up from picking at his already manicured clean nails to peek at what she'd chosen.
"No, because if you see what I chose then you'll never want to watch it and you're the one who told me what I wanted to pick." She began to work her way into figuring out how to work the damn DVD player that looked more like a NASA computer with all it's attachments rather than a disc playing machine.
"Hermione Granger, smartest girl in the world. Dumbfounded by a simple machine." Tom said aloud as if reading from the headline of a newspaper.
"I've never claimed to be the smartest girl in the world, just smarter than you."
"Well then you'd have to be the smartest girl in the world because I can assure you there is no woman out there smarter than Tom Riddle." He smiled dashingly.
"I rather hope you're joking because my hand is absolutely twitching." She glared at the machine and felt a surge of triumph when the disc player opened to receive the movie. "No woman smarter than Tom Riddle, God forbid your small sexist brain actually believes that kind of backwards nonsense."
"Yet- "His voice came right into her ear and she jumped nearly falling backward, her heart pounding so hard she'd have thought the plane was crashing. "Here you are, falling for my plans to spend a month with me and still behind in your grades."
"It-would-mean-absolutely-nothing-to-me-to- "She had turned around and begun to smack him with a pillow from the couch, his laughter making her want to hit him harder with every word. "To-get-right-back-on-the-damn-plane- and come back home! Stop laughing at me!"
"I'm so sorry but it's rather unfortunate because not only do you have the mental academic capacity of a female, but you hit like one too." His hair had become mussed and the charming smile on his lips made Hermione lose her breath momentarily. It was almost nauseating how attractive he could be without trying.
"You know for a damn fact that my grade in at least three of our classes is higher than yours Tom Riddle. Don't be so full of yourself, if that's even possible for you."
"I'm sorry, we don't seem to have a grade book here so I'm just going to have to say that your small female brain must be going through some hormonal changes for the month. You must be dangerously confused." His look became one of some false concern as if she'd gone crazy, she felt her blood boiling slightly. "Honestly, a female with a higher grade than me. Could you even imagine?"
"Just start the damn movie. This is going to be a long flight." She trudged herself over to the couch next to Tom and sat as far as she could on the other side of the couch. A very long flight indeed.