Tease
sTitle: Tease
Prompt: Tom and Hermione find themselves stranded together during a snow-storm. AU allowed. Doesn't have to be canon.
Rating: MA
Pairings: Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger
Squicks: No OC, OOC, pregnancy.
Summary: The tension simmering between Hermione and the new DADA professor comes to a head during a snow storm.
Warnings: AU, explicit smut, cheating.
Word Count: ~6600
Author's Note: This is my submission for the Gutter City Tomione Convention's Secret Santa exchange; my original recipient was Markovia, but she dropped out, so my gift went to Serpent In Red, whose prompt was similar to Markovia's.
For my first time writing Tom Riddle Jr/Hermione Granger, I chose to go easy; this story is heavily AU, meaning no canon events - with a few minor exceptions, - took place. Tom is only ten years older than Hermione, and Voldemort never existed.
That means that both she, and Tom might be OoC; I tried to keep the basic characteristics of them, but canon events played a great part in character development for both characters. Case in point, Merope survived childbirth, and raised Tom in Muggle London. He still thinks Muggles are inferior, but he doesn't hate them to the point of genocide.
I'm thinking of expanding on this universe when I have time; what do you think?
Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Tease...
December 10th, 1997
"Are you satisfied with yourself, Miss Granger?"
Hermione, huddled in front of the small fireplace in an effort to warm her freezing body, did her best to stave the string of insults threatening to spill forth from her lips, but she was unable to stop herself; as usual when it came to him.
"No one asked you to come after me, Professor." She haughtily replied, her hands trembling as she extended them toward the roaring fire.
Suddenly, a hand landed on her shoulder, grabbing her with such strength, she winced; his cool breath brushed her ear as he bent his larger frame over her smaller, huddled form. When she felt his lips brushing her earlobe, she shivered.
It's the cold, she consoled herself. It has nothing to do with the fact Professor Riddle's lips touched your ear; nothing at all.
"If I hadn't come after you, Miss Granger," his grip tightened when she tried to move away, bordering on painful, and she stilled, breathing deeply through her nose. "You'd be dead; either eaten by that Acromantula you stupidly thought you could take on, or you'd have frozen to death. So, a show of gratitude would be more appropriate than pretending you could handle yourself out there."
"I could have handled - "
He released her shoulder, only to grasp her chin, forcing her to turn her head to face him; he was down on one knee, his frame practically enveloping hers, he was so much bigger. What caught her attention though, was the warning flashing in his usually cold, passive eyes, and the way his lips were pressed into a thin line.
Hermione felt her heart jump in her ribcage when she locked eyes with her professor.
Merlin, he was so beautiful.
He lowered his face, his eyes darkening to stormy grey, and she bit her lip to stop from whimpering when their noses bumped. He was so close, all she needed to do was lean in, and they'd be kissing.
“You might be a powerful witch, Miss Granger, but you forget Avalon has a strange effect on magic; that's the main reason the students were required to stay with their assigned group, and never leave the Inn without a guardian. Not only are there magical creatures running free here, but outside the protective enchantments surrounding the Inn, most witches and wizards' magic, runs amok; something you've been warned about before we left for this trip. Yet, you, Miss Granger, seem to think you're above such petty rules.”
When she tried to speak on her defence, his thumb pressed on her chin, silencing her. She dropped her eyes to his lips, watching them as he spoke.
“Not only you broke away from your group, but you ventured deep in the forest, when you had no knowledge of the land. You risked yourself, and to an extend your peers; because they did try to come after you when the storm broke out, Miss Granger. Do you have any idea in just how much trouble you are in?”
Hermione remained silent, eyes focused on the way his mouth moved, forming words; she caught flashes of his perfect, white teeth, and she swallowed heavily to assuage the ache that had started between her legs when he touched her.
She had known entering the forest unescorted was a mistake, but she had been furious; with herself, him, Professor Sinistra, Ron.
For months she had denied she had any feelings other than hatred for Professor Riddle; he was arrogant, standoffish, and condescending.
Yet, the jealously that sparked in her earlier today, when she saw him flirting with Professor Sinistra, forced her to accept, at least to herself, that she was attracted to him; perhaps more than attracted, but that particular can of worms could wait until she was safely back in her dorm, and not in the same room with the object of her turmoil.
The shock of her revelation, on top of Sinistra's girlish giggles - honestly, did the woman have no shame? She was over thirty, for crying out loud! - were too much for her to handle; she'd needed to be alone, to think. They wouldn't return to Avalon Inn for a couple more hours, so the forest had seemed perfectly suitable for an hour or two of solitude, and introspection. She hadn't thought twice about crossing the border of trees, and two hours later, she was cursing her stupidity, and uncharacteristic thoughtlessness, as she trudged through the waist high snow.
The snow storm had hit unexpectedly, darkening the sky, and hiding the path; alone, cold, and unable to use magic - and not for a lack of trying, - Hermione had started to fear she'd never make it back to the Inn.
The Acromantula had come out of nowhere; with its thick, black hair, the creature blended in the darkness. Hermione's only warning had been the clicking sound of its pincers, and she barely managed to dodge its first attack, its eight red eyes flashing with amusement at her pathetic attempts to stun it.
Darkness, and panic was a horrible combination, and Hermione managed to get trapped in its web, practically offering herself for dinner as the spider cackled maliciously, taunting her with its inhuman voice.
Professor Riddle had appeared at the nick of time; the Acromantula was poised above her, venom dripping from its fangs, pincers clicking in anticipation of tasting her flesh.
Blasting the enormous spider away with a burst of green light - Professor Riddle was one of the few magic users with enough control over their magic, to counteract the island's suppressive enchantments, - he made quick work of cutting the web keeping her immobile, and grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he ran through the forest.
They must have run for a good ten minutes, before they came upon a cabin, half hidden in the snow; it looked empty, and Professor Riddle wasted no time in kicking the door open, pushing her inside, before he cast a series of protective wards around the cabin, before he joined her inside, shut the door, and cast some more safety charms.
Only after he was satisfied with the safety precautions, did he round on her; Hermione, trembling, did her best to avoid looking at him when he calmly, eerily so, told her what an utter idiot she was, endangering her life, and purposefully breaking the rules; even when he threatened her, he did it with such level, composed tones, you'd think he was having a perfectly cordial conversation with her.
Hermione had a feeling Professor Riddle was the kind of person, who could kill someone with a smile on his face.
Snapping herself back to the present, the young witch violently jerked away; needing some space, she stood up, and went closer to the fireplace, resting a hand on the surprisingly dust free mantle; someone from the Inn must be using it regularly. Her thinking process a mess, she did her best to hide the fact her knees had turn to jelly, and her hand shook; being close to Professor Riddle, wreaked havoc on her senses, and she needed all her mental faculties if she didn't wish to make an utter fool out of herself. Again.
She heard a rustle of clothes as Professor Riddle stood up.
“What, no reply? No smart arse retort, meant to impress me? My, my, did I finally manage to render the Know It All speechless?” His tone was taunting, provoking her; from the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him crossing his arms, and she gulped when she noticed the way his silk, Oxford shirt stretched across his chest, and abdomen. Merlin, he had six pack!
She determinedly turned her back to him, fighting down the blush she felt rising in her cheeks, and she clamped her mouth shut; evidently, he was resolute in starting an argument, but she refused to rise to his bait. After all, he was right.
She had acted rashly, and foolishly, risking her life; if he had not come after her, she'd be dead - as he said. Not that she'd admit that to his face of course; she'd rather eat Bubotuber pus.
The tense silence stretched for two minutes, and Hermione thought that he might have given up on pushing her for tonight; posture relaxing, she let out the breath she was holding.
Suddenly, she felt a wall of heat behind her, and in the second it took her to realise he was there, one of his arms wrapped around her chest, trapping both her arms to her sides, while his free hand gripped her chin, and once again forced her head to the side; his eyes were burning silver, and his mouth was pinched.
He was seriously pissed off; wisely, she kept her indignation to herself. It wouldn't do to incite him more when he was obviously at his bursting point.
But she did file his manhandling her in her mind, mentally making a note to use it against it if the need ever arise.
"You almost got yourself killed, you stupid girl, do you realize that?" He demanded, his grip on her chin almost bruising. Hermione realised Professor Riddle had been merely suppressing his anger; what she saw earlier was just a smidgen of the fire boiling inside him, ready to burst. His jeering remarks, his cold, and detached expression were his attempts to reign in his temper; but now he didn't bother hiding his anger. It was all there, in his smouldering eyes, flaring nostrils, and pinched lips. "Do you realize that if I had gone another way or arrived just a few seconds later, you'd be Acromantula food?"
I'm crazy... I'm fucking crazy.
He was angry, murderous, and Hermione was certain he could hurt her if he wanted to; so, logically, her survival instincts should have kicked in right about the time he grabbed her for the second time, and urged her to fight, to flee. Because Professor Riddle was dangerous, and she should be afraid of him, she should feel threatened by his bigger size, and his magical supremacy over her, and the fact he had her trapped in a remote, isolated place with no witnesses around.
But she wasn't. Scared that is.
Not at all.
And she felt bile rising in her throat, because what she was feeling, was excitement. Here he was, manhandling her, possible bruising her, and she was aroused by his harsh treatment; she felt satisfaction at the fact she had managed to break down his cold, aloof façade, forcing him to show some emotion.
Her body was positively thrumming with desire, her core throbbed with the need to feel his flesh inside her, and her knickers were soaked through with her arousal.
The young witch trembled, almost biting her tongue off in a fruitless attempt to stop the wanton moan from slipping past her lips, but it was impossible. The sound was low, throaty, almost inaudible if he hadn't been standing so close to her, her mouth mere inches from his.
There was no way, he could have missed it.
Her eyes shut in silent mortification when his eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks stained in red, because now he knew. He knew she wanted him.
Hermione tried to tell herself she wasn't hurt when he abruptly released her, as if touching her had burnt him; but the truth was the clear sign of his revulsion cut her deeper than any cruel word Ron had ever said to her in one of their many fights. Mentally, she was already preparing herself for the bout of humiliation that would follow; after all, Professor Riddle's favourite pastime was to ridicule her.
So, when she was roughly span around, and propelled back, her body colliding with the wall with a soft thud, she was understandable stunned; her eyes popped open when he pushed his body against hers, towering over her petite form. Before she could utter a word, he grabbed both of her wrists and raised them above her head, forcing her to arch closer to him; he took hold of her wrists with one of his hands, using his lower body to pin her legs to the wall, and he shoved his free hand in her mass of hair, grabbing a handful on the back of her hair, and pulling her head back.
"What - "
"Silence, Miss Granger." Was the last thing he said, before diving in and claiming her lips in a kiss that burnt her all the way to her toes.
He had no mercy as he plundered her mouth, nibbling and nipping at her lips, forcing her to open her mouth and accept his domination, his tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth, as he held her head immobile with his tight grip on her hair.
It only took her ten seconds to grasp the fact Professor Riddle was kissing her, another ten to panic over how wrong this was for a number of reasons, and five more to decide she didn't really care about anything else other than the feel of his lips on hers.
Whimpering, she gave in to her most basic desires, and kissed him back as fiercely as he was kissing her; she had wanted him for so long, her dreams tormenting her with what she couldn't have every night, she feared this was just a hallucination her mind had conjured to help her deal with her attraction.
If it was an hallucination, then it certainly surpassed anything she had ever done with Ron; she felt a twinge of guilt when her conscience reminded her of her boyfriend, but right them, Professor Riddle took her lower lip between his teeth, and bit her, his moist tongue soothing the sting, and obliterating all, and every thought of Ron.
Hermione mewled, arching her back in an attempt to get closer to him; her breasts pressed against him, and she was sure, he could feel her nipples peaking through the thin layer of the shirt she had on.
His growl was swallowed amidst hungry pull of lips, as he released her hair - she immediately took advantage of it, by angling her head to kiss him more properly, - and trailed his hand down her face, tracing her throat; he stopped for a few seconds there, his thumb pressed on her pulse point, feeling her blood race in her veins, before he trailed down again, stopping at her collarbones.
His fingers played with her shirt's buttons, and Hermione felt faint, when, without asking for permission, he started unbuttoning her shirt, careful not to touch the flesh he slowly exposed to the cool air.
Her nipples hardened inside her silk bra, and the brunette witch shook with the force of her desire for this man, who without actually touching her, had her on the precipice of pure ecstasy.
When he was done with her buttons, he licked the roof of her mouth, freed her wrists, and pulled back; her arms dropped to her sides, and she leaned against the wall, breathless, her torso exposed to his hungry stare.
The grey in his eyes was a thin ring around the full dilated pupils, his lips were as swollen, and red as she suspected her own were, and glistened as he drank her in, eyes focusing on her curves.
When he saw her emerald green, silk bra with black lace trimming, and a black bow between her breasts, one corner of his mouth tilted up.
"You little tease," he murmured, entranced as her chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale; Hermione inhaled sharply when he raised a hand, and, using only his index finger, he traced the lace trimming on the top of the right cup of her bra. He circled the nipple - she bit her lip to stop from crying out, - and put enough pressure on the cup for the tip to peak over the top of its cup, all rosy and taut.
Her already harsh breathing, hitched, when he lowered his head, maintaining eye contact, and slowly, as if savouring the taste, he swiped his tongue over the furled tip of her breast. Her hands buried themselves in his black hair when, with a wicked smirk at her, he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak, and lightly grazed it with his teeth, driving her absolutely spare with want.
Unable to control her reaction, she arched her back, pushing against him.
One arm sneaked around her waist, holding her close to him, while the other dropped to her jeans clad thigh, pulling it up and around his hips, as he suckled her breast with wild abandon.
"Professor!"
xxXxx
"Oh, God, Tom!"
Her cries resonated in the small cabin, mingling with the vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin and their heavy breathing. Her back ached, carpet burns marring her smooth skin, as her hands scratched at the rough carpet beneath her, desperately trying to find purchase. Her legs were hoisted over his shoulders, and his hips worked relentlessly as he plunged violently into her, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with every heavy thrust. His hands bruised her thighs as he used her legs as leverage to penetrate her harder and deeper every time, his eyes glinting with possessive lust as he watched her breasts bounce.
Merlin, she was so close.
Eyes screwed shut, she felt her inner walls start to flutter, her orgasm imminent... and he stopped. Her eyes opened in alarm, and she looked at him.
"W- what?"
"Ah, ah, ah, Miss Granger." He silkily murmured, pulling out of her. Hermione stared at him stupefied, her body shaking, her inner walls quivering, yearning for his cock. "Who said you could come?"
"W- what?" Okay, so she sounded like a broken record, but she was this close to coming, and the bastard stopped!
Again!
A gasp left her when he slapped her buttock.
Tom - after seeing him naked, she felt she had earned the right to call him by his given name, - smirked his infuriating smirk; she both wanted to slap him, and kiss him.
"I'm not done with you, Miss Granger." He promised with a wolfish grin, a finger circling her protruding clit, making her whimper. "You seemed to enjoy aggravating me in class, thinking you can take me on... So, why don't we see if you can handle me now, shall we?"
Hermione gulped, and yelped when he grazed her clit with his nail, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her. He used his hold on her legs to pull her closer to him, raising her bottom on his thighs as he sat on his hunches. Tom eyed her speculatively, before he used thumbs to part the outer lips of her pussy, and leaned in.
When his nose bumped on her clit, she keened.
“Please!” She mewled, closing her eyes when his tongue parted her folds, and he sank two of his fingers inside her. “I can't - “
"Yes, you can, sweetheart." He groaned, lapping at her folds, fingers pumping inside her.
They had been at it for ah hour already, and just when she was about to orgasm, he'd stop, denying her completion each and every time.
His stamina was incredible, his control unmatched; he had her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips as he rammed into her with a ferocity that should have scared her, but only worked to inflame her desire.
After, he turned her around, put her hands on the mantle, pull her hips back, forcing her to bent over, and when he was assured she wouldn't come, he entered her from behind, taking her painfully slowly, with deep, leisure thrusts that meant to stoke her desire, rather than make her come.
When her arms trembled with exhaustion, he withdrew from her depths, and pushed her on her knees, urging her to take him in her mouth; she had nearly brought him to orgasm, his eyes half lidded, and his mouth open in pleasure as he fucked her mouth, but he stopped her before he came. Panting for breathe, he had praised her oral skills.
At her cheeky grin, his eyes narrowed, and he dropped to his knees behind her, using one hand to press her down on her hands and knees, and he shoved inside her without preamble, making her howl with lust.
This time, he used a charm - one she had read in Witch Weekly, when she first started having sex with Ron, - that stopped her from coming when he felt her cunt's walls undulating around his shaft.
Hermione cursed him.
Laughing, Tom pulled out of her, helped her to move around, and pulled her on him, forcing her to straddle him; when she was in position, he slid inside her, and he bounced her on his cock, while suckling on her breasts.
Crying with another denied orgasm, he had pushed her on the carpet, and taken her again.
Rapidly on her way to a sixth orgasm - not that she had actually come once, but she still counted them, - Hermione was delirious.
Tom on the other hand seemed to be enjoying himself, happy to continue eating her out as her body shook; her thighs were slick, and wet with her juices, her inner walls spasmed, yearning for her professor's cock.
"Please, please, professor." She pleaded, uncaring she had promised to herself weeks earlier than she'd never beg him for anything if her life depended on it.
His hand tightened on her hip, and he looked up, lower face glistening with her fluids, his eyes blazing with lust; while she'd been on her knees earlier, her pink, pouty mouth wrapped around his erection, he'd told her, amidst groans of appreciation for her oral skills, that he loved hearing her beg him to fuck her as much as hearing her call him Professor while he was fucking her senseless.
The thought he managed to debauch the proper, defiant, rule abiding Head Girl, to the point she was delirious with desire for him, her professor, drove him wild.
The glazed look in her eyes, the way her breasts tantalised him with their rosy peaks, inflamed him; he gave her clit one last hard suck, making her shout out, and withdrew his fingers from her pussy; straightening his back, he locked eyes with her, and watched with deep, masculine satisfaction how her cheeks reddened even more, when he brought his wet fingers to his mouth, and sucked his fingers clean of her juices.
Her hands curled on the carpet.
He repositioned her on his lap, his thick member glinting between her moist, nether lips, nudging her clit; they both hissed at the contact. With some expert manoeuvring, he was poised for entry.
But he didn't drove in as she expected; instead, he kept still, grasping her hips tightly, and staring at her with heated intensity.
"What do you want me to do, Miss Granger?" He asked huskily, arching a haughty eyebrow.
Her eyes widened.
“I don't - “
"Say it, Miss Granger." He ordered, circling her opening with the tip of his shaft; reflexively, her core convulsed.
Dazedly, she realised he really wanted her to say the words; she had noticed the way his eyes flashed whenever a dirty word left her mouth, and with a start, Hermione realised Tom was turned on by it. Licking her lips, she watched his eyes follow the movement.
"Fuck me, professor. Make me come. Please."
She screamed when he shoved into her hard, burying himself inside her to the hilt with one brutal thrust; her walls stretching to accommodate him, his passage eased by her fluids, and her walls spasming around his shaft as she came violently, stars bursting behind her eyelids.
Tom was relentless, pounding into her with deep, hard thrusts that prolonged her bliss; unable to do anything other than hang on for dear life, Hermione did her best to control her legs - her muscles had turned to jelly, - and wrap them around Tom's hips. They both gasped as the position allowed him to slide deeper into her.
Cursing under his breath, he leaned over her, sneaked his arms around her back, and hoisted her up on his lap; Hermione cried out as gravity worked its magic, and the head of his cock nudged her cervix, while at the same time, his pelvic bone rubbed against her swollen clit with each slide of their bodies.
"Merlin." She breathed, resting her sweaty forehead on his shoulder, already racing toward another climax.
"Mm,” he agreed, nibbling on her ear, as his hands grabbed her bottom, and squeezed. She jerked, involuntarily squeezing her inner muscles. His breath stuttered in her ear, and he thrust harder. He bit her earlobe, and whispered huskily: "Ride me, Miss Granger."
Hermione pulled back, her lips parted; the position was more intimate, bringing her to eye level, allowing her the luxury of staring into his eyes as she obeyed his order, rising and falling, swivelling her hips, and rocking back and forth. His hands assisted her as she went faster and faster, seeking completion for them both.
“Sweet Salazar,” he gasped, pushing up whenever she pushed down, “you feel so good, so tight! It's as if your cunt was made for my cock, sweetheart.”
“Oh, God!”
"Mm, you like dirty talk, don't you?" He reached up with one hand, and tweaked one nipple, using his mouth on the other, nibbling on the other. "What do you think your friends would think if they saw you now? Riding your professor, begging him to fuck you... Not so proper now, are you?"
"Shut up!" She shrieked when he hit that spot inside her, making her see stars.
"You don't want me to," he rasped, rhythm faltering as he felt his orgasm approaching fast. He wrapped one arm securely around her waist, helping her ride him, and he manoeuvred his other between their bodies, finding her clit, and started rubbing the small, hard nub with his thumb, stimulating her inside and out.
Hermione threw her head back, her nails dragging down his back, leaving scratch marks; her inner walls started fluttering around her lover's hard flesh, and she mewled in pleasure.
"Such a dirty girl," he growled, his teeth clamping where her neck met her shoulder;
She came.
Her walls clamped around his shaft with euphoric pressure, and he wrapped both arms around her, as he plunged inside her with near painful intensity; her swollen tissues clang to him, trying to keep him encased in her warmth whenever he retreated, and her mouth was latched to his shoulder, muffling her cries, as his rhythm grew erratic.
"Fuck."
He saw stars as he climaxed, his ears ringing, and his whole body shaking; it was the most intense orgasm of his life, and it seemed to go on and on, flooding her softly fluttering channel, and leaking between their joined bodies.
Bone tired, he collapsed on the floor, dragging the half conscious witch with him.
"Sleep," she mumbled, curling on his side. One heavy arm drew her closer, and she felt his lips on her sweaty forehead.
."For now."
xxXxx
February 5th, 1998
"That's it, harder!"
Tom obeyed for once, and thrust harder, using his grip on her hips to pull her back onto him whenever he pushed in. His other hand was busy on her clit, circling the hard nub, but never touching it directly; the bastard!
They were in his office, Hermione bent over his desk, her skirt flipped up, and her knickers shoved to the side; he had wasted no time in unbuckling his belt, he simply lowered his zipper, freed his cock and shoved into her.
Time was not a luxury they had lately.
Since their heated encounter in the cabin, they had tried to stay away from each other, both knew if they got caught, it'd cost them greatly. Neither the Ministry, nor Dumbledore took well in a student/teacher relationship, despite the fact Hermione was a legal adult in both the wizarding, and Muggle worlds.
But after news of her break up with Ron reached him, he cornered her in the library, and proceeded to test her restraint by going down on her right there. Hermione had bitten through the skin of her palm, drawing blood, as his tongue nibbled on her lower lips, and clit, while he worked three fingers inside her. When she climaxed, he lapped at her until she was clean, rearranged her panties, and skirt, stood up, and after cleaning his fingers and mouth with a handkerchief, he smirked at her, took twenty points from Gryffindor because her skirt was shorter than the regulation dictated, and walked away, leaving her flushed, and glaring.
She'd thought Christmas holidays would be the end of their sordid affair - if you could call it an 'affair', - with her being in Muggle Paris with her parents, and Tom wherever he'd chosen to spend the holidays, but she had been wrong.
Their third day in Paris, her parents had been invited by some friends they met the night before, to a vineyard one hour outside of Paris; her father was practically a wine connoisseur, so they happily agreed to meet their friends there. Hermione, who wasn't overly fond of wine, chose to stay back.
After promising her parents she'd be okay, she got dressed, and went out for a late breakfast.
Her breakfast eaten, Hermione had been enjoying a cup of coffee while reading a book, when a shadow had fallen over her table, obscuring the sun; annoyed, she'd look up, ready to snap at whoever had been intruding to her peaceful day; the words had died in her throat when her eyes had landed on a casually dressed Tom Riddle standing there, staring at her with unreadable eyes.
Needless to say, her parents rarely saw her for the duration of their stay, as she spent more time in either her room, or Tom's penthouse - the sneaky bastard had been staying in the same hotel as her.
Away from school, and indiscreet eyes, there had been no need for them to hide, yet Tom's desire for her was insatiable; not to mention, Hermione had been delighted, and a little mortified, to discover, that Tom had an exhibitionism streak.
When she'd taken him to the Louvre, he'd followed her to the bathroom, and they'd shagged in one of the stalls; she had bruises on her thighs, and neck after they were done.
But her favourite memory of their time to the City of Love, was their last night there; she still blushed whenever she remembered it. After she had dinner with her parents, she had gone to her room, waiting for Tom in a black, mini dress he had sent her earlier that day, and black, leather, stiletto boots. After ravishing her mouth, and divesting her of her knickers ('you won't need them, sweetheart') Tom had apparated them to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and proceeded to shag her senseless.
Her throat had been sore for two days from screaming after he'd finished with her.
When she returned to Hogwarts, Hermione fully appreciated the benefit of having her own private quarters as Head Girl; people were bound to start talking if she was seen entering, and exiting Tom's office regularly. The Head Girl dormitory was conveniently guarded by the portrait of a former Slytherin witch, who was too enamoured with Tom, to blabber about them to the wrong person, and risk never seeing him again.
Tom was sneaky, and talented enough to manage to come and go from her room without anyone noticing him.
While in public, Hermione pretended to hate him for his arrogance, and elitist behaviour, and Tom kept ignoring her in his class. In fact, his façade was so good, no one question him when he gave detention to any boy he saw ogling Hermione.
Of course, there were incidents when she'd do, say, or wear something provocative, and he'd be unable to wait; in those instances, he'd drag her to the closest semi-private location - be it an empty classroom, a broom closet, or an alcove hidden by a tapestry, - and he'd have her.
Hermione was better in controlling her urges when he purposefully provoked her; she didn't even care when Parkinson and her likes, shamelessly threw themselves at him, but she lost all semblance of control whenever she saw Professor Sinistra - who rightfully thought Tom was still single, thus available, - flirting with him.
The way he'd flirt back with Sinistra, while maintaining eye contact with her, biting his lip in silent amusement at her jealous expression, made her feel the need to reinstate her claim on him.
Last time for example, she had walked up to them while they were conversing outside his classroom, interrupting what her female professor was ready to say, and haughtily asked him if he had a moment to spare; she needed some clarifications on his latest assignment. They bicker back and forth, as was the norm for them, until he sighed in exasperation, apologised to Aurora - making sure to drawl her name, knowing how it annoyed her to listen to him to flirt with Aurora, - and promised it'd take only five minutes.
Smiling insincerely to her, Hermione had followed him to the back of the class, where his office was located; the moment the door shut behind him, she pushed him against the wall, fell on her knees before him, and proceeded to suck his off, until his teeth had drawn blood from his lower lip in his attempt to remain silent.
When he came, she locked eyes with him, and swallowed every drop of his cum, making him gasp with renew desire. Without giving him the chance to fix his clothing, or throw her against his desk, and fuck her silly, she opened the door, and left him panting.
Today, they had one of their infamous disputes in class, ending with Tom demanding her presence to his office after class.
"Fuck, Granger." He growled, sweat damping his forehead as he pounded her roughly. He released her hip, and grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her hair back.
The slight pain mixing with the pleasure was her undoing, and Hermione came, a whimper leaving her lips, as her pussy tightened around his plunging shaft.
Tom swore, shoved deep into her, and climaxed.
Exhausted, he laid against her on his desk, panting, and still encased in her warmth.
For someone as adverse to human contact as Tom, he sure loved staying inside her after they were finished.
“I think I need a shower.” She murmured tiredly, wiggling her bottom. She smelled like Tom, and sex
Chuckling, he pulled out of her, and watched, entranced, their mixed fluids ooze out of her opening. He tucked himself in, and zipped his pants, wiping his moist palms on his pants.
Hermione rearranged her clothing, shivering when she felt her thin, satin knickers dampening, and straightened; with a cheeky smile on her face, she turned around, and perched on top of his desk, still warm from their coupling. She obediently opened her legs for him when he pressed forward, and he nestled between them.
"Care to join me?" She purred, throwing her arms around his neck, and nuzzling his neck. Her tongue peeked out, tasting his flesh.
He shivered, his shaft hardening in his pants; Merlin, he had just had her, and he was already growing hard for her again. What had this witch done to him? He couldn't get enough of her!
"Later," he dryly answered, his hands rubbing circles on her outer thighs. "I have class in thirty minutes."
"Mm, okay then."
Pulling away from her, before temptation got the better of him, he watched as the young witch jumped off of his desk, smoothed down her skirt - which was too short for school surely! - and checked her appearance in the mirror he kept beside his door, trusting him to tell her if she missed anything; not only for her sake, but his as well.
Other than her sex hair, which really didn't look so different from her usual hair, she was presentable.
"See you later." She whispered, grabbing her satchel from where she had dropped it when he grabbed her, and grasped the door knob. Before she could turn it, Tom took hold of her arm, turned her around, and seized her lips in a kiss that made her core throb.
He pulled back, leaving her panting and flushed, and opened the door, motioning for her to go out first.
"Tease." She accused softly, throwing him a dirty look over her shoulder.
His lips twitched, but he remained expressionless as she passed him and walked out.
"Next time I won't be so lenient, Miss Granger." He called out to her sternly, making sure to keep his expression as contemptuous as it was possible when he was already fantasising about all the positions he'd have her later that day. "Either you learn to control that smart mouth of yours, or I'll have you in detention until summer!"
"My apologies, professor." She said snootily. "I'll keep in mind that we're not allowed to have our own opinions in your class from now on."
Leaning over slightly, she continued in a near whisper, for his ears only.
"And I promise to put my mouth in good use later tonight, if you wear that black turtleneck, and your black jeans."
His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed.
Without giving him time to retaliate, she flashed him a cocky smile, swirled around - making sure her skirt flew around her hips, - and walked away, a triumphant smile on her face.
Behind her, she heard him growl.
"Tease."