Warnings; Graphic Murder, Sex, Drug Usage
PART TWO
VII / 1 February 2013
"You want to ride with me?"
Hermione looked up from her book, glancing at the time before tossing Tolstoy to the side. "We'll be back before 7, right?"
"Why? Hot date?"
"Yeah. Me, Bella, and a couple of dead bodies."
Abraxas passed her, her jacket, laughing as he shrugged into his. "She isn't as bad as we make her out to be, promise."
She followed him out of the flat and to a black G-Wagon. "I'm sure she isn't. Tom wouldn't keep her around if she was."
"You know him that well?" The blond asked, quickly followed by, "Do you want to drive?"
"I don't even know where we're going."
"Right," he slid into the drivers seat. "I'm supposed to be teaching you, but I haven't done too good of a job of it."
"You taught me how to make an Assassin."
He laughed, pulling off and starting toward the highway. "Right. Well. In all seriousness, Tom doesn't deal drugs –none of the people you've meet so far do-, but we have people that push."
"What kind of drugs?"
"Whatever is popular. Weed and coke are almost always around. Speed, meth, acid…a lot of people like to party, these days. We're all too fucking old, but why not make money off of it, you know?"
"I'm not old."
"What?"
"I'm 22."
He slammed on the brakes, causing her to scream. Fortunately, no one was around. "You're fucking 22, Granger?"
She picked at her nail, motioning for him to start driving again. He did. "Yeah."
"God. You're a baby-"
"I'm not a baby."
"God," he tugged a hand through his hair. "Fuck. What are doing here? You should be…god, Hermione. You shouldn't be here. I should drop you off at an airport of something. You're wasting your life."
"You're here-"
"Yeah, but I…I didn't have another option."
"That isn't true. Tom told me you're working on your PhD –in math, of all things. And you studied economics-"
"What'd you do? Have him read you our files?"
She laughed. "No. Its…pillow talk, I guess."
"Fucking weird. The both you. You're made for each other."
She relaxed into the warm leather, watching as he scrolled through his iPhone for something. "No, we aren't…it isn't like that."
"He really likes you, you know?"
"I don't think about Tom when he isn't around, Brax. So I wouldn't know, and I'd rather not talk abut it."
He nodded understandingly. "I really think you should go back to school."
"I think you should tell me more about this drug thing. Are we about to pick some up?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Why? Do you need something? I've got some coke under the back seat."
"I don't do drugs."
He laughed until he realized that she was serious. "God, Hermione. Why the fuck are you hanging out with any of us?"
"I like you guys."
"You mean you like Tom."
"I like you all, too! I wouldn't be hanging out with you right now, if I didn't."
"So you admit, you like Tom?"
"You're real childish for 27, you know?"
"You keep me young."
She laughed. After a few minutes she said, "Yeah. I like Tom. But, it doesn't mean anything. Tom likes girls. He likes Bellatrix. I'm just…you know…around right now."
"That's not true, Granger. You wouldn't have gone to fucking Mexico and Thailand with him for no reason if he didn't care for you-"
"Okay, so the sex is good-"
"He damn sure wouldn't have let you go out on your own for your first time, and you wouldn't be driving his truck around, either. It's his baby." He laughed to himself. "I'll bet he's even taken you to his house."
"Well, he damn sure isn't hanging out in mine."
"Listen, Granger. We don't even know where this dude lives, and I've known him since form 5. It's a big deal."
"Shut up, Abraxas."
"I'll bet that you all will even hangout for Valentine's Day. He won't ask you out, but he'll invite you over for something stupid, because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing with you, I'm sure."
"Shut up, Abraxas. Geez."
He pulled up in front of a restaurant, laughing. "I'll be right back, okay?"
It was Tom that came out five minutes later, eyes curious. He got in on the driver's side and turned his seat warmer on. "Long time no see," he told her, a small smile on his lips.
"It's barely been a week."
He hummed thoughtfully, reaching over and grazing her bottom lip with his thumb. "You didn't miss me?"
Hermione squirmed in her seat, covering it up by turned toward him, pulling her legs beneath her as she faced him. In truth, she'd missed parts of him quite a bit, but didn't care to admit it. She smiled prettily at him. "No."
"I missed you," he told him, his voice low even in the stillness of the car. She cussed under her breath, feeling his words pull at core. "Your mouth, mostly."
Her eyes followed his hand, lip tugging between her teeth as he cupped himself, quickly and carefully, only long enough to draw her attention away from any and everything but him. She swallowed.
"You shouldn't get into anyone's truck but mine," he told her casually.
"What?"
"Also, you're going to head out with Rookwood, instead of Bellatrix. You remember him, right?"
She swallowed, shaking her head in attempt to clear it. "Yeah."
"Alright. I've got someone bringing a car for you. You'll meet Rookwood there…it's closer to my house than it is to yours. I won't be home for a few days, but you could stay over, if you wanted to."
She chewed her lips for a moment, rocking against the backs of her heels.
He smiled, obviously aware of her growing needs. "I have to go. There is some business in Dublin I need to take care of. Greengrass should be here soon- come in and eat something."
"Tom. Are you seeing anyone else?"
He frowned. "Pardon?"
She licked her lips. "You know…are you sleeping with anyone else? Since we've been hanging out, I mean."
"Not since Christmas. Are you?"
"I have a boyfriend."
He just stared at her, almost as though he were still waiting on her to reply. A red Infiniti pulled up in front of them. Greengrass hopped out, tapping on Tom's window and passing him the key. He smiled politely at her and she asked, "You got a new piercing right?"
He blinked in shock thumb grazing the bar between his eyes. "Yeah. About a week a-"
"Yeah, Malfoy is waiting inside, Remington," Tom rolled up the glass as the blond turned away. He passed her the keys to the Infiniti. "Case is in the glove compartment," he told her as he got out of the car. He walked over and opened her door, barely giving her enough room to get out with his closeness. "You're hilarious, you know?"
She looked up at him through her lashes, skin tingling from the lowness of his voice. "I don't remember telling any jokes."
Tom slammed the door, gripping her arm and pulling her into the restaurant. The only people she recognized were Greengrass and Abraxas, before he dragged her up a nearby staircase. He kissed her hard, bruising her mouth as his hands gripped at her bum.
She pushed him gently and he took the smallest of steps back, heat seeming to radiate from him. "What is wrong with you?"
"I thought you said you belonged to me?"
Hermione attempted to remember when she would have possibly said anything like that, and what she came up with caused her to laugh. "I wanted to come, Tom. I would have said anything."
"I see," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.
When she didn't object again, he kissed her harder, arm hooking around her waist as he carried her into the bathroom. He let her down in front of the sink, forcing her to face the mirror. His fingers brushed her stomach as he unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them just low enough. As he unzipped his fly, he wrapped her hair around his fist until his thumb rested on the base of her neck, a smirk playing on his lips as her breath hiked.
"Did you lock the door?"
"No." He touched her, fingers gentle as they pressed her lips apart. She hadn't realized how turned on she'd been. "Do you find Abraxas attractive, Granger?"
She jerked, attempting to pull away from him, but he used the fist in her hair to tug her head back, forcing her still. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, Riddle. Geez."
He kissed her ear, dipping into her with a careful circle of his fingers. "Answer the question, Granger."
"No."
Tom pulled his fingers from her, laughing at her groan of frustration as he pushed them into her mouth. "So," he murmured, rubbing his cock against her center, "all of this happened in the last few minutes?"
Her hips were shaking against him, needy but gentle in her desperation, as she said, "Yes, Tom."
He pulled her head back further, forcing her body to arch as he continued to rub himself against her. "Open your eyes."
She hadn't realized she'd closed them.
Smiling at her in the mirror, his eyes glinted. "All of this is mine, then?"
"Tom, please."
"Say it, love-"
"Please don't call me love."
"Say it," he demanded, the head of his cock pressing into her.
Her mind blanked. "Oh god, Tom. It's all for you. It's all yours. Please, just-"
He turned her around, forcing her to her knees as his fingers pressed into her mouth, forcing her tongue out as his fingertips hooked in the back of her throat. His eyes shined darkly, a smirk playing on his lips as he said, "Tell me who you belong to, Granger."
She didn't have any other option, not from where she was kneeling. And that was all right. Moaning, she made sure their eyes were on each other as she at least attempted to say, "You."
It was hard with her mouth still full of his fingers.
Tom smiled handsomely, the hand in her hair seeming to tighten, her heart fluttering and aching in her chest. "What was that?" He pulled his fingers from her mouth, and lifted his cock to her lips. His grip tightened on her hair, keeping her carefully in place.
She trembled. "You, Tom." He exhaled loudly, eyes sparking and fist trembling at her neck. Before opening her mouth again, she made sure she had his full attention and said, "I belong to you."
"I know, Hermione." He pushed her forward. "Touch yourself," he breathed, pressing himself to the back of her throat and holding her against him firmly.
As her eyes fell closed, he tapped her cheek lightly, but firmly. "Keep your eyes on me. Good girl." He caressed her cheek, pulling out of her mouth enough for her to breath before thoroughly fucking her throat. "Don't come."
She groaned, and so did he, pulling out of her mouth and pulling her up from the ground.
"Turn around," he demanded. He wrapped his arm around her waist, easing into her as he tugged her head back to his shoulder. "Watch me," he murmured into her neck. "Watch us, Hermione."
Tom kissed her neck as their eyes met in the mirror, his fingers grazing her clit thoughtlessly. He circled back, thumb pressuring her needy core, as he said, "I will tell you when you can come."
She whined, feeling herself already shaking and clenching against him. He hissed, pressing himself firmly into her, and she felt him empty into her before he fell still, his fist untangling from her hair and arm leaving her waist.
After a few minutes, he pulled out of her, helping her to redress as she continued to shake helplessly against him. "You alright?" He asked, his fingers gentle against her face as he observed her.
Hermione found that she actually wanted to hit him. "I could kill you."
He smirked, "I don't doubt that."
"Really, Tom, I-"
"I had this really fucked up idea, Granger. To tell you that you could only come if you used tonight's client to do so," he chuckled at her widening eyes, brushing her hair away from her face. "But, the thought of you spending the rest of the day with my seed-"
"God, Tom. Shut up."
"-leaking from your core," he hummed contently, reaching for her hand and leading her from the bathroom, back down the stairs. "I know you, you know? I know you'll spend the evening like this, because you know I want you to, and you'll hate it. Probably yourself, too. You'll probably find someone to make you feel better, too."
He fell quiet as they reached the bottom of the steps, leading her to the door. She had absolutely nothing to say to him, and let go of his hand quickly, pushing the door open.
"Hey."
She turned around to a kiss, his mouth gentle against hers, hands smoothing under her jacket and sweater. His height kept her shielded from the eyes of his friends, and he smiled boyishly at her when he pulled away. Hermione felt her skin crawling and aching, as though she somehow needed to be closer to him to feel comfortable. She felt disgusted for herself.
"I'll call you."
She left quickly, only slowing down once she'd reached the end of the road. As she waited at a stoplight, she slouched into the warm leather, still feeling as though Tom was buried within her. Still tasting him, too.
Knowing that he usually kept gum in the middle console, she opened it to also find a few of her favorite snacks. As she considered what it meant, what all of his attentions meant, she realized that Abraxas had likely been onto something.
She only then realized that Tom had unlocked the bathroom door as they'd left it; and it was stupid, it was really stupid, but she couldn't stop the smile that formed as she pulled onto the high way.
Although she wasn't quite sure how, she knew that he cared for her. She also knew that she needed to figure out just how far she was willing to get dragged into his lifestyle before seeing him again. It was good that he'd be away for a few days. It gave her time to think.
Her phone rang. "Yes, Tom?"
"I'm not wrong to believe you'll find someone to make you feel better this evening, am I?"
"No. You aren't wrong."
"I thought so," he whispered. A few long, silent seconds passed. The sound of a glass shattering filled her ears. "You can come tonight, then."
"Interesting you thought I wouldn't."
He chuckled darkly. "It's funny how you think I still don't know you. I've told you plenty of times, Hermione."
"Tom-"
"You're a stickler for the rules. I told you that you couldn't come until I told you, and you wouldn't. Whether you believe it or not, no matter how desperately you try, you wouldn't be able to."
She sighed, "What do you want, Tom?"
"I just have one condition on your orgasm, Granger."
"Yeah?"
She heard the smile on his face, and the darkness in his heart, as he said, "Tell your boyfriend I said hello as it happens."
VII / 14 February 2013
AM: Has he invited you over yet?
HG: Shouldn't you be picking Apollina up from school, or something?
AM: Waiting now. Did he invite you over?
HG: No
AM: Send flowers?
HG: No
AM: Huh. He's in denial too then. You at home?
HG: Almost.
AM: Text me if he invites you over.
AM: Ok?
AM: Oi! Granger!
AM: He invited you didn't he?
# # #
"I thought for sure you'd be with your boyfriend."
Hermione looked up at Tom, tying her messy curls into a bun. "Yeah," she looked back at the television as he set her container of beef lo mien before her. "Turns out, he died a few nights ago."
Tom sat down beside her, incredibly unashamed and unbothered by her bringing it up. He offered her a piece of pepper shrimp with his fingers.
"Funny how that works out," she murmured, leaning forward and sucking his fingers clean.
His Adam's apple bobbed. "Yeah." He reached over and pulled her close again, licking the remaining sauce from her lips. "Maybe he was into something he shouldn't have been."
"Like what?" She questioned, picking up the pair of chopsticks he'd stuck in her noodles before grabbing the container. "My cunt?"
Tom laughed heartily, the sound tugging at every inch of her as she ate.
"You really think you can get away with killing a football star, Tom? Ron was a good guy, a decent guy."
"Does it bother you, Granger? Honestly?"
She nearly dropped her food, and chose to set down, turning toward him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he told her gently.
She realized, suddenly, that he wasn't trying to upset her. He was trying to get her to wake up. Hermione rubbed at her burning eyes, absolutely hating herself. It seemed to be a new thing.
"How long have you known him? Since you started at Oxford? I'll bet even then you didn't really care, did you?"
"Of course I cared."
"You don't have to lie to me, Granger. I'm not going to judge you for who you are. You don't have to pretend anymore."
"Shut up, Tom. Please. I don't want to hear this."
He laughed lightly, obviously not meaning to.
"I really don't know how you plan to get away with this one."
"I've murdered plenty of high profile people, love. I'm still a free man."
"Don't call me 'love,' Tom. I hate it."
"Don't ever mention him again, and we have a deal."
"That isn't fair! He's been in my life for years. Half of anything of value that has happened to me, that I've learned, has been with him."
"I've been using the word 'love' for quite some time as well."
"That is not the same and you know it, Tom!"
"You don't want me to call you something I call other women –namely, probably, Bella-, and I can respect that, Hermione. I don't want to hear about Ron Weasley-"
"You don't have see and hang out with him. You wouldn't have even known."
"I don't want to argue about this," he sighed. "I'm not going to apologize about killing him, and I know deep down you don't want me to. I'm sure you'd prefer to know how I did it, or what he said, or something equally fucked up –because I know you, Hermione-, but I don't really want to tell you. Not right now, at least. Just know that it was me, I did it. And I'd do it again, too. To anyone."
She frowned at him, angry mostly with herself for even having mentioned Ron, before relaxing into the cool leather of his couch, eyes returning to the television as they watched Family Guy reruns. "I don't make deals with the devil."
Tom tensed beside her, his irritation nearly tangible. He put his food on the table before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him, gently forcing her to lay her head in his lap. His fingers drew over the bridge of her nose and traced her lips. He kissed her, sucking her tongue into his mouth in a display of power. "You think I'm the devil?"
His voice was a quiet as night, smooth and warm as it filled her ears.
"If the crown fits."
"I always pictured myself more like Hades."
"Well whatever Underworld ruler you'd prefer, my Lord, really." She sat up, moving away from him and getting comfortable again.
He grinned. "That makes you Persephone, you know?"
"Hardly, Tom. She fucking-"
"Knew what he could offer her. Ate the seeds quietly. Knowingly. Was actually much darker than he'd ever made himself out to be. Than she ever made herself out to be." He smiled gently at her, as though he wasn't slicing her to pieces with his words. "She probably lived in denial too, you know? For a while, at least.
"The best thing that ever happened to her was him. He gave her space to be herself. Offered her everything of his world and allowed her be apart of hers as well." His fingers brushed her ankle, "She probably believed she didn't make deals with the devil, too."
"I think you have too much time on your hands," she told him, suddenly unable to even think straight. It seemed laughable that she'd made it through life at all without him.
The smile he gave her wasn't the one that ripped her to pieces. Instead, it told her that he knew he'd won. Licking his lips, he said, "Well. I do live here alone. Perhaps if my fair lady joined me, I'd be more constructive."
"I like my house. I like being able to go home." It didn't pass her that she wasn't helping her case.
"I'm not asking you to give it up. I'm asking you to move in."
"We aren't even dating, Tom."
He looked amused as he said, "It's 2013, Granger."
"I've barely known you a few months."
"I think we've known each other for years."
He wasn't wrong. She bit her lip, having absolutely no other excuse. It seemed futile to argue that they barely knew each other, because they did seem to know other, far better than they knew anyone else in their life. And it wasn't as though it was hard being with him. In truth, it was the easiest thing she'd ever done.
She looked back at the television, her head falling onto his shoulder.
"I've got plenty of wardrobe space."
She weighed all of cons of moving in with him, with Tom Riddle, her heart wrestling with her mind and sanity. At length, she said, "I don't even care about stuff like that."
"Well," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I've got plenty of space for more bookshelves, too."
Hermione just smiled.
VIII / 16 February 2013
"Will you be in the car when I get out of school?"
"Apollina, I told you: I'm dropping her off at Heathrow. Why else would anyone be awake at 7 in the morning, unless they were leaving this place?"
"They could be going to school," she suggested.
Hermione laughed, turning toward the backseat as Abraxas swore under his breath. "I'll see you in a few days, Apollina. No worries. I'll come with Daddy to pick you up."
"Walk me in?" She requested, poking at her car seat in attempt to get out of it.
Abraxas turned around quickly, seeming panicked and offended. His daughter laughed as he said, "That's our thing! How am I supposed to have a good day if I can't even start it the way I like?"
"Grow up, Daddy. Aunt 'Mione, could you help me out?"
"She's even starting to sound like you, Granger. Geez."
Hermione grinned at Abraxas before tugging her hood over her head and hopping out of the car, her Hunters sloshing in the rain as she moved to get the young girl out of the car. She walked her to the door, chatting about One Direction and Peppa Pig, and running back to the car as the rain began to come down harder.
"He compared us to Hades and Persephone."
Abraxas laughed heartily, pulling away from Broadhurst. "When?"
"When do you think, Brax?"
He continued to laugh until the circled the roundabout, "So, you spent Valentine's together."
"Nothing happened. He invited me over around 7, we ordered take out. I confronted him about killing my boyfriend-"
"Wait, what? Boyfriend?"
Kicking off her boots, she pulled her legs up onto the seat, arms wrapping around her legs. "Yeah. We've been on the rocks for months, in the process of breaking up-"
"In the process? What the hell is complicated about saying, "Hey, loser, we're breaking up."
"I've known him for a long time. We were trying to be…I don't know. Friends."
"When's the funeral?"
She sighed, "Thursday."
"Holy shit. Not time wasted, huh?"
"Well, the teams on break right now, so it was the best time for them to just get it over with."
"The team?"
"Yeah. He plays for Burnley."
"What the- Hermione. You're dating- you were dating Ron Weasley?"
"Yeah, I mean-"
"How the hell did you keep that quiet? Fuck, Granger. He killed Weasley for you-"
"He didn't do that for me!"
"You know what I mean. Shit. He's in love with you."
"Shut up, Abraxas. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure. Of course not," he laughed again, mostly to himself. "I've only known him for half my life."
"Shut up."
"That's why you're going to Belfast, then? So you wont be here to attend."
"Of course," she murmured.
He was quiet for what felt like a long time before saying, "Persephone."
Hermione laughed.
"He really does exist on his own plain, you know?" He rubbed his chin before saying, "He's kind of right."
"Not you too, Abraxas!" She punched his arm. "I'll kill you."
He laughed. "Any minute he'll ask you to move in."
Unsure what to say, she hummed in the way they usually did when they weren't saying something.
"He's already asked you."
She looked out her window, her cheeks brightening at the curious excitement in his voice as he asked, "When did he ask? Fuck, Granger. I thought we were friends! You're supposed to tell me these things."
"He hasn't asked. He's just suggested it a few times is all."
"Are you going to? Move in?"
"I don't know, Abraxas. I like my home. I like my space. I'd probably kill myself if I had to go home to Tom everyday."
"Is he that bad out of his armour?"
She smiled. "He's actually…well. He's very gentle. And quiet. It's disturbing, really. He wears glasses."
"Glasses! Plastic or metal?"
"They look like Clubmasters, but they're by Lanvin. He's quite cute in them. Like a little nerd that doesn't know he's a babe-"
"That's a grown man you're talking about, Granger."
She laughed softly, "I know. I've been trying to convince him to wear them out of the house. It's probably a bad idea, though. He kind of looks more like a crazy serial killer –with the curls and the glasses and his sketchy look."
Abraxas laughed. "I've been trying to tell him he looks young, but," he shook his head. "I think you'll move in by the end of the summer."
"I like my freedom, Abraxas."
"Persephone had lots of freedom," he suggested.
"Pull over. I'll walk the rest of the way."
"Yeah, right! Tom will fucking castrate me."
"Bellatrix would literally kill me if she found out I was living with Riddle."
"Listen. She's going to kill you either way, so you might as well do what you want," he shrugged. "How would she know, anyway?"
"Really, Brax? Besides the fact that she's a fucking bloodhound? We'd constantly be showing up at the same time. We'll know more about each other's plans than we should. I'd know more about you all, because we'd talk more."
"Hermione. You already hide the world from the lot of us. What's a couple more secrets?"
She sighed, swallowing heavily. "You should get out if this, you know? You have enough money and education to start over anywhere."
"So do you."
"Yeah, but you have a wife and kids. You have more to lose. There is nothing good that will come from any of this. It's all going to go up in flames."
"Is that a promise, Granger?"
The hairs on the back of her neck rose, the tone he'd voiced his question in seeming to suffocate the air. As though he knew something. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I don't know," she murmured, completely honestly.
"Well, until then," he grabbed his phone, pushing the play button and turning the car radio up, grinning at her until it started to play. As she began to laugh, he said, "We should roll down the windows."
"How old are you, Abraxas? 16?"
He shrugged, doing his best to weave through the traffic quickly. "I've never had a sister before."
Her heart sped up, pounding almost viciously against her chest. She dug her nails into her palm in attempt not to tell him, but it was suddenly the hardest thing to do.
She realized that he was still talking when he cussed loudly.
"You made me miss me favorite part," he told her, restarting the song.
As she laughed, he sang 22 at the top of his lungs.
IX / 21 June 2013
"Oh, Hermione," Bellatrix cooed, waving her over.
Sighing, Hermione walked over, forcing a pretty smile onto her face. "Hello Bella, Tom. You all look lovely tonight." She recognized her dress as Gucci, and knew Tom's suit to be Prada because she'd bought it for him.
The other woman's smile grew, stretching over her teeth and face in a beautiful, haunting fashion that left Hermione feeling empty and worn out. Tom didn't smile, which she was grateful for. Instead, he watched her hungrily through his glasses, his tongue gliding over his teeth.
"Thanks," she drawled, passing her fingers through her curls, clinging a little closer to Tom. "Anyway, I didn't think you'd make it tonight. I thought you had a client."
"I did," Hermione told her. "I do."
"Yeah," her eyes purposely looked her over, dark and humored and cruel as the observed her. "I see that."
She passed a hand through her own hair, pulling her fringe to the other side of her face. Hermione wasn't bothered by the other woman; she may not have been dressed formally, but she was confident in her attire. It was exactly what she needed for the evening.
"How'd you make it all the way to Carlisle?"
"I was in Wales, so…"
"Right."
As she asked, "Are you excited for the show, Bella," Tom lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray and handed it to her.
"Of course. It's the one night a year we can spend without rivalry, and I'm always interested in whatever sick things my friends are doing, Hermione. Tonight's third act is supposed to be quite the charmer. Maybe Tommy will pick her up," she smiled, leaning close enough to him to brush her red lips against his jaw. It wasn't a kiss, but it left a light smear of scarlet over his pale skin. "We could always use another woman, couldn't we?"
Hermione grinned, "Three's a party."
"You here alone?"
"Actually," Hermione looked behind her, waving a friend over. "I'm with Viktor Krum –he plays for Real Madrid. Runs a ring in Hungary, though. They take out pedophiles."
Bellatrix looked at her blankly, eyes lifting over her shoulder as Viktor neared them. "And how did you meet him?"
"Through my ex, actually." At her curious look, Hermione licked her lips. She'd waited for this. They'd all been curious to know who'd killed Ron, and why. Tom had never mentioned it, and neither had she. Not even looking at Riddle, she lifted her eyebrows curiously, "Ron Weasley."
Bellatrix's eyes sparked dangerously, eyes seeming to cut through Tom. He paid her no mind, choosing to observe the way Viktor's arm circled her waist, tugging her closer to him as she said, "Bella, Tom –this is Viktor."
"Nice to meet you both," he told them with a firm nod of his head. "Suppose now would be an improper time to tell I'd like Hermione for myself," he chuckled.
Tom did, too. "Yes. It would be."
# # #
"Where is Granger?" Bellatrix asked.
Tom pointed toward the front of the room just as the lights dimmed, choosing not to look at her as the curtains opened. If he cared enough, he could feel her anger brewing and mounting, but he didn't. He never had.
"Tonight's third act comes from Kensington, London. Educated at Oxford University, Hermione Granger graduated at the tender age of 18, and at 22-"
Bellatrix dropped her glass, swearing loudly.
"-she is the youngest of us to be welcomed to our stage. It should come as no surprise that she is a member of young Dr. Tom Riddle's elite group.
"Tonight's hand selected slaughter is son of one of our eldest diplomats, known for getting off on a technicality after video surface of him brutally raping, abusing, and hanging his high school girlfriend.
"She's asked that we don't offer his name, and we've chosen to honor her request. Please, give your attention to Miss Granger."
It wasn't a request that needed to be made. She had everyone's attention, be it a waitress or attendee, as she pulled a mint colored sweater over her head. She turned her back to the crowd as she tied her hair into a bun, baby hair curling against the curve of her neck. The tank top she was wearing, though black, was nearly see through, revealing a collection of flower tattoos that curved along her rib cage, and the peachy lace of her bra as she turned toward them, eyes barely grazing the crowd as her fingers brushed the bare chest of the man strapped to the surgical table.
In the large screens posted on either side of the stage, his tremble was as evident as his fondness for the young woman, his eyes hungry and boxers tented.
She rubbed her fingers together as thought she was attempting to cleanse them after touching him.
"This is the best part," Rookwood murmured from somewhere behind them, his swallow of excitement nearly driving Tom to reach for his gun. He'd never gone out with her before, though the majority of his team had, and he suddenly felt as though he'd missed out on something he should have experienced intimately before watching her before a crowd.
Looking around, he noticed that she had everyone's attention. He glanced at Bellatrix to see that she'd been drawn in, her dark eyes following Hermione as she walked around, half-lidded and enchanted. Her fingers drew over her stomach in a way he was all too familiar with, and Tom dragged his eyes back to Hermione just as she stuck a match, lighting the cigarette hanging from her lips, and a nearby candle.
She whispered something to the man as she tilted the table up, allowing him to see the lounge of people watching him. His eyes squinted against the bright lights facing them, his fear evident when he realized that there were thirty people watching him. He seemed to relax as her fingers trailed down the column of his throat, momentarily distracting him as she reached for the candle, allowing hot wax to drip over his lower stomach, coating his boxers.
Her light, humored laugh and someone's moan of pleasure covered up his hiss of pain.
Wasting no time, Hermione turned away from him with a calculated twist of her hips, her eyes meeting someone in the crowds. She offered them a brief smile, the brightness of the lights highlighting the pink of her lips, as she pulled surgical gloves over her hands. She grabbed a scalpel and pressed it into the base of his throat, carving down his chest and stomach without care. As blood spilled over the creamy white of the mans skin, Bellatrix moaned, her hand reaching for Tom's.
He allowed her to pull his fingers into her mouth, his eyes watching as she continued to talk to the man as he bled out, her eyes soft and words obviously tender. He tried to make them out on the screen, but his only clue to what she may have been saying as she pried his flesh from his chest was the fact that through his cries of pain, his cheeks were flushed and eyes still full of lust, dragging over her throat and chest. He was still hard, and Tom forced himself to relax as he fought the urge to kill the man himself.
Just as he grew frustrated about the fact that he couldn't hear what she was saying, subtitles filled the bottom of the screen.
'-don't you, you filthy animal?'
Tom wondered if anyone knew that the curve of mouth and the glint in her eyes meant that she'd said the words sexually, and found himself smiling at the knowledge that at least something of this was his own.
He pulled his fingers away from his companion, ignoring her cry. "Lestrange," he called, gesturing toward to obviously needy woman. He felt Lestrange lean forward in the row behind them and glanced over to see him pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck, eyes focused ahead of him as he pressed his index and middle fingers into her mouth, his other hand pushing her dress up her thighs.
He missed whatever she said that caused the crowd chuckle, but the man appeared to be pleading with her. Hermione brushed a blood-covered hand through his hair soothingly, obviously cooing at him. Tom laughed, watching as she walked away from him, picking up a threaded needle from the surgical tray and gripping his face, forcing him to look at her. He was still pleading, and even though he was only able to see her profile, he knew the smile she offered him. His stomach tightened.
'You can give me pleasure?' The screen read. She laughed. 'Like you gave Myrtle? Mmm,' her hand danced over his thigh, smoke flowing out of her nose. The man's eyes briefly fell closed as she rested near to his cock; his mouth moving quickly, an obvious fantasy falling from his lips.
'I do. I do like that,' she laughed, head falling back. The white of the light caused her throat to gleam, and Bellatrix cried out with a few others. The man grinned at her, even in his broken state, eyeing her keenly. 'No, I've never tried that –Would I? – Not with you. I don't make it a habit of fucking rapists.'
He said something that caused her to tense, a slow smile soon forming on her face. 'My lover?'
The scalpel was still in her hand, and she used it to carve over his face, peeling away his skin. She trembled as he screamed and thrashed, and Tom found himself on the edge of his seat, eyes focused on her hips, waiting desperately for the sway of her hips that he'd grown accustomed to. He bit his lip as he saw it, eyes falling closed as he felt himself growing hard for her.
He opened his eyes to read, 'He takes very good care of me –yes, just one,' she laughed, 'he knows what he's doing.'
The man said something that pissed her off, made evident by the way she stepped away from him and set her things down, pulling off her gloves. She grabbed the scissors, cutting his boxers away from him before tossing them to the side and grabbing the candle. She pulled her cigarette from her lips and pressed the still lit edge to his cock, smiling darkly as he called out, more in pleasure then pain.
People in the audience squirmed, groans and moans of pleasure filling the air continuously. Beside him, Bella was a shaking, crying mess, which seemed to amuse Lestrange and Malfoy to no end.
She poured the wax over him, his scream of pain obviously pleasing her as she dumped the candle and pulled on a new pair of gloves. 'You're disgusting,' she told him. 'Like a dog. I've ripped you apart and still, you want me.'
Hermione grabbed the needle she had earlier. 'Is that it? Because you want to fuck me?' She laughed. 'I don't fuck dogs.'
Someone whimpered desperately, but Tom barely had any time to consider who it may have been. All to suddenly, her hand was on the man's cock, forcing the hardened wax off of him as she brought him to orgasm. The sound of other people's release joined his, yet all Tom could see was red. The mere idea of her even thinking about another man had driven him nearly insane. Actually witnessing her relieve one took every inch of his self-control to resist dragging her away from the castle.
'Perhaps not a dog. More senseless. A pig, more like. Naturally filthy and disgusting. There was never any hope for you, was there, darling? –I'm filthy?'
Tom groaned, able to hear the haughtiness of her words even as he read them. He rubbed the head of his cock over his suit pants, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building in his loins as he thought of what it would be like to just get up and take her on the stage. The place wreaked of death and arousal already. He doubted that it would be too big of a deal.
He said something that caused her to laugh. 'Yeah. Just last night actually, he reminded me –what'd he say? –Mmm, oh!'
The man came again.
Her laugh seemed to echo in Tom's ears, too sweet and tender for what was happening. What she was doing.
'God, you're disgusting. You're filthy – Why don't I kill you?'
She cut his tongue out of his mouth, shoving it down his throat before stitching his mouth together, pulling the thread tightly against the fullness of his lips.
Tom's breath caught in his throat as he watched her wrap her hands around the man's neck. The screens split, one side showing his face as he as was chocked to death; the other focused solely on hers. Darkness possessed her eyes, her features appearing more sinister –more beautiful- than she was before. After a few seconds, he fell unconscious, and she moistened her lips as they parted sensually, her own eyes glossing over.
It took eight, long minutes for the man to die, regardless of his state. Tom found himself both disgusted by and in awe of the man, as he understood lust and desire, and how alive both could make you feel…how she could make you feel.
Bellatrix moaned Hermione's name, distracting him from his thoughts. Her eyes had fallen closed by the time he turned to look at her and Lestrange held his hands up as though he were surrendering. "Looks like you've got some competition," he joked.
He looked back at Hermione as the crowd began to clap, their needs met for the time being.
She turned to them as though she'd forgotten they were even there. The only sign that she had any involvement in what head just happened were the bloodied gloves on her hands, and the slight shine of sweat against her skin. Everyone was clapping, and he looked around to see that they all wanted her –be it for their own team or for their pleasure-, everyone except Krum. He sat relaxed in his seat across the lounge, watching her just as blankly as she was watching them, an almost sad look in his eyes.
Tom dully registered the fact that tonight would be the only opportunity he had to kill him, and he quickly considered his options before refocusing on Hermione.
Her eyes found his, sparking in recognition. She smiled –smiled- at him, as though nothing else in the world mattered.
Tom knew better. He really did. She'd come to his home enough after clients to know how she got after killing someone. But…he'd never watched her kill anyone before, and god if she wasn't beautiful before a sea of people in the same profession, of people that could probably do much more for her than he ever could. And out of everyone she could have looked to, to fulfill her needs, it was him.
He fucking knew better. But it didn't matter. He was…he was…
"God," someone groaned in front of him. "I'm in love."
X / 20 August 2013
Suddenly, he stopped cold, buried within her. Hermione groaned, looking over her shoulder at him, and within an instant he let go of her ass and gripped her hair, forcing her head back and causing her back to arch.
Somehow, he sunk deeper. As she inhaled sharply, he exhaled slowly, fist tightening in her curls. The feel of his fingers trailing against her spine caused her to whimper, the searing heat of his gentleness shocking her. He shifted his hips, the coolness of his belt buckle pressing into the dip between her cheeks as his index finger found it's way back down her spine, veering off course in a pattern she didn't quite recognize.
"Tom?"
He let go of her, pulling out. His cock settled in the cleft of her bum. She would have turned to look at him again if the sound of his belt coming undone hadn't filled the room. Saying nothing, she felt the cool leather against her throat, biting her flesh as he applied pressure.
Hermione gasped. He'd never done this before. Not like this, at least.
Fear pulsed through her, causing her entire body to jerk, and then there was nothing. No thought or worry or whisper of anything but the fact that…that…There was enough room for her to swallow thickly just before he tightened the grip.
She felt the strap meet at the back of her neck as he flipped her hair out of the way. Lightly, he pushed her into the bed, fingers trailing down her hip. He hooked his arm under her waist and lifted her to him as Hermione steadied herself, fingers gripping her sheets.
"Do you trust me?" Tom asked as he leaned over her, mouth against her ear. She nodded, feeling his smile. The belt loosened. "Take a deep breath," his cock traced over her opening, grazing her clit and causing her to start in plessure. He laughed as he said, "Relax."
The leather tightened around the swell of her neck as he pressed deep into her in one, slow rock of his hips. As he began a steady thrust, she felt her breath leaving her, throat pulsing.
"Relax," he breathed, nose brushing her ear, pace picking up.
Black spots filled her vision. He pressed his fingers into her clit, rubbing rhythmically. Her thighs began to shake.
"Hermione," he whispered, his voice like air or water or life itself. "Is it good?" He asked, his voice strong and sure, because he already knew the power he held over her.
She hated it, but god, if it wasn't good. Having forgotten that the belt was around her neck, she attempted to swallow –attempted to answer him- and gasped airily instead, straining and shaking against him.
He laughed, pressing a kiss into her shoulder, his fingers firm against her flesh. He whispered something she couldn't quite catch, his teeth piercing flesh just as she blacked out.
# # #
Later, during a bathroom break, she looked at the bite mark on her shoulder, fleshy and deep, slightly purple in coloring. Her eyes fell, without really considering it, and took in the odd cluster of freckles just off her spine, the same one's he'd traced. She wasn't sure what to make of it.
He was pulling his sweater over his head when she walked back into her bedroom. "I'll see you soon," he told her. "I have some busi-"
Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed, eyes locked on the hand mirror that rested on her bedside table, completely ignoring him as he continued to speak. He only stayed in bed with her when they were at his house.
A rolled hundred-dollar note rested nearby, completely forgotten. She grabbed it and inhaled the remaining line.
Tom instantly fell silent. "Hermione?"
She swallowed, rubbing at her nose before lying down. "I think my brain is bleeding."
She wasn't sure if hours had passed, or only seconds, but figured it was the latter as she felt him next to her. His bare skin was warm and smooth against hers. It was hard to know what to make of it.
"You're okay," he told her, lips brushing against her forehead as he positioned her against his chest. "God, Granger. What's wrong with you?"
She wanted to tell him that he'd touched her. But, there was nothing wrong with that, because he was always touching her. It just…again, his fingers drew over skin. He'd done it a thousand times, at least. It'd never hurt her like this before.
"I don't love you."
His fingers fell still.
"Not the way you want me to."
His exploration picked back up. "How do you think I want you to?"
"Selflessly."
He gripped her shoulder, nose and lips pressing into her hair. "This is about what just happened."
"Yes," she told him, and whimpered. "Tom, I think," she pulled away from him, rubbing at her face and nose, fingers clawing at her forehead. "I don't think this is right."
"It wasn't cocaine," he told her. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he offered her his undershirt –an old, worn University of St. Andrews t-shirt that smelt like sandalwood as she pulled it over her head.
"What the fuck, Riddle?"
He shrugged, pulling off his jeans. Tugging her back to him, he said, "You love me exactly the way you should."
If she weren't feeling as though her brain was melting out of her nose, she would have found the word 'love' funny as it fell from his lips. She grabbed his hand, guiding it under his shirt and to her breast. He smirked as he squeezed, and she ignored him. "How is that?"
He rolled them over, his weight pressing onto her like a grounding force. His lips found hers briefly, grazing her jaw and down her neck before he took another bite of her, this time from her collarbone, while his thumb and index finger slid over the swell of her breast, gathering her nipple between them.
"Selfishly," he told her. "Exactly the way I love you."