VII - THE TERROR OF THE CHAMBER


~O~

We know that no one ever seizes power

with the intention of relinquishing it.

- George Orwell.

~O~


Tom knew exactly what he wanted. He knew how to make it absolutely clear to his friends that they were never to contradict him again. However, he also knew that it was risky to have Hermione with him. Her presence was not fundamentally problematic, but if he called Fenrir, it would take all his concentration and power to keep him under control.

Still, he would take her with him. They all had to learn to understand.

Thoughtfully, Tom let his fingers wander over his desk. He had already informed all the insiders. From the beginning, he had demanded that they spend the Christmas holidays with him at Hogwarts. The parents of Abraxas and Orion had protested, but in the end, they didn't want to stand in the way of their sons' studies.

Once again, Tom let his eyes wander round his room. He wasn't sentimental, but he knew he would miss his time here at Hogwarts. It had all started here. The more he had learned about the world of magic, about the politics of pure-blood wizards, the more he had realised his own place on earth. Without Hogwarts, he would still be the unrecognised boy that everyone looked down on.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. Should he kill two birds with one stone and invite more students? He had seen potential in three of them. Rosier, Mulciber, and Dolohov. They weren't as intelligent as Rufus, but they were more inclined to follow a clever man. At most, Dolohov could cause problems, as he was too taciturn to really judge.

Deep in thought, he opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling. Normally, he demanded a pledge of allegiance from everyone he wanted to initiate. Using the Cruciatus curse on another member was his favourite method. Not only did it allow him to recognise the wizards' potential, it also ensured that he could rely on them to keep their mouths shut. He could blackmail them with his knowledge.

Perhaps it was exactly right to take them all in at the same time and make them prove their loyalty. Tom turned round in his chair so that he could rest his elbows on the backrest. Lestrange would certainly be very happy to act as a test subject for the three of them.

Slowly, he rolled up one sleeve of his shirt. The Dark Mark was black and repulsive on his pale skin. Tom knew it wasn't a pretty mark, but that was exactly why it served its purpose. Whoever wore it openly admitted to wanting to get their hands dirty in the name of the greater good.

He loved the way the mark looked on Hermione. Despite everything they had done together so far, there was still a corrosive purity about her that he couldn't break through despite his best efforts. The Dark Mark was a fascinating contrast. It proved that she chose him. Him and not Dumbledore. It proved that she was capable and willing of darkness.

It was already late, but Tom didn't feel any tiredness. Sunday would be an important day for him. If Mulciber, Rosier, and Dolohov were still present for breakfast, he would invite them. Black and Nott anyway. They would all prove themselves to him and bear his mark from tomorrow.

And they would all witness what happened when they defied him.

oOoOoOo

A hand placed gently on her shoulder abruptly woke Hermione from her deep sleep. Before she was fully awake, her instincts had already taken over. Her wand, which she always kept under her pillow, was in her hand and pressed against the intruder's torso.

"It's me," Tom whispered softly to her.

Relieved but annoyed, Hermione lowered the wand. "What are you doing here? I nearly hexed you!"

With a wave of her wand, she activated the magical lights in the room. Tom was sitting on the edge of her bed, still in his school uniform shirt and trousers, looking at her as if it was the most natural thing in the world that he should surprise her in the middle of the night.

"I see you're always vigilant, my heart," he commented with a grin, looking at her wand.

Shaking her head, she put it aside and sat up in bed. "What are you doing here, Tom?"

"I was thinking," he explained instead of answering her question directly. Sighing, Hermione resigned herself to her fate and leant back to listen to his explanations. Tom slid further onto her bed so that he was sitting cross-legged in front of her. His gaze was insistent as he continued. "What Lestrange did to you is unforgivable. I have already promised you that he will atone for it. But while I've been thinking about it, another question came up."

Hermione crossed her arms uncomfortably in front of her chest. "Another question?"

He leant forward and placed a hand on her cheek without taking his eyes off her. "How are you feeling? Has his act left any lasting damage?"

Hermione blinked several times. Tom had been strangely empathetic before. Was this young man, who thought so strangely about the world and humanity, really capable of understanding what rape could do to her mental health? Did anyone even know anything about that at that time?

"What do you mean?" she expressed her confusion. "Permanent damage? You gave me a potion afterwards, what are you afraid of?"

For the first time since he had come into her room, uncertainty flickered in Tom's gaze. He withdrew his hand but continued to look at her. "I know that unwanted sex can be upsetting."

Suddenly, Hermione unterstood. If it hadn't been about a traumatic event that affected her, she probably would have smirked. Instead, she suddenly felt worthless and like a mere object. "You want to know if you can still get sex from me?"

Tom's eyes widened. Snorting, Hermione jabbed a finger into his chest. "Is that really your only concern right now? Has everything you've done for me the last few days been purely for your own sake? Am I really nothing more than a free harlot to you? I thought you were different from men like Lestrange and Avery."

The anger she felt was mirrored in Tom's face. His eyes narrowed to tight slits as he gripped her wrist and pulled her arm away. "Don't you dare compare me to them! You know very well that's not true. I'm different. They only see sex as a form of sexual gratification!"

Hermione reluctantly pulled away from his grip. "And you don't, do you? Or are you did you forget that you used sex to try and break me? Don't think I'm so stupid not to know what you were trying to do in the beginning."

"You don't know anything!" he chastised her. His hand cupped her face in an iron grip as he forced her to look at him. "Sex is so much more than an animal instinct! It's about liberating your innermost being. Recognising yourself and understanding what really drives you in your sexual instincts. It was only through sex that you realised how good it is for you to submit to me!"

"In bed!" she hurled at him. She grabbed the arm holding her face with both hands and tugged at it until she was finally able to free herself. She used the momentum to push Tom backwards and immediately bend over him on all fours. "Never confuse what happens in bed with reality. How I am during sex has nothing to do with how I am outside of it."

Tom didn't object to the fact that he was lying underneath her for once. Instead, he rested his hands on her hips. "But you submitted to me."

Annoyed, Hermione shook her head. "If I tie you to the bed now and sleep with you, does that mean you've submitted to me?"

He grinned at her defiantly. "I wouldn't enjoy it the way you do the other way round."

"Want to bet?"

The words were out before Hermione realised what she was suggesting. The last thing she was in the mood for was sex. And yet she could feel the heat gathering between her legs as Tom raised an eyebrow in response.

Hermione chewed indecisively on her lower lip. How did their conversation suddenly take this turn? Tom was lying beneath her, trapped between her arms and legs, looking at her in anticipation. He didn't struggle against his position, as if he didn't care that he was literally below her.

Against her will, the images of Lestrange came back to her. How he stroked her. How he whispered to her that she wanted it too. How he took her and so obviously enjoyed the sex, even though she said no. Her arms began to tremble. Groaning, she straightened up again and let herself fall backwards, away from Tom.

Although he had threatened her so often, Tom had never taken her against her will. Even if it was only reluctantly at first, she had never resisted sex. And if she said no, he let her go. Every time they slept with each other, his attention was on her. What she wanted, what she needed, what he wanted to show her. It was always about her. No matter how much violence he used during sex, he had always treated her gently afterwards.

She looked uncertainly at Tom, who was still stretched out on her bed as if he was waiting for her. "I'm not just an object to you, am I?" she asked softly.

He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. "You never were, Hermione. From the first day I saw you, you were much more of a real person than anyone else I've ever met."

She couldn't help but grin. In the beginning, she had probably not been an object for him mainly because he had repeatedly failed to move her around like a piece on his chessboard.

He straightened up completely. "I want to sleep with you because it's you, Hermione. When you lie under me, completely helpless, and I can read in your face how much you love lying under me, how much you love what I do to your body, the sight of you is indescribable. You break under me and I know that only I can do that to you."

"Rufus broke me too," she whispered without lifting her eyes.

Instantly, Tom leant forward and grabbed her shoulders with his hands. "No. Rufus did nothing. If you think like that, you're just giving him power over you. He only saw you as an object and used you for his base desires. How can he break you, the witch Hermione Dumbledore, when he doesn't even know who you are? How can he break anything in you when he doesn't even understand that you're human?"

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. She didn't want to remember Lestrange, but the images were seared into her soul. "I felt so dirty, Tom. And he thought I wanted it. He thought I wanted to sleep with him."

Emphatically, Tom shook his head, "He wasn't thinking at all. Hermione, look at me!" He gently placed two fingers under her chin and turned her head towards him so that he could look into her eyes. "If he'd thought for a second, he would never have done that. He's a fool who doesn't understand the world. He thinks he's clever, even though he's the stupidest of all. He thought I wanted him to hurt you. How can you believe a single word that comes out of his mouth? I know that's not what you wanted. I know that, Hermione." He stroked her head reassuringly. "And you know it too. He did something wrong, not you. Listen to your mind. You know he did something wrong."

"I hate him so much," Hermione whispered through choked tears. "I hate how scared I was. I hate how powerless I felt. All because of him. I'm not a weak witch, Tom. I'm stronger than that. But he made me weak."

Tom pulled her onto his lap. "When I lived in the orphanage, I was excluded by the other children. They made fun of me. The adults were sometimes cruel to me. The other children hit me and kicked me and spat at me and the adults never did anything. Was I weak?"

He shook his head with a grim expression. "I was never weak. I just didn't know how to fight back yet. I was always stronger than everyone else, but they took advantage of my ignorance. You're no more weak than I am, Hermione. Lestrange can't make you weak because you're not. He took advantage of your ignorance and mine. It took him several other wizards to defeat you. You are not weak. We will work together to ensure that he and no one else is ever capable of such a thing again. You are strong and his stupidity will never be able to make you weak."

Hermione returned the hug, sobbing. His words touched her insides and found an echo in her subconscious. What he said was nothing other than what she had been telling herself over and over again for the last few days. But she had never been able to believe herself. Whenever the images returned and she remembered how powerless she had felt, she lost all faith in herself. The light at the end of the tunnel disappeared and each time she was surrounded by blackness.

But maybe she should just believe in herself. Be active and just do what she wanted to do. When she had been tortured by Bellatrix, when Greyback had run his repulsive hands over her body, she didn't suffer for long because there had been more pressing things to do. She hadn't thought about it and pushed it away. When Dolohov had put a curse on her in fifth year that had almost killed her, she had spent weeks in the hospital wing and had only just survived. Even then, she hadn't had time to worry about herself because they were mourning Sirius and had to prepare for a new world with a resurrected Voldemort. Both instances were traumatic, but she was able to push it away by doing something. Anything.

She could do the same now. Block out what happened and concentrate on moving on.

She looked grimly at Tom. "Shall we try then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Try?"

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "The bet. This time you're the one tied up and I get to do whatever I feel like."