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When Hermione woke on Monday morning she was completely exhausted. Her muscles ached, and she felt far more ready to go back to sleep than she did to get
dressed and head to her potions class.
The few hours of sleep she did manage to get had been filled with dreams of Tom Riddle. She knew that she should not indulge herself in such an unhealthy
desire, but how could she not when the target of her affections seemed so willing to cooperate? Never in her wildest dreams had she thought he would want
her, but it had become quite clear now that Tom Riddle wanted her very much.
Tom—a smile spread across Hermione's face as she thought about the weekend the two had shared. Although they had not actually made any physical contact
with each other, Hermione had never felt more loved or wanted by anyone in her entire life.
She would have expected the most notorious, evil wizard in the world to be a selfish man, but Tom seemed to be quite the opposite, at least when it came
to their bedroom interactions. He had been infinitely patient with Hermione, making certain that she reached her own pleasure before indulging in his
own. She imagined that he would do the same if they became lovers in truth, and the very thought had her so hot she could barely breathe.
Their time together had been sheer bliss now that they had both admitted they could see each other. Of course they'd each known before that the other was
watching, but it was so much better to hear his voice saying her name, to hear him telling her what he wanted, that she was almost giddy with excitement.
She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face and the lull of his heavy breathing in her ears, pretending it was her own bed he slept in, holding her
close. She woke this morning and found that he wasn't there. His bedroom was spotless, and not one item in it was out of its proper place.
His bloody room was completely immaculate.
Hermione's eyes darted guiltily back to her own surroundings, and she gasped in embarrassment. Her room was totally thrashed, especially in comparison to
his. Socks and other articles of clothing were strewn everywhere, and she had failed to make her bed as well.
She was usually a very tidy person, but lately she'd been so busy with her class work, her duties as Head Girl, and—well, and her evenings with Tom, that she
had completely forgotten about tidying up her room while she was at it.
She bit her lip and muttered a spell as she twirled her wand about in broad circles before her. Her errant clothes were magically sorted into two piles—the
clean ones, and the dirty ones—and stacked neatly on the desk in the corner.
When she'd finished this task, Hermione turned back to the mirror to get a better sense of what Tom would see as he looked in from his own room. His room and
her own were very similar. Both of them had a large bookcase full of tons and tons of books, but while Tom's neat, uniform tomes sported covers of black or
gray, and the shelf looked as though it was practically brand new, Hermione's bookshelf was much older. She had even been forced to cast some major strengthening
spells on the aged wood just to make certain her books would not fall off.
Curious, she squinted slightly to get a better look at the titles on his shelf, and recognized quite a few of them. Most of the topics she found were rather
dark in their nature, but that would make sense, considering the source.
Her eyes flickered back to her own bookshelf, and she giggled slightly as she noticed the difference. While Tom's shelves were full of dark, colourless,
wizard books, her own was filled with bright, colourful volumes, and at least half of them were Muggle books. She had an almost equal number of fiction and
non-fiction books as well, and anyone who viewed this shelf could get a clear sense of who she was—magic and Muggle, truth and fantasy, light as well as
dark. In short, she was eclectic.
Hermione could not help but think her bookshelf was far more interesting than Tom's. It brought out a sense of curiosity, and made the whole room seem more
alive. Tom's collection was more likely to elicit fear than it would joy.
But as she shook her head sharply and turned to peruse his room again, a warmth spread through her as her eyes flickered across his bed as she pictured him
on it the night before. She trembled deliciously, and a hot blush settled across her cheeks as she thought of the things he had said.
"I want your sweet little mouth, love," he'd told her as he stroked his long, hard shaft. Her mouth watered yet again just thinking of it—his hushed, intense
voice was like the ultimate aphrodisiac, and she was more than willing to imbibe.
She tried to cool the heat between her thighs by clamping her legs tightly together and turning away from the mirror and all its enticing memories. With a
sharp glance at the small clock on the wall above her bed, she was startled back into reality. The tension building up in her would have to wait, as she had
already missed breakfast and was fairly close to being late to her potions class with Professor Slughorn as well.
Not wanting to ruin her perfect attendance, Hermione quickly got dressed and prepared to go. She didn't mind waiting until later, since she would much rather
have Tom with her when she slaked the lust he had spawned, urging her on to ever greater heights of pleasure.
Everyone was just filing into the room when Hermione arrived, just in time. She entered along with the others and took her seat beside Malfoy as usual.
"Do I make you that hot?" Draco whispered wickedly into Hermione's ear. The smug look on his face was especially annoying considering the topic. Hermione froze
as she stared straight ahead at Slughorn, unwilling to dignify him with a response.
"What are you talking about?" she finally decided to ask him.
Draco smirked and rubbed a couple of his fingers across the scar on his palm, identical to her own.
He said, "I never knew you were a sadomasochist."
Hermione's eyes flickered up to his face, and she backed away in surprise when she noticed just how close he was. "I don't understand what you mean, Malfoy,"
she stuttered as she pulled her text book from her bag and flicked through the pages to find the potion they were meant to be brewing today.
Polyjuice potion was more of a review than a lesson for Hermione. The potion was used to change the appearance of its user for a limited period of time,
generally about an hour, and she could usually brew the stuff without even looking at the book.
She smirked down at the book, knowing that this would be an easy Owl, but she decided that she should probably try to study the book in front of her anyway,
just in case.
Trying to concentrate on Slughorn's instructions was difficult while Draco Malfoy was leaning closer than necessary and breathing heavily into her ear. She
glanced over at him for a moment, then looked quickly away again when she saw the look of barely concealed desire in his eyes.
"Here's an idea, Granger, how about if next time you use a silencing charm," he suggested, but then paused a moment before grinning with an even better idea. "Or,
you could always invite me to join you."
Hermione's face was completely red as she continued to stare at her book. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Malfoy would have heard the noises she'd
been making last night—she hadn't exactly been quiet, and the walls were not that thick.
Malfoy's chuckle caused her blush to deepen even more, but for the moment he backed off to listen as Slughorn gave a dramatic speech about the dangers of using
the potion improperly. Hermione winced, and thought about how she had accidentally added cat hair to a polyjuice potion she'd made in second year, and the
disastrous result she herself had experienced. She never wanted to be turned into a cat again, that was for sure.
Now that Malfoy was distracted, Hermione happily took her chance to read through the instructions, making certain she still remembered them exactly. But she
could not seem to give the task her full concentration as her thoughts kept drifting back to Tom.
His face danced before her vision as if he was truly there, and she longed to touch him in reality. She loved the image of Tom's face contorted in sheer
pleasure, and the look she'd surprised on her own reflection in the mirror as she watched him. Her own face had slightly covered his, blending the two of them
into one, and it had made her heart skip much faster when she'd seen it.
Hermione was so wrapped up in her thought that she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Malfoy tug on her collar to get her attention.
"What?" she snapped, annoyed by the interruption.
"We need our ingredients," he said in a demanding tone as he fiddled with his ring. It had the Malfoy seal clearly imbedded on it, and Hermione's nose crinkled
in distaste as she thought about how much she disliked every Malfoy male she's ever met.
"Well then go get them," she told him. Truth be told, Hermione was feeling so weak in the knees that she was afraid to get up, yet when Draco simply sat there
and stared at her, she got up just to get away from him.
Draco smirked triumphantly as Hermione took her first few shaky steps. The dumb git probably thought his nearness was the reason for her unsettled nerves. He
couldn't be farther from the truth, because only Tom occupied her thoughts—she couldn't seem to get him out of her mind as she opened the storage cabinet and
pulled out the necessary ingredients for their potion.
Malfoy took everything out of her hands as soon as she returned, and started to sort the ingredients into piles. Hermione just stood there and watched him. She
couldn't believe she was acting like a hormone-driven, electrified shell of her former self. She was Hermione Granger, and she never focused on carnal pleasures
like this. She was a bookworm, not a sex fiend.
"I could do with some help here, Granger," Malfoy hissed.
Hermione looked up with a start of surprise yet again, further fueling Malfoy's growing delusion that he somehow had made her this addled. He pointed at the
ingredients, and Hermione took a deep breath and started to help. She really needed to put Tom Riddle out of her mind.
Just as she was about to put in the next ingredient, a hand came down on hers, clamping tightly around her wrist. She looked up into Professor Slughorn's eyes
in surprise.
"Miss Granger," he gasped in alarm. "You haven't put in the leeches yet. It's not time for the knotgrass."
The entire class fell silent as they watched the conversation. Hermione's face flushed, and she hung her head in embarrassment. Malfoy just stood there and
glared at her.
"Sorry, Professor," she said. "I wasn't thinking."
Slughorn gaped at her for a moment, as if she'd just announced the world was about to end. Hermione was his best student, and she never got anything wrong. "Well,
then, Granger, maybe you should pull your head down out of the clouds before you send us all up into them."
"Yes, sir."
"Are you quite all right, Miss Granger?" Slughorn inquired, bending down to look at her. Hermione's head throbbed, and she mentally scolded herself. If she could
just get her mind off Tom for one minute, she might actually get something done.
She slumped down at the table and put her head on her arms, and Slughorn took the hint. He left her to her thoughts and returned to the front of the classroom.
Malfoy sniggered in his seat beside hers, and Hermione suddenly realized that she needed some air. She quickly grabbed up her books and stormed out of the
classroom, with the haunting thoughts of Tom Riddle still spinning about in her mind.
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