Tainted for supersonicchica
Title: Tainted
Author: krhviolin
Recipient: supersonicchica
Pairing(s): Tom/Hermione
Word Count: 2,700
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, dub-con, oral, AU (dark) ending
Summary: Hermione is forcefully imprisoned in Slytherin’s locket by Tom Riddle. His intentions are horribly clear, but will she succumb? Set during early Deathly Hallows (approximately November of 1997).
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy your gift, supersonicchica! I tried to include as many of your kinks as possible (I won’t spoil which ones I used here, you’ll have to read on to find out!) To clarify their ages, Tom is in his early twenties, since he was approximately that age when the locket Horcrux was created, and Hermione is seventeen (which means that there is no underage sex, per your request).
In the quiet woods, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger slept soundly, protected through numerous charms and enchantments that would prove difficult to even the most advanced of wizards. Although they believed themselves free from harm, their material protections from the outside world would soon be useless, for the most dangerous and powerful enemy was already in their midst.
Hermione…
The young witch awoke with a start, her eyes darting through the darkness of the tent. This was not the first time she had heard the same hissing whisper. She glanced at the bedclothes next to her. Harry was safe and still fast asleep.
Her eyes found Slytherin’s locket. It lay on the floor of the tent a few feet away from where she slept. It glittered in the moonlight, seemingly taunting her.
Hermione felt a chill descend slowly down her spine. She knew the voice had undoubtedly come from the locket.
It seemed to have a mind of its own; she could sense it. From the moment they had come into possession of it, Hermione felt as if she was being watched. She feared having to wear or touch it. Sometimes the locket burned against her, as if it was aware of her presence, as if it wanted to melt into her flesh and become a part of her forever.
She slowly removed her makeshift covers-one of Ron’s jackets-from her body. He had forgotten it. She held it in her hands momentarily. Hermione felt unwelcome tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. It had been only a week since Ron had left them, but every thought of him was a heavy blow to her heart and mind.
Although they did not yet know it, this separation would affect Harry and Hermione more than they could ever imagine. The moment Ron had chosen to desert them, he had truly abandoned any hope for the future. Even as his image faded into the darkness of the woods, things were already ruined for the Golden Trio.
Hermione roughly wiped away her tears, her heart filling with a surprising, powerful hatred. She hated Ron for deserting them, she hated Harry for putting them in this situation, and she hated the ancient, outdated ideals and prejudice of the wizarding world that started this all.
But the feelings left as quickly and strangely as they had come. Her task now was to investigate these disturbing sounds. Something, perhaps a strange anticipation, spurred her on. She quietly left her bed, careful not to wake up Harry.
She crouched over the locket, pulled out her wand, and poised it carefully over the horcrux. Her hand trembled as she pointed the tip at the green, serpentine S. In the shadows cast from the light of her wand, the snake seemed to be moving. Suddenly there was a sound; a strange low hiss. She instantly knew she had hesitated for too long.
Open…
Hermione looked down and found herself staring into two unfamiliar eyes. Their color was indiscernible, but they were dark and alluring; she could not avert her gaze. They narrowed slightly and then closed. When the strange eyes opened once more, they now glowed scarlet.
Hermione felt a jolt of fear. She was instantly frozen to the spot. The eyes grew larger and larger until they filled her vision completely. She was falling rapidly…down…down…down into darkness. Then she knew no more.
*******
Deep in the endless shadows of the locket, Tom Riddle sensed a disturbance. Waves of sense washed over the fragment of soul that had lain low and forgotten since its creation.
Sound: her body falling through the abyss. Scent: a young girl. Sight: her image materialized before him; he was pleased. Taste and touch he did not yet know, but he would soon enough.
Hermione Granger lay motionless on the floor she had fallen, if one could call it a floor, for she was surrounded by nothing but darkness, with no visible boundaries to orient her. The space seemed limitless, and her head spun as she realized that she had no idea whether she was facing South, North, East, West, or if she was upside down or right side up. She was suspended in a strange, endless void, and yet she felt grounded, and when she held her hands in front of her, she could see them as clearly as if they were lit by daylight.
I must be inside the locket, she thought.
“You are correct,” said a soft voice behind her.
Hermione gasped and turned swiftly around. She saw a tall, thin man standing nearby. His posture was relaxed and observant, with one hand tucked under his chin and his other arm folded across him. His form, although lit clearly, was strangely blurred around the edges. He looked like something out of one of her dreams. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them, he had not disappeared. He was not a figment of her imagination after all.
Hermione felt suddenly and eerily chilled as she gazed at him. She realized how thin her nightdress was and drew her limbs closer together.
“You are inside Slytherin’s locket. I brought you here myself,” he repeated.
Hermione began to slowly stand up. There was a strange, hypnotic aura about him that both calmed and disturbed her simultaneously. He was incredibly handsome, with striking features that appeared almost unnatural. He was dressed in a simple dark suit, and his jet-black hair was slightly wavy and neatly parted to the side. He perused her with eyes so dark that they seemed unable to reflect light.
These eyes matched the pair that she had seen in the open locket. His voice had the same timbre as the whisper that had haunted her dreams. With a horrible flash of recognition, Hermione realized who he was.
This stranger standing before her was none other than the memory of a young Lord Voldemort.
“You know who I am, Hermione,” he said softly, not as a question, but as a statement. He could read her mind.
Hermione drew herself up to her full height and swallowed. She had heard many stories and recounts of the young Tom Riddle. The descriptions from Harry, Ginny, and Professor Dumbledore all matched, but had been vastly inadequate when compared to the man standing before her.
“You can’t keep me here. When Harry wakes up-”
“The passage of time is inconsequential,” he said. “You will be held here for as long as I desire.”
He moved closer to her. “An eternity in this locket equals merely a moment in the outside world.”
Hermione shivered again. The nearer he was, to her the colder she became. It was as if he lacked the most basic human quality: a presence.
“You have been chosen, Hermione.”
“Ch-chosen?”
“Yes, and for something very important indeed. I knew you were aware of it. You could hear me calling to you. Soon enough, you shall willingly aide me in my attempt to rule the wizarding world.”
Hermione was disgusted and frightened at the insinuation. “I would never join you, Riddle!” she tried to sound assertive, but her voice faltered. He merely chuckled.
“A witch with intelligence like yours is uncommon these days…even if you are a Mudblood,” he sneered. They locked eyes and he began to pace in a circle around her.
“And yet we are not so different,” he continued. “Even I am not wholly pure. We both understand the consequences and disadvantages of being tainted with Muggle blood.”
“Tainted? It’s because of you that those outdated prejudices still exist!”
He ignored her outburst. “From the moment I sensed and saw you through the eyes of that stupid Weasley girl all those years ago, I knew you would prove useful to me.”
Hermione turned slowly to face him. He was quite close to her now.
“I understand what you have been through, Hermione. There’s no need to be afraid of me. I can help you,” Riddle smirked as he began to work his well-honed charms. “I know better than anyone else what it is to be underestimated and forgotten, and then to prove yourself at last...to show them, and make them pay. The feeling is both unforgettable and addicting.”
There was a faint shimmer of red in his dark eyes. Hermione’s heart pounded in her ears and she shivered furiously as he brought a pale, long fingered hand to her face. It felt like ice on her skin.
“I can make the whole world forget who you are, Hermione. I can force them to accept you. My powers of persuasion are infamous, as you will soon see.”
His fingers ran along the length of her jaw line, down to the sensitive skin of her neck. She couldn’t speak; she was hypnotized and frozen solid by his cold, inhuman touch.
“Do you not know how valuable you are, Hermione? Why let yourself be used and mistreated? Why choose to serve people who, after all you have done for them, would only accuse and abandon you?”
He was inside her mind now. He forcefully flooded her with memories of countless times she let Harry and Ron ungratefully copy her homework or cheat off of her in class. She unwillingly relived her and Ron’s painful argument at the Yule Ball. Then came at last the memory that she dreaded most of all: Ron’s tall, red-haired form disappearing through the barren trees of the Forbidden Forest. He was gone, perhaps forever.
Warm tears streamed down Hermione’s face as Riddle’s hand moved lower to rest on her collarbone. His face was merely inches away from hers.
“I can show and teach you whatever you desire. I can make you realize your potential in ways you never thought possible.”
Why was she letting him touch her? He, whose very hands had caused the death of so many she loved…
“You have been chosen, Hermione,” he repeated. “You would be wise not to refuse.”
He leaned down and captured her mouth with his own. He tasted like nothing. He smelled like nothing. And yet she could feel everything through him when their lips met. Pain, pleasure, fear, anticipation, sorrow, joy. She was overcome with an insatiable longing. Her mind raced with thoughts she had merely dreamed before that were now possible: recognition, appreciation, power, lust. All through him.
He moved his hands to her shoulders and effortlessly slid her thin nightdress down her body. His clothes, too, were gone in an instant. Riddle towered over her as his hands began to shamelessly work her body in ways he knew she had always desired. He easily penetrated her mind to uncover her deepest, darkest, and most intimate fantasies. One hand slid down to cover her breast while the other slowly teased circles up her right thigh. She unconsciously pressed her hips down, desperate for contact, but Riddle quickly took his hand away. He smiled cruelly at her. This had all been much too easy. The girl was already his.
Hermione clutched at him as he forcefully pushed her down and quickly repositioned himself above her breasts. His cold mouth found her right nipple, and Hermione gasped as he began to kiss and lick the sensitive bud. He moved from one breast to the other while his hands resumed their teasing below. Hermione’s legs instinctively parted as his fingertips grazed along her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to her dampening core.
Riddle gently bit down on her nipple as his fingers stroked her moist center. Hermione cried out harshly when he slowly began to ease a long digit in and out of her, while his thumb pressed and rubbed against her clit.
Hermione’s eyes closed as she gave way to the sensations he created within her. She trembled and shook involuntarily, relishing in his skilled touch. Suddenly he removed his fingers, and there was a shift of weight as his mouth moved quickly down her body. He was eager to taste her.
When his mouth came into contact with her soft, wet flesh, Hermione thought she would die from the pleasure. His tongue stroked along the length of her sex, then thrust deep between her folds. She panted and sighed when he licked, then sucked on her swollen clit, sending her into torturous ecstasy.
“Tom,” she moaned. Her back arched, and her hips began to buck involuntarily as her fingers clutched at the ground beneath her. She was so close…she could feel her body tensing.
Suddenly, he stopped. She whimpered as he drew away from her core and began to slowly move back up her body.
“Give in to me, Hermione,” he spoke softly as he trailed kisses up her stomach, to her breasts, then to her neck. Hermione quivered beneath him as he settled himself on top of her, his long erection settling between her legs. He buried his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back, his lips brushing against her neck.
“And how could I not, Tom?” she spoke breathlessly as she shamelessly embraced his not yet realized form. How could this strange, half-existent being have given her such exquisite pleasure? Perhaps it was the allure of dark magic.
Using all of her strength, Hermione seized his arms and forced him beneath her. She maneuvered herself on top of him, wantonly rubbing her body against his. For once in her life, she wanted to be in control.
Hermione slid down onto his hard length and gasped as she was breached for the first time. Riddle gazed up at the woman above him: alive, warm and wet. Her breath was quick and eager on his neck. He could feel her pain and taste her desire as their lips met and she began to move slowly around him. She kissed his handsome features and ran her fingers through his hair, moaning as his hands moved up to cover her breasts.
The rhythm built with intensity. Their hips met roughly as she impaled herself on him, deeper and deeper. His hands grasped her hips tightly; he was incredibly close. With one last thrust, Riddle let out a sharp sigh as he pulsed his seed deep within her. The girl climaxed soon after, shuddering and tightening around him. Gasping for breath, she lowered her face to his and looked unabashedly into his eyes.
“I want it all, Tom. Everything you promised...everything you said.”
“It will all be yours, Hermione,” he murmured. “If you do only one thing for me.”
“Anything,” she moaned.
“You must vow to do all in your power to defeat Potter.”
There was a pause. Hermione smiled coyly, her deep brown eyes now glinted red in the darkness.
“I will.”
She pressed her lips against his once more.
*******
Harry Potter awoke with a start when he heard a loud thud from across the tent.
“Hermione?” he said sleepily as he sat up from his bed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in the darkness towards the sound. He heard nothing. All was pitch black.
“Hermione, are you all right?” he said louder. There was a strange chill in the tent that made him uneasy.
“Oh yes, I’m fine,” she spoke quickly. “I thought I heard something, so I got up to investigate. Don’t worry about me, you’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”
Harry mumbled unintelligibly as his head fell back to the pillow. Within minutes he was again fast asleep. Hermione frowned, her grip tightening on her wand. How she longed to do something, anything…But she must resist. There was work to be done. Tom told her Ron would return soon. Her duty now was to tear the trio apart.
Hermione turned and knelt over Slytherin’s locket once more, this time for an entirely different purpose. She whispered the incantation Riddle had taught her, and two figures materialized like smoke from the tip of her wand. They were miniature, ghost-like versions of her and Harry, dark and terribly beautiful, with eyes like those in the locket. There was an eerie, pale glow as the two forms embraced ardently, then vaporized into the clasp of the locket.
Hermione’s eyes gleamed red in the darkness. She seized the Horcrux and placed it around her neck. She smiled, amusingly contemplating how she no longer feared to wear it. The locket shivered, then burned hot against her skin.
Author: krhviolin
Recipient: supersonicchica
Pairing(s): Tom/Hermione
Word Count: 2,700
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, dub-con, oral, AU (dark) ending
Summary: Hermione is forcefully imprisoned in Slytherin’s locket by Tom Riddle. His intentions are horribly clear, but will she succumb? Set during early Deathly Hallows (approximately November of 1997).
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy your gift, supersonicchica! I tried to include as many of your kinks as possible (I won’t spoil which ones I used here, you’ll have to read on to find out!) To clarify their ages, Tom is in his early twenties, since he was approximately that age when the locket Horcrux was created, and Hermione is seventeen (which means that there is no underage sex, per your request).
In the quiet woods, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger slept soundly, protected through numerous charms and enchantments that would prove difficult to even the most advanced of wizards. Although they believed themselves free from harm, their material protections from the outside world would soon be useless, for the most dangerous and powerful enemy was already in their midst.
Hermione…
The young witch awoke with a start, her eyes darting through the darkness of the tent. This was not the first time she had heard the same hissing whisper. She glanced at the bedclothes next to her. Harry was safe and still fast asleep.
Her eyes found Slytherin’s locket. It lay on the floor of the tent a few feet away from where she slept. It glittered in the moonlight, seemingly taunting her.
Hermione felt a chill descend slowly down her spine. She knew the voice had undoubtedly come from the locket.
It seemed to have a mind of its own; she could sense it. From the moment they had come into possession of it, Hermione felt as if she was being watched. She feared having to wear or touch it. Sometimes the locket burned against her, as if it was aware of her presence, as if it wanted to melt into her flesh and become a part of her forever.
She slowly removed her makeshift covers-one of Ron’s jackets-from her body. He had forgotten it. She held it in her hands momentarily. Hermione felt unwelcome tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. It had been only a week since Ron had left them, but every thought of him was a heavy blow to her heart and mind.
Although they did not yet know it, this separation would affect Harry and Hermione more than they could ever imagine. The moment Ron had chosen to desert them, he had truly abandoned any hope for the future. Even as his image faded into the darkness of the woods, things were already ruined for the Golden Trio.
Hermione roughly wiped away her tears, her heart filling with a surprising, powerful hatred. She hated Ron for deserting them, she hated Harry for putting them in this situation, and she hated the ancient, outdated ideals and prejudice of the wizarding world that started this all.
But the feelings left as quickly and strangely as they had come. Her task now was to investigate these disturbing sounds. Something, perhaps a strange anticipation, spurred her on. She quietly left her bed, careful not to wake up Harry.
She crouched over the locket, pulled out her wand, and poised it carefully over the horcrux. Her hand trembled as she pointed the tip at the green, serpentine S. In the shadows cast from the light of her wand, the snake seemed to be moving. Suddenly there was a sound; a strange low hiss. She instantly knew she had hesitated for too long.
Open…
Hermione looked down and found herself staring into two unfamiliar eyes. Their color was indiscernible, but they were dark and alluring; she could not avert her gaze. They narrowed slightly and then closed. When the strange eyes opened once more, they now glowed scarlet.
Hermione felt a jolt of fear. She was instantly frozen to the spot. The eyes grew larger and larger until they filled her vision completely. She was falling rapidly…down…down…down into darkness. Then she knew no more.
*******
Deep in the endless shadows of the locket, Tom Riddle sensed a disturbance. Waves of sense washed over the fragment of soul that had lain low and forgotten since its creation.
Sound: her body falling through the abyss. Scent: a young girl. Sight: her image materialized before him; he was pleased. Taste and touch he did not yet know, but he would soon enough.
Hermione Granger lay motionless on the floor she had fallen, if one could call it a floor, for she was surrounded by nothing but darkness, with no visible boundaries to orient her. The space seemed limitless, and her head spun as she realized that she had no idea whether she was facing South, North, East, West, or if she was upside down or right side up. She was suspended in a strange, endless void, and yet she felt grounded, and when she held her hands in front of her, she could see them as clearly as if they were lit by daylight.
I must be inside the locket, she thought.
“You are correct,” said a soft voice behind her.
Hermione gasped and turned swiftly around. She saw a tall, thin man standing nearby. His posture was relaxed and observant, with one hand tucked under his chin and his other arm folded across him. His form, although lit clearly, was strangely blurred around the edges. He looked like something out of one of her dreams. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them, he had not disappeared. He was not a figment of her imagination after all.
Hermione felt suddenly and eerily chilled as she gazed at him. She realized how thin her nightdress was and drew her limbs closer together.
“You are inside Slytherin’s locket. I brought you here myself,” he repeated.
Hermione began to slowly stand up. There was a strange, hypnotic aura about him that both calmed and disturbed her simultaneously. He was incredibly handsome, with striking features that appeared almost unnatural. He was dressed in a simple dark suit, and his jet-black hair was slightly wavy and neatly parted to the side. He perused her with eyes so dark that they seemed unable to reflect light.
These eyes matched the pair that she had seen in the open locket. His voice had the same timbre as the whisper that had haunted her dreams. With a horrible flash of recognition, Hermione realized who he was.
This stranger standing before her was none other than the memory of a young Lord Voldemort.
“You know who I am, Hermione,” he said softly, not as a question, but as a statement. He could read her mind.
Hermione drew herself up to her full height and swallowed. She had heard many stories and recounts of the young Tom Riddle. The descriptions from Harry, Ginny, and Professor Dumbledore all matched, but had been vastly inadequate when compared to the man standing before her.
“You can’t keep me here. When Harry wakes up-”
“The passage of time is inconsequential,” he said. “You will be held here for as long as I desire.”
He moved closer to her. “An eternity in this locket equals merely a moment in the outside world.”
Hermione shivered again. The nearer he was, to her the colder she became. It was as if he lacked the most basic human quality: a presence.
“You have been chosen, Hermione.”
“Ch-chosen?”
“Yes, and for something very important indeed. I knew you were aware of it. You could hear me calling to you. Soon enough, you shall willingly aide me in my attempt to rule the wizarding world.”
Hermione was disgusted and frightened at the insinuation. “I would never join you, Riddle!” she tried to sound assertive, but her voice faltered. He merely chuckled.
“A witch with intelligence like yours is uncommon these days…even if you are a Mudblood,” he sneered. They locked eyes and he began to pace in a circle around her.
“And yet we are not so different,” he continued. “Even I am not wholly pure. We both understand the consequences and disadvantages of being tainted with Muggle blood.”
“Tainted? It’s because of you that those outdated prejudices still exist!”
He ignored her outburst. “From the moment I sensed and saw you through the eyes of that stupid Weasley girl all those years ago, I knew you would prove useful to me.”
Hermione turned slowly to face him. He was quite close to her now.
“I understand what you have been through, Hermione. There’s no need to be afraid of me. I can help you,” Riddle smirked as he began to work his well-honed charms. “I know better than anyone else what it is to be underestimated and forgotten, and then to prove yourself at last...to show them, and make them pay. The feeling is both unforgettable and addicting.”
There was a faint shimmer of red in his dark eyes. Hermione’s heart pounded in her ears and she shivered furiously as he brought a pale, long fingered hand to her face. It felt like ice on her skin.
“I can make the whole world forget who you are, Hermione. I can force them to accept you. My powers of persuasion are infamous, as you will soon see.”
His fingers ran along the length of her jaw line, down to the sensitive skin of her neck. She couldn’t speak; she was hypnotized and frozen solid by his cold, inhuman touch.
“Do you not know how valuable you are, Hermione? Why let yourself be used and mistreated? Why choose to serve people who, after all you have done for them, would only accuse and abandon you?”
He was inside her mind now. He forcefully flooded her with memories of countless times she let Harry and Ron ungratefully copy her homework or cheat off of her in class. She unwillingly relived her and Ron’s painful argument at the Yule Ball. Then came at last the memory that she dreaded most of all: Ron’s tall, red-haired form disappearing through the barren trees of the Forbidden Forest. He was gone, perhaps forever.
Warm tears streamed down Hermione’s face as Riddle’s hand moved lower to rest on her collarbone. His face was merely inches away from hers.
“I can show and teach you whatever you desire. I can make you realize your potential in ways you never thought possible.”
Why was she letting him touch her? He, whose very hands had caused the death of so many she loved…
“You have been chosen, Hermione,” he repeated. “You would be wise not to refuse.”
He leaned down and captured her mouth with his own. He tasted like nothing. He smelled like nothing. And yet she could feel everything through him when their lips met. Pain, pleasure, fear, anticipation, sorrow, joy. She was overcome with an insatiable longing. Her mind raced with thoughts she had merely dreamed before that were now possible: recognition, appreciation, power, lust. All through him.
He moved his hands to her shoulders and effortlessly slid her thin nightdress down her body. His clothes, too, were gone in an instant. Riddle towered over her as his hands began to shamelessly work her body in ways he knew she had always desired. He easily penetrated her mind to uncover her deepest, darkest, and most intimate fantasies. One hand slid down to cover her breast while the other slowly teased circles up her right thigh. She unconsciously pressed her hips down, desperate for contact, but Riddle quickly took his hand away. He smiled cruelly at her. This had all been much too easy. The girl was already his.
Hermione clutched at him as he forcefully pushed her down and quickly repositioned himself above her breasts. His cold mouth found her right nipple, and Hermione gasped as he began to kiss and lick the sensitive bud. He moved from one breast to the other while his hands resumed their teasing below. Hermione’s legs instinctively parted as his fingertips grazed along her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to her dampening core.
Riddle gently bit down on her nipple as his fingers stroked her moist center. Hermione cried out harshly when he slowly began to ease a long digit in and out of her, while his thumb pressed and rubbed against her clit.
Hermione’s eyes closed as she gave way to the sensations he created within her. She trembled and shook involuntarily, relishing in his skilled touch. Suddenly he removed his fingers, and there was a shift of weight as his mouth moved quickly down her body. He was eager to taste her.
When his mouth came into contact with her soft, wet flesh, Hermione thought she would die from the pleasure. His tongue stroked along the length of her sex, then thrust deep between her folds. She panted and sighed when he licked, then sucked on her swollen clit, sending her into torturous ecstasy.
“Tom,” she moaned. Her back arched, and her hips began to buck involuntarily as her fingers clutched at the ground beneath her. She was so close…she could feel her body tensing.
Suddenly, he stopped. She whimpered as he drew away from her core and began to slowly move back up her body.
“Give in to me, Hermione,” he spoke softly as he trailed kisses up her stomach, to her breasts, then to her neck. Hermione quivered beneath him as he settled himself on top of her, his long erection settling between her legs. He buried his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back, his lips brushing against her neck.
“And how could I not, Tom?” she spoke breathlessly as she shamelessly embraced his not yet realized form. How could this strange, half-existent being have given her such exquisite pleasure? Perhaps it was the allure of dark magic.
Using all of her strength, Hermione seized his arms and forced him beneath her. She maneuvered herself on top of him, wantonly rubbing her body against his. For once in her life, she wanted to be in control.
Hermione slid down onto his hard length and gasped as she was breached for the first time. Riddle gazed up at the woman above him: alive, warm and wet. Her breath was quick and eager on his neck. He could feel her pain and taste her desire as their lips met and she began to move slowly around him. She kissed his handsome features and ran her fingers through his hair, moaning as his hands moved up to cover her breasts.
The rhythm built with intensity. Their hips met roughly as she impaled herself on him, deeper and deeper. His hands grasped her hips tightly; he was incredibly close. With one last thrust, Riddle let out a sharp sigh as he pulsed his seed deep within her. The girl climaxed soon after, shuddering and tightening around him. Gasping for breath, she lowered her face to his and looked unabashedly into his eyes.
“I want it all, Tom. Everything you promised...everything you said.”
“It will all be yours, Hermione,” he murmured. “If you do only one thing for me.”
“Anything,” she moaned.
“You must vow to do all in your power to defeat Potter.”
There was a pause. Hermione smiled coyly, her deep brown eyes now glinted red in the darkness.
“I will.”
She pressed her lips against his once more.
*******
Harry Potter awoke with a start when he heard a loud thud from across the tent.
“Hermione?” he said sleepily as he sat up from his bed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in the darkness towards the sound. He heard nothing. All was pitch black.
“Hermione, are you all right?” he said louder. There was a strange chill in the tent that made him uneasy.
“Oh yes, I’m fine,” she spoke quickly. “I thought I heard something, so I got up to investigate. Don’t worry about me, you’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”
Harry mumbled unintelligibly as his head fell back to the pillow. Within minutes he was again fast asleep. Hermione frowned, her grip tightening on her wand. How she longed to do something, anything…But she must resist. There was work to be done. Tom told her Ron would return soon. Her duty now was to tear the trio apart.
Hermione turned and knelt over Slytherin’s locket once more, this time for an entirely different purpose. She whispered the incantation Riddle had taught her, and two figures materialized like smoke from the tip of her wand. They were miniature, ghost-like versions of her and Harry, dark and terribly beautiful, with eyes like those in the locket. There was an eerie, pale glow as the two forms embraced ardently, then vaporized into the clasp of the locket.
Hermione’s eyes gleamed red in the darkness. She seized the Horcrux and placed it around her neck. She smiled, amusingly contemplating how she no longer feared to wear it. The locket shivered, then burned hot against her skin.