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look into my eyes, my darling, and tell me what you see. if it's me rotting in this cell, so be it. but you'll be rotting with me.


       Quickly, Hermione Granger made her way past the countless, dark cells, ignoring the stares she could feel lingering on her body. Her hands were shaking as she made her way through the empty hallway, but she knew only too well that it was not because of the cold. She was nervous, afraid. And she hated herself for that.


Whispers, dirty chuckles and some other disturbing noises surrounded her, causing her to feel even smaller then she already felt in the huge building, but she ignored all of it, stubbornly looking forward and clenching her shaking fists.


Despite all these noises, she could hear the soothing sound of the storm outside, so she tried to concentrate on that as she reached the stairs that would lead further down, further to his cell.


This was insane, so disturbingly insane, all of this; it was driving her mad. But she couldn't herself, couldn't keep away from his cell, from him, the coldest and most dangerous threat to the Wizarding World.


The moment the young witch finally left the stairs behind her, she took a deep breath and stopped, staring at the end ot the hallway, knowing that his cell lingered there, dark and cold, hiding the darkest living being the world has ever seen.


Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them free, not wanting someone to see her weakness, especially not him, not again.


Then, as she finally had calmed herself, she stepped forward, her the sound of her heels echoing through the empty and silent hallway.


Her steps were slow and careful, her body was fully aware of the threat that lingered only meters away from her, while her mind and her heart certainly weren't. Her thoughts ran wild, making her head hurt. Her fear grew with every step she took.


It was so cold.


She was merely 5 steps away from his cell.


His presence was so strong, even though he didn't have his magic down here.


Only two steps—


Stop shaking, Granger, just stop.


She came to stop directly in front of his cell.


Her body was now fully shaking and her mind were occupied with the darkest thoughts, but she managed to shove them into the background, letting her thoughts focus on the man who was sitting on the rusty bed.

She let her gaze wander over the cell first, the cell that she was sickly familiar with, the cell that haunted her dreams every fucking night. It was mostly empty, having only a toilet, a sink, a little table with a rusty chair and a bed which was placed in the left corner of the cell.


Still not ready too look into his face quite yet, Hermione looked at the Daily Prophet that layed on the ground, the one she had brought him the last time she'd visited. Almost a week had passed since this visit and she knew that he would make her regret it.


And finally, as she couldn't stand the silence anymore and the heated intensity of his stare on her body, her gaze landed on the dark figure that was seated on the bed.


Her breathing stopped for a moment as her brown eyes met his charcoal colored ones.


They were burning with anger, but that was the only emotion he gave away. Of course. If she didn't know what a threat he was to her in this moment, she would have rolled her eyes. He never showed his emotions unless it was anger, amusement or... lust.


The brunette shuddered as she recalled the last time he'd fucked her against the wall of his cell. Merlin, she missed his touch so fucking much; she craved it, lusted after it, needed it. In this week she'd noticed it all the more intensely than she ever had.


She craved him. And she knew he craved her, too.


Taking a deep breath, she stepped even closer to his cell, but didn't open the door like they both knew she was able to.


Still keeping her mouth shut, she studied him, ignoring his cold eyes that stared holes through her head. His black, wavy hair sticked to his forehead; he obviously had done his daily pushups to keep himself fit — unlike the rest of Azkaban's prisoners. While they all were skinny and filfthy, he was anything but; he knew how to take care of his body after all.


His white shirt sticker to his pale skin as well, showing his abs under the thin fabric. His long legs — that were clad in black slacks — rested casually on his bed. Her eyes drifted to his face again. To his long, straight nose. His full, seductive lips. The gaunt cheecks and the high, sharp cheekbones. The strong jaw. His eyes—


"Are you quite done staring at me? I would like to discuss some things in here." His deep voice suddenly echoed through the cell, making her shiver. 


Hermione remained silent and merely raised an eyebrow, trying to look just as cold and calculating like he did.


He seemed unimpressed by her display and she knew he could look right through her. Why did she even try? She knew he could read her like a book.


"Come here. Now."


For a moment, she just stared at him again, but as she saw his warning look, she obeyed and opened the door — only like the Unspeakables and the responsible ministry people for the prisoners could do — and closed and locked it behind her again.


In all this time she visited his cell, he had never tried to break free, not once.


But, of course, all of that was part of his plan; a plan she had told her boss.


And she knew that Tom Riddle was aware of her betrayal. There was a stinging feeling inside of her as the word 'betrayal' echoed through the room.


She looked into his eyes. He stared coldly back.


"I said, come here."


Hermione swallowed harshly. But she didn't obey this time. She wanted him to know that he couldn't order her around all the time. Defiantly, she stared back at him.


He took a deep breath; she could see that his whole body was tense.


"For fuck's sake, witch, just listen to me once."


"Tom, you—"


"COME HERE." He yelled.


Hermione flinched — it was, after all, rare to see him like this, showing his emotions so openly.


Not wanting the situation to escalate, she walked to his bed quickly and came to stop right in front of him. He looked up at her from his position on the bed, his eyes burning with fury.


"You know why I did it." She told him, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. The black dress suddenly felt too revealing.


He let out a snort, but the fire in his eyes remained. "Do I?"


Oh? So he wanted to play now? She scoffed.


"I'm sick of your games, Tom. Let's be serious about this."


It all happened too quickly. Suddenly, she was on his bed, her wrists caught by his left hand and held together above her head, his whole body pressing her down and his other large hand holding her chin in his grip.


"You've got some nerve, woman. You come here, after not visiting me for a week, after betraying me, and all you have to say is: Let's be serious about this?" He shook his head and came closer to her face with his own. "Tell me one reason, Hermione, why I shouldn't kill you right now."


Her whole body tensed up, her heart immediately began to beat faster. And still— and still she could feel the arousal that appeared as soon as he'd touched her body. How fucked up and sick was this? He was threatening her, for fuck's sake! There was no way she should feel like this!


"Tom," she said quietly, "I know what you think. And I- I know that you're beyond furious right now—" he snorted at this point "— but what was I supposed to do?" Her voice got louder by the end.


He raised an eyebrow, his hand wandering from her chin to her throat and caressing it lightly, teasing her, showing her that he was the one in control.


She knew that his anger also came from the loss of control he had felt as she didn't visit him and betrayed him. He needed the control, the control over her and this whole situation.


"You tell me." He growled.


Hermione watched him closely. "You would've taken over the whole Wizarding World again, you would've killed people, all of my friends, Harry, Ron—"


"Your friends?" He spat. "I thought friends can count on and care for each other? Potter and that redhead certainly didn't care for you since you graduated from Hogwarts."


His words hit her hard — and he knew that. So he continued.


"They're probably out there, laughing about how they used you, how you let them use you, how you—"


She pushed her knees up — and pushed them right into his stomach. Hard. He fell back, but didn't let go of her wrists, which caused her to fall with him. Somehow, they landed on the ground, but both them weren't quite done witg the other.


While Hermione was trying to kick him again and pull her hands out of his iron grip, Tom was blocking her and pushing her down with his hand. Hermione, though, took this option and hit his head with hers. He cursed loudly and gripped her throat harshly, holding her down and tightening his hold.


She tried to wiggle free, but it was no use; he was too strong. Looking into his face, tears appearing in her eyes, she saw him looking at her with an intense anger.


She had to calm him down. Or else he was going to kill her.


"Tom," she tried to say, her voice coming out hoarsely. He didn't react. "Tom." She tried again.


"You fucking know it's true, Hermione. They don't care for you. And here you're betraying the only person you should be with for weak idiots who don't give a single fuck about you—"


"No!" She croaked out.


"You know it's true!" He yelled into her face.


"Let me go! Now!"


"Why should I? You. Betrayed. Me."


Hermione shook her head desperately. "T-Tom...—"


"You didn't show up for a fucking week. I was waiting here for you. But then I have to listen to fucking Brown telling me that the ministry is now aware of my plan and that you were the one who exposed me."


A tear escaped her left eye. "I- I did... the right thing." Then why did she sound so unconvinced of herself?


Tom seemed to think the same, because he was raising an eyebrow, the anger still present in his eyes.


"Don't tell me you still believe in that shit about good and evil. There is no good and evil, only—"


"— power and t-those too weak t-to seek it." She replied as she felt his grip on her throat weakening.


Tom watched her intensely. 


"You are a bright witch, Hermione. Powerful, intelligent, ambitious. Why are you still refusing to give in, denying me to have you fully?"


She just looked at him, remaining silent.


He finally lessened his grip on her throat fullly, caressing a sore spot there — what she assumed was a bruise.


"Answer me." He whispered softly, moving his face closer to hers again.


"Because I am my own person, Tom. And I don't want you to pull me into this dark abyss with you." Hermione whispered back, watching his reaction closely.


He sighed and looked away, still not letting go of her wrists. Hermione leaned forward.


She could still see the anger in his gaze, but she ignored it and shoved her fear into the background.




He turned his head sharply, looking into her eyes again and tightened his hold on her wrists.


"This changes nothing, Hermione. If you thought this was your opportunity to escape—"




"Let me speak." Tom growled warningly.


Hermione pressed her lips together and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.


"If you thought this was your opportunity to escape from me, you couldn't be more wrong. I am still in control. And you, my darling,"


He moved his head even closer; their noses were touching by now, his body hear sending pleasent shivers down her spine.


"You, Hermione Granger, are still mine."


She inhaled sharply.


"You always were and always will be. This changed nothing."


"Tom, I'm not your—" Hermione wanted to say shakily, but as soon the words left her mouth, his lips came down on hers harshly.


She moaned into the kiss.


All her thoughts, her fears, her objections; all of it got shoved into the background as he kissed her and touched her skin with his. Goosebumps appeared on her skin, her heart began to beat faster, her breath grew heavier— all because of him and it felt heavenly to be in his arms, to just give herself to him and let him take care of her.


This reality? It didn't exist when he touched her. Their fights, his darkness, the fact that he was a sociopathic mass murderer — she just let it go and enjoyed this moment, because she craved him so fucking much, she needed him.


His tongue played with hers wildly, then it explored her mouth like it did so many times before. He knew exactly where he needed to touch her, how he had to kiss her and how to fuck her to turn her into a withering, needy mess.


Hermione whispered Tom's name over and over again as he tore the black dress off her shivering body.


"Oh god..." The muggleborn witch breathed as his large hands shoved her black, lacy bra down and his greedy lips found her nipple to suck at it, while his hand caressed the other nipple harshly — just the way she liked it.


Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and spread her legs, so Tom could position himself between him and press his thick, clothed erection against her clothed cunt.


She felt so right in his arms — like she belonged there and nowhere else. All she could think about was his name and they way she liked to scream it when she was just about to cum.


"Say it, Hermione," he rasped against the heated skin of her stomach, letting his tongue caress her skin, moving his hands to her black slip and ripping it off her body just like he did with her dress.


She opened her eyes and saw his handsome face between her thighs; his eyes looking hungrily at her exposed cunt.


Feeling the need to touch his silky hair, she lifted her shaking hand and took the black waves in her fist. At the same moment, he moved closer to her glistering flesh and ran his tongue over her folds.


"Ah!" She couldn't help herself and began to move her hips, needing more friction, needing his tongue, his fingers, his cock, him—


His charcoal colored eyes wandered to her face and held a warning glint in them. "Stay still, Hermione." Tom commanded in a husky voice, and she instantly obeyed, knowing only too well how cruel Tom could be when it came to teasing her.


"Yes, yes, yes..." She moaned lowly, pulling at his hair and throwing her head back again. His tongue was mercilessly moving inside her, while his fingers were stroking her clit harshly.


Fuck, she desperately wanted his cock inside her — now.


Grinning mischievously, she touched his erection with her foot, stroking it slowly through his black trousers, making him growl warningly at her.


This sound— this low, husky sound— it did so many amazing things to her body at once, she just couldn't—


"Oh my god!" Hermione screamed out as his he shoved three fingers into her tight hole. She was out of her fucking mind.


"Say. It."


"Oh fuck, I'm — ah — I'm yours, Tom, only yours!"


"Yess, only mine!" He hissed, thrusting faster and harder, moving his mouth away from her cunt to the inside of her thighs, opening his mouth and— biting the flesh there harshly.


The pain mixed with the pleasure his fingers were giving her— and she came at once. Hard. Screaming his name.


Tom smirked darkly, but he was not finished yet; he pulled his fingers out of her pussy slowly, humming at the moan that left her lips, and guided them to his mouth, smelling her scent before closing his full lips around his fingers. He groaned out load at the taste of her.


And Hermione— nearly came again— just from the sight of him.


"Tom...," she whined, lifting her hips, nonverbally begging for his cock.


He lead his fingers to her mouth, "Taste yourself", and watched her mouth sucking at his fingers greedily. 


After she cleaned his fingers with her tongue, he quickly got rid of his trousers and boxers — he smirked when he saw her watching his thick cock greedily, arrogant bastard — and moved his cock to her entrance, teasing it with his tip, mixing his pre-cum with her wetness.


"For fuck's sake, Tom, just fuck me—"


"Oh, please, Hermione, you know this is not how it works." He growled, continuing his merciless teasing. Ugh, he could be such an arsehole.


He smirked at her. "I still need to punish you after all."


Hermione sighed heavily. "Can't you just—"




She fell silent at once, but let out a moan when he moved the tip of his cock just barely inside her.


"Ah, please, Tom, please... just fuck me. I'm begging you."


He smirked mischievously at her, but before Hermione could wonder what he was planning, he had already moved inside her with a quick, hard thrust, making her scream out load. Merlin, she was glad that there were silencing spells surrounding the cells of every prisoner.


"See? Isn't it so much better when you just listen to me?" He murmured huskily, moving his hips quickly and hard, growling at the way her walls clenched around his hard cock.


Hermione looked up and him moaned loudly, moving against him as fast as she could. Merlin, she would never get enough of this. Everytime their hips met, there was a loud slapping sound echoing through the cell. "Fuck you!" She moaned, making Tom smirk.


Suddenly, he took her legs in his hands and spread them even more, moving them up to her shoulders so that he had even a better access. This angle also made it easier for him to hit her g-spot rapidly— which made Hermione go insane.


Her wall clenched around him, sucking him in, massaging his cock and making him groan


"Oh god—" She screamed out in pure pleasure and began to move even faster against him, but he harshly held her hips down and pounded mercilessly into her cunt.


Just as she was about to come, Tom suddenly pulled out and came all over her stomach and tits, smirking at her enraged expression. "Salazar, that was fucking good," he panted and continued to smirk at her.


"What the fuck, Tom Riddle?" Hermione spat, but let out a whimper as he touched her clit lightly.


"You know, Hermione..."


He magically dressed himself again.


The young witch glared up at him— only to fall back with wide eyes and a shocked expression.


He magically dressed himself.


He was not supposed to fucking do magic in this cell— unless...


She looked up at him, horrified, still feeling her clit throb and pulsate under his soft caressing.


He merely smirked darkly at her and picked her up in his arms. Hermione let him lift her since she was still too shocked to react.


No, no, no, no, no was her mantra as she desperately and weakly held onto Tom's shoulders.


"I told you this would change nothing, didn't I?" He whispered into her ear and kissed her forehead softly.


"What..." Hermione breathed shakily.


"Your little betrayal, my little treasure," he nonverbally summoned a coat from the back of the cell — Hermione hadn't noticed it when she came in —, using his magic to dress her in it, "changed nothing. Not the fact that you're mine, not my control or power and certainly not my plan to escape."




Suddenly, five hooded men opened the door to Tom's cell and looked at him seriously. "It's all done, my lord."


"Excellent." His voice echoed cheerfully through the cell, but Hermione could just hold onto Tom and look at him with a terrified expression.


He grinned down at her. "Now, my dark lady, let's head home. I still need to punish you for your little betrayal, don't I?"