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Hermione knew that something was wrong the second she finished her pumpkin juice. There was a tingle in her lower belly that was completely foreign to her. A slight tremor rocked her body as she glanced around. Everyone was busy with their dinner. Ron and Harry were chatting away about the upcoming Quidditch try-outs. Nobody was paying any attention to her.
Nobody was watching her as though they were waiting for signs of poisoning.
She felt warm. Abnormally warm. This was not good. She glanced to the high table where all the teacher’s sat. Only Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinistra were still there, the rest had already retired.
If Professor Snape was there, she could have alerted him to the issue. He would probably figure out what was wrong right away. But she hadn’t seen him at all this evening. She swallowed against the nausea that rose from her stomach.
There was no time to waste. If she really was poisoned, she needed to act now. With a vague excuse to her friends, she took the glass with the remaining juice, grabbed her bag, and hurried away.
Half-way up the stairs to the hospital wing, the tingle in her stomach turned into a fierce throbbing. Her knees wobbled and she sank to the ground with a moan.
“Fuck,” she groaned.
Whatever this poison was doing, it was working rapidly. The urge to grind against her school bag was almost overwhelming. She just knew, it would bring release from this heat and tension in every fibre of her body.
She pressed her clenched fist with the glass in it against her mouth and swallowed another moan. Oh god, this was not good. She was sweating and trembling and felt completely out of it.
The thought of going to the hospital wing, potentially lying in bed in this condition, writhing and moaning with a flushed face—she would die of embarrassment. This had to be a particularly mean prank by one of the Slytherins. They’d for sure be waiting for her there, just so excited to heckle her.
Cowering on the ground, one hand on the banister, the other still over her mouth, Hermione tried to think this through calmly. She needed help, and fast, but if her suspicion was right, there was no way she wanted to be in the hospital wing.
Did she even need to go there? Madam Pomfrey would send for Professor Snape to analyse the poison and concoct an antidote anyway. She could just as well go right down to the dungeons to him and ask him without involving the hospital wing. Yes. That was the best course of action.
It took her more strength than she wanted to admit to get up again and walk down the stairs. Her body screamed at her, her breathing too laboured, her heart pumping adrenaline through her veins. She had to bite her lip not to groan with each step she took. The only saving grace right now was that everyone else was still at dinner and nobody would be here to witness her humiliation.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the Potions classroom without seeing anyone else. She slipped through the door and stumbled through the empty rows to the door to Snape’s office. Salvation was so close.
Hermione straightened up and ran her fingers through her curls in an attempt to look a little more presentable. But there was no disguising the heat in her cheeks or the way her whole body still trembled.
Harsher than intended, she knocked on the door.
It felt like hours passed before she heard foot steps from the other side. Then, the door opened.
“Miss Granger?”
“Professor Riddle?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “What are you doing here?”
For too long, he simply looked at her. Hermione couldn’t help the shiver than ran down her spine. Professor Riddle was the newest teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, joining just as she started sixth year. She had only known him for these few weeks since the term started, but she knew every single girl in her life was in love with him.
Right now, with her body screaming for release, she could see it for the first time. His perfectly curled black hair, his dark eyes gleaming in the shine of the candle light, his chiselled face, everything about him was alluring, even though he was so much older than her.
“Severus fell ill earlier this evening, so I am cleaning up the potions ingredients for him,” Riddle explained. “What can I do for you?”
She swallowed. Suddenly, the idea of coming down here alone seemed very, very bad. But with the poison overtaking more and more of her faculties, there was no way she could walk back all the way to the hospital wing.
“I think I’ve been poisoned, professor,” she stammered out.
He raised one eyebrow in a perfect arch, only highlighting how beautiful he was. Without asking her another question, he opened the door wider and stepped aside. Hermione licked her lips and stared up at him. She felt vulnerable in away she didn’t know she could feel. She didn’t know this man.
While Professor Snape had a reputation of being disagreeable and he had a past of being particularly nasty towards her, she had also seen him protect her from danger without a second thought. She’d known him for over five years. She trusted him like she trusted Professor McGonagall, even though she didn’t particularly like him.
Professor Riddle on the other hand? She’d known him for only a couple of weeks. He was brilliant, no doubt about that. But nobody knew anything about him. There was not even a hint of a rumour of what he had been up to before coming to Hogwarts. How could she trust someone like that?
“Miss Granger?”
Startled, she realised she had just been standing there, panting and sweating, staring at him as though she was unhinged. Blushing even more, she quickly stepped through the door. He chuckled lowly as he closed the door behind her.
“I see you brought an empty glass with you. You think you drank poison?” His voice was still so calm, so professional.
“Yes,” she said quickly and held out the glass to him.
He gingerly took it from her hand and put it down on one of the huge, sturdy laboratory tables. Hermione let out a long breath. He was not Snape, but he was well-versed in the Dark Arts. He surely would be able to help her as well.
“I will run some tests on this,” he told her. “Feel free to sit down on the sofa over there. You look quite uncomfortable in your own skin, so please, do whatever you need to feel more comfortable.”
Hermione’s gaze wandered through the office that also doubled as Professor Snape’s private lab. Everything in here was clean, perfectly so, indicating how seriously he took his work. The sofa next to the fireplace was the only piece of furniture that stood out. Why would he have a sofa here?
She shook her head and plopped down on the soft cushions. It didn’t matter. It made her feel better for a moment, so she should just be grateful for it.
“While I work, why don’t you describe your symptoms to me, Miss Granger?”
Heat shot through her whole body. Just the thought of saying out loud what she was feeling was mortifying, but it also raised the tension and need in her whole body. She leaned back on the sofa, head on the back rest, and closed her eyes to fully concentrate.
And to forget that she was talking to her teacher.
She licked her lips. “I feel hot all over. It started with a tingle in my stomach. Then I started to tremble and feel weak. When I got up and walked down here, there was a … a kind of … throbbing.” She could barely contain a moan. “A pulse … between my legs.”
“Mhm,” she heard from across the room. “That throbbing. What does it feel like? Does it hurt?”
It was such an innocent question, but Hermione wanted to scream. What adult man didn’t understand exactly what she was talking about? She had to clear her throat and press her eyes shut even harder to be able to speak. “It’s … it’s not painful. On the contrary. It’s … pleasant.”
“Pleasant?”
“Oh god,” she sobbed as a particularly intense throb sent shockwaves through her core. “Please, professor, you know what I mean. Do you really want me to spell it out?”
“I do.” Hermione’s eyes snapped open; that had sounded so much closer. Professor Riddle was standing in front of the sofa, hovering over her, his eyes fixed on her face. He gave her a tight smile. “I understand that it is difficult for you to talk about it, but the more precise you are in your description, the easier it is for me to find out exactly what kind of poison we are dealing with here.”
“Okay,” she whispered. For some reason, she was unable to look away from him. “The feeling is good. It makes me tense and I know I’m trembling and flushing, but it’s … pleasure. Like I’m … aroused.”
She was staring right at him and so it didn’t escape her notice how his eyes grew even darker. He was still smiling, but suddenly, it didn’t seem friendly anymore. Slowly, as if calculated, he leaned over her until he could put one hand next to her head on the back rest. Hermione’s breath hitched. With him so close, the need to feel something inside her was almost impossible to ignore.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he murmured. Just as slowly, he lifted his other hand until it hovered just a hair’s breadth away from her cheek. With her pulse racing, she watched helplessly, rendered completely frozen, as he swiped his thumb over her cheekbone. She shuddered and instantly, he removed his hand again. “How was that?”
She wanted to grab him and kiss him. She wanted to shove that hand between her legs and ride it until she came. She wanted him to rip her clothes open and take her right here in Snape’s office. Just the image of him bending her over, pounding into her with reckless abandon, was almost enough to send her over the edge.
Whimpering, she shook her head. “That made it worse. Oh god, professor. Please don’t do that again. Oh, it’s so hard to control myself.”
He straightened back up. “I apologise, but it was a necessary step to test.” With that, he returned to the table with his experiments. “I think I have a good idea of most of the ingredients in the potion right now. Once the drip here is done, I’ll know the details.”
She watched him tinker with flasks and pipettes, but her mind was already drifting away. Without even realising what she was doing, her hand slipped under her skirt and into her knickers. She was already so wet, soaking the thin fabric, probably making a mess on Snape’s sofa. She didn’t care. She needed to come, or she would explode.
Her eyes fell close again as she rubbed her fingers over her sensitive knot. Moans and whimpers dropped from her lips continuously, filling the silence of the office with her obscene act, but she didn’t care. The need to come was all-encompassing. It was the only thing left to do.
In her mind, Riddle was the one with his hand down her knickers. He was gazing into her eyes, hunger in his expression, though his lips showed a warm smile, as he buried two fingers inside her. Hermione did just that, pumping into her wet heat without care while pressing down with the palm of her hand.
She came with a cry, her body shuddering and trembling, and then she sobbed in relief. It felt good. So good. It was better than any climax that she had before. The relief, the tension seeping out. The euphoria.
Breathing heavily, she slowly opened her eyes again.
From across the room, Professor Riddle openly stared at her. Instantly, any relief she felt was replaced by shame and humiliation. She pulled her hands away and shook her head desperately. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, professor. I just couldn’t … the urge was too strong. I swear, I wouldn’t do that if not for the potion.”
He nodded. “I know. I understand, Miss Granger.”
Another thought crossed her. “Is it … was that it? I don’t feel the effect of the poison anymore. Did I just need to come?”
The apologetic look on his face instantly doused any hope she had. “I’m afraid not. This will be a temporary relief, but it will make the desire you feel once it returns only stronger. Any time you come, it will clear your head for a while before it comes back.”
“Oh god. I just made it worse?” She couldn’t imagine how much more need her body could make her feel.
Riddle simply nodded before he returned to his potions. Hermione kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up. She hated this. She hated who ever did this to her. She felt nothing but shame and regret. How could she be so stupid to not notice a poison in her drink? At least she felt a little more like herself right now. Whatever temporary relief she gave herself, she was glad to have it.
But if it would return even worse, she feared for herself. Her fantasies were just so strong. Her eyes flickered back to the professor. He was diligently doing his work, pretending like he didn’t just watch her come all over Snape’s sofa. She should be grateful.
But there was a gnawing worry that she couldn’t ignore. Hermione knew she should tell him, but even the thought of putting it into words made her cringe.
She closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and then looked at him again. “Professor. I think … what I mean is … if this does come back. This urge. I might … say something inappropriate to you. Please, just … ignore it, okay? Ignore me.”
Riddle chuckled. “Of course, Miss Granger. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
To her horror, that chuckle shot right to her core. Not even five minutes had passed and already she could feel the tingle return. Already images of Professor Riddle, kneeling between her legs, his low chuckle vibrating against her clit, flashed behind her closed eyes.
Without conscious thought, Hermione stretched out fully on the sofa, one arm thrown over her eyes in an attempt to block out reality. Her left leg was firmly planted on the cool stone floor, grounding her as heat once again seemed to engulf her. Her breathing grew louder, deafening almost every other sound around her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t fight the urge to slip her fingers between her legs again.
A warm hand suddenly curled around her wrist. With a barely contained moan, she lowered her arm and opened her eyes. “Professor?”
He looked earnestly to her, his hand preventing her from touching herself again. “It will only make it worse, Miss Granger. You shouldn’t do that. If you must, try to put it off as long as you can. The more you do it, the more this curse will consume you.”
With surprising ease, he pushed her hand back towards her stomach. But when he let go, all sense left Hermione. Instantly, she grabbed his arm again and pulled him back. “Then you do it.”
He froze, kneeling besides the sofa. “What?”
“I need release,” she whined as she involuntarily arched her back. “Touch me, please. It’ll be better than my own hand. I just now it. Your fingers inside me will feel so good. Reaching deeper than I ever could. Stretching me. Please, sir. Please!”
Riddle splayed his hand on her stomach, pressing her into the soft cushions, and shook his head. “You told me clearly to ignore you, Miss Granger. That your lust-addled brain would make you say things you didn’t mean. This is just the curse talking. I am your professor.”
His voice dropped as he said that last word, rumbling in his chest in a way that made her insides clench. Panting, she forced his hand lower. “I don’t care. This is what I want. Right now. You said you’ll help me. Please. Help me!”
“Granger–”
“Please!”
She didn’t care that he was her professor. That she barely knew him. Her body was burning, delicious heat coursing through her veins but also hurting every fibre of her being. She needed release and she just knew, her own fingers would never be enough.
He lowered his head and closed his eyes, but he no longer resisted the pressure of her hand. His voice was nothing but a gravelly whisper as he pressed out, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
But then, his fingertips slipped over her dripping folds and the moan that escaped her at the contact was mirrored in a muffled groan from him. Even through the fog of need, she could see that he wanted this. He was her professor and thus protested against it, but it was clear that he actually enjoyed touching her. Hermione whimpered at the thought. Someone so gorgeous, so much older and more experienced, looked at her in this state and still wanted her.
The coiling heat in her belly grew more insistent. With every stroke of his fingers, so careful in their exploration of her slippery folds, a wave of lust washed over her. Mindlessly, she opened her legs wider, one leaning against the backrest of the sofa, the other hanging down. She spread her legs and lifted her skirt, wanting to give him perfect access.
Riddle lowered himself onto the sofa, one knee positioned to keep her leg against the backrest, the other foot firmly planted on the floor. He leaned over her, balancing himself on one arm planted right next to her head. Then, looking straight into her eyes without blinking, he pushed two fingers into her.
Hermione cried out, the intrusion so sudden yet so welcome that she almost came on the spot. A grin played around his lips, almost pleased with himself, as he started to pump into her. Her eyes rolled to the back, her hips canted to meet his rhythm, and she no longer cared about the obscene sounds that she made.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Riddle suddenly demanded. “On me, Miss Granger.”
She nodded breathlessly, ignoring the question that floated through her thoughts. The fingers of her one hand dug deep into the soft cushions of the sofa, the other sought purchase against his shoulder. With every thrust of his hand, she rolled her hips upwards, meeting him, urging him on. Slick dripped down her thighs, leaving behind a wet spot on the sofa, but she didn’t care. The office filled with her moans and the wet squelching sounds of his fingers in her cunt. He didn’t seem to mind and to her, it only heightened the lust coursing through her veins.
“I almost don’t want you to come,” her professor suddenly murmured.
“Why?” Hermione asked desperately.
“Once you calm down, you’ll hate me for this.”
She almost laughed. “No. I won’t. I promise. I forced you into this. Please, please make me cum. Oh god, I think I’ll die if I can’t cum!”
He flashed her a grim smile. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
With that, he used his free hand to rip open her blouse before propping himself on it again and leaning even further down. His teeth closed around her hard nipple. The pain sent a shockwave through her, immediately followed by pleasure as he replaced his teeth with his lips and sucked. A cry tore from her deepest parts as she came, twitching and trembling under the tension and its release. Riddle kept fucking her with his hand, now three fingers buried inside her, just as his tongue continued to swirl around her nipple. Every time she thought her climax subsided, he pulled it up again, prolonged it, until every last thought left her brain and she could do nothing more but pant and shake and sweat.
Finally, when she had nothing more to give, he let go of her. Her breathing slowed, the trembling subsided, and with it, the mindless fog lifted.
A shudder went through her.
Swallowing harshly, she looked up at the professor. He was still kneeling above her, both hands now splayed left and right of her head. He was studying her face, not a hint of shame to be found in his eyes.
She furrowed her brows. “Why-why did you do that?”
Riddle raised one eyebrow. “Because you asked me to.”
Annoyance and shame welled up inside her. “Yeah, I know I did. But I told you before that you should ignore me. I knew I’d ask you to do this, so I explicitly said that you should ignore me. But you didn’t.”
All playfulness evaporated from his face and left behind a mask so cold, Hermione wasn’t even sure whether she’d call it human anymore. “You promised me you wouldn’t hate me for it. That you knew that you forced me into this. You promised that.”
The whole world seemed to tilt around her. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, a clear message that he didn’t appreciate her talking back to him. And he still had her trapped underneath him, legs spread, skirt flipped up.
“You shouldn’t have done this. You know I’ve been poisoned. You know everything I say while the effect is particularly strong is not what I actually want. You still did it.” She put as much anger into her voice as she could, hoping to mask the fear that suddenly gripped her.
Riddle let out a long sigh, but then his smile was back. Only this time, it chilled her to the bone. “Oh, Hermione. You really are too clever for your age. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done this. But guess what? I still did, and I’ll do it again. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
All heat drained out of her in an instant, leaving behind nothing but ice-cold dread. “What?”
Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her wrists and trapped them above her head with just one hand. The other slipped back between her legs, parting her folds and spreading the last remains of her juiced all around.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he purred as he slowly dipped just one fingertip into her. “You weren’t actually poisoned, not in the traditional sense. What you drank was the liquid version of a curse I invented over summer. There’s no antidote to that. You’ll have to break the curse to be free of it.”
Hermione blinked. Somewhere on the way from his mouth to her ears, Riddle’s words got lost. She heard him, but she couldn’t understand. There was no way she could understand. “What?”
His smile widened into a grin. “All of this was my doing.”
With that, he lowered himself again until his lips brushed over the swell of her breasts. His finger pushed in deeper, exploring her almost idly, while he licked and kissed and sucked a wet trail over her chest.
Then, it clicked. His words finally reached her brain, finally unfolded their whole meaning. With a scream, Hermione threw herself against him, against his hand holding her wrist. But it was useless. He was so much taller, so much fitter, a man, a powerful wizard. He didn’t even comment on her struggles. She thrashed against him, tried to ram her knee into his sides, but his own legs were perfectly placed to render her almost immobile.
“If you could stop wriggling so much, darling, I would explain to you how to break this curse,” he murmured against her neck.
“As though I’d believe a single thing you say!” Hermione yelled. “Get off me! Let go! I don’t want this!”
He merely chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I know. That’s the fun part. But don’t worry. I wager it’ll be about three more minutes until you actually do want this.”
Panic gripped her. He was right. She could feel that he was right. Already, her body was heating up again. Already, she could feel that tingle between her legs, that urge to grind against his hand. Tears pricked at her eyes. “No. Oh god, please. No more of this. Please!”
He pulled his hand out and closed it around her jaw instead, forcefully tilting her head. “Listen to me, Hermione. This is a curse. My curse. You can do nothing against it. It will consume you forever unless you break it. And it’s easy, really. A simple, obvious solution.”
She tried to shake her head as tears spilled over. “Please. Don’t! Just let me go! I won’t even say anything. Just let me go!”
“You will feel the urge to fuck again and again, until you actually give in. Once a man fucks you, and comes inside you, you’ll be free. There. It’s not so hard to break this little curse, right?” As if to underscore his explanation, he pressed a quick kiss against her temple.
She couldn’t help the sob that broke out of her as she realised the full implication of everything she just heard. It had been a setup from the start. He’d poisoned and cursed her specifically to get her here, even anticipating that she wouldn’t go to the hospital wing. He even got rid of Professor Snape for this.
All so he could trap her here and fuck her.
“No,” she wheezed, “please! Why would you do this? Why?”
His hand left her face and cupped one of her exposed breasts instead. “It’s your own fault, really. A worthless mudblood besting everyone, including the most talented purebloods? And then you march around school, nose upturned, so focused on your school work that you don’t even spare a single glance for any of the many men and boys who’d like to get in your pants. You’re seventeen, Hermione. You’re supposed to live and fuck and drool over the new hot teacher. Be a dumb teenager. But no. You chose the hard path. And between you and me?”
He leaned down until his lips grazed her ear. “There is nothing hotter than a witch who doesn’t want sex. The more you hate it, the more I’ll enjoy fucking you. And there’s nothing you can do about it. So, as I said. It’s your own fault. If you were just a little bit more normal, more like the other girls your age, I’d never even looked your way twice. But here we are.”
He growled the last words right into her ear before moving further down and planting a wet, hot kiss against her throat. A primal terror gripped Hermione. His voice was cold, so full of hatred, yet he continued to work her body, fingers moving inside her, lips now kissing her neck and shoulders. And she was reacting to it. Heat slowly spreading from her abdomen to the rest of her body, her breath accelerating, her mind growing numb. She felt his condescending hatred in every touch, yet her body welcomed it.
“You-you won’t,” she squeezed out between moans and pants, “you won’t get away with this!”
He chuckled, completely undisturbed. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. For now, just feel.”
With one wave of his hand, he vanished her clothes. The small part of her brain that was still present screeched in horror as she realised that he did it without so much as holding his wand. Whatever was said about Professor Riddle’s prowess as a wizard, it was still far from the truth. Tears pricked at her eyes. She would never stand a chance against him. Even if her body wasn’t melting under his touch, there would be nothing she could do. Nothing at all.
“Tell me, mudblood. Was my assumption right? Are you still a virgin?”
She wanted to say no, tell one lie in the hopes it might turn him off. But before she could get her throat to work, she already nodded, a breathless, eager gesture as though she wanted to invite him in.
“Thought so,” he hummed as his eyes trailed down her exposed form. “Then let’s make it memorable, shall we?”
“Yes,” she panted, spreading her legs even wider, “please, please! Let me feel you.”
With an icy grin, he thrust three fingers deep into her. Hermione wailed as pain ripped through her, but it only heightened the heat coursing through her body. Without thinking, without feeling, her hips moved against him, meeting the movements of his hand, working herself into a frenzy. She was sweating all over, tension gripping her body, but she just couldn’t get enough.
“See, this is your natural state, Granger,” Riddle growled above her. “Beneath me, legs spread, panting for my cock, not a single thought left in that stupid brain of yours. Doesn’t this feel good?”
“Oh god,” Hermione sobbed, “yes! Please! I want to come! I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, just let me come.”
“Then come.”
The hissed command shot right to her core. The tension exploded, heat washing over her whole body as the orgasm overtook her. He pulled his hand out, just planted it next to her head and watched her as she twitched and trembled helplessly under him.
When her breathing finally slowed down again, the terror of what was happening came right back. Riddle’s eyes were on her face, cold and detached, but the second the fog lifted from her brain, a dangerous grin spread over his lips.
“There you are,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Welcome back. I thought you deserved one more orgasm before the main event. What do you say? Ready?”
As he said that, he slowly straightened up and started to unbuckle his belt. Mindless panic ripped through her when she realised what would come next.
“No! Please! Don’t do this! Please, professor. I won’t say a word, I promise. Just let me go!” Sobs and cries and incoherent pleas sputtered from her lips, forming even before her brain could catch up.
Hermione knew that her horrified panic was exactly what Riddle wanted. She understood that the more she pleaded and cried, the more he’d enjoy it. And still, she couldn’t stop the waterfall of words, couldn’t stop begging.
With his hard cock in hand, Riddle leaned over her again, capturing her wrists in one hand again. “You’re so ungrateful, little mudblood. I graciously bestowed an orgasm on you, yet here you are, crying and begging for me to stop.” He pecked a kiss against her jaw. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fully aware of the next part. You wouldn’t want to miss your first time, right?”
Icy coldness seeped into the very marrow of her bones. He purposefully made her come just seconds before, because he wanted her fully alert. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make this as bad as possible for her.
Fresh tears welled up and spilled over as she closed her eyes and shook her head. She was inside her personal hell and there was no escaping it. The only hope she had left was that once he was done, once the curse was broken, he would let her go. If she let this happen, she would finally be free of this heat and mindless fog that possessed her brain every few minutes.
“Eyes open, darling,” Riddle murmured from above.
Gritting her teeth, she looked back up at him. His smile was almost warm, but behind it, the simmering heat made her stomach drop. He was enjoying her tears and despair.
“Now, watch. Don’t you dare look away, or I’ll keep you here even longer.”
She followed his gaze, down her body, to where his hard length was nudging her folds apart. She bit her lip and tried to prepare herself. For once, she wished the damnable heat would return. Right now, she was cold and shivering and her whole body was tense.
Pressure built against her core. He felt so much bigger, too big, way too much to fit inside her. Her muscles tensed even more, but he was relentless. He forced her open, slowly, inexorably. She watched the flared head disappear inside her, followed by another push. Despite biting her lips, despite holding her breath, she sobbed.
Riddle groaned. Groaned and stopped for a moment, for the first time panting himself. “That’s just the tip and you’re already sobbing, little witch.” He let go of his cock and instead propped himself up in both elbows, eyes still fixed between her legs. “I knew you’d be perfect.”
He started to move again, shallow, slow thrusts, inching forward every so slightly each time. Making her flinch and shudder as he forced her walls apart, worked through her clenching muscles. He was breathing hard, brows furrowed, eyes focused on the singular spot where their bodies met.
Hermione was watching, too. Through heavy tears, she watched as Riddle slowly took more and more of her. Whenever he paused to catch his breath, she thought it would be over. It would be as far as he could go. But every time, he started again, rocked against her, slipping even deeper. Every time, she whined and sobbed and cried. Every time, he groaned when he heard her desperate little sounds.
Finally, he thrust in all the way. She knew he was fully sheathed now because he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breath hot against her throat and chest. The burn between her legs was worse than anything she ever felt. There was another pain, duller somehow, a pounding that reminded her of period cramps.
Riddle lifted himself a little higher and gently grabbed one of her hands. Slowly, but without allowing her to fight back, he brought her hand down between their bodies and splayed it over her lower abdomen, applying slight pressure.
“There. You feel that?” He moved over her, rocking against her hips. “That’s me inside you. That’s me claiming you. Keep your hand there. I want you to feel every single bit, every thrust, as I take the only thing from you that was ever worth anything.”
Fear morphed into rage. Pain transformed into hatred. As though his words had flipped a switch inside her. As though suddenly, she saw Tom Riddle for who he truly was.
“Am I supposed to feel a cock this way?” Hermione spat venomously. “If so, you must be unusually small because I don’t feel a thing.”
His eyes widened and he went perfectly still above. Then, sharp pain ripped through her face as her head flew to the right. She saw his arm come down a second time, slapping her across the cheek with his backhand and her head flipped to the left.
“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, eyes wild with rage. “You’ll regret that, I promise you.”
“Oh yeah? As if you can do anything to me that’s worse than this,” she yelled back.
“We’ll see,” he growled back.
He started to move again. Both hands fisted into her hair, forcing her head into her back, he pumped into her, hard, fast, with sharp grunts accentuating every snap of his hips. And despite the pain, despite her fear and anger and despair, Hermione felt heat slowly building inside her again. Before long, she moved with him, meeting his thrusts, mirroring his groans.
She let her eyes fall close and her arms snake around his shoulders. There was no longer any pain. Just heat and the need to come. The need to hear his grunts turn as desperate as she felt. The need to kiss him. Or feel his lips on her skin. She wanted to be even closer to him, feel even more of him.
“Professor,” she breathed into his ear, “kiss me. Please. Kiss me!”
A dark laugh rumbled in his chest, but then he obliged. His lips found hers, capturing her despite the harsh tempo of his hips. He pulled even harder on her hair, forcing her mouth to fall open as she arched her back. The next second, his tongue was inside her mouth, sliding against hers, exploring, tasting, conquering every millimetre of her inside. Hermione replied with equal enthusiasm. Swirled her tongue around his, sucked on it, even grazed him with her teeth.
And all the while, their hips met with increasing speed, increasing force. The air around her turned thickly sweet, reeking of sweat and sex. Goosebumps spread over her exposed skin, heralding the nearing climax.
She wrenched her face away and gasped for air. “Professor, touch me. Hurt me. Please. I need to come.”
Riddle instantly stopped moving. His left hand closed around her throat and squeezed as he used it to push her deeper into the cushions, while his right hand found her clit and applied just the right amount of pressure. Wide-eyed, Hermione started up at him as the orgasm crashed into her. Hips bucking wildly, her mouth agape in the need for air, she clawed at his arm as her whole body started to shudder. Again and again, she pressed herself against his hand, pulled another wave of pleasure up, all the while gasping for air, back arching away from the sofa.
When her body finally slumped back down, Riddle started to move again. Hands now pinning her hips down, he pummelled into her with single-minded intent. Hermione lay beneath him, mind clearing, legs slack as she had no strength left. She watched as he quickly worked himself back into his own mindless pleasure, heart hammering in her chest. She only needed to hold on for a little longer. It would be over soon.
She swallowed against the tears that threatened to spill over again. He had taken everything from her, but at least, it was finally over. She just needed to endure for a moment now.
With a roar, Riddle pushed her away, pulling out, his hand suddenly on his cock, fisting it, working it furiously, his other hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. Before she understood what was happening, hot, wet droplets sprayed onto her stomach and chest and face. He grunted again, his hips moved one more time, a fresh string of cum shot out.
Then, he fell back, still between her legs, chest heaving as he stared at her sullied body.
With what little strength Hermione had left, she forced herself up, eyeing him cautiously. “It’s done now? The stupid curse of yours broken?”
To her horror, Riddle broke out into cruel laughter. “Oh, Hermione. Aren’t you supposed to be clever? I explained the rules of the curse to you.”
Instantly, he was over her again, sliding her back down, nudging her thighs apart to slip between them again. Between soft kisses and gentle caresses, he explained, “You need a man to come inside you for the curse to break. Do you really think I’d have my fill with just this one time?” He captured her lips again, kissing her lazily, before continuing, “Of course not. We have the full night ahead of us. There is so much fun to be had.”
Heat pulsed through her and all her hopes evaporated. “No! No, please, no more of this!” Desperate for anything to get her out of this, she added, “I’ll keep quiet if you let me go now. If you don’t, I’ll report you first thing tomorrow!”
Riddle simply continued to laugh. “Nothing a precise little Obliviation can’t fix. Don’t worry, you won’t forget all of it. Just the parts you hated.” Another kiss. “It will be a night to remember for you, I promised you that.” He sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck. “You’ll be back, creaming for my cock, before the week’s out.” Another lick. “We’ll be having so much fun this year. And you’ll never remember how much you hate each and every time I fuck you. That’s a promise.”
His words slowly trickled into her brain. Forming their meaning. Eliciting a despair so dark she thought she’d never see the light again. But instead of words of protest or attempts to push him away, all that came over her lips were moans. Wanton sounds that grew increasingly needy as the now all too familiar heat dispelled the bone-deep chill of her fear.
“What do you say, mudblood?” Riddle whispered against her lips. “Ready for my fingers again?”
“Yes, professor,” she sighed back, mind pleasantly numb, “I’m always ready for you.”