Hermione doubted she had ever been this deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts. It was cold here and the damp air only seemed to make the cold worse. It was a mystery to her why there were still classrooms here, especially as the condition of the desks and chairs suggested that they had not been used for ages. Freezing, she wrapped her arms around her body, but the goosebumps remained.
A few feet away from her stood Tom, apparently engrossed in conversation with Abraxas, but Hermione knew his senses were focused on her. He had not given her any specific instructions, had not told her anything about what they were going to do here on this Friday night, but he did not have to. Abraxas' presence was enough to answer all her questions. It was enough to keep goosebumps on her body, no matter how hard she tried to keep herself warm.
Never had she thought she could feel such honest friendship for a Malfoy.
Never had she thought that Tom Riddle would abuse his first and most loyal follower like this.
She could not deny that she was scared. This was a test, a test to see if she was truly ready to stand by Tom Riddle's side. A test of her loyalty. But most of all, it was a test to assess her magical abilities one last time. Tom had already succeeded more than once in unleashing all her power. Shuddering, she remembered the blood ritual she performed against Augusta and the immense magical energy she had to muster for it. Without Tom whispering softly in her ear, she would never have been able to do it. Would he do it again today? Would he stand behind her again to break the bonds that lay around her core? Or did he expect her to be able to do it alone?
And even if her magical strength was sufficient, would her will be steady enough? Was she willing to let Abraxas Malfoy suffer? She felt deep inside herself that everything was rebelling against it. Augusta was one thing, after all, Hermione warned her several times. But Abraxas had never done anything wrong, had never tried to interfere in her relationship with Tom, had always withdrawn when it was required of him. Her heart ached at the thought that he might have real feelings for her.
"My heart," Tom addressed her out of nowhere as he took a few steps towards her, "I think I've chatted enough with Abraxas for now. What do you think, are you ready?"
Trembling, Hermione let him pull her into a hug. "As ready as I can be."
The grin that flitted across Tom's lips was knowing and unyielding. He was aware that he was asking the sheer impossible of her, and that was precisely why he was asking it of her. She wondered if he was betting on her failing so that he could punish her later and keep her dependent. Would he then punish Abraxas as well?
That thought made Hermione's blood run cold. If she failed to torture Abraxas, would Tom see that as a sign that there was a bond between her and his actually loyal follower that could jeopardise that very loyalty? Would he only end up punishing Abraxas more severely if she failed?
"Abraxas, my good friend," Tom spoke softly after stepping behind Hermione and wrapping his arms around her waist, "You are our guest of honour today. Today, together, we will unleash all of Hermione's power."
Abraxas suddenly turned as white as a wall. Hermione closed her eyes in agony. Obviously, he knew what was going to happen here. Apparently, this was a ritual that Tom demanded of all his followers before he accepted them into his innermost circle. She breathed deeply in and out, concentrating entirely on her breath, on her heartbeat, so as not to go into panicked hyperventilation.
"It... is an honour," Abraxas stammered. It was obvious that he would have preferred to run away. He himself had apparently not yet fallen victim to this strange initiation ritual, and quite obviously he thought his standing with Tom highly enough never to. If it was not for her, Hermione realised, he would probably have been right in that assessment.
Cold lips pressed against the skin on her neck. Her goosebumps deepened. Tom pressed his whole body against her, and so it did not escape her notice that he was obviously excited on more than one level about the coming spectacle. Icy nausea spread through her stomach.
"My heart," he breathed into her ear as one of his hands simultaneously went under her skirt to caress the bare skin of her thighs, "I'm sure you know the Cruciatus Curse?"
Her breathing quickened. His hand felt like flames on her cold skin, the proximity to her more sensitive regions only intensifying the sensation. Heat shot up her cheek as she realised Abraxas was watching their every interaction closely.
"Yes," she breathed, unable to keep the trembling out of her voice.
A soft laugh rang out as Tom playfully sank his teeth into her neck. He had absolute control over her at that moment. If she wanted to continue on her path of getting closer to him, then she had to bend to his will and do as he asked. Her mind had realised that long ago. And under his less than tender touches, her body too seemed more and more willing to surrender to his control.
"You will make me proud," he whispered to her softly, inaudible to Abraxas, "I know you will make me proud. I can feel the power in you, my heart. By Merlin, if you knew how seductive this energy is that I feel. Yet it lies in chains, still, always." His voice was dark, luring, demanding. "You know it is there. Allow it to be, my heart. Remember how it felt when you controlled that Gryffindor. Remember how you felt? To have power over another human being. To feel that she was completely at your mercy. She was at your mercy. Wasn't that intoxicating?" His hand between her legs slid under her knickers as he murmured these words. "Recall the feeling. It feels good, doesn't it Hermione? How can something be bad that feels so good? Power feels good. Power is good. Just remember." Without warning he penetrated her with two fingers, eliciting a hoarse moan that was drenched in pleasure. "Remember your anger at all those who would not acknowledge your power. Does it not make you so infinitely angry that you are a powerful witch but everyone wants to keep you down? Is there not raging anger inside you whenever you are pushed aside? What right do these people have to decide your worth? You are more powerful than anyone else and you should show them exactly that."
Hermione did notice her head fall back and land on Tom's shoulder. She did notice her right hand tangled in his hair while her left clung tightly around his left. Tom's fingers inside her, his soft words finding their way into her core, the arousal she could clearly feel pressing against her bottom - she had nothing to oppose this assault on her senses. And Tom was right, after all. She was more powerful than pretty much anyone else. Without her, Harry would never have come this far, and yet the world only cared about him, the boy from the prophecy. She would forever remain just the muggle-born witch who was amazingly good for her blood status. The witch who learned and read endlessly. And it made her angry, angry in a way she had never allowed herself to be.
Slowly, she refocused her gaze on Abraxas, who was still standing in the same place as before, but now even paler, if that was even possible. She saw that he could not believe what was happening before his eyes. Poor, innocent Abraxas. Clearly, he had no experience in the carnal pleasures of life. Unnoticed by Hermione herself, a condescending smirk stole onto her lips.
"I think you're ready," Tom breathed to her. Pulling her fingers from her, he in turn reached into her curls and leaned down to give her a long, passionate kiss. Sighing, almost whimpering, she returned the kiss, rubbing her bottom against the hard length of his arousal, eagerly nestling her back against his strong chest.
She was more than ready.
Determined, she clutched her wand and took a step forward, away from Tom, towards Abraxas. His eyes were filled with fear, but there was no begging, no pleading in them. He knew what was coming and he accepted it.
Closing her eyes, Hermione concentrated on her innermost self. There it was, the blackness that had once caused her such fear. But now she saw that blackness for what it really was: pure energy waiting to be claimed by her. Her grin grew more insidious as she opened her eyes again and fixed her gaze on Abraxas.
"Tom," he addressed his leader with a suddenly concerned expression, "Tom, I don't think Hermione should… in this state..."
But he did not get to finish his concern.
"Crucio," Hermione spoke quietly but firmly, her voice unwavering.
The curse hit Abraxas and instantly he went down on his knees, slumped and began to twitch baselessly. Interested, Hermione realised that she actually felt that she was inflicting pain on him. It was not like many other curses that were spoken that, when they hit, caused one-time pain. No, she felt her magical energy holding a connection to Abraxas and from that energy his pain was fed. She was hurting him. She was responsible for him lying on the ground, helplessly gasping, his body abnormally contorted.
A laugh bubbled up inside her. This was almost more fantastic than the power she had had over Augusta. All the rage, all the anger she had been carrying around for so long, seemed to be channelled and flowing into this Cruciatus. And it felt so good. Intoxicated by the feeling of power, she turned to Tom.
And Tom Riddle was standing behind her, hands buried in his trouser pockets, an ecstatic smile on his lips. His eyes met hers and she could actually see pride shimmering in his eyes. He was really and truly proud of her.
Voldemort was pleased with her work.
As if someone had hit her, Hermione flinched. The curse was interrupted and Abraxas' whimpering faded. Eyes wide, she stared down at the only friend she had at the time. For a moment she had actually enjoyed torturing him.
"That was impressive, my heart," came the sweet voice of Tom from behind her.
Hermione blinked several times to deal with the shock of her own actions, then turned to him. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Smiling, he placed a hand on her cheek. "You need me, you're right. Without me you can't access your true potential. But when you unleash it... then you are truly beautiful."
As much as she tried to force herself, she could not return his smile. She had tortured a human. Again. She had welcomed that abysmal blackness inside her and embraced it as if it were a good thing. The goosebumps returned.
"I have to go to a meeting with Director Dippet now," Tom explained, "Take care of Abraxas, will you, dear? Be there for him in any way that proves necessary."
Hermione opened her mouth questioningly, but immediately Tom put a finger to her lips. "In any form, my dear. You have proved your loyalty to me today. In return, accept this freedom."
Shaking her head, Hermione looked after him as he left the classroom whistling happily. Had he been talking about freedom? To her, it sounded more like he was loaning her out to his best friend like a pimp. Grimly, she clenched her jaws. She would certainly not be available to anyone in this form.
"Hermione ..."
The low, pained groan from the floor snapped her out of her thoughts. She needed to take care of Abraxas. Her heart bled as she looked into his dull eyes. She had really done a good job.
"Abraxas," she whispered after kneeling beside him. "Tell me what you need. I'm here for you."
"You really are the right partner for Tom," he whispered softly. He coughed in agony as he slowly raised himself to a sitting position, "Who knew you were so damn strong?"
Desperate, Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head to her chest, stroking his back. "I'm sorry, Abraxas, I'm so sorry. I had to do this. If I resisted Tom ..."
Weakly he returned the hug. "You don't have to explain anything to me. That's how Tom's world works. Prove to him that you're willing to get your hands dirty. Prove to him that your loyalty to him is greater than to any other person."
Tears welled up in Hermione. How far did Tom have to go with his manipulation that here lay a Curciatus victim defending him?
"I want to stand by Tom's side," Hermione explained slowly as she helped Abraxas rise from the floor, "But that doesn't mean I'll happily do everything he asks. Please, believe me, Abraxas, when I assure you that I hate to see you suffer."
Unhappily he smiled at her, took her face in both hands and rested his forehead going hers. "I hate to see you suffer too. But this is the path we have chosen."
Shakily, Hermione took a breath, then straightened a little so she could look Abraxas straight in the eye. "I want you to know that my loyalty is to Tom. Without reservation, without question. But my heart, Abraxas. My heart belongs to you. If I have to choose between you and Tom, I will always choose Tom. But my heart will always belong to you."
Abraxas' breath quickened and Hermione felt his thumb find its way to her lips almost of its own accord, stroking them tenderly, and a hand move to her back. She saw his gaze fall to her lips, hungry and full of longing. She felt his whole body tense, as he leaned down to her ...
And then, he let go of her abruptly and stepped away from her, turning around. His shoulders shook, his hands balled into fists, and his voice sounded brittle as he replied, "My heart is the same, Hermione. But as long as your loyalty is to Tom, I will ..."
He did not have to finish the sentence. Hermione understood what he was trying to say. Tom allowed her to comfort Abraxas in any way she could, but Abraxas would not accept that as long as her loyalty was to Tom. And she understood the implications of those words too. If one day she turned against Tom for whatever reason, he would follow.
Determined, she grabbed his hand and started to move. He did not resist this tender gesture, and so they walked hand in hand through the icy dungeons back to the common room.