I - THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

~O~

The mystery of love is greater

than the mystery of death.

― Oscar Wilde.

~O~

Blushing, Hermione stared at her food as her fingers tightened around her fork and knife. Tom had only asked for one thing for his birthday and she had agreed far too naively. She had thought that by now there was nothing that could shock her. Or upset her. But, as so often, she had underestimated Tom.

Here she sat at dinner in the Great Hall, the few Slytherin students who stayed there over Christmas surrounding her, including the inner circle of course, struggling not to let on. Tom, on her right, was devotedly spooning his pudding as if nothing at all was going on. Abraxas on her left, on the other hand, was struggling to keep his composure just like her.

Tom's left hand travelled deep under her skirt and was touching her through the thin fabric that barely protected her. No one but Abraxas seemed to realise what was happening at the table. Only a very attentive observer would have noticed the slight twitching of the corner of Tom's mouth or the way his left arm moved almost imperceptibly.

She, on the other hand, could clearly feel his fingers rubbing over her most sensitive spot, sometimes delicately, sometimes relentlessly demanding, travelling deeper, then back again, in a tireless dance that left her breathless and wet. Why did she agree to do his every bidding today?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abraxas keep looking down at her lap. It should have bothered her, and part of her was actually so ashamed that she would have loved to disappear into a hole. But another part, the part that kept surprising her, enjoyed it. She enjoyed the fact that someone else could notice something at any time. That a professor could notice something. That Abraxas might say something to alert everyone to the naughty game.

While she shoved some peas onto her fork with cramped hands, Tom put down his spoon. His pudding bowl was empty and now he elegantly rested his wrist on the table. It was rude to have even one hand under the table during the meal, but he was Tom Riddle and so no one said anything. Perhaps some of them suspected why his hand was not visible. More likely, they were all too naïve and innocent to even think of it.

She almost dropped the cutlery. With a purposeful movement of his fingers, Tom pushed her panties aside so that he could now touch all of her. Another twitch of the corner of his mouth showed her that he noticed how wet she already was.

Hermione took a deep breath. The heat in her cheeks was no longer just from embarrassment. She put down her cutlery and left the remains of her vegetables ignored on the plate in front of her. It took all her concentration, all her self-control, not to show too clearly just how aroused she was. She noticed in passing that Tom was politely answering a few questions.

How was it possible for him to be so unaffected by all this? How could he make polite conversation while at the same time letting his fingers penetrate her deeper and deeper? The candlelight, the faces of the other students, the quiet murmur of conversation, all faded into the background as Tom began to build up a fast rhythm with two fingers, the ball of his hand touching the right spot so perfectly. With her hands clenched into fists and her gaze fixed downwards, Hermione concentrated on not moving her hips instinctively. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

A noise that sounded almost like a whimper reached her ears. For a split second, she looked at Abraxas, who had turned bright red. Through the soft fabric of his trousers, she could see how much he was affected by the spectacle next to him. He stood up with a jerk and immediately turned his back to the table.

"Excuse me, I'm not feeling well," he said between clenched teeth before hurrying out of the hall with long strides.

As if that was a cue, Tom pulled his fingers out of her. She let out an instant sigh of relief, but she could still feel the heat of arousal rushing through her blood. She wished she could be alone with Tom right now.

She lowered her eyes for a moment to collect herself, then took a deep breath and looked up to return to the here and now. She met the gaze of Peter Nott, who was sitting directly opposite her. He looked at her blankly. Then he just raised an eyebrow, let his gaze wander suggestively to her lap for a heartbeat, before squinting briefly at Tom and then looking her straight in the eye again.

If she had thought her face must have been glowing before, now she was definitely on fire. Tom still had a unique way of humiliating and arousing her. Determined not to be ashamed of her lust, she placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and turned towards him.

"Tom," she breathed to him for all to hear, "shall we finish the rest of your birthday alone?"

Tom's lips twisted into a grin as he placed his right hand on her hand. Glancing at his so-called friends, he inclined his head briefly. "You heard the lady, gentlemen. Who would I be to be averse to the suggestions of the lady of my heart? Excuse us. We'll retire to the common room now."

As elegantly as Hermione could in her condition, she rose from the bench and let Tom lead her out of the Great Hall by the arm. She nodded briefly to her supposed uncle, who was watching her warily from the high table. She was incapable of anything more. All her senses were focussed on Tom, who for his part seemed unaffected but determined.

They were actually back in the Slytherin common room in no time at all. There was no sign of Abraxas, so Hermione surmised that he was holed up in his room. The rest of the students were still eating dinner. She headed for the door that led to the dormitories, but Tom held her back.

She looked at him in confusion. "Tom ... you can't possibly ask me to sit in the common room now and pretending to be good while waiting for the others."

A devilish grin appeared on his lips as he dropped onto one of the sofas on the far left wall and pulled her onto his lap. "Who said anything about being good?"

Before Hermione realised what was happening, he pulled her on his thighs and began to pull her blouse out of her skirt, then ran his large hands under the fabric and stroked up and down her back. A gasp escaped her as he effortlessly undid the clasp of her bra.

"Tom," she protested again, placing both hands on his chest, "you can't be serious. Someone could come in at any time."

Unperturbed by her protest, he let his fingers wander from her back over her stomach up to her breasts. Everywhere he touched her, her soft skin seemed to be on fire. He leant forward a little and placed delicate kisses on her neck and nape. "That's where the fun lies, don't you think? Everyone should have understood by the time we said goodbye that the common room was being used for something else. But maybe some of our Slytherin friends aren't intelligent enough to understand what I'm saying?"

Hermione gasped hoarsely as Tom ran his thumbs over her nipples at the same time. Without her realising it, her hips began to rub against Tom. Images of Abraxas and Nott, who had both known exactly what was happening in front of them, flashed through her mind and sent a new wave of heat through her body. Resignedly, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She promised Tom that she would obey his every will and she was almost to the point where she no longer cared about the risk of being discovered.

As if Tom had sensed the change in her, he briefly moved her away from him to open his trousers with skilful fingers and free his hard cock. New wetness gathered between Hermione's legs as he placed his hands unyieldingly around her hips and positioned her.

With one hard thrust, he sank himself inside her. Hermione groaned with relief and let her hands rest on his shoulders. Tom gave her no time to get used to him. His arms wrapped around her back, one hand resting on her bottom, the other buried in her curly mane as he picked up a fast, harsh rhythm. Hermione allowed him to force her head further down her back, and clawed at his shoulders.

The silence in the common room gave way to their shared moans, interrupted only by the soft crackling and flickering of the fire, which bathed the room in a dim, unsteady light. Tom plunged into her again and again, each thrust harder than the last. His grip on her prevented her from meeting him, so Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated fully on the heavenly feeling of his hard, hot cock inside her.

"Not enough," Tom suddenly pressed out without stopping his movements.

He didn't give her time to ask what he meant. Instead, he released his arms from her and grabbed her thighs with both hands. Almost effortlessly, he lifted her off his lap and turned her round. Hermione balanced her weight unsteadily as he sank deep into her again.

One of his hands wrapped around a thick strand of her hair, while the other lay on her back and forcefully pushed her forwards. Surprised, Hermione fell forwards until her hands came down hard on the low table in front of the sofa. She spread her fingers and braced herself against the tabletop with all her might, while Tom again had one hand on her hip, one in her hair, and took her mercilessly.

Through the new angle, he touched regions deep inside her that felt absolutely delicious. After only a few minutes, Hermione's soft moan turned into a high-pitched whimper. Tom's second hand was now around her waist as he moved both their bodies with increasing speed. Sweat broke out of Hermione's every pore. She could feel how close she was. She was so close, but it wasn't enough yet.

"Abraxas could walk in here any minute," Tom suddenly burst out without breaking the rhythm. "He already saw what I did to you at dinner. And Peter knew too. Did you see the look on his face?"

Hermione's eyes fell shut while her mouth stood open and she clutched the tabletop convulsively. She could hear the tension in Tom's voice. He had obviously enjoyed the public display, but there was more.

"Even someone like Nott doesn't stay cool at the sight of you, my heart," Tom continued. A curse escaped his lips before he could continue. "No one here knows what to do at the sight of a real woman. If you give them the little finger, they all want to devour you. But you're mine. Only mine. No one but me is allowed to touch you like this. No one but me will ever see you like this."

Hermione knew she should be displeased that Tom was flaunting her like a piece of jewellery to mock other boys and show them what they couldn't have. But it didn't bother her, on the contrary. She felt the same way when she sometimes saw the looks Beatrix gave her. Everything in her screamed to tell her that she now had everything the other girl wanted.

"Tom," she managed to say in agony. "Please ... I'm so close. Please... please..."

She didn't even know what she was asking him for, but it was all that wanted to come from her lips. She needed more, she needed something from him. As if he understood her inarticulate plea perfectly, he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest with a tug. One arm wrapped around her waist to hold her in place, the other around her neck.

He squeezed gently. Hermione's mouth fell open and her hands instinctively tightened around his arm, but she didn't resist. Her rapid breathing quickened as she felt him slightly cut off her air supply. He was still sinking himself into her with merciless speed. She was still so close she could literally feel the cliff in front of her from which she wanted to fall.

The room blurred before her eyes as she slowly ran out of oxygen. Tom's arm tensed. She could feel him holding back, wanting to wait for her. Panting, she tried to get more air, but his hand still prevented it.

Then, suddenly, without warning, he let go. Instantly, the oxygen rushed back into her blood and the mixture of adrenaline and oxygen pushed her over the edge. An orgasm like she had never experienced before rolled over her. A guttural moan worked its way up from the deepest depths of her body, rolling from her lips as she twitched and shuddered. Her fingertips went numb as the irrepressible feeling of an internal explosion filled her entire consciousness.

Beneath her, Tom moved uncontrollably a few more times, then his whole body tensed. Hermione's inner walls contracted again and again, while Tom also found his release.

When her orgasm finally subsided and the common room came back into her field of vision, she found herself leaning relaxed against Tom, who was tracing lascivious circles on her exposed thighs with his fingers. Coughing, she straightened up and let herself slide from his lap to the floor.

Tom straightened his clothes, then leant down to her and placed a hand on her cheek. "What do you think about taking a shower together and continuing this celebration in my room?"

She wanted to answer, but only a hoarse rattle escaped her lips. So she nodded weakly and let him pull her to her feet. Swaying, she held on and looked up at him. She saw him glance at the front door for a moment and when she turned round to look there too, she just saw it close silently.

Smirking, she looked back at Tom, whose lips wore an arrogant grin. They were still all Slytherins here.