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The time-turner had done its job.
As she emerged onto Diagon Alley, Hermione picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet to ascertain the date: 30th September 1949. Exactly as she’d intended.
With an inhalation of restrained excitement, Hermione looked around her. The place seemed exactly as she knew it. The changes of time were slow in the wizarding world. She smiled to herself with wry satisfaction.
But Hermione had limited time and a job to do. She’d been sent back in time to acquire a lunar orb, one which supposedly had been a unifying dark force in the build up to the First Wizarding War. No one was entirely sure where it now was but Borgin and Burkes was as good a starting point as any; there was a record of it as being there for some of the 1940s at least.
But there was another reason for Hermione to want to visit the shop. A particular person worked there, she knew that. She herself had suggested visiting him. The Ministry had warned against it, but Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her. One visit, surely? A brief chat. A look to gauge him, to work him out, if only a little. She would only have an hour or so in any case.
She made her way through the Leaky Cauldron to the secluded secrecy of Knockturn Alley and then to Borgin and Burkes. The ramshackle building almost fell out onto the street it was leaning over. She glanced up with the slightest shiver; this place had held many dark secrets for long, unspoken years. But, undeterred, Hermione pulled open the heavy door, a bell tinkling within as she did so.
It seemed empty of people, although every space was lined with shelves and tables piled high with curious objects and artefacts.
There was no one around and so she made her way deeper into the shop until she came to a back room, an office of some kind. In it, she saw a man standing, young, broad shouldered, his back turned as he studied something. Hermione knew immediately who it was.
She could kill him now, she considered, put a stop to it all before it even started. But the responsibility and consequences of playing with time hung heavy upon her and so she steadied herself, gathered her thoughts and, without knocking, walked through the doorway and approached him.
‘Mr Riddle? Mr Tom Riddle?’
The man turned smoothly, seemingly unsurprised at being called unexpectedly. Instead of reacting with horror at who was before her, Hermione found herself looking into the face of one of the most handsome people she’d ever seen. And she was not disgusted but captivated.
Thick brown hair curled over his head, slicked back, but several strands threatened to break free and hang idly over his eyes, eyes which were dark and held a depth she couldn’t define. Again, she was not intimidated but profoundly curious and could not look away. His fine nose was framed by pronounced cheekbones and his mouth set with dark lips, not thin, not full, but perfect, for what, she stopped herself from thinking.
But it was his eyes she could not break free of. They stared unwaveringly into her. He almost took her breath away. How could something so perfect become so terrible?
Tom Riddle didn’t reply with a yes, but once he had taken her in, he let the corner of his mouth curl up.
‘Can I help you? Miss …? Mrs …?’
‘Miss Granger.’
‘Miss Granger,’ he repeated and already her name sat well on his tongue.
‘You are Tom Riddle?’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You seem to know that already.’
She felt herself blushing and cursed herself for it.
‘I understand you have a lunar orb,’ she continued.
His eyebrows rose higher. ‘Do you really?’
‘I work for the Ministry.’ She produced a card for him to scrutinise, which he duly did, his eyebrows knitting together. ‘I’ve been instructed to acquire it.’ It was her own Ministry card from her time, but, like Diagon Alley, things changed slowly in the wizarding world. He should accept it.
He looked up from the card back to her face, his face a mixture of dark intrigue and mercurial intuition. ‘I know everyone in the higher Ministry departments. You’re not one of them, Miss …’ He read the name on the card. ‘Hermione … Granger.’
‘I’m new.’
‘In that case, you’ve single-handedly lowered the average age of the officials by a few decades and have certainly improved the … umm …’ He simply smirked and cast his eyes over her again.
She blushed deeper but covered it by cocking her eyebrow higher and saying in her most officious tone, ‘Can I see the orb, please?’
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I don’t have it.’
She swallowed, unsettled. ‘Are you sure of that?’
‘I don’t have it,’ he repeated pointedly. ‘I gave it to someone last week.’
‘Who?’
‘Albus Dumbledore.’
Hermione’s brows creased in shock. ‘Dumbledore? What?’
‘You seem quite put out, Miss Granger.’
She persisted. ‘Tell me more.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Why shouldn’t you?’
Riddle appraised her momentarily then shrugged nonchalantly. ‘He came in and demanded it, that’s all there is to it. He’s a powerful wizard and a persuasive one.’
‘So are you.’
‘Am I? Well … if you say so … Hermione Granger.’
She lowered her head. ‘Dumbledore … shit.’ She didn’t have time to travel to Hogwarts as well and, in any case, a visit there in 1949 would complicate things yet further.
Riddle stepped up to her. His frame was lean but toned and he was taller than she’d realised. He was dressed impeccably in a light tweed three-piece suit, although the jacket was currently off. The waistcoat contained his firm frame tightly and his white shirt sleeves billowed over strong arms. He really was devastatingly attractive. If she could have drawn her perfect idea of man, it would be this. She cursed her own weakness.
‘What a shame … a wasted journey,’ he crooned. ‘Can I interest you in any other artefacts, Miss Granger? As you see, we have quite a few.’
His words snaked their way around her as he stepped closer. He smelt good too: dark musk and lavender. She inhaled involuntarily but squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying desperately to remind herself what this man would become.
Riddle came closer, walking around her, and almost whispered in her ear, the seductive quality of it immediate. ‘I have unicorn horns brought back from the Second Crusade … the tears of a dying fairy, bottled in Queen Boudicca’s own silver flask … feathers from the last Pegasus to fly over Thebes … a shard from the staff of Merlin himself … Don’t you want to see … Miss Hermione Granger?’
She spun around to him. ‘No, tha-‘ But her words stopped abruptly as her eyes immediately fell on a gold spherical object he was dangling before her, an object he had just removed from her pocket.
His mouth curled up indolently in that lazy, arrogant smirk again. ‘Curious things, time-turners, aren’t they?’
Tom Riddle held the object in front of Hermione, letting it swing idly between them.
She tried to grab for it but he held it nimbly out of her reach. ‘Uh uh uh uh, I don’t think so. You see … I have so many questions that I’d like to keep you here a while longer.’
‘Give it back, Tom.’
‘It was Mr Riddle earlier. So familiar so soon, Miss Granger? You see … what I’m most curious about is … why? Why come back to this time and pay such special attention … to me?’
‘I came here for the orb, that was all.’
He stared unblinkingly at her. ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’
‘That is a Ministry controlled object and you are in breach of the law if you don’t return it. It could result in a spell in Azkaban.’
‘I doubt that will happen. You see … Hermione Granger … if you have travelled from the future just to seek me out, that must mean … I’ve done something quite extraordinary, or rather, I will do something quite extraordinary.’
‘I didn’t come for you. I came for the orb.’
‘Like I said … a wasted journey then,’ he pouted.
She turned back to him and met his eyes. ‘I may not have come for you … but I have now met you.’
‘Oh? And does that make it worthwhile?’
She swallowed, but she’d dance along with him for a while longer. ‘In some ways.’
‘And how do you find me, Miss Granger?’
‘Charming. As I expected.’
‘Charming? I’m flattered.’
‘Handsome. Intelligent.’
‘You really are full of compliments.’
She paused before stating: ‘And inherently evil.’
His eyes died a little and he sniffed out a laugh. ‘And here I was thinking I kept it so well hidden.’
‘Not at all, Tom.’
His tongue dampened his lips briefly. Her eyes flitted to it. ‘Evil, you say … and yet you’re still here. Shouldn’t you run? Trot straight off to the Ministry? Or better yet … take out your wand and say the words … ’ He let the killing curse hang unspoken on the air between them.
But she didn’t move. She stayed stock still as he stood before her, his voice low and velvet around her.
‘You see, Hermione, I’ve worked out quite a lot about you already, all I need to know. You know me very well, it seems, and still you’re here, curious, intrigued … attracted.’
‘Don’t presume, Tom.’
‘I’m not presuming … I can see it. And, believe me, the feelings are entirely … mutual.’ He leaned into her again and she felt his warmth against the back of her neck. ‘Time is running out, Miss Hermione Granger. Here we are. What should we do about it?’
She stared up into him as he moved round to face her again, no longer ignoring the constant tug and pull of her desire.
He stood so close her lust threatened to upend her, his firm body mere inches from her, the warmth of him encircling her.
‘Lock the door,’ she said.
With no more than the slightest smirk from him, she heard the bolt of the door clang across.
‘I think,’ he murmured, his eyes flitting between her eyes and lips as he slowly lowered his head to her, ‘we should make it … extraordinary.’
And his mouth met hers. Immediately, she curled her arms around him and pulled him down into her. Immediately, he gripped her head hard and held her to him. She opened her mouth for him instantly and his tongue sought her out, invading, learning, seeking. She responded, giving back all she got.
Her hands were on the buttons of his waistcoat, his were at her shirt. When the buttons frustrated him, he ripped at it and tore it clean open. She shrugged it off quickly and her bra soon followed, leaving her top naked before him.
Immediately, his head dropped to her breasts and he groaned against them, finding a nipple with his mouth and sucking it hard onto his tongue. She threw her head back with a moan and held him there.
He sucked on her perfectly and her mind blurred with pleasure. She had no wish for this to end. Her nipple was tugged and pulled into him with blissful intent. He let it slip from his mouth, leaving it plump and needy, only to move to the other and work on that one. Meanwhile, his right hand dragged its way over her waist and hips and undid the buttons on her trousers. His fingers slid down into her knickers, over the slight hairs to find her. His middle finger found no resistance and glided through the already slick valley of her sex.
‘My God, you want it,’ he observed, tearing himself away from the nipple.
‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she tried, a token gesture to the last of her sense.
‘Oh … I don’t doubt that we shouldn’t do it. But shouldn’t is a meaningless term. We will do it.’
‘Tom …’
‘You call me by my name a lot. It clearly turns you on.’
His hand was now on her breast; he had not given up on the nipples and was pinching one assiduously between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione grew wetter and wetter.
‘Oh God, don’t stop that,’ she sighed.
‘I have no intention of stopping.’
Riddle leaned into her and murmured in her ear. ‘I want to taste you, Hermione Granger. I want to see what you feel like on my tongue.’
‘Yes, yes, do it.’
And with that he lifted her suddenly under her backside and carried her with remarkable ease before placing her on a narrow desk against the wall.
With a grin, he began to slip down her body. Without thought, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him further down.
He’d soon pushed her trousers down along with her underwear. She kicked them off and her legs were quickly naked. Grabbing hold of her backside, he pulled her forward until her arse barely rested on the desk. Tom Riddle knelt between her legs, placing them on his shoulders, and looked up with a grin.
‘I can see you wet for me.’
The arrogance of this man knew no bounds. But here and now, she didn’t care.
‘Do it,’ she said. She’d never wanted anything so much.
She was rewarded when his fingers parted her folds and he closed his mouth over her clit.
‘Fuck!’ she exclaimed.
‘Not the usual language of Ministry officials …’ He slurred before reapplying himself.
His tongue was in itself magical, it seemed. The way he circled it, the way he licked, the way he went at her with unfettered purpose. Try as she might to deny the effect he was having, she could only give herself over to him.
Curling her fingers through his thick hair, Hermione worked him on her, not that he needed guidance.
‘God, I could drown in you,’ he pulled back to slur again before closing his mouth over her opening and sucking in her lust.
Tom Riddle dragged his mouth back to her clit and she felt fingers push deep into her pussy, curling around to tap at her G-spot.
‘Fuck, you’re good,’ she moaned. ‘Fuck, you’re so, so good.’
With that, he withdrew his fingers, wet with her juice, and eased one, then two into the tight ring of her arse. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she stared down at him. He paused briefly in his sucking on her to grin up.
‘You didn’t ask if you could do that,’ she said.
‘Can I do that?’ he asked, pushing the fingers harder and deeper into her before waiting for an answer.
‘Yes,’ she replied without hesitation, grinding onto them.
He gave a slight chuckle. ‘Of course I can. Now … come on my mouth.’
He laved powerfully, the flat of his tongue dragging over her clit, and again, and again, rhythmical licks, long and hard, and then he closed his lips right over the now ultra-sensitive nub and sucked.
‘Fuck, I’m there!’ she exclaimed, her hand suddenly clenching brutally on his hair. She was right on the edge and when his fingers flexed deep inside her arse and her clit was sucked deep into his mouth, she came. Fuck, she came.
Hermione opened her mouth and wailed, a wail propelled from deep in her gut which rose to an almost shrill crescendo of ecstasy. She shook on the desk and his hands gripped her thighs viciously to hold her down and ensure she take it. He didn’t remove his mouth and just when she thought it would fade, he licked again and another wave washed through her. This time, she moaned low through it.
But as soon as the last twitch of pleasure left her, he stood and released himself.
She was bleary in her after-come haze but glanced down to see him. His cock was, to put it bluntly, beautiful. How could someone so evil have such a beautiful cock?
But she couldn’t gaze on it in wonder for long as, in the next instant, he’d positioned himself between her legs, grabbed her hips, and, with a combination of pulling her towards him and thrusting forward, he was inside her.
‘Oh God!’ she grunted, in shock as much as anything. He was big and her cunt was tight after her first come. He stretched her. ‘Oh God!’
Riddle’s fingers dug into her backside and he pulled out a little only to drive ferociously back in. He moaned long and low.
Staring hard into her, his eyes cold but focused, he said, ‘You fit me.’
And he set about proving it, pulling out almost fully before ploughing back in with a forceful groan.
Out.
In.
Deep.
Full.
Out.
Wait.
In.
Complete.
Hard.
‘I want your weight on it. I want it impaled in you,’ he suddenly declared.
So he grabbed her backside and lifted her, still deeply embedded, moving her so that her back jolted against the wall behind.
He let her sink as fully down on his cock as he could. Hermione curled her legs around him and braced herself on the wall, but his cock pushed hard up into her so that she felt the pressure of it. Pain but not. Pressure, push, feel.
Tom Riddle worked her on him like that for a time. Hermione stared into him as much as she could, trying to read him. He stared back, not breaking eye contact, but his eyes were full only of brutal intent.
She didn’t mind. He was fucking her so well that she could only feed off it.
And as suddenly as he’d entered her, he suddenly pulled her off him and turned to lean himself against the wall.
‘Suck me.’
Her cunt almost whined with the loss of cock, but her mouth watered.
Hermione sank to her knees and opened wide, immediately plunging her lips down over his substantial length, tasting her own desire along him.
Her tongue swirled and he moaned in abandon. She loved that sound from him. She was making the darkest wizard lose his mind with pleasure and it gave her an erotic imperative which made her dizzy with power. She ran her tongue in circles around him from base right up to the tip. When she reached it, she teased and toyed with the head, nimbly tripping over the slit, relishing the salty seep of him onto her taste buds. It only made her mouth water more, and she coated him in her lust-thick spit as she closed her cheeks in hard on him again.
‘Deeper,’ he said, demanding.
She briefly considered ending it, gifting him her teeth for his presumption, but instead she sank deeper. It was his turn to curl his fingers in her hair and she felt him push her head onto him.
She let him. This was her weakness, this was her delight – the sinking of cock down into the narrow passage of her throat. That invasion by man, that taking of another in a place so intimately yours. Despite the seeming control of the man, never did she feel so alive as a woman. This was her desire, this was her need, and it gave her a head rush as cock filled her mouth.
‘Deeper,’ he stated again and deeper she went, angling her head so that his entire length sank down into her and her nose touched his taut belly.
She turned her eyes up and found him staring down at her. As they locked gazes, his mouth curled into the most arrogant smirk. Despite all that she knew, all that she realised about him, she’d take it. Perhaps because of it. For he was entirely in her thrall. Here and now, she was the empowered one.
He withdrew from her throat before sinking quickly back in again. And again. And again.
‘Fuck,’ he sighed. ‘Fucking glory.’
With cock constantly grazing along it, her throat started to ache. Would he come in her mouth? He could, but he should hurry now.
But just as she considered sucking him concertedly to a swift come, he pulled out abruptly and lifted her again onto the desk, pushing her to lie back sideways along it. He was immediately inside her again to the hilt, causing her to grunt out with surprise, stretching her cock-hungry cunt instantly, cramming her full of him.
Keping her head on the desk, she arched her back up high and gripped the sides for leverage. That way he pushed against her g-spot with each pounding thrust. He went at her fast now, his own come so close. His left hand dragged up her body and found a breast, squeezing, plying, pinching the nipple. She sucked in with delighted pain. He retained his hold on the nipple while his other hand gripped her hip.
Riddle moved unstoppably, each thrust accompanied by a grunt of force.
‘You fit, you fit, you fucking fit me, made for me … made for me ...’
He pulled the nipple hard but the shards of pain only dashed to her clit, making it swell more. On cue, he moved his hand there and rubbed, circling it under his thumb.
‘You’ll come together with me,’ he declared, forcing her to hold back. He could see the ecstasy coiled and ready within her.
‘Wait,’ he insisted as her climax was set to crash.
‘I’m going to come,’ she whined, dangerously close.
‘Wait,’ he demanded.
‘Ohh, God, please,’ she implored, teetering on the edge. His cock was perfect inside her, her nipple held in his grip, her clit screamed at her to come, his thumb rubbed and rubbed. ‘Please!’
‘Wait.’
Still he thrust, he rubbed, he pinched.
She clung to the edge, her body high with anticipation, her pleasure held back by a thread.
Thrusting, rubbing, pinching.
‘Wait.’
And he thrust once more and tensed.
‘Now.’
Tom Riddle opened his mouth and groaned aloud as his cock released inside her, coming so hard his face creased in apparent agony. And as he spurted deep, forcefully, emptying himself in her two, three times, she came with him. Hermione threw her head back up, her mouth gaping, and gripped onto his arm to steady herself. Her body shook upon him. The orgasm tore itself so forcefully through her that she was momentarily unseeing. At first she was silent, but then a sound, otherworldly, hurled its way through her, propelled from the man still coming inside her.
They remained, fused, as the after-effects of pleasure shuddered through their bodies.
Hermione had abandoned reason when she decided to fuck him. Now, she wasn’t sure she’d ever regain it.
Neither moved. He lay on her, panting heavily until, minutes later, he eventually slipped from her.
Riddle stood, pulling up his trousers and rebuttoning them. She lay, limbs splayed, sex-sated and drifting.
‘Hermione Granger … I’ll remember the name.’
She turned her head blearily to him. ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle … I already know the name.’
He took a step into her, staring down fiercely. ‘What do you know, Hermione? What do you know?’
She pushed herself up on her elbows then lifted one finger and placed it against her lips. She gave him no more answer than that.
Eventually, she managed to push herself up and dress. When she had, she reached out her hand. ‘The time-turner. Give it to me.’
He smirked. ‘Check your pockets.’
She reached in and her hands closed on a chain. She pulled out the time-turner, which he’d already replaced in her pocket.
At that moment, the room started to throb around her, melting, fading, spinning. She was returning to her time.
She looked at him. ‘Thank you, Tom.’
‘I won’t forget.’
‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Remember … you fit me.’
She held his eyes as the world around her began to evaporate. ‘Goodbye, Tom Riddle.’
‘Goodbye, Hermione Granger.’
The door unlocked and she backed quickly out into the street as the shop and its contents disintegrated before her, the dark eyes of Tom Riddle the last thing imprinted on her mind.
And then, with a swirling thud, Hermione was back in the present, standing in Knockturn Alley. She glanced up at Borgin and Burkes. It looked much as it had earlier, but the paint work was different and the lights inside brighter. The door opened and a witch, frustrated at finding someone blocking her way, emerged with a tut. Hermione moved to the side and turned away.
Her body still throbbed with deep contentment, and not just from the pull of time travel.
She looked down at the time turner in her hand.
She would not forget. And it had been extraordinary.