A/N: Written for the very talented Ada Lovelaced's birthday!

I have no chill and wrote 3 stories because your kinks/pairings/prompts were right up my alley. So please enjoy!

The very lovely TakingFlight48 was my beta.

Come find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.

Summary: Hermione takes the biggest gamble of her life and uses a time turner to go back and change the course of Tom Riddle's life.

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle/Abraxas Malfoy

Rating: M

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Time Travel

Here to Stay

"We've managed to scare another one away," Abraxas murmured as Elise gathered her belongings, not even bothering with her foundation garments. Those she held in her hand as she tossed her outer robe around her shoulders. She threw another disgusted look over her shoulder at him and Tom, flipping her auburn hair, before storming from their study. "Why do we always scare them away?"

Tom snorted as he continued buckling his belt. "I believe it's because we're decidedly scary...with some fucked up sexual tastes, Abraxas."

Abraxas sighed knowing Tom was right. They were scary. He liked that they were scary. He just wished there was a witch out there who also liked that. He buttoned his shirt and combed a hand through his hair, disheveling the shoulder-length locks further. "I know, but still, just once I'd like one of them to stay. Perhaps we need to be looking further abroad for a more… sexually liberated witch."

"You want to go back to France?" Tom asked as he poured them both a glass of Firewhisky. Tom handed one to Abraxas and despite having their playtime cut short, Abraxas felt a twinge in his cock at the sight of Tom's rolled sleeves.

Abraxas wrinkled his nose and accepted the glass Tom held out for him, their fingers brushing. "Not particularly, but—" He cut himself off at the sound of the Floo alarm in the drawing room. Tom looked at him questioningly, but Abraxas shook his head. He wasn't expecting anyone. They waited, knowing whoever it was would come to the study at once, or be directed there by the house's magic.

Yaxley burst through the door moments later. "Someone has arrived at the Ministry, My Lord," he panted, glancing between Abraxas and Tom. Abraxas raised a pale eyebrow. Tom frowned.

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?" Tom asked slowly when Yaxley didn't elaborate.

Yaxley shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was nonsensical, My Lord. Someone from the future has arrived at the Department of Mysteries. A woman. A witch."

"Very good, Yaxley. Ensure she is held in the Ministry cells overnight and Abraxas and I will come this evening. Be sure you are there to let us in." Tom nodded to Yaxley who had begun looking inordinately pleased with himself. He backed out of the study, bowing to Tom and Abraxas as he went.

"A witch from the future…" Abraxas said, trailing off and meeting Tom's dark gaze. Tom had a good poker face, but Abraxas knew him well. He was excited.

"Societies only get more progressive," Tom replied nonchalantly. "Perhaps she won't be a prude like Elise was."

"Or Sarah, or Elspeth, or—" Tom cut Abraxas off with a look. "All I'm saying is that not a single witch has been interested in what we're interested in. Perhaps it's time to apply a little more coercion."

"You're thinking small picture, Abraxas," Tom replied, soothing a hand down Abraxas's arm. "Not only did we already agree on no magical or Muggle coercion, if Yaxley is right and she's from the future, perhaps she can be more useful than just warming our bed."

"Fuck," Abraxas sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. The scene with Elise had taken more out of him than he realized. He was normally sharper than this. "Sorry, Tom. It's been a long day."

"I know it has," Tom replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "A long day that didn't bear fruit the way we wanted it to."

Abraxas licked his bottom lip, a heavy need that had been snuffed so abruptly by Elise's departure earlier swirled in his abdomen. Tom's hand slid from Abraxas's shoulder up to his neck until it was cupping his nape, fingers fisting into his hair. "Tom," Abraxas panted. He was already hard, already ready for whatever it was his lord wanted to take from him.

"Abraxas," Tom murmured his lips only inches from Abraxas'. He could smell the whisky on Tom's breath and he wanted to taste it on his tongue. Nothing in this world tasted as good as Tom's mouth did after he'd been drinking Firewhisky. He desperately wanted to lean forward, to press his lips against Tom's mouth, but Tom's grip in his hair kept him back.

Tom studied his face a moment longer, apparently liking what he saw there before pushing him back, back, back until Abraxas hit the wall behind him and Tom's lips hit Abraxas's. They clashed together, lips, teeth, tongue. Each of them wanting to taste as much of the other as they could. Their hips straining, cocks hard as they rubbed against each other. They were the same height, the same, perfect height, but he needed more. Within moments, Abraxas had both of their cocks out and his hand wrapped around them, pumping, pulling, straining with need until they both shuddered their release almost simultaneously.

"Abraxas," Tom murmured again, dropping his forehead to Abraxas's shoulder as he came down from his high. Abraxas took his weight. Propped up as he was by the wall he could stand to keep Tom upright too. He was always willing to keep Tom upright. Tom the brilliant boy who had taken over Abraxas world when they first met all those years ago at Hogwarts. He wouldn't dare to dream about the witch at the Ministry. Tom was the dreamer. Not him. He was the steady presence at his lord's back.

Hermione paced her holding cell with increasing anxiety. Her trip to the past had been abrupt, foolish, and almost entirely unplanned. Desperate times called for desperate measures and with Harry and half the Order dead in her future… well, she was determined to do what she needed to do. Once the idea popped into her head, she found she couldn't get it out until she had made it happen. Well, she had made it happen, but she'd been apprehended by the Unspeakables almost as soon as she had arrived.

Now she waited, for what, she didn't know. But knowing that Tom Riddle did not work at the Ministry in the 1940s, she knew she was far away from her mission. She wasn't quite sure what her mission was entirely, just that she planned to come back to the 1940s and throw Tom Riddle off his path in whatever way was necessary. She'd kill him if she absolutely had to, but she hoped that perhaps she could convince him in other ways.

She wasn't ignorant to his looks. Harry had shown her an old yearbook photo of him, but she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to seduce him either. Her entire plan was very un-Hermione-like, but she was desperate. If that meant giving up her life in the future to ensure Tom Riddle didn't devolve into Lord Voldemort, then that's what she would do.

"Well, she's not much to look at," a voice from outside her cell said, interrupting her musings. She whirled around to find two very good looking men staring at her. She recognized them both. Riddle because of the old yearbook photo, but the other one, a Malfoy because Draco was almost the spitting image of him. This Malfoy had wavy hair that hung to his shoulders. He was broader than his descendant too. He wasn't Lucius, so she assumed it was Draco's grandfather, Abraxas. Tom's hair on the other hand was short and neat. He wasn't as broad as Abraxas, though they were of the same height.

Despite their words—and they weren't wrong—they both looked as if they were going to eat her for lunch. She only had simple everyday robes on, not wanting to risk coming back to the past in modern Muggle clothing.

"And you are?" she asked. The moment she saw them, she decided she needed to take the prissy pure-blooded route. Perhaps she could intimidate them into giving her what she needed.

"Your saviors," Riddle replied with a ghost of a smile.

"Or the ones who will damn you to hell," Malfoy said. His smile was sharper, harder, more sinister. "Depends on you really."

Hermione lifted one eyebrow and studied the nails on her right hand. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You can save the prissy act," Tom said, "you're the one locked up in a holding cell. Give us what we want, and we can see to your release."

"What is it you want, Tom Riddle?" Hermione asked. She didn't grin at his sharp inhale, but it was a near thing.

"So you do know who I am," he replied, stepping closer to the bars that separated them.

"I've seen an old yearbook photo," Hermione replied, tilting her head to the side. "And your guard dog is a Malfoy. Abraxas, I presume?"

"You've done your research well," Abraxas said. His grin was less sharp, and his body language screamed caution. She was right about him being Tom's guard.

"So I've been told," Hermione said with a small grin as an echo of Ron calling her a swot flitted through her mind. "Again, what can I do for you?"

"We'd like to know where you come from," Tom said. "If your answers are satisfactory, we can spring you from your jail and make it as if you were never here. We can give you an identity nobody would question."

"What's in it for me?" Hermione asked. She stepped closer to the bars, seemingly unconsciously drawn toward where the two men were standing.

"Other than being free of the Ministry and their questions?" Abraxas asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I'm not concerned about the Ministry. But you… you two concern me."

"And why is that?" Tom asked with narrowed eyes.

"Because I know the future," Hermione said with a small, secretive smile. "I know so very much of the future. Years, decades, even."

"Release her," Tom said and one of the Unspeakables from earlier—that Hermione just now noticed was hanging behind—sprang into action. The bars in front of her melted away and Tom took two steps toward her, holding out his arm. She took it, feeling more sure about this decision than she had about any other in her life. Whatever had happened in the past, her past—the future that she hoped to change—she knew in her bones she was supposed to end up here. She felt right, holding onto Tom Riddle's arm as he led her out of a Ministry cell, Abraxas followed behind them with eyes that seemed to burn a hole into her back.

"You'll be rewarded Yaxley," Tom told the Unspeakable as they exited the Department of Mysteries and headed for the elevators. Hermione filed that piece of information away. Yaxley was a name she knew, though he didn't look familiar to her.

It was late and the Ministry was almost completely empty as Tom led her out of the elevators and into the Atrium. They traveled by Floo powder to Malfoy Manor—a place she had hoped she wouldn't have to see again—but judging by Tom and Abraxas's closeness she would be seeing a lot of it.

Upon arrival she realized immediately it hadn't changed much. The drawing room, for example, was almost exactly the same as when she was tortured there almost eighteen months ago. Or rather, fifty-seven years into the future. She shuddered as they walked beneath the chandelier that would later fall on top of her.

"Something wrong?" Tom asked, noting the way she stiffened.

"A story for another time," Hermione replied as they exited the room and headed down a long corridor.

Once they were settled into a well-appointed study, each clutching a cup of tea, Tom took his time examining her. She allowed it, only sipping silently at her tea. She sat properly on the leather sofa they had carefully lowered her onto. Her grandmother would be pleased at her carriage. The thought made her heart clench—her grandmother would be a young woman right about now.

"I'm afraid you have us at a disadvantage," he said after a long moment.

Hermione felt like smirking but schooled her face into polite interest instead. "Oh?"

"You're name, dear," Abraxas replied, setting his teacup onto his saucer with a sharp clink. "You know ours, now tell us yours."

"If your politics are the same now as they will be in the future, you will not like it," she paused for a moment, noting the tightening around Abraxas's eyes and the way Tom's narrowed, raking her over from head to toe once more. "Hermione Granger."

"Granger is not a pure-blood name," Abraxas said.

"No. It is not," Hermione agreed and sipped her tea. She wondered what exactly they wanted with her. It was becoming clear that they wanted more than information about the future. Abraxas was practically leering at her, whatever his earlier words implied.

"Half-blood?" Tom asked. His tone was polite, disinterested, and yet, Hermione thought she detected a hint of hopefulness.

She sighed dramatically and looked down at her lap as if she were ashamed. "I'm afraid not. I was entirely ignorant of the wizarding world prior to receiving my Hogwarts letter at age eleven."

"Mudblood then," Abraxas snarled.

"Muggleborn is the preferred term," Hermione said as if she were correcting a schoolboy, giving Abraxas a sharp look. "Politeness is always in fashion."

She didn't miss the look Tom gave Abraxas at her words, though she wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to convey. Did he approve or was that the 'kill her now' gesture?

"I can overlook your blood status—" Tom gestured magnanimously "—if your information on the future is actionable."

Hermione leaned back into her seat, making herself comfortable as she studied the two men in front of her. "You are aware I cannot just give you a playbook of the future, correct? Such a thing would be out of date before you left the room. Every action you take, every decision made, will affect the outcome of the future. Broad strokes are best in these sorts of cases."

"'These sorts of cases?' Do you travel in time often, Miss Granger?" Tom asked. He looked like he was enjoying himself while Abraxas still had a look of deep displeasure on his face.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "If only you knew, Tom."

"You may address him as—" Abraxas started to say.

"Tom's fine," Tom replied, gaze narrowed on her before giving Abraxas another inscrutable look. Abraxas's hands tightened on his teacup to the point that Hermione wondered if he would break it. He set it down, very gently, on the table between them.

"What is it, exactly, that you want from me?" Hermione asked. She kept her gaze on Tom, knowing that it was upsetting Abraxas that she wasn't addressing him.

Tom pursed his lips and looked back at her, seemingly unwilling to answer.

"We have certain tastes, Miss Granger," Abraxas finally said after a long moment. "Though I doubt you'd be interested in fulfilling those desires."

"Do you?" Hermione asked, finally breaking her stare down with Tom to look at Abraxas. "I'm wondering if your tastes would be considered that shocking. I am from the future, after all." She gave them both an indulgent smile. So it was about sex. Why did that not surprise her? It was always about sex.

Perhaps this would be her way to influence the past enough to change the future. She could get Abraxas and Tom hooked on her, hooked on sex, give them some pillow talk, influence it all from behind the scenes and push them from their dangerous path of world domination at any cost.

"Perhaps I'm not interested in your sordid sexual games," Hermione said with a shrug. "What else are you offering?"

"You mean you want to go back to the cell at the Ministry?" Abraxas asked.

"She's baiting you," Tom replied, his brow furrowed as he looked her over. "You want this. We're the reason you came back to the past, after all."

"How do you know it wasn't some horrible accident?" Hermione asked. She kept her face cool, but inside she was freaking out just a little that Tom had figured it out so quickly.

"Because you knew exactly who we were. You didn't even hesitate. Maybe you'd seen an old yearbook photo, but to have known us immediately? No, I think we were the reason you came back at all. The question is, why? What is so horrible about the future that you risked the rest of your life to come back in time and try to change it?"

"Perhaps I just thought you were cute," Hermione flirted. "You're both rather good-looking after all. Maybe all the men in the future are absolute trolls? Or perhaps they're dead?" She shrugged. "Who's to say?"

"You mentioned broad strokes," Tom redirected. "So you would tell us of the future?"

"I would guide you into not repeating your mistakes," Hermione conceded. "Of which there are many."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Abraxas hissed to Tom.

Tom shrugged. "How can I not? She practically fell into our laps just as Elise stormed out of this very house. She may very well be the answer to all our prayers."

"I know you don't find me very comely, Abraxas," Hermione said, giving him a slow smile. "I do think I make up for it in other departments."

She still hadn't quite reconciled to the sex part of all of this, but she wasn't wrong, Tom and Abraxas were very good looking—almost polar opposites of each other. Abraxas with his pale blond hair and larger build contrasted beautifully against Tom and his dark hair and dark eyes. The slow consideration Tom had been giving her had ignited a fire in her belly. Besides, she would get over her morals if it meant carving out a different future for the world, if it meant Harry and Ron got to live full, bountiful lives without the threat of war and death.

"Prove it," Abraxas spat.

Hermione frowned. "I don't care for your tone." She gave a small shrug and set her teacup on the table. "I may be willing to enter a sexual relationship with you, but I still expect to be respected."

Abraxas opened his mouth, but Tom cut him off with a look. "You asked her to prove it," he told his friend. "Perhaps you should let her?"

Hermione smiled at Tom, somewhat gratefully and stood from her seat on the sofa. She was going to go to Tom, but judging from the scowl on Abraxas's face, he assumed the same, so instead, she dropped to her knees before him.

Giving him an innocent look from beneath her lashes, she held her hands just above his thighs. "May I?"

He inhaled sharply and nodded his consent. Offering him a small smile, Hermione placed her hands on his thighs, willing them to cease their trembling as she ran her hands up and down. She could feel his warmth through his trousers and she didn't miss the way his breath hitched in his chest at her touch.

Hermione could see his cock hardening beneath his trousers as she touched him. A scuff of shoes behind her alerted her to Tom's presence, but she ignored him. She was supposed to be proving herself to Abraxas who found her ugly, or maybe not ugly, but certainly not pretty.

"May I?" she asked again before touching his cock. He nodded again and she very tentatively ran a hand over his cock. It must not have been hard enough for him, because one of his hands came down to cover hers and pressed her harder against him. Just as his hips arched.

"Like this," he said. "Touch me harder, like this."

Hermione ran her hand up and down a few times—harder like he showed her—getting a feel for him beneath his clothes.

"May I?" she asked a third time, indicating his belt and the placket beneath.

"Yes, yes, just get on with it," Abraxas said impatiently as he batted her hands out of the way and undid his own belt and placket, allowing his cock to spring free.

Hermione lifted one eyebrow, but said nothing. Tom 'tsked' behind her, but she ignored him too in favor of the large cock before her.

She ran a tongue from base to tip, allowing saliva to drip from her mouth as she licked. Abraxas gasped and leaned back into his chair, thrusting his hips just a bit toward her mouth.

Once she reached the tip, she engulfed his entire head into her mouth, sucking on it lightly and swirling her tongue around before she bobbed her head.

A glance up told her Abraxas was looking at her with heavy eyes, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. That just wouldn't do. With a wink, Hermione lowered her mouth, taking him in inch by inch by inch until he was buried down her throat, her nose pressed to his abdomen.

Then she swallowed.

In tandem, Abraxas's hands flew to the back of her head—holding her there—while his hips jerked forward and a wordless grunt flew out of his mouth.

"Merlin," Tom said from the side. She ignored him. Tom may be the leader, but it was Abraxas who needed convincing. Perhaps they were more partners in this than she believed.

Slowly she slid back up, even as Abraxas's hands tried to hold her to him, a noisy breath, then she moved forward once more burying the head of his cock in her throat and swallowing once more.

"Fuck," a muttered epithet from Abraxas as his hands tightened in her hair. "Fuck, that's amazing."

"Is she…" Tom trailed off.

"Swallowing. She swallows, and fucking Salazar, Tom. It's the most amazing feeling," Abraxas babbled as Hermione took him in her mouth over and over again.

Soon Abraxas wasn't able to form actual words. He lifted his hips toward her, bringing her head down, and Hermione sucked and swallowed. She reached a hand up to fondle his balls and felt them draw up. He tried to pull out when he was close, but she wouldn't let him. Instead she pulled him forward again, keeping him deep in her throat and she swallowed, over and over again until he climaxed with a wordless shout.

She swallowed it all and when he was done, she pulled off of him, cleaning his cock with her tongue as she went. She leaned back onto her heels and folded her hands in her lap.

"Well?" she asked, looking up at Abraxas. A glance to the side and she included Tom in that look. "Have I proven myself?"

Abraxas panted as he watched her. His cock rapidly deflating in his lap. "I'm…" he trailed off and shook his head, looking toward Tom.

"That seems a neat trick. What else are you willing to do, Miss Granger?" Tom asked. "Would you take us both at once? One in your mouth, the other in your cunt?"

Hermione's lips twitched as she got to her feet.

"Have you ever taken a witch like that before?" she asked, stalking closer to Tom.

"Once," Abraxas supplied. "A long time ago, but then…"

"She decided she was no longer interested in our company," Tom filled in.

"Ah," Hermione replied, settling a hand on Tom's chest. "Well, I've been spit roasted before, if that's what you're asking."

"Spit roasted?" Abraxas sputtered. "Is that what they call it?"

Hermione hummed her agreement. "Though, if it matters, I prefer double penetration."

"What does double penetration entail?" Tom asked, his brows furrowed, though he slid a hand around her waist, holding her to him.

"Depends," Hermione replied. "It could mean having one of you in my cunt and one of you in my arse, or both of you in my cunt."

"At the same time?" Abraxas asked.

She looked over her shoulder to find that he had put his cock away and was standing almost directly behind her.

"Yes," Hermione replied with a small smile, "at the same time. It feels," she sighed, "amazing. It makes me feel so full, so whole, as if I'll never be alone again—"

She was cut off when Abraxas suddenly put his mouth on hers. His chest was pressed to her back, pushing her into Tom's chest.

"I think we want to try this double penetration, very much," Tom whispered in her ear. "Though neither of us has taken anyone's arse before." His hands on her hips tightened as he pulled her closer, his lips landing on her neck.

She could barely comprehend what Tom was saying through the ravishing Abraxas was giving her mouth. His hips were pressed into her arse, and she could feel them both start to harden against her.

"Well, it'll work easier in a bed," she finally said when Abraxas freed her mouth and began kissing down the opposite side of her neck.

"Upstairs, then," Tom commanded. Abraxas's arms tightened around all three of them before he Apparated them from the study to a massive bedroom.

"It's safe to say you're here to stay, Hermione," Tom said as he led her over to the bed, using her first name for the first time. She shivered at his words and hoped she was doing the right thing.

~Fin~