Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.
A/N: This was originally published on Jan. 05, 2020 but was later taken down for reasons. This is a short companion fic of a future story that I plan to publish after I finish the rest of my ongoing projects. Anyway, please enjoy!
Entitled
By: Enn Arr
Tom was beyond bored, even as the scene in front of him offered something other than an ordinary late night. The party that Draco Malfoy had told him about and insisted to attend, with the promise of drinks and food, games and girls, along with drugs and sex, would probably make the most mundane of man happy; however Tom was anything but mundane.
He surveyed the scene with cool, lackluster indigo eyes, one hand idly grasping a red cup without the intention of drinking it. Draco promised that it was worth attending to, but as far as Tom could tell, the party was anything but worthwhile. Of course, this was an opinion that wasn't shared by many since as of right now, the majority of the town were currently enjoying the outlandish party.
Parties were always the same scenarios, the same situations, that it was a routine by this point. There was absolutely nothing exciting. As the sole person who knew everything in this town, Tom hardly saw anything thrilling in this type of scene. In a town like Hogsmeade, where only the wealthy and privileged resided, it was hard to come by with entertainment these days when they had seen and experienced it all.
The majority that made up the town were kids like him; heirs and heiresses of multi-millionaire companies who were left behind by their mommies and daddies, therefore providing them with no rules or restrictions. They were animals, running wild and free, evading capture because of their name and money. As long as you didn't get caught, no one was there to stop you from doing and taking everything.
They weren't just part of the one percent; they made the one percent; and Tom was a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, an exclusive group of the one percent that only consisted of the oldest of wealth—their money dating back to the fifteenth century and beyond. Tom had lived in this town since he was eleven years old—since he was discovered to be the long lost son of Merope Gaunt-Riddle and Tom Riddle Senior. Seemingly overnight, he went from poor orphan boy to becoming the sole heir of the Riddle Gaunt Trading Company.
He was the son of the wealthiest and most famous family in the Sacred Twenty Eight, and as someone who had nothing in one second then had everything in the next, with his ambitions and a fine cunning streak, it didn't take long for Tom to govern this very town itself by the time he turned thirteen. Everyone knew that he was the king, not just in school, but also in Hogsmeade, and everyone thought twice before disobeying him.
Except for the ones who lived in the Gryffindor Hollow street, he sneered to himself. The Gryffindor crowd were a rowdy and unrefined bunch, ruled by none other than Harry Potter, another heir in the Sacred Twenty Eight. Tom and Harry had a tentative kind of acquaintanceship, the only kind that mutual respect could provide but was not enough to create a decent enough friendship. They had their own set of rules that they enforced to keep the rivalries between Slytherins and Gryffindors into a minimum. Tom would have gladly taken over and usurp Harry's rule, but he knew that it would be a cold day in hell before anyone in Gryffindor would accept his rules. It didn't matter though since Tom pretty much pulled the strings in Slytherin Chambers, and had a solid grasp on Ravenclaw Cove and Hufflepuff Corner.
A loud crash, followed by rambunctious laughter had broken his thoughts, and Tom lazily shifted his attention to see that someone had just fallen off the table. He merely sighed at the mortifying scene; at least it wasn't someone from Slytherin. It was the last party of the year, Draco had gone all out, and Tom was celebrating his birthday with different strangers that didn't give a shit aside from getting themselves wasted or laid tonight. It was his nineteenth birthday, hardly anything special in his opinion, and the only reason that he came to the party was because he knew that Draco, along with his brother Abraxas, insisted he'd come.
Tom knew that they were planning to surprise him once the clock turned twelve and he was just waiting for the time to arrive. This was a birthday party for him disguised as a normal, 'New Year' party. Draco and Abraxas didn't know that Tom was aware of their plans but that was probably because Tom was a naturally suspicious person and could sniff out any lie he heard. Also, let's face it, the Malfoy brothers were awful at hiding secrets and surprises. You could call them many names but they would never be labeled inconspicuous. They owned peacocks, for Salazar's sake.
Speaking of the idiots and they shall appear, Tom thought, spying two equally pale and lithe men with platinum blond hairs and pointed faces maneuvering through the crowd and towards his direction. The two men could easily be mistaken for twins but one of them was a year older and an inch taller than the other. Abraxas was the older and taller one, with ice blue eyes, and long platinum blonde hair tied back to keep it from his pointy face. Draco, on the other hand, was the shorter one — although still considered tall in most cases — with short hair slicked back, grey eyes, and a more pointed face. While their personalities were mostly the same, Abraxas was the more playful brother while Draco was the more serious one.
Like the Gaunt family, the Malfoy family was also part of the Sacred Twenty Eight and the top three of the wealthiest families in Hogwarts. They were incredibly influential, especially in the media and in the ministry, and the tabloids loved them as much as they loved the spotlight. Every other day, one or two of their family would be featured in a magazine or a guest star at a TV show, especially with Narcissa Malfoy, the matriarch of the Malfoy family, owning a beauty care company and fashion line called Narcissus. They were awfully vain and arrogant, but both boys, however, served their own purposes in Tom's inner circle. They were loyal; the ones that Tom trusted enough not to stab him in the back. It helped that they were the exact family to have on the right side.
"Tommy, my boy!" Abraxas slurred, obviously drunk enough to call him 'Tommy', as they came up beside him. "What are you doing here, lurking in the corner, when you have this"—he gestured to the ongoing party in front of them—"at your disposal?"
Tom eyed him and made a motion of drinking from his red cup without actively drinking the contents inside of it, giving the appearance that he was, at least, partaking in their free butterbeer. "I don't really find this scene as exciting as you make it out to be."
"It's your birthday," Draco exclaimed who was obviously less serious now that he had gotten a few drinks in. A drunk Draco was the same as a sober Abraxas. "You should be out there dancing, snorting some drugs, or even picking a girl to make this night less lonely."
Tom rolled his eyes. "I could have done that in any other night or day."
"But this one is special," Abraxas insisted. "This is your birthday and it's also New Years! We're out here to celebrate."
"Don't make a big deal out of it. My birthday happens every year; that's hardly special," Tom pointed out with a matter-of-fact voice. He wasn't trying to be humble or sound ungrateful but he was merely stating a fact; his birthday happened every year and it was always celebrated the same way—with fireworks, parties, drinks, drugs, and girls. It couldn't be helped really, when the whole world was celebrating his birthday.
"Why do you sound so gloomy? Cheer up. It's your birthday, not some funeral." Draco sniggered before he exchanged a subtle look with his brother — which Tom immediately noticed; rarely anything went past him. "You know what? If you don't like this party, why don't you go back to your room and stay there for a while? You can come back once it's midnight if you want."
"Oh, yeah." Abraxas gave him a leering grin before nodding his head at his brother. "What he said."
Tom looked at the both of them, disgusted by their blatant encouragements. Honestly, how could anyone think that they were sly and cunning when their actions and their words screamed their true motives? Tom knew that he had taught them the art of stealth and subtlety, but Salazar, they were completely hopeless. Why was he still friends with them again? It was a wonder why Tom hadn't left them already.
"Really?" He scoffed. "You might as well dress yourselves in pink elephant suits because you are anything but inconspicuous. Just stop; it's painful watching your pathetic attempts."
Draco smirked. "Well, is it our fault that hardly anything gets past you, Tom? You're one of the most paranoid people that I know. Anyway, we're really serious though. We have a gift waiting for you upstairs."
"Any excuse is welcomed if it means staying away from you idiots," Tom grumbled as he peeled himself off the wall he was leaning against, stepping past the brothers who easily stepped out of his path.
"You're welcome!" Tom heard Abraxas calling out behind him followed by his loud laughter. "Oh, have fun and enjoy!"
Tom ignored him. He dropped the red cup on a nearby coffee table before he proceeded to the stairs that led to the second floor of the house. The front of the stairs had a yellow tape across it, the two ends tied to the bannisters, complete with a warning sign that kept everyone out — which wasn't a difficult feat since the first floor of the house was large enough to accommodate a hundred of people.
The house — or mansion, more like — was not as vast and spacious as the Malfoy manor; in fact the mansion was small compared to the neighboring houses in the area. However, the Malfoys, along with Tom himself, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Severus Snape, had chosen to live there instead of their respective estates. Naturally, since he was living with them — a fact that he regretted more and more each year — he was one of the few that were allowed to go upstairs.
The house was a congratulatory gift to both Abraxas and Draco from their own father, Lucius Malfoy, for getting accepted into Hogwarts Academy: a prestigious school that catered the children of the most prominent families in Hogwarts. Naturally, the boys invited their childhood friends to live with them now that they had their own house without Narcissa breathing down their necks — not that it stopped her before.
The house had three floors that included the basement. The basement was made into a makeshift game room. The first floor had the living room, dining room, a bar, a large kitchen, and an indoor swimming pool. The second floor had six bedrooms, complete with their own bathrooms and walk-in closets. Tom's room was located at the end of the hall in the East wing; it was one of the two rooms that had a balcony. Coincidentally, it was one of the rooms that offered him more privacy. Salazar knew that living with the Malfoys and the Lestranges offered no privacy at all.
"Ohhh, Tooooom~!" Someone sang his name, a high pitched, melodic, and yet annoying voice that was somehow louder than the rock version of a Christmas song that was playing in the house.
Tom was just about to slip under the warning tape when he heard the familiar voice calling his name. He pinched the bridge of his nose and swiftly turned around to find a striking woman approaching him, clothed in a skin tight dress that left nothing to the imagination. With her long corkscrew curls, dark sultry eyes, luscious mouth, and a body figure that many girls would kill for, Bellatrix Black was a woman that many men — and women — fantasized about having and bedding.
To Tom, however, her apparent beauty and sexual appeal was as alluring as a flabberworm. Bellatrix was another childhood friend of his and he didn't see her as desirable as the majority who had met her. Even though he could see that she was indeed attractive, he just found her annoying as a younger sibling.
Bellatrix Black—the 48th in the family—the youngest of the two daughters of Regulus Black. No one knew who her mother was, but considering their family's reputation, Tom wouldn't be surprised if it was some distant cousin or something. The Black family really liked to keep it in the family, as disgusting as it sounded. But they were the second richest family and one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, so no one spoke about it unless they wanted themselves dead.
"Bellatrix," he accompanied her name with a resigned sigh.
She promptly ignored his less than enthusiastic response. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" She didn't make the mistake of embracing him as she soon as she got closer.
"Me or Rodolphus?" Tom smirked when he saw her eyes narrowing and her lips tightening into thin strips at the mention of the older Lestrange brother. "We both know you can't lie to me, Bella."
"Fine, I was looking for Rodolphus," she eventually revealed, huffing and crossing her arms across her chest. She then formed her lips into a sweet smile that didn't match the dark intent in her eyes. "Will you be a dear to me and tell me where he is?"
One of the things that made Tom tolerate the youngest Black sister was the fact that she was more than a little obsessed with the oldest Lestrange brother. It was obvious from the very start that she was insanely devoted and a little bit crazy about Rodolphus Lestrange. Many made the assumptions that Bellatrix was involved with Tom but the truth was, she ad attached herself to Rodolphus since she was nine years old.
As far as Tom knew, Bellatrix dreamed of becoming Mrs. Lestrange one day, something that the Lestranges and the Blacks had no trouble dealing with considering that they were both insanely rich families and combining those riches along with their business with the help of a marriage would make them a very powerful family indeed.
The only one who didn't want the arrangement was Rodolphus himself, who was still denying his attraction for the dark haired vixen. Honestly, they were just waiting for the time Rodolphus would finally just give up and give in to her. Bellatrix certainly wasn't going to stop chasing after him anytime soon. She's like a rabid dog in heat.
"Do I look like his keeper?" Tom retorted, slipping his hands inside the pockets of his black slacks. "Ask Abraxas or Draco. Even Severus, if you find him lurking in the shadows."
Knowing Rodolphus though, he was likely fucking some other girl just to get Bellatrix off his back or maybe rid himself of the stress of having a Black chase after him. Not that it stopped Bellatrix before, Tom snorted inwardly. There was a high chance of Bellatrix ruining the girl's life than her leaving Rodolphus alone.
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes on him and then huffed as soon as she determined that he wasn't lying. "Fine. If you see him though, tell him that he can't keep staying away from me forever. I intend to get my New Years kiss from him." She harrumphed, moving to stomp away, before she paused and brightly said, "Happy birthday, by the way! Wow, you're getting old."
Tom glowered at the retreating back of the raven haired beauty; he didn't like to be reminded that he was getting older. Telling him happy birthday was acceptable but commenting about his age was not. After all, aging was not an option until he fully established an empire of his own.
Rolling his eyes, he proceeded to slip under the warning tape and went upstairs to the second floor of the house. He walked down the long corridor and could barely hear the music from downstairs, muffled by the thick walls and large space. He was pleased that he didn't encounter wandering strangers that dared disobey the rules. It would not be the first time that someone disobeyed them and used the party as an opportunity to take advantage of them.
After all, the others were curious about the things that they kept hidden in their own private space and wanted to exploit the secrets that they had just by searching through their personal rooms. Those people would always be dealt with accordingly and while some people learned, others were itching to test the waters. It didn't matter though; they always found out who had disobeyed them and made certain that they paid the price.
Finally he reached his room, rolling his neck and his shoulders just to relieve some tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades. He twisted the doorknob and started to push the door open but then he recalled about the surprise that the Malfoy peacocks had told him that was waiting inside his room, and he groaned aloud. Truth be told, he didn't want anything from those Malfoy pricks because how could a man such as himself, who had everything in his disposal, want for anything else?
So, with a sigh and a purpose to know what the Malfoys had done this time, he pushed the door open and went inside his room. The room was dim and cold already due to the air from the open doors that led to the balcony. He was about to open the lights when he noticed that there was a subtle scent in the air that wasn't there before. He sniffed and his eyebrows drew close, his fingers leaving the light switch.
The scent was more than likely a perfume; a feminine scent of some flower that was meant to entice, to beckon someone closer and discover its true aroma. Truthfully, Tom would not have noticed it if it weren't for the fact that he was looking for something different in his room and if he wasn't such a paranoid and controlling prick.
Did those two brought a girl here that's meant to be my surprise? Tom wondered, disgusted. If he didn't want to disown the Malfoy brothers before, he certainly wanted to do so now. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. All those teachings had gone to waste when it concerned those two. A girl — or even multiple ones — was hardly an original surprise. He had to reinforce his statement that he could get any girl he wanted in this town and didn't need someone else to do it for him.
Not that he wanted a girl before; he wasn't a manwhore like Draco and Rodolphus, in a strange on-again-off-again relationship like Abraxas, and he certainly wasn't pining for someone unattainable like Severus and Rabastan. Women were the ones who came to him, who wanted him, and he, in turn, merely indulged their fantasies of being with him, of making them discover what it felt like to have him in their beds. For him, they were just a means to an end.
Now, the question was, where was the girl?
She certainly wasn't in the same room as he because if she was, he would know. Even without the lights on, he could still make out the shapes of silhouettes and contours and somewhat see in the dark due to the bright lights that came from the balcony. He always never did turn the lights off there because he couldn't be bothered to. So clearly, there were no other places the girl could hide in aside from his walk-in closet, the bathroom, and the balcony.
He chose to search the balcony first just because of the open lights and the open doors. He had only just stepped in the doorway when his eyes were automatically drawn to the figure with their back turned to him, their hands on the railing as they looked up to the sky. He stopped and his fists unconsciously clenched at the sight of the intruder.
He didn't need for her to turn around because he could recognize the mess of curls anywhere; that brown hair seemed to have no sense of direction and had a life of its own as it fell down her back in loose large and small curls, making it appear as though it was a brown cloud on top of her head. He didn't need to see that the figure had porcelain skin, doe-like honey brown eyes, a pert nose, a heart shaped face, and shapely lips that begged to be kissed. He knew exactly who she was.
"Hermione Black," Tom drawled, indigo eyes darkening nearly into black when he saw her reaction to hearing his voice; the way her shoulders jerked and her back tensed at knowing that she was no longer alone.
She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes wide as though she was a deer caught in the headlights. Recognition flashed across her face. "Tom Riddle," she said, slowly turning around to face him.
There was something about the way she uttered his name that had Tom clench his fists tighter; it had affected something inside of him that he couldn't name. Ever since he first laid his eyes on her and spotted the innocence and fierce intelligence in her honey brown eyes, he knew that this girl was more trouble than what she was worth. He could remember it quite vividly. The first time he had seen her, she had been wearing a dusty pink hoodie and worn jeans with converse shoes at that time; she looked nothing like the princess that the papers named her to be.
She wasn't one of them; she wasn't made for this world. She didn't belong and he knew that she knew it too. The most curious thing was that it didn't stop her from marching into the steps of Hogwarts Academy, didn't stop her from taking the aptitude test and become a part of the Gryffindor house, and it certainly didn't stop her from trying to best him and take the top spot when it came to academics.
She was just like him. Before this, she was nothing, but now she had everything because she was Hermione Black. Well, Hermione Granger-Black, the new princess of the upper crust society of Hogwarts. Everyone knew their story; her mother was a commoner and had married Sirius Black, a multimillionaire and an entrepreneur that mostly dealt with entertainment and car engines. It seemed that her mother had hit the jackpot considering that Sirius was also the current head of the Black family, and since he married Helen Granger, Sirius had automatically given his name — and therefore his vast fortune and businesses — to Hermione Granger, his new stepdaughter.
She didn't have their blood but she was certainly the new heiress of the family whether the other Blacks wanted to or not. It was a nice spin of 'rags to riches' story and now the daughter in paper and law was trying to be a part of something she wasn't born into.
The first few weeks of her stay, he had strongly disliked her when she proved herself incapable of following the hierarchical structure that everyone else followed. They was a certain system in this town and a hierarchical order that everyone recognized and didn't bother fighting against.
Everyone followed — except for her. She didn't follow the Royalties, his very own royal court that was composed of the children of the most powerful families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and therefore better than the rest of them, and she certainly didn't follow him, the king that everyone admired and feared because of the power that he possessed.
She did not listen and was quite stubborn and for a couple of weeks, she had suffered because of it; but in the end, she survived through it and that had made her rise above the other insignificant creatures in this town. He was forced to admit that he had respected her strong will and he had never anticipated that it would make him feel something other than dislike, hate, or annoyance.
Seeing her there, late in the evening with only a few hours left until New Year, still wearing her awful, non-descriptive hoodie and jeans, looking every inch uncomfortable and out of place, just did something to Tom in a way that he couldn't explain. Out of all of the surprises that Draco and Abraxas could've done, he had never expected them to do something like this.
Honestly, he almost admired their manipulation. Maybe some teachings had retained after all.
"You're not allowed here," he told her as he stepped into the balcony, closer to her and the scent that grew stronger in the air. He still couldn't recognize the smell. "How did you get here?"
She ignored his question instead and proceeded to ask, "What are you doing here?"
He gritted his teeth at her blatant disregard of his question. She was the only one who had the audacity to dismiss him and ignore what he said, unafraid of what he could do. For someone who knew every dirty secret in this town, Tom couldn't find anything to end Hermione Black permanently. Don't get him wrong, he could still mess with her just like before, but removing her from his disposal was proving to be futile. It's not because she had added protection from Harry Potter or because he couldn't touch her, but because she was everything that his world wasn't; she was good.
She didn't bribe, didn't cheat, didn't partake in any alcoholic substance, didn't do drugs, and she couldn't lie to save her life. She obeyed certain authority figures and she respected most of them. Before she moved into town, she was a straight Outstanding student, a prefect with a flawless record, and had even been one of the representatives of the state in the Triwizard Tournament.
She was the kind of girl that didn't give any unnecessary problems to their parents; the kind of girl that any parent dreamed they could have. She donated monthly to orphanages, volunteered to help in animal shelters, tutored orphans, rescued stray animals—good deeds done before she became a Black and had a trust fund with a vast inheritance.
For all of his sources and connections, Tom couldn't find anything that he could use against her and make her a social pariah. She was either too good at covering her own mishaps or she was genuinely a good person. From what he could tell so far, he would bet on the latter as unbelievable as it sounded. Even his spies had told him that she was nice, if not naïve and innocent. She was there when she was needed and she helped when someone asked without any attempts of taking favors — which Tom thought was absolutely stupid.
The girl just screamed "I'm good! Take advantage of me!" and Tom knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone took advantage of her kindness or take it for granted. It seemed too good to be true to find someone so perfectly good and kind, and Tom had found that hard to comprehend at first.
In this town, anyone could stab you in the back and watch you burn in hell while they tried to take your spot as they laughed at your face, even the ones who were in Hufflepuff. Everyone in this town were all social climbing socialites who were willing to do whatever it took to take the highest title to themselves. Everyone was part of some grand game and scheme — excluding Hermione Granger-Black.
Everyone had their own agendas and true motives, even the ones from Gryffindor who always spouted some ridiculousness about justice and being fair (the hypocrites that they were). Someone as good as Hermione Granger-Black simply couldn't survive in this world and Tom was sure that Black would not last. She didn't seem to be the type of girl who wanted to play or even knew how to.
"I live here," he revealed to her with his velvety voice that hinted that he thought she was an idiot. "This is my room that you are trespassing. Now, what are you doing up here, Black?"
A blush bloomed across the fair skin of her cheeks and Tom settled for ignoring how it just seemed to enhance her whole doe eyed, innocent, good girl look.
Someone who looked this innocent and pure is just begging to be defiled in some way, Tom couldn't help but note to himself though.
"It's Granger-Black actually," she corrected him before looking away, wild hair swaying gently with the soft and cold wind of the late night. Then her eyes flickered up to meet his once again. "And for your information, it was Draco Malfoy who offered the second floor as a reprieve from the party. I didn't know that this was your room. If I'd known, I would've picked somebody else's."
She looked at him with her defiant honey brown eyes again, unafraid of his power to destroy her, and Tom didn't know whether he wanted to bury her alive for her insolence or to admire her ability to stand up to him when the rest of the town couldn't. Other people in this town would never stand up to him and question or defy his authority. He held a certain sway over the town, from the school itself to the aurors, and to certain establishments.
Aside from having dirt on everyone in this town (and that included the parental figures), he had influence and connections due to his name. However, when it came to her, all of the things that people feared about seemed like a joke to her.
From the very start, she did not show her fear of him, not even when he had humiliated her in front of everyone else and threatened to expose her darkest secret (which wasn't anything much compared to every shit that happened in this town. Damn her for being so morally good and uncorrupted). Now, he couldn't help but feel a strange intrigue and fascination for her and her total disregard for social rules and customs. The irony was not lost in him considering that those qualities she possessed were the ones he had hated before for a long time.
He internally cursed the blond pricks who were most likely partying downstairs while he was stuck here dealing with the infamous Princess Black that acted nothing like a princess should.
Sometimes, he didn't know what to make of her. She was a Black and there was a certain standard that society had set for someone with her name. But she seemed unbothered by those standards that people expected her to follow most of the time, intent on doing things on her own way without listening to those who said otherwise.
However, these past few months, he had observed that despite her defiant behavior, she seemed adamant to follow a few set of written and restrictive rules and was rarely seen breaking them and therefore keeping her good girl persona intact. It was quite an interesting combination, how she obeyed certain rules and defied the other ones.
And despite his strong dislike of her, he remembered feeling amused as he observed her rather selective and contradicting morals. She didn't cheat and didn't lie, however, with the right incentive and reason, and if she wasn't doing it for herself, she would be found bending her own morals for the sake of others. He knew that because he had witnessed that one time she had helped Potter about something that required breaking some serious rules and he had been stunned — as well as impressed — that she was that loyal and willing to help a friend in need.
That didn't mean that he still liked her though. He still enjoyed messing with her through verbal exchanges and she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
"Reprieve?" Tom spoke, smirking as he dismissed his thoughts. "I should've known that a goody two shoes such as yourself would think a high school party isn't on par with your standards. With how much of a bore you are, it's a surprise that you still have friends."
Just like that, as though he had spoken the magic words, Tom spotted the fiery emotions cross in her eyes as indignation spread across her face and her hands tightened into fists. Her cheeks reddened even more and there was a fight brewing inside those honey irises of hers. He never believed that he had seen a more captivating sight than the one in front of him, and his newfound fascination for her grew.
"That was uncalled for, Riddle. Really, especially since you pretend to be so much better than me," she spat, obviously triggered by his callous words. "It's a wonder that people can stomach the sight of you because I know that I can't. You sicken me, Riddle. You and your pitiful, pathetic games."
Strangely, Tom didn't feel the familiar surge of anger that he always felt whenever someone was challenging his status or even talking back at him. Instead, he felt something akin to thrill sending a shiver down his spine. He frowned internally. It was disconcerting to know that she had some effect on him.
He quickly dismissed it as a fleeting occurrence and he made certain that the way she affected him would not slip on his face and show.
"Ah, so the mouse came out to play after all," Tom drawled as a wicked smile curved his lips and making him appear as though he was an angel recently fallen from heaven.
"You're wrong. I didn't come out here to play, especially not with you," she denied immediately, her cheeks glowing redder. Then she sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Look, Riddle, as much as I like to continue this little spat of ours, can I take a rain check?" She gave him a resigned look.
"That depends," Tom said easily, taking a step closer to her. "Are you going to leave or not? Because if you stay, I'm afraid that I can't guarantee that."
He flashed her a charming smile that would've made anyone swoon at the sight of it. All she did was stare blankly at him before having the audacity to roll her eyes.
"The last thing that I need or want is to become your playmate," she said, snorting in an unladylike way.
"I thought that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave." Tom's eyebrows rose, taunting her.
She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, and I thought that Slytherins were supposed to be cunning. I guess we're bound for disappointments either way this night."
Unexpectedly, a low chuckle escaped his lips and while it made her look curiously at him, Tom dismissed it with a slight tilt of his head as he averted his gaze from the fascinating girl in front of him to the vast and dark sky with the glittering stars scattered across like expensive diamonds. He could now slightly make out the lyrics of the music downstairs and the random pops of fireworks throughout the town where other people celebrated their own New Year.
He walked towards the spot right next to her, ignoring the way she stiffened at the sudden decrease of their distance, as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the railing. The distinct scent in the air that he now knew had come from her grew strong and heady although its name was still untraceable. They did not speak, not for a long while.
Then he heard her sigh beside him and say, "Aren't you supposed to be partying downstairs with the rest of them? Why are you still here?"
Why, indeed.
"Unlike you," he scoffed, "I'm actually allowed to stay here in this room because I own it."
"I was here first," she countered almost childishly. "And despite that this is your room and you live here, you don't own this house. Draco himself offered me one of these rooms to stay in. So, right now, I'm as entitled as you to be here."
Draco? Ah, he should've known. He chuckled mirthlessly. And she said it as though she really thought that she was entitled to be there. They both knew that she wasn't. She wasn't born for his world and she certainly wasn't made for it. But it was amusing to watch her try though. Sometimes, he wondered if he was betting against her—or for her.
"That's too bad then because I am staying. If you don't like the sound of that," he sneered, "why don't you leave already?"
She pursed her lips and huffed. "Because I don't want to. The last thing that I want is to go back out there. There's much noise and people, I'd die of suffocation."
"You know," he turned to her, his eyes narrowed, "if you didn't want to be here in the first place, why are you?"
She frowned and didn't meet his penetrating gaze. "Harry insisted," she confessed quietly. "Parties aren't my type of scene but he told me that it could be fun."
A smirk slowly curved his lips. "And you never thought that your idea of fun is different from his?"
She let out a resigned sigh. "That's why I'm hiding out here, am I not?" She crossed her arms. "What about you? Why are you here?"
"Boredom," he said with a flippant shrug.
"Why don't I find that surprising?" She grumbled sarcastically. "You find everything around you boring."
There was something about her comment that made his eyebrows twitch and he looked at her, really looked at her in the eyes, finding that other people would be unnerved under his intense stare. "You speak as though you know me, Black. You don't."
"Merlin forbid that anyone ever does," she said, meeting his stare without any problem. Then she groaned and rolled her eyes away from him. "And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm Granger-Black, not just Black?"
"Because you are a Black," he answered matter-of-factly, looking away from her as well. "You might not have shared their blood but you have their name. No matter how many ways you cling to your old life, you can never bring it back again. This is your new one, whether you like it or not."
She made a noise of frustration beside him. "Yes, well, that doesn't change the fact that I am not only a Black, Riddle. Sure, I have their name but I was a Granger first and foremost, and not even you, with all of your so-called power and whatnot, can change that."
He chuckled but the sound was derisive, mocking, that it had her bristling in anger. "You can make excuses all you like," said Tom, "but it doesn't change who you are and what your name is."
"I am not like you or anyone in this town," she stated firmly.
"And you're not. But you are still a part of us—sort of. Whatever you do reflect on our part. You can rebel all you want but, like I said, it doesn't change who you are now."
He heard another groan of frustration. "Why am I even arguing about this with you?" She wondered quietly but then proceeded to huffing loudly. "You know what? Forget it. Enjoy your alone time, Riddle."
She made a move to leave and Tom watched her as she swept her hair aside and took a white box from the swing behind them. He did not even noticed it, too intent on the fascinating girl that he found in his balcony. He wondered what it was. When she turned around and faced him before thrusting the box to him, he was mildly stunned.
She wasn't looking at him, almost as though she was embarrassed and didn't want to see his reaction. He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing the box and her rigid stance, waiting for some explanation. When he didn't make a sound, she snuck a glance at him then quickly averted her gaze when she met his intense stare.
"Can you stop that and take the box already?" She suddenly hissed at him after a few minutes of silence.
He didn't move. "Do I sicken you so much to the point that you're planting a bomb here? Huh. How Gryffindor of you."
"Bomb? I'm not leaving a bomb here!" She sputtered and then groaned. "Why do you have to make things difficult, Riddle?"
Tom smirked at her, still not taking the outstretched box from her hands. "I'm not the one who's making it easy for me to be difficult. Now, be a good girl and tell me what's inside the box."
She glared at him. "It's... it's a box of cupcakes," she revealed reluctantly, the words dragged out from her mouth.
Tom found himself becoming amused. "You brought cupcakes at a Sixth Year party?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't start. Ginny already gave me the look and told me that this isn't a First Year party. Look," she sighed, "I found out from Draco that it's your birthday today so... I figured to give you this as a gift."
Tom sneered at the ordinary and plain box. "It isn't wrapped and it doesn't have a bow."
"Stop acting like such a snob and just take it so that I can leave here," she snapped, pushing the box to his chest.
Tom didn't have a choice but to catch it with his expert hands, his lips still curled into a sneer. Against his will, he opened the box to reveal six chocolate cupcakes inside of it with blue icing on top. Each cupcake though had a different design to give it a sense of uniqueness.
"Are these Honeydukes at least?" He asked, his sneer slowly disappearing as he continued examining the cupcakes. They looked decent enough to eat at least.
"No, I didn't buy them. I, err," she hesitated, "I baked them."
At her confession, Tom snapped his eyes up to hers and found that she wasn't lying. He looked down at the box again and felt something stirring inside of his stomach at the thought that Black, despite everything that he had done to her and her claims that she 'sickened' him, had baked him six cupcakes. Others would've simply bought expensive sweets and desserts from Honeydukes or Madame Puddifoot's, or even get their personal chefs to make them. It was odd how such a simple and non-expensive gift could make him feel something other than boredom, annoyance, and anger. Once again, he had found another side of her that he couldn't figure out.
Defiant, fierce, resilient, stubborn, contradicting, annoying, rude, and yet kind, intelligent, loyal, and thoughtful — even to those she seemed to hate. Those are the qualities that made Hermione Granger-Black. She was akin to an onion as she had so many layers that he had ever seen in one person.
"How kind of you." He meant to say it derisively but it came out wistful instead. He softly closed the box and looked at her before he thrust the box back at her with a scoff. "I don't accept gifts that could potentially be laced with poison. Plus, it isn't gift wrapped. This is hardly called a gift, isn't it?"
There was that glare again, that spark of fiery emotions in her eyes that belied that she wasn't all sugar and spice and everything nice. "Those aren't laced with poison," she said bitingly. "If I wanted to kill you, Riddle, I would've used my bare hands. I'm not above strangling you. At least you'll know who killed you before you died."
Tom smiled, but it did not reach his eyes and convey humor. "Ah, just the way I wanted my birthday to go: poison cupcakes and death threats. You really set the bar high, Black."
"Stop being dramatic," she said, scoffing. "It doesn't become you, Riddle."
He shrugged and then pulled the box back to him. He opened it and took out one cupcake before handing it to her. "At least, prove it to me that it's not poisoned." When she glared at him, he smirked. "One can never be too careful, Black."
"You're ridiculous," she said, frowning at him but nonetheless, she snatched the cupcake from his hand and with a mocking smile, she held it up in a universal cheers motion. "Happy birthday, Your Royal Pain In The Ass."
She looked at him when she bit the cupcake rather aggressively but Tom could only watch her shapely lips as she chewed, fascinated by the way it moved and pursed and seemed to wrinkle and shine. He registered belatedly that, for once, she was wearing lip gloss and it suited her. He watched quite avidly, almost entranced, as her small tongue darted out and licked the corner of her lips, her thumb brushing the icing that she couldn't reach before sucking the tip of her thumb ever so gently.
She wasn't looking at him and it was probably an innocent act on her part but Tom was certain that he had never seen a more erotic sight until now. He felt something stirring in his stomach, something fluttering inside of him that he couldn't name as he continued watching her without his knowledge. For a scary moment, his mind had gone blank and so, it was on impulse — a complete movement that he didn't think about beforehand — that he grabbed her waist, pulled her against him, and stopped whatever noise that would escape past her lips with his own.
The world had gone silent as soon as his lips touched hers, a skip of time that seemed dedicated just for them. The fluttering in Tom's stomach broke into beehives, nearly overwhelming him, as he kissed her in an uncharacteristically gentle way. But the gentleness passed as he pressed his lips against her firmly, hungrily, when he felt the subtle movement of her lips that had finally kissed him back. He promptly dropped the box of cupcakes to the floor so he could use both of his arms to bring her closer to him. He could mildly hear the splat of a fallen cupcake from her hand and any caring thought ceased to exist.
Her lips were soft and supple against his, and she tasted like chocolates and blueberries; Tom was intoxicated with the taste of her in his mouth. He had never tried drugs before but he had never felt as high as he was right at this second as he kissed her. For the first time in his life, he did not think of the consequences of what might follow after this. He could only kiss, taste, tease, and savor her until there was not much thought in his head aside from her, her, and her.
A series of fireworks exploded from behind them and he could faintly hear the guests from downstairs shouting a happy new year. However, he only tightened one arm around her waist and brought one hand up to her soft heated cheek, erasing whatever space was between them. As though in response of his actions, she clutched one of his shoulders, nails digging painfully—deliciously—in his skin through his clothes, while the other hand tangled with and pulled the black silky strands of his hair. He nipped her bottom lip and sucked the little noises that she made that could either be a moan or a sigh inside of his mouth.
Her breasts pressed against his firm chest, her scent overwhelmed his nose, his ears nearly bursted with the noise of the fireworkds behind them, and there wasn't any inch of space that separated them. His temperature spiked. His blood rushed south when she traced his lower lip with her tongue, making him hard inside of his black slacks. He flexed his fingers on her hip and gripped it tightly and he shivered when her fingers pulled on her hair a little too tightly in response.
He started walking foward, making her stumble back against the wall behind her. Their lips lost contact for a millisecond, and then there was a gasp from her as their lips met again—as though the pure act of separating their lips was a crime. He planted two arms on the wall on either side of her head, caging her completely without giving her any space to escape, before proceeding to slide a leg in between the junction of her legs and pressing his thigh firmly on her crotch. She groaned and a moan escaped his throat when she started slowly grinding her groin against his leg.
One of his hands drifted from her cheek to her slender arms and down to one of her breasts where it felt full in his palms. His thumb brushed against her hard nipple, which seemed to spur her on as her movements became more fast and certain against his thigh. He could smell her arousal mingling with her perfume and he was nearly delirious with want for this stubborn and infuriating woman in his arms.
He was certain that he was coming down with a fever the way his temperature rose and he didn't know if she was the medicine or the cause. He flicked his tongue on her lower lip in a silent but eager request and when she parted her mouth with the same eagerness, he didn't hesitate to slither his tongue inside to dance with hers.
Maybe she isn't as innocent as she claims to be, some part of Tom's slightly functioning brain remarked. She definitely wasn't shy and there was no holding him back either.
Then there was a loud boom and it felt like a slap as reality sunk in. The fluttering in his stomach bursted when she stiffened in his embrace. With a gasp, she pushed him away from her, and he stumbled back, but immediately regained his balance afterwards. Her eyes were as wild as her hair, but her lips were swollen, her cheeks were red, and her chest were heaving in deep breaths.
She looked enthralling.
They stared at each other; one pair of honey brown eyes were wide with disbelief while the other pair of indigo eyes were wide with awareness. There was only harsh pants between them and nobody said a word to address the insanity that had happened. A familiar emotion flashed across her eyes—an emotion that Tom knew so well.
She shook her head and she continued shaking it when she turned on her heel and ran out of the room. Tom was left standing there, her taste still in his mouth while the flutters in his stomach seemed to subside. But in his chest, the loud racket from his heart, that was in complete beat as the fireworks exploding in the sky, didn't stop for a long time.
It was funny to say that after everything that he had done to her, it was a kiss that finally made her fear him.
He wondered if he could do it again—and if she'd let him.