|Pity. I Thought We Were Past That
||[May. 31st, 2004|08:24 am]
Freeform RPGing Amongst Friends
Genre: Harry Potter|
Characters: Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger
Setting: Room of Requirement
Summary: This is what happens when you decide to pick the most random of characters to smut.. and then have to spend 20 minutes working out a sodding plot for it. Hermione is in the RoR reading from a book and inadvertently conjures a certain wizard from his age.
Rating: Most definitely NC17
Hermione had been coming to the Room of Requirement sporadically since she became a prefect. It was her little secret; she could slip off without anyone noticing and get some extra studying done. When she entered, she found it as she usually did- tasteful and full of light, with a big comfy chair in front of a fire. There was even a big four poster bed in the corner that she'd fallen asleep in on more than one occasion. Tonight, she was doing research for her transfiguration NEWT. In an ancient text, her eyes slipped over some Latin words that she didn't recognize. Her wand gripped carelessly in her hand, she muttered them to herself, "Refero serpentium."
One moment, Tom was in his own time, stretched out on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, the next... he was in a strange room, lying on a large bed. A room with far more light than he preferred. A room with more books than he'd care to see in a lifetime. A room with.. a strange dark haired girl sitting in a chair by the fireplace. Without a word, he strode over to her, putting his hand on the high backed chair.
Hermione jumped in fright, feeling pressure on the back of her chair. She hadn't heard the door open. She turned to face the intruder. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't this. It was a young man, about her age, that Hermione couldn't help feeling seemed strangely familiar for some reason. "Erm... hello," she said, politely.
There was the tiniest quirk of his eyebrow as Tom smirked down at her. His eyes trailed from her face to her robes, noticing the Gryffindor tie and crest. His lips curled into a slight sneer. "You're frightened," he practically purred. "I can assure you, there's no need to be." Yet.
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but you'd better get back to your common room before I write you up," Hermione said, standing and adopting her bossiest I'm-a-Prefect-and-You're-Not demeanor. And I am not scared, she added internally.
Another eyebrow quirk. He took a step towards her, half grinning, half smirking. "You can't write me up," Tom said, inclining his head towards his own prefect badge. He was domineering confidence. "It's my word against yours."
Hermione fumed inwardly, but didn't move. She wasn't going to let anyone tell her what to do. "Then I'll just tell Snape you weren't on your rounds, and you won't be a prefect anymore."
"You're not on your rounds either, my dear." Tom hissed softly, leaning closer to her. And just who is Snape? He made a soft Tisk, tisk noise with his tongue.
Hermione shook her hair back, refusing to let him get to her. "Well, then we should both just go back about our business," she said professionally, and made a move for the door.
Bored already, Tom raised his wand, muttering a handy little spell to stop her in her tracks, "Conquiesco!" Hermione's feet stopped moving, she was rooted to the stone floor. Tom casually swept over to her, standing in front of her. One of his hands gently ran down her forehead, brushing the long curly - frizzy more like - locks from her face over her shoulder. "You're quite the rude girl, aren't you?"
Furious, Hermione gripped her wand tightly. "Take this curse off me, and do NOT touch me again," she said through clenched teeth.
Oh, he was curious now. His lips quirked up in a sardonic grin. He leaned over, lifting up her hair, breathing in her ear. "I think you want me to touch you again," he whispered.
She shivered involuntarily. Oh yes, please some dark part of her thought. "Take this curse off me, and do not touch me again," she repeated, only this time, her voice cracked.
"I don't think I will," he said with a low chuckle. Tom circled her, looking her up and down. "And I can tell you don't want me to."
This is all preposterous her rational side thought. It's like a scene from a Muggle romance, and not a particularly good one. Hermione straightened primly. "Let me go this instant, and I won't tell Dumbledore."
Tom looked down at her ink stained fingers, slowly sliding her wand from between them. He licked his lips and moved in front of her. "Dumbledore," he whispered with a sneer. "That old... fool." He ran one slender finger along her jaw line. "Wouldn't want Dumbledore to know that one of his prefects has been using the Room of Requirement, would we?" His gaze moved to the bed in the far corner of the room. "What would he think of you?"
"You're the one holding a witch in the Room of Requirement against her will," Hermione said defiantly, undermined by the fact that she couldn't stop staring at his lips. "I'd be more concerned with what he thought of you."
"I don't care what the old fool thinks of me," Tom said, moving so that he was standing right in front of her. He cradled her face with his hands, tilting her head up to look at him. His fingers trailed her lips. "Why did you summon me?"
"Summon?" Her brow furrowed. Suddenly it connected. The Latin- it was a spell. That's why she couldn't quite translate it. "An accident."
"There are no accidents," Tom said calmly, tilting his head. He leaned down, his lips brushing her slightly before he pulled away.
A chill went up Hermione's spine, and suddenly Latin was the last thing on her mind. Her resolve started to fade. "Let me go, please?"
His eyebrow rose again, eyes boring into hers. "Do you really want me to?"
She knew the right answer, but her tongue didn't seem to want to give it. Hermione settled for stammering something incomprehensible.
Tom's grin deepened. He leaned forward so that his lips brushed her ear. "What DO you want?"
Hermione wanted... what did she not want? She wanted to run, and she wanted to tell Dumbledore, but she wanted most desperately to kiss... She realized she didn't even know his name. "Who are you, anyway?" she asked, stalling.
"Think about the spell that summoned me," Tom said, smirking. His hand found its way across her throat, his thumb absently stroking her neck. "And you'll know who I am."
She struggled to gather her wits about her. Hermione went over the Latin one more time. Refero... to bring back, restore... serpentium... the ser- Her eyes widened. "No," she whispered.
"No?" Tom asked in amusement.
Hermione shut her eyes tight and shook her head, half hoping that he'd be gone when she opened them. He wasn't. "It's not possible."
"There are no accidents," Tom repeated silkily, before training his wand on her. "Mobilicorpus!" He watched as he directed the girl towards the four poster bed he'd found himself on moments before.
Floating gently across the room was the last thing Hermione expected, and one of the strangest things she'd ever felt. She landed softly on the big bed. Somewhere deep in her mind, she thought wildly, This is going to take a lot of expensive therapy.
Tom was on the bed before Hermione had even landed with a catlike grace that had landed him many of the Slytherin girls his year. Not to mention, his obvious good looks. "Say it: there are no accidents."
Hermione swallowed hard. Better just to comply, and see where that took her. "There... there are no accidents," she said unsurely.
"Very good," he purred. Tom crawled up and onto her, his chest barely touching her as he did so. Again, he repeated, "What do you want?"
She thought rather stupidly that it was obvious what she wanted. "I... I want..." she stuttered, feeling extremely coarse and ill equipped to deal with him.
Tom dipped his head into the crook of her neck, placing small calculated kisses along her collarbone. "What do you want?" he asked against her skin.
"I want you to keep doing that," she managed finally.
A low chuckle escaped from his throat. "Good," he mumbled against her. "I'd hate to think I was doing anything you didn't want." His lips traveled up her neck to her earlobe. "Am I going to have to do everything?"
Almost of their own volition, her arms snaked up around him. Hermione turned her head, catching his lips with hers, cutting off his words.
Tom chuckled again, his tongue sliding into her mouth easily. He didn't want to scare her. Yet. He kept his hands and tongue soft and gentle. He was patient enough to wait to strike. He pinned her to the bed, his body sliding against hers, knowing she'd be able to tell just how aroused he already was. The power over her was intense.
Hermione gasped in his mouth when she felt him against her and wondered if he could tell that she was getting wet under her clothes. It struck her that this was terribly, terribly wrong, but it shocked her more to find that she didn't care. Her tongue met his.
His hand slid down her sides to her hips. His fingers crumpled the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up around her waist. He maneuvered his body between her legs slowly as to not cause alarm. He pressed himself firmly against her, a delicious grin on his face even as he kissed her a bit more forceful.
She didn't bother pretending not to like it anymore. She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and yanked it off suddenly, then kissed his neck feverishly.
Tom grinned, tilting his head back. Little vixen, wasn't she? Then again, Gryffindors - in all his experience - were. Especially for him. He reached out and ripped her shirt open, popping the buttons off. He sat up between her legs loosening his tie and pulling his own sweater off. His knees inched slowly, sliding her legs open more.
Hermione panted slightly, waiting. First chance she got, she was talking to Dumbledore about a uniform change. This school required far too much clothing for anyone's good.
Tom thought he might keep her waiting a little bit longer. She looked as if she needed this, and who could resist him. No one ever had.. resisted him, that is. He pulled off his tie, before his hands trailed down to his chest, undoing the buttons slowly.
She groaned inwardly. This was going to take all night, at this rate. She bit her lower lip and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Tom was growing impatient. The little imp didn't take her cue. He raised an eyebrow at her, looking down at his trousers and then back up at her with a smirk.
So that's what this was about. Hermione sat up and ran her hands along his waist, then undid his belt and pulled it out of its loops. She unfastened his slacks and pulled them down.
He grabbed her by the throat, easing her back down onto the bed. He laid his wand down gently - just out of her reach. He kissed her fiercely this time, wanting to leave her panting and breathless, her lips bruised and swollen. His fingers slid down her stomach under the waistband of her knickers. He chuckled again when he felt how wet she was. He rubbed his fingers against her, moistening them before he began to slowly circle her clit.
She gasped at the sensation of his fingers against her. Her hips bucked, her legs spreading wider.
Tom grabbed his boxers, yanking them down unceremoniously as his kiss deepened. No gasping in shock for her anymore. He moved his hand so that two of his fingers slid inside her as his thumb continued to circle her clit. "Is this what you wanted?" he hissed - albeit a bit breathless - into her mouth.
She moaned softly as his fingers entered her. "Yes," she whispered. But she wanted more.
Tom pulled away to look at her, his eyes narrowing. His fingers stopped doing their dance. "Is this ALL that you wanted?"
Hermione groaned, annoyed at him stopping. "No," she said, panting.
He moved his hand back to the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down roughly. "Lift your hips, if you want more."
She rose up off the bed, helping him remove the last bit of her clothing.
Tom nudged open one of her legs, settling down onto her. He reached his hand between there bodies, grabbing his cock and rubbing it against her pussy. He watched her face for a moment before he nudged the head into her. She better not be a virgin.
Hermione willed her muscles to relax as she felt him start to slide into her. He wasn't her first, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt some. She took a deep breath.
Merlin, she was tight. She wasn't crying out in pain, at least. He studied her face as he eased his cock into her fully. He grunted slightly at the pressure swallowing him. He thought he might play with her a bit. "Are you all right?" he said in his most sincere voice. Even so, his hips moved back and forth slowly, already enjoying the sensations running through his cock. His eyes fluttered closed.
He was bigger than Ron, but it didn't hurt like she thought it would. "I'm fine," she said, breathless.
"Good." Pleasantries out of the way, his rhythm picked up, his hips pumping against her. His breathing was punctuated with grunts of exertion as he worked. Now if only he wasn't the one doing all the work, it might be bearable to be fucking a little Gryffindor in the Room of Requirement. His hands clamped down on her shoulders from underneath her for better leverage.
Her hips worked almost without her, thrusting upwards in time with him. Her hands moved down to his hips, grasping him firmly.
Tom leaned down and smothered her with another vicious kiss, harsh grunts disappearing into her mouth. He gasped soundlessly as the pleasure intensified suddenly, groaning as he felt an almost euphoric sensation start to flood his body. This little Gryffindor girl was bringing him to the brink quite quickly. He moaned, stifled against her mouth.
She was getting closer and closer. It felt like something was clenching deep inside her abdomen, the tension getting greater with every thrust.
Tom pulled himself up so that he was sitting on his knees. He grabbed her hips, lifting her off the bed as he continued thrusting. His face screwed up with concentration, penetrating her as far as he could go. He hissed loudly, the pleasure coursing through his veins. If he could just keep this feeling, he would be invulnerable. It struck him that he didn't even know her name, so he had nothing to call her. Nothing to placate the obvious tendencies that women had to equate sex with emotions. Then again, she didn't seem to care about that, now did she?
Hermione should have felt used. She should have been outraged. But it felt too good to think about anything else. She even forgot, mercifully, that it was Tom Riddle, of all people, who was making her feel this way.
With one last thrust and a loud grunt, Tom came. His entire body went slack, euphoria washing over him completely.
The tension inside her released, finally. Her back arched and her mouth dropped open, the waves washing over her.
Tom smirked down at her, even as his hand instinctively reached for his wand. He slid out of her, reaching for his clothes next. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Hermione didn't answer. She pulled her sweater back over her head, leaving her ruined shirt.
Tom tugged his pants back on, quirking an eyebrow at her as he buttoned them and began to slide his belt through the loops. "Not going to answer? Pity. I thought we were past that," he said coolly.
She ignored him, having nothing to say. She smoothed her skirt down over her thighs and reached for her knickers.
Tom couldn't help the devilish smile on her lips. Perhaps he'd done more damage to her than he thought to. Brilliant. With his shirt finally buttoned, he pulled his sweater over his head, tucking his tie into his pocket. "No? All right. Time to send me back."
Hermione froze. She realized she didn't know how to send him back. "Er... we might have a little problem."
"I know the spell you used. I've used it once," Tom mentioned as casually as if he'd been in his classes. He stifled a bored yawn. "I know how to reverse it."
"Explain," she said, anxious to get him back to his own time.
"The base of the reverse spell is Remissum. Send back, you see," Tom said, standing up. He looked over her face. "Of course, you had enough talent to bring me here; you should have enough to send me back."
She stood up and walked past him to the chair, chanting the new spell under her breath. She picked up her wand and took a deep breath. "Are you ready?"
He glared at her coldly. "Don't think for one moment that you can best me. I've got more tricks than you could possibly know."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you honestly think I'm going to risk altering the course of wizarding history in the last fifty years? Now are you ready or not?"
Tom unconsciously grinned at that. She'd given him hope that he would be remembered, that his tasks would be a part of wizarding history. "Right," he said and nodded.
Hermione aimed her wand at him. "Remissum serpentium."
And then Tom was stretched out one more on the Slytherin common room sofa, grinning at his dorm mate who would bend over backwards for him. He rather hoped - for her sake, at least - that the little Gryffindor would never summon him again. He had his own destiny to fulfill. If she even hoped to have one, she'd better not.