Prompt: None. Was written for TwistedTale as a "Congratulations on getting a job" present.
Pairing: Voldmione
Hermione brushed a curly lock of hair out of her face, her breath coming out in a soft hiss of irritation when it sprang right back in her way. Trying once more she successfully managed to tuck it behind an ear before slowly turning around to face him. Her chocolate-whiskey-caramel-butterscotch eyes studied him intently.
"I know what you are." Her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper, her mouth going dry as his very presence overpowered her senses and made her poor little heart flutter. "You're pale even though you're a Dark Lord, you have this weird obsession with phallic animals, and you don't have a nose."
His dark eyes returned her stare, full of pleading as they seemed to bore into her very soul, as if searching for something inside of her. "Say it," Tom urged her on, stepping closer to her and completely invading her personal space, nearly making her faint with his manly aura.
"You're. . . " Hermione bit her lip, casting her eyes down before closing them, "An American."
