Notes: Thank you for all of your responses as we go along this journey. I truly enjoy hearing how you feel about this story. For a lot of you there was a big sigh of relief to know that Hermione wasn't acting entirely of her own accord over the events of the first half of this narrative. The the degree to which that is true will continue to be examined in future chapters.

This chapter is hard. This was not an easy chapter to write and I doubt it will be an easy chapter to read. Until now you haven't known the full extent of Tom's control and even still, he hasn't forced Hermione into anything she might not have wanted otherwise (Great Hall scene excepted). This is different. Hermione's consent here is dubious at best and Draco's participation is downright nonconsensual. Remember that Tom is a formidable enemy and they are currently lost in a sea of really bad options. Tom does, however, have a purpose here beyond the obvious, so kudos if you can identify what that is.

WARNINGS: Sexual content, dubious consent/non-con, canon violence

~*~ Twenty One ~*~

The fire was hot at her back, the din of the Slytherin common room comforting as Hermione leaned against Tom, her head listing against his shoulder as he spoke in low tones to the boys sitting beside him. She could hear the words, could see their brows furrow and raise, and yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't concentrate on their conversation. It had been happening more often than she'd like to admit. When she'd brought up the struggle to focus with Tom, he'd reminded her of the lingering effects the war had wrought upon her, suggesting that perhaps the stress of a new school was finally catching up with her. But there was a twisting in her gut, an unease that told her something greater lurked beneath the surface than her usual demons.

Sighing, she gave up trying to listen to Tom and the others, focusing instead on the pleasant vibration of his chest. She studied the common room, noting that Malfoy was sitting across the room facing off against Cygnus Black in a round of Wizarding Chess that had both boys' brows drawn in concentration. Beyond them, Aurelia and several other Slytherin girls sat on cushions around a coffee table, parchment rolls scattered haphazardly as they worked diligently on their latest assignments. Hermione had already finished her homework for the next week, partially in preparation for the trip she was taking with Tom on Valentine's Day and partially because coursework was one of the few things unaffected by her sudden inability to concentrate on mundane tasks.

Tom shifted abruptly next to her and Hermione's head smacked against the back of the couch. She blinked and stared up at him. He smiled down at her, ebony waves dipping down to shadow one luminous eye, his full lips pulling into an alluring smile that had her breath catching. "Don't fret, precious. I just have to go get your dear friend."

It took her a long moment to figure out he meant Malfoy and not Aurelia. The barely disguised scorn gave it away. Despite Malfoy being an integral part of Tom's operation now, it was clear the two were never going to be friends. Hermione scowled. "Dacian is hardly my friend."

"So you keep saying," Tom murmured, eyes rolling. "Stay put, would you?"

Hermione shrugged. There was nowhere else she wanted to go. "Yes, of course."

Tom bent, tracing a trail of fire across the sensitive skin of her jaw before dropping a brief, but indulgent kiss on her trembling lips. "Good girl."

Then he strode confidently across the room to where Malfoy sat, lips pursed in thought, focus narrowed to the chess board in front of him. Tom paused before the two players, letting each make another move before gesturing to Malfoy. Malfoy flashed Tom a glare that seemed to harbor more than mere annoyance at a chess matched interrupted, but nodded and followed Tom back to the sofa by the fireplace. Tom sank back into his place beside Hermione while Malfoy perched gingerly on the adjacent green velvet armchair, body rigid with tension.

"What do you want, Riddle?" The other boys always spoke to Tom with deference, at least as far as she could remember, but Malfoy seemed to derive a modicum of pleasure from being as obstinate as possible while still playing the part.

Tom's eyes slid over to Hermione, a darkness gleaming within them that had her pulse racing from a twisted combination of fear and excitement. Just a look. That's all it took to muddle her brain and make up become down, sense into chaos.

"We're going to be taking a trip tomorrow." Hermione frowned, a hand coming up to rub her temples. Was Valentine's Day already tomorrow? Where had the time gone? Did her struggles with focus include losing more time than she'd recalled? The throbbing in her temples ramped up, her brain suddenly an impenetrable haze. What the bloody hell was going on with her?

Tom took one of her hands, gently running his lithe fingers across her palm before tracing light circles at the base of her wrist. The touch was featherlight and enthralling. The drumbeat in her head receded. She sighed in relief, allowing herself to surrender to the pleasure of his touch.

"So I need someone in charge while I'm gone."

They were still talking, Hermione realized. Malfoy kept his stormy gaze firmly on Tom. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything." Tom's smile was all predator, but Malfoy didn't so much as bat an eye. "I don't trust any of these morons. Maybe Cygnus, but even he has another agenda. But you. You, my dear friend, are properly motivated. And fully capable of keeping the others in check. You may hold back during our sparring sessions, but I can sense just how much potential you're keeping from me."

If Malfoy was unnerved by Tom's uncanny observation, he didn't let it show. Instead, he smiled back, all teeth and reckless insolence. "What exactly do you think you have over my head, Riddle?"

Tom's hand slipped from hers, tracing an unmistakable path across her thigh. Hermione's breath caught. No matter how many times they'd done this, his touch never failed to electrify her. He stared at Malfoy, lips twisted into a vicious grin. "Need I say more, Mallet?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, all bored indolence as he sighed, "you really must stop thinking that just because I'm attracted to your girlfriend, I'm head over heels for her. I honestly couldn't care less about the slag. Is watching you paw at her amusing? Certainly, but hardly grounds for any feelings of jealousy on my part, Riddle. Shag her in front of me for all I care; it isn't going to make me your bitch."

Hermione gaped. Had she known Malfoy felt that way about her? She felt an inkling that perhaps she had, but then it was gone. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as she stared at him. He didn't bother to glance her way, turbulent eyes locked with icy cobalt. His midnight hair was tied at the nape of his neck tonight. A few lone dark strands had fallen loose, framing his angular jaw and sharp cheek bones. Again, she was surprised by how different he was from the boy she remembered. This man was dark and dangerous and not just on the outside. He stared down Tom with an ease that sent chills prickling through her.

The sharp peal of Tom's laughter split the tension. "Is that so?" Malfoy merely arched a dark brow. "Then I'd advise you to put your money where your mouth is."

"What do you suggest?" Malfoy sounded bored.

The look in Tom's eye had Hermione pulling away before she could think better of it. His hand dropped from her skirt, but moved to her wrist, his grip loose, but ironclad. He tugged her to stand before sneering down his nose at Malfoy, still seated in the armchair watching the scene with lazy disinterest.

"Join us."

"This is stupid."

"Then why not join? If you don't care either way, it won't be that bad, will it, Mallet?" There was a note of smug victory in Tom's words.

"There are less crass ways to test my loyalty, Riddle." Now Malfoy sounded mildly annoyed, as if Tom had taken his favorite quill or some other minor infraction.

"Would you rather I invite Malfoy?"

The other Malfoy. The one who left her feeling dirty every time his icy gray eyes met hers. Her Malfoy might be related to him, but they were clearly very different people. Hermione shook her head desperately. Whatever madness Tom was planning, she did not want the blond asshole anywhere near it. Stormy eyes shot to her for a millisecond, unbridled fury licking at the surface for a heartbeat before he turned back to Tom.

"For the record, I think this is ridiculous."

"Duly noted, Mallet." Tom's grip on her wrist tightened a fraction as he led the way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and into his room. The door clicked shut and then Tom was waving his wand in an elaborate locking spell that Hermione had never seen before.

"Wands," Tom demanded, motioning toward a box sitting on his desk. Malfoy rolled his eyes and dutifully dropped his wand into the container, stepping back to allow Hermione to follow suit. Tom settled his on top before closing the box and applying a wandless locking spell, a potent reminder that he was hardly powerless without the wand secured inside.

Malfoy leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. "Now what?"

Tom's lips traced the curve of her ear before sucking gently at the skin below. Hermione sighed, collapsing back against him. "Now you watch."

Hermione was breathless as Tom pulled her clothing off one piece at a time. It was maddeningly slow and she could hardly resist the urge to do it herself, to eliminate the layers between them in an instant. But it was clear Tom was putting on a show and she was powerless to stop him. A part of her knew Malfoy shouldn't be there, was even horrified that he was seeing her like this, but every time Tom's fingers traced over her skin, the knowledge was gone, like a switch turned off. So she let it fade away until there was only the hot burn of Tom's lips across her bare skin and the frantic pulse of pleasure between her legs.

He'd backed her up to the bed, had her splayed out over the emerald sheets as his tongue thrust into her, each stroke eliciting a debauched moan from her raw throat. He flicked his tongue along her, causing a burst of pleasure that sent tremors ricocheting through her. Tom pulled away, her arousal dripping from his swollen lips. "Look at him when I make you come, precious."

She'd forgotten about Malfoy. Hermione dragged her lust drenched eyes up to focus on him. He had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his pupils unmistakably dilated as they stared back at her. But there was more than want in those eyes, there was sorrow, so deep it nearly chased away the sensations Tom was evoking. But then his fingers were driving into her at just the right angle and she was shattering completely, stormy eyes following her decent.

Tom's dark chuckle had her swimming back to reality. "Get over here, Mallet."

Malfoy blinked, clearly surprised by the request. "You told me to watch."

"You've watched plenty. I want you to know exactly what you can't have." The cruel twist of Tom's lips, still gleaming with her, had Hermione inching backward. But then those sapphire eyes swung to her and she relaxed. Tom would never hurt her. No, he was the one that held her demons at bay, who saved her from the emptiness the war had left behind.

Malfoy moved stiffly to stand beside the bed, not hiding his disgust. "This is bloody absurd, Riddle. She's your bloody girlfriend, not mine."

"Exactly. Not yours." Tom's teeth were bared, more snarl than smile.

"I've gotten the message loud and clear."

Tom thrust an arm out, yanking Malfoy to him. The older boy stumbled, just barely holding himself upright. Tom was still wearing slacks, but now Malfoy was pressed up against his shirtless chest. They'd never been so close; she'd never realized how tall or muscular they both were, mirror images of each other. In a physical brawl, they'd be evenly matched.

Tom took hold of Malfoy's jaw with his hand, still slick with her. "I don't believe you have." Malfoy didn't twist out of the grip, didn't do anything beyond scowling. "You think you're better than me, Mallet, but you aren't. You'll do what I say, when I say it. Because you're mine, just like she is."

"You're not my type," Malfoy snarled, façade cracking.

"But she is." There was a chilling humor crackling behind those cobalt eyes. "How about you get a taste of what will never be yours?"

"What?" Storm ridden eyes were blown wide now.

"Kiss her, touch her."

"No."

"That wasn't a request, Mallet." There was a crackle of magic at the tips of Tom's fingers, there and gone in a moment. But whatever it was, Malfoy froze. His faced was haunted, all life drained in a matter of moments as he sank to his knees beside the bed. A shaky hand pulled Hermione upright, bringing them face to face. Malfoy's breath was a barely controlled pant, hot against her cheek. She let a hand raise, wander over his broken features, across his trembling lips. His skin was hot, belying the ghostly pallor Tom's spell had induced.

"It's okay," she breathed, barely audible, onto his parted lips.

Malfoy hovered for a moment longer, suspended in a hell she did not quite understand. But then he shuddered and closed the gap between them. His lips were soft, gentler than Tom had ever been.

"You could kiss your mother like that, Mallet."

Tom's sharp reprimand was a cold reminder of how wrong this was. Why was Malfoy doing this? Hermione began to pull away, but Malfoy's hand at the nape of her neck stopped her. He shifted the angle of his lips and then he was truly kissing her and Hermione couldn't remember why she'd been pulling away. If Tom's touch was all hot sparks, Malfoy's was cool rain and sunshine, like coming home. There was a heat, but it was less desperate, more fulfilling. His mouth tasted like mint and the promise of tomorrow. She found herself relaxing, her hands twining in the silken locks of his hair, her tongue chasing his not in a dance of dominance, but in a playful exploration. Even the heat between her thighs was different now, no longer impatient and searching for the next high, but content to led the need build slowly, to relish every caress.

The pleasure was ripped away from her, Malfoy crashing to the other side of the room as Tom bared down on him. He pulled him from the floor, slamming Malfoy into the door with enough force to send a shock through the room. Then Tom's mouth was on his, a poor imitation of kiss, more violence than caress. A second later Tom swept his tongue over Malfoy's lips before releasing his grip on his shoulders, icy cobalt gaze fastened on the surging storm of Malfoy's eyes. The mirror in the corner of the room only reflected so much, but the hunger, the raw satisfaction on Tom's face as he spoke, had Hermione on the verge of fleeing, the promise of his touch be damned. "I think I got all of her. Now all you can taste is me. If you ever touch her again, remember this will be the price."

Malfoy sank to his knees, which surprised her. But a moment later the movement made sense as Tom leveled a hand at him. "Crucio."

He stayed upright for a second or two, but then crashed sideways, left leg spasming. Tom didn't relent, not until there was blood trailing from Malfoy's gaping mouth. Malfoy hadn't made a single sound, which shook Hermione, sorrow cracking the haze for a long moment. He'd clearly endured the Cruciatus Curse before, likely on a regular basis.

Tom turned back to her and for a moment she saw nothing but a monster. Then he smiled and Hermione thoughts went thick as molasses. Running a hand through his ebony curls, he crossed the space between them. "I believe we have some unfinished business, Ms. Granger."

She collapsed back on the bed, gesturing for him to join her. "Of course, Mr. Riddle."

The smile on his face was wicked, full of satisfaction and promise. She rubbed her legs together in anticipation and he chuckled, the sound sending ripples of pleasure through her. A dexterous finger hooked under her chin as he sank down to the mattress, his body hovering mere centimeters from her.

"All mine."