Notes: I hope each and every one of you is well. I think the most important thing to remember right now is that we are brought together here, in this space, and that we are a community of support. Thank you for your support of me, but know that I also support you, in whatever small ways I can.

This chapter is the beginning of ACT II, of the the second movement, of a shift forward in our narrative. That comes with the following WARNINGS: public(ish) sex act, dubious consent. What happens here is addressed throughout the narrative and specifically in the next few chapters. Know that there is a purpose to every scene I write and that none of this is for shock and awe value. All these characters are a million shades of grey and this is only one example of that.

Okay, on that note, enjoy!

~*~ Fourteen ~*~

Snow evaporated into nothing above the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as they all dug into the latest winter delicacy from the kitchens. Hermione stabbed a piece of winter squash on a fork, letting it linger in her mouth, the melt of butter and spices reminding her of Christmases past with her parents. Realizing what she was doing, she swallowed, nearly choking in the process. She could feel the sudden moisture limning her eyes and blinked several times before anyone at the table could notice what was happening to her.

The sudden heat of Tom's hand against her thigh was a welcome distraction from the precipice of memory. His fingers trailed circles of fire above her skirt before shifting closer to the hem. It took all of her control not to shake as his hand moved back up, now under the heavy fabric of her wool skirt. She'd opted for only knee-high socks that morning and was suddenly uncertain if that had been a wise decision. Tom wasn't moving his hand any higher than her mid-thigh, but his fingers were doing wicked things to the bare skin there.

He bestowed a knowing smirk upon her before he shifted his attention to Malfoy, who was just entering the hall. "Mallet! Come sit with us."

It wasn't a question. Malfoy lifted a midnight brow as he slid into the vacant space across from them. "Riddle, Gable."

He began absently filling his plate, clearly waiting for Tom to explain. In the nearly four months they'd been living here, Tom had never once invited Malfoy anywhere near his group or himself. Tom stayed silent, fingers inching higher up Hermione's shirt until they were just brushing the cotton of her knickers. Her breathing hitched, but she managed to hide the abrupt reaction behind a sip of pumpkin juice.

His agile fingers continued to stoke teasingly across the apex of her thighs as he focused his gaze on Malfoy. "I'd like you to join my… club. Membership is quite exclusive and I believe it is past time that we add your skillset to our ranks."

Malfoy froze, for a mere second, but long enough that both Hermione and Tom could see. Tom's smirk deepened, cobalt eyes glinting dangerously as she stole a glance in her periphery. Malfoy scowled across from them, flint behind his stormy visage.

"And what exactly do you think I have to offer, Riddle?"

"You've been through a war, Mallet. I've seen what Gable here can do," Tom, paused, dexterous fingers slipping beneath the final layer of separation. He smiled in satisfaction, either at Malfoy or at the sudden rush of wetness that greeted the bold gesture. It took all of Hermione's control not to react, not to grind against those tantalizing digits. Tom flicked a finger across her before turning his attention back to Malfoy. "I want you because you possess the same skills she does. The rest of my members are children. I would appreciate another man, an equal, at least in skill."

Hermione had given up the pretense of eating, hiding behind the glass of pumpkin juice. Thankfully both her robe and Tom's obscured what he was doing to her and Malfoy's attention was firmly on Tom, his frostbitten eyes barely blinking as he studied the man across from him. She knew she could stop Tom, could pull away, but she honestly didn't want to. The rush of adrenaline at the risk, the forbidden nature of his fingers against her in such a public place, had her rooted to the spot, flesh trembling at his every caress.

"You've made clear what I might do for you," Malfoy observed, "but what about what you will do for me?"

It was a very Slytherin question, one that reminded her this was not his first round in the serpents' pit. Tom grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Ah, now that is the question isn't it? I'm not like that pathetic Slughorn who simply collects what he cannot have. The members of my group will go on to positions of power."

Malfoy raised a doubtful brow. "And how can you guarantee such things? You do not come from a powerful family nor do you have any current connections to the Ministry that I am aware of."

Tom laughed, dark and dangerous. "I like you, Mallet." His hand rotated subtly between her thighs and then a digit pressed into her, her walls spasming subtly as it pumped slowly in and out, his palm pressing hard against the throbbing apex. She nearly dropped the pumpkin juice and Malfoy's eyes briefly flew to her, a frown tugging at his full lips. Tom spoke before he could take too much of an interest in her flushed visage. "I may not have family connections, Mallet, but I have been building the infrastructure, the resources for my ascent in the Ministry, since I arrived at Hogwarts six years ago." Tom's focus flickered to the known members of his collective seated further down the table. "They are not all cut out for roles of power like you and I, Mallet, but they are useful in their own right. Believe me, you will have whatever you desire with me at your side."

Malfoy's eyes flickered to Hermione for barely a millisecond, but Tom caught the movement. "Except her. She is mine." The statement was punctuated by a second finger joining the first, stretching her in deliciously, both crooked to give her maximum pleasure. Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she could last, her thighs were trembling from the need for release, her teeth gritted against the orgasm that threatened to overwhelm her.

Thankfully Malfoy was back to glaring at Tom, his possessive statement clearly not sitting well. "This isn't eighteen hundred, Riddle, she isn't some bride to be bought and bartered for."

"No," Tom agreed. He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand and suddenly the entire Slytherin table was silent, their undivided attention on Tom. Hermione's breath was caught in her throat as she continued to fight the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her. Tom spoke with an authoritative voice, that although soft, carried the length of the table, his fingers never pausing their assault of her senses. "It has come to my attention that my relationship with Ms. Gable is the subject of several rumors. I would like to dispel them and give you the truth of the matter. Ms. Gable and I are, in fact, together and it is indeed serious." He scanned the length of the table, dark eyes pausing on every face. "I have every intention of making her my wife before the year is out."

The uproar was instantaneous, but Tom ignored them all, bringing his lips to her ear. "Now come for me, precious."

She couldn't fight it any longer, not with his fingers brushing the right spot over and over, his thumb flicking over her just so and his tongue teasing the lobe of her ear. She collapsed against him, wetness soaking her thighs, tongue metallic with blood as she bit back a scream of ecstasy. He grinned against her skin, his thumb flicking one last time, but now her control was gone and she was unable to stop her body from jolting with pleasure. Tom captured her moan with a hungry kiss before extracting both his lips and his hand. A flick of his wand and his fingers were clear of the evidence of her pleasure. He turned back to Malfoy who was now gaping at her, clearly understanding what had just happened in front of him.

"So, Mallet, what do you say?"

Whatever vulnerability had been in Malfoy's stormy eyes was gone when he focused back on Tom. "I accept. I'd like to see what we can do together."

"Wonderful," Tom purred before turning back to his dinner. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at Malfoy again and looking at Tom made her squirm in her seat, heat still gathering in her core, so she stared down at the winter squash instead, trying to remember how to use her fork.