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His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18953 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Hello everyone! I’m so sorry to keep you waiting for so long, but my muse took a vacation the same time I did and only decided to come back when I thought to pair Hermione up with someone else.

Next chapter will contain the Third Task, Lord Voldemort’s return, and Hermione’s integration with Meira. I’m undecided if the next chapter will be the last.

Special thanks to thecellarfloor and the story, ‘Lex Talionis, The Law of Retaliation’. That whole stopping a curse after it’s been cast is a thing of beauty!

Anyway, hope you enjoy this and I thank you all for still hanging on with me.

Chapter 14

Sunlight peeked through the window, illuminating her rich skin. It would have been so easy for him to shape Hermione into his Meira. Her true image. But Tom liked Hermione. She had Meira’s fiery spirit, impeccable intelligence, and she was rapidly developing an unquestionable loyalty to him. As she continued to sleep soundly, Tom pulled the silk sheet down her waist. His eyes trailing languorously over her small and supple body. Her skin was a bit tanner than Meira’s was. It had more of a golden blaze. As if unconsciously sensing his burning gaze, Hermione shifted fully onto her back. His fingers trailed over her stomach. She quivered in response. Tom propped his head on his hand idly stroking her hardened nipples with his fingers.

He could keep her. Lock her away with him. They would never age. They would never die. It would be like the Picture of Dorian Gray in reverse.

“These would be considered mutinous thoughts, my Horcrux.”

“Ah, milord, eavesdropping is a very unbecoming habit,” he chided.

“It is hardly eavesdropping when I am acting in the best interest of my Queen, my most willful Horcrux.”

“Actually, Slytherin’s Locket is your most willful Horcrux, milord,” he laughed. “And can you honestly blame me for falling for dear Hermione’s charm? She is much like Meira was in the beginning. Enjoying the darkness, but ashamed to admit it.”

“She will fight it,” the Dark Lord rasped, studiously ignoring Tom parting Hermione’s thighs. “When the time comes, she will not easily forget those she believes she loves.”

“Perhaps,” he said, tasting the soft skin of her thighs. Hermione quivered slightly. Her eyes moved behind her lids, but she would not awaken until he allowed her. “But she is already succumbing. All she needs is one little push.”

“Then you may tell her everything else except for that.”

“No, I have the feeling that memory shall reemerge during the final confrontation. Now if you would excuse me, milord, I am going to enjoy the time I have left with her.” As Tom trailed his tongue up and down her swollen and leaking lips in a torturously slow pace, he felt the Dark Lord’s presence slowly receding from his mind.

“Tom,” she moaned. Her eyes were closed innocently, her lips parted as she panted, arching her back. She was a vision lost in her decadent rapture. Tom took her hardened nub between his lips and sucked slowly enjoying her squirming and panting. He pleasured her to a screaming orgasm, keeping her asleep until just the right moment.

Tom summoned silk scarves and bounded her arms above her head and covered her eyes. He would not get to keep her there. But he would enjoy every moment of their time together. He spread her thighs open and positioned himself at her center. He gave one quick thrust inside her as she gasped, now fully awake.

Tom lingered inside her long after coating her insides with his seed. With her hands now free, Hermione hugged Tom against her, wishing she never had to let him go. “Tom?” she whispered.

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Is it at all possible for you to be released from the painting?”

He lifted himself slightly, staring down into her innocently inquiring eyes. It was moments like this when he was reminded of how young she truly was in this state. “I could, yes, but it would never be like this, Hermione. I would inhabit another’s body and possess them. Why do you ask?” he knew the answer to this already, but the more she admitted her feelings for him, the easier it would be for her to accept her fate.

“I will miss you.”

“Well, you could always console yourself with the Dark Lord,” he hinted.

She snorted, skimming the length of his spine with her nails as he shivered. “I don’t believe the Dark Lord will be as forthcoming about his past as you were.”

“Don’t make haste in your assumptions where the Dark Lord is concerned, Hermione. He may very well surprise you.”

Hermione nibbled on her lip, drifting off into deep thought. Inwardly, Tom smiled fondly. He knew that look. It was the same look Meira got when she was about to make a big decision. “Tom, if I asked you something, you would tell me the truth, wouldn’t you?”

He slowly pulled out of her, watching as her eyes briefly unfocused. “I would try my best.”

She turned towards him idly playing with his fingers. “What is my connection to Meira?”

“Ah,” he said, turning over flat on his back. “I wondered when we would get to that. You do realize that I am…hindered from telling you certain things?”

“Hindered by who?” she questioned, beginning to get agitated. It annoyed her that no one seemed to want to answer her questions. Was it too much to ask who was the person responsible for Meira’s presence? “The Dark Lord? Dumbledore? Who is pulling the strings here?”

“You must be patient, love,” he soothed. “All will be revealed in time.”

“But when? And by whom?” she pressed.

“The end of the year.”

“What?”

“Everything you wish to know will be revealed to you at the end of your school year.”

Hermione almost asked why she would have to wait until it suddenly hit her. The Dark Lord was returning at the end of their school year. Hermione didn’t know how she felt about that. It was one thing to see Meira’s memories of the Dark Lord and experience the phantom spark of affection for him, but the Dark Lord was nothing like Tom.

“I am the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord is me, Hermione,” Tom said, reading her mind as the Dark Lord would read Meira’s.

“But you’re not. You are gentle and caring. The Dark Lord is, well, the Dark Lord.”

“That is your fear and denial talking. Deep down you like the ruthlessness of the Dark Lord’s personality. You like how others are afraid to say his name, let alone stand against him in a duel.” He flipped her on her stomach suddenly, lightly kissing her back and shoulders. “You desire the Dark Lord, don’t you, Hermione?”

“No,” she denied in a trembling voice.

Her thighs parted willingly and she gasped and moaned, biting down onto the pillow as Tom dragged his hardened cock back and forth over her silky slit.

“You want to know how it would feel to have the darkest, most powerful and feared wizard in the world inside you, don’t you, Hermione?”

“You shouldn’t say things like that, Tom. It’s bad. So bad,” she gasped feeling the head of his cock enter her slowly.

“And that’s what makes it all the more enticing, love.” His thrusts were slow and deep. “He is the darkness. He is your greatest fear and deepest desire. You want him.” Tom’s words were enchanting and sibilant as if at any moment he would start speaking Parsel to her. “Tell me you don’t.” His thrusts suddenly gained momentum and Hermione felt a hot feeling wash over her. “Tell me you feel nothing for him in the months you have seen his life with Meira.”

She was moaning and thrashing wildly, meeting his thrusts with fervid enthusiasm.

“Tell me you could let him go and allow another witch to take your place.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open no longer brown, but a sharp, piercing gray. “The Dark Lord is mine!” she shrieked.

Tom’s thrusts were urgent as wet flesh smacked against wet flesh. She twisted slightly, drawing his mouth to hers as they kissed as if they would be apart for another thirteen years.

“Tom, Tom, Tom,” she chanted as her nails shredded the pillow.

His fingers dug into her hips in a bruising grip as he shifted slightly going even deeper inside her. Hermione’s vision went black and she could only see red eyes amidst the dark just as she had that day in Moody’s office. Her orgasm hit her hard and the name, “Milord!” seemed ripped from her.

“Meira!” Tom answered, following her over the edge. He collapsed on top of her as she sighed enjoying his weight against her back. “Do you understand now, love?” he whispered after a moment against her shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Yes.” She closed her eyes feeling the heaviness of sleep creeping up on her. “I’m in love with him.”

Hermione barely made it four steps inside of her dorm when Ginny launched herself at her. “You’re back! I was so worried that you would have gone off and done something stupid.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” she sighed, caressing her face. “I take it this means you missed me.”

The fiery lioness sidled up to her, her body caressing her own. “I could show you how much,” she whispered, nibbling on her earlobe.

Hermione felt the familiar heat between her thighs. It would seem that not only Hermione’s desires had sparked during her time away.

“Perhaps later, Gin. I fear that if I don’t make an appearance soon, the wrong person may start to ask questions.”

Tom’s parting words still tumbled around in her head. “I would take heed of what you consume, Hermione. Already that sweet whisper in your ear has diminished to a barely audible hum. A little longer and you will be all alone up here,” he said, tapping his temple.

Ginny pouted and a wicked glint passed through Hermione’s eyes. “Then again…” she quickly pushed the girl back against the wall and slipped her hand underneath her skirt.

“Hermione!” Ginny gasped as her skilled fingers maneuvered underneath her panties and entered her wet core. “Wha-what if…oohh…what if someone sees?”

She hitched the girl’s leg around her waist and added another finger, quickly pressing their mouths together to silence Ginny’s squeals of pleasure. “As if you care right now,” she whispered against her lips.

Ginny whimpered, throwing her arms around Hermione’s neck and sucking her tongue greedily as she rode her fingers. The loud squelching of Hermione’s fingers thrusting in and out of Ginny’s aroused cunt filled the room. Hermione could not explain it, but she felt…different. As if something had suddenly awakened inside of her. Even with the absence of Meira’s voice in her head, she felt as if something deliciously dark had taken root inside her and for the first time, she had no desire to fight it.

“Cum for me, my naughty little witch!” she whispered, curling her fingers and forcing Ginny to tip over the edge with a silent scream.

“God, Hermione! That was the best one yet,” she sighed.

Ginny lowered her leg, whimpering from the loss when Hermione removed her fingers. She watched as Hermione put her fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean of her juices. “Mmm, better than honey.”

After Ginny adjusted her hair and clothing – and went commando on Hermione’s demand – the girls made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast before classes started. But of course, nothing ever goes as planned in Hogwarts. Hermione could hear their thoughts coming a mile away and suppressed a sigh as she heard the pack leader speak.

“Well, well, what do we have here girls?” the nasally voice of Pansy Parkinson called behind them.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. Silently asking for patience. Pansy had her little entourage of Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode with her. Ginny stiffened. Her bright eyes sweeping over each girl briefly, silently assessing how many she could hex before being overcome by their numbers.

Hermione, however, remained unaffected. Her obstinate stare swiftly diminished the confidence amongst the quartet of girls.

But Pansy refused to be daunted. “Looks to me like the Whore of Gryffindor and a pathetic tagalong,” she sneered.

On the outside, a slow, knowing smirk curved Hermione’s lips hiding the torrent of rage and magic thrashing within, demanding to be released.

“I’m going to make you regret that you Slytherin bitch!” Ginny hissed, reaching for her wand.

Daphne regarded her haughtily. “I should like to see you try, Baby Weasel,” she mocked. “In case your simple mind missed it, there are four of us and two of you.”

“And yet it only took one of me to take down your best and brightest,” Hermione said, purposely bringing her duel with Malfoy to the forefront of their minds.

Pansy’s face reddened with rage. “And now it’s time to even the score, filth!” Pansy brandished her wand, casting a Furnunculus at Hermione who flicked the curse back to Tracey Davis.

Ginny covered her side and fell back on old reliable Bat Bogey to Millicent, easily taking the “brawns” out of the game.

With it being an even fight, the four girls paired off. Distantly, Hermione could sense the presence of someone watching them from the shadows. The two duels immediately descended from light jinxes to gray hexes before finally only dark, painful and perilous curses were cast.

Pansy and Daphne were better duelists than she thought, but while Daphne’s curses were cast with a cold detachment, Pansy’s emotions spurred her, which Hermione immediately decided to turn into a weakness.

“Wow, Pans,” Hermione sneered as the girl’s eyes flashed. “Perhaps if you all had used this newfound enthusiasm in DADA, I might not have been able to embarrass your boyfriend.” She lazily deflected the girl’s Confringo and decided to up the ante. “But he’s not really your boyfriend, is he? You are pretty the much the equivalent of a walking, talking cum bucket. Am I wrong?” she asked innocently.

Pansy howled in rage and foolishly cast the Cruciatus. Hermione crowed triumphantly, mindful that Ginny had caught Daphne unawares when she heard her friend scream out the Unforgivable and bellowed, “Conjunctivitio!” knocking her off her feet with the Conjunctivitis. The girl thrashed blindly on the floor before being stunned with the other two.

The perilous red light rushed towards Hermione, but instead of ducking out of the way or even casting her mirroring shield, she cast a protective ward around the curse and let it hover before her. Ginny watched in undisguised awe while the blood drained from Pansy’s face. Her eyes darted from left to right, silently questioning if she could make a run for it.

“Oh no you don’t! Petrificus Totalus!”

Pansy fell backwards unable to move or even call for help. Slowly, Hermione turned to her friend whose mouth hung open as she gazed at the shimmering ball of red.

“Ginvera.” At the sound of her full name – a name that only one had used when he demanded her attention – her eyes snapped to Hermione’s. “Pansy Parkinson has insulted us both. She led a four-man attack against us without any physical provocation. And had I been just two seconds slower, she would have tortured me.”

Ginny licked her dry lips slowly. Her heart pounded in equal amounts of fear and excitement. Even with the fear she felt, she trusted Hermione and she knew she would never intentionally hurt her.

After a pregnant pause, she found her voice. “Do what you feel you need to, ‘Mione.”

Hermione’s blank stare was unnerving, but still, she trusted the older witch with her life.

Quickly, Hermione whirled away, her robes billowing so effortlessly that even Snape would have been proud. She kneeled down – a feat not easy in the short skirt she wore – and cast a semi-reversal of the petrifaction jinx so that Pansy could move only her head.

“You bitch!” Pansy hissed.

Hermione tutted and shook her head in faux sadness. “Poor little Pansy.” She dragged the tip of her wand from Pansy’s temple all the way to her chin and back again in a mockery of a lover’s caress. “You pleasure him to the best of your feeble abilities even knowing that Lord Malfoy would never broker a contract between the two of you. Pureblood you may be, at the end of the day you are still trash, Pansy Parkinson and even Pureblood trash has no place in the Malfoy line.”

“You whore! You slut!” she screamed hatefully, even as devastated tears filled her eyes. “I will ruin you when this is over! Do you hear me? I will ruin you!”

Hermione laughed softly. “My dear, when this is over, as you say, it will surprise me if you can remember your own name. Your kind never learns, do they? No, they don’t,” she said, answering her own question. “Just ask Rita Skeeter. Oh, that’s right!” she exclaimed as if just remembering. “You would have to be a Necromancer for that!”

She took in Pansy’s horrified expression being sure to memorize it. “Y-you? You?”

“My sentiments exactly when I discovered that Draco Malfoy was innocent and it in fact was you who was supplying that little shit with headlines for her propaganda rag!” her eyes narrowed and a faint gray gleam flashed that could only have frightened the girl more if it had been red. “You are a…moderately intelligent girl, Pansy. I don’t like spies and I don’t take kindly to being slandered. While you won’t remember this exactly as it happens,” her eyes widened further at Hermione’s implications. “You will learn that I have no tolerance for traitors.”

Ginny threw up a Silencing Charm just as Hermione slashed her wand bringing down the red ball of light to crash into Pansy’s chest. Unable to move, the girl’s head thrashed from side to side. Her dark hair whipped her face. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her mouth opened in silent screams that Hermione longed to hear.

Hermione only let the curse hold for a minute and a half, relishing in the sight of the girls piss running down her legs. Any longer and her mind would have snapped. Not that Hermione would have actually cared, but the girl was a Pureblood and the Parkinsons would not have stopped until the culprit was revealed.

Ginny removed the Silencing Charm as she passed out. Hermione felt him coming before she heard his wooden leg drag the floor behind her.

“Miss Granger, I’m starting to think that covering your fanny has become a fulltime job,” the professor said gruffly.

She answered him with a dazzling smile. “I apologize if this is a strain on your already hectic schedule, sir, but it seems that a few snakes were in desperate need of some charming.”

He snorted, looking over at the four unconscious girls. “If Snape catches on to what you’ve done to his pet Slytherins even I won’t be able to save you from Azkaban.”

“But he won’t,” she singsong to him, knowing he would take care of the girls.

He rolled his good eye. “Yeah, yeah.” A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips until he noticed Ginny in the background. “And her?” he jerked his thumb at her.

Hermione glanced at Ginny and smirked. “An ally,” she said simply as the girl blushed.

“Fine, just remember, Miss Granger,” he said for her ears only. “Not everyone in your circle appreciates the changes in you.”

Hermione considered his words and took them to heart as she escorted Ginny away so that the professor could modify the girl’s memories without any witnesses.

With Ginny walking by her side staring at her as if she were a goddess incarnate, Hermione entered the Great Hall. The conversations didn’t exactly stop, but all eyes fell upon her. Some in blatant relief that she was alright. Others with malicious glee, eager to see how she would treat her precious Harry Potter now that he had demonstrated that his friendship with Ron was valued higher than his with her.

But if Hermione learned anything from Meira in the past months, it was that body language spoke volumes. And though the niggling feelings of betrayal and treachery were still prevalent in her heart, she let the remembered feeling of Tom’s embrace wash over her, leaving in its wake an uncompromised sense of love, happiness, and most of all, trust.

Of course, there was always one person whose stupidity never ceased to amaze her. “Blimey, Hermione!” Ron said, chewing his breakfast noisily. “You’ve been a ghost for days now. I thought you went and offed yourself!”

Several glares were sent his way, but he was too busy stuffing his face with sausage to notice. Hermione chuckled lightly. “And miss one of Professor Snape’s enthralling lectures? Not likely.”

Hermione settled beside Ginny filling her plate well aware of the green eyes eyes practically burning a hole in her forehead. She smeared strawberry jam onto a piece of toast and said, “something on your mind, Harry?”

Almost all at once, the Gryffindor table seemed to descend into silence. Meanwhile, Hermione was nonchalantly wiggling her fingers towards her goblet.

That sneaky bastard! she thought venomously. Knowing it would look suspicious if he was watching her and she suspected he was, Hermione took a delicate sip. She rolled the Pumpkin Juice around her tongue just barely noticing the bitter aftertaste.

“Um, yeah. I was – I was hoping we could talk.”

Hermione took a thoughtful bite of her toast enjoying the way Harry squirmed in the heavy silence. She put the toast back on her plate and carefully wiped her mouth before meeting his eyes. She saw the remorse, the guilt, the shame and self-disgust. It made her happy.

She reached across the table and placed her hand atop his much to his surprise and relief. “The Second Task changes nothing.” Lie. “I understand what happened and why it happened.” Another lie. “And I accept it. Nothing, especially not something as insignificant as the bloody Triwizard Tournament will ever shatter my faith in you, Harry Potter.” And that was the biggest lie of all.

He let out a breath of relief and squeezed her hand. “And the other?” he spoke carefully so that their housemates wouldn’t know about Cedric.

A Slytherin worthy smirk graced her lips as she pulled her hand back. “That,” she said, stabbing her scrambled eggs a little too viciously. “Is another matter altogether.”

Briefly, Harry looked across the hall meeting Cedric’s eyes. Carefully and quietly, Hermione slipped inside Harry’s mind. Cedric sat with his housemates and Cho who had taken to sitting with him since the Second Task. Hermione felt the brief longing from Harry as he gazed at Cho. Then his gaze shifted to Cedric again who looked paler than usual and had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was still in beautiful disarray, but the handsome Hufflepuff no longer had that excited gleam in his eyes.

She withdrew from Harry’s mind just as the owls came in to deliver the morning mail. From the corner of her eye, she watched the large brown owl swoop into the Great Hall with a resounding hoot so uncharacteristic of the normal process of delivery that it caused everyone to stop and stare.

The owl carried a small package, no bigger than that of a ring box. It hovered over the table of Durmstrang students and dropped the package before Viktor Krum. Not one for getting mail since his arrival, Krum followed the owl’s ascent watching it glide gracefully to the Gryffindor table. Instead of landing on her shoulder and annoying her, the owl landed quietly on the table while she fed it bacon.

Their eyes met and Krum looked at her in askance. She simply smiled and nodded for him to open it.

“What’s that all about?” Ron demanded loudly in the silence of the hall, much to Lavender’s irritation.

“Watch and see, Ron, watch and see,” Hermione answered.

Krum untied the strings of the package, and to his surprise, the gift grew and expanded to take up nearly half of the table. When it was finished, he could only gape in shock. Her gift to him was a model version of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. It even had the stands filled with miniaturized versions of the professors and the students of each house, as well as fully equipped with all four teams.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE BEEN DOING ALL WEEKEND? HOLED UP IN YOUR ROOM MAKING THAT FOR HIM?” Ron shouted, turning the color of a prune.

From the heads table, Moody smirked in his goblet. Thanks to Weasley’s outburst, the girl had created herself a solid alibi for her disappearance during the weekend. It seems he would have yet another thing to add to his list of Things To Report To The Dark Lord About His Queen.

Krum, too entranced to notice all that was going on around him picked up the little note beside the stadium.

“Read it aloud.”

He glanced over his shoulder to find Hermione beaming at him. He turned back to the note, like everyone else, eager to see what would happen next.

“Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,” which translated to Never Tickle A Sleeping Dragon. As soon as Krum said the words, the pitch seemed to come alive. The fans waved and cheered and the spectator who sounded like Lee Jordan spoke.

“Well, it’s a bright and shining morning today at Hogwarts as the teams prepare to take the air!”

“Wicked!” the real Lee Jordan said, rushing over to get a closer look.

“Pick two school houses,” she urged Krum.

He thought for a moment. “Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.” It was no coincidence that he chose those teams. Not when two of his fellow Champions were rumored to be the best Quidditch Players of both houses.

“If Gryffindor wins this game the House Cup is good as secure from the slimy Slytherins!”

Most of the students laughed, with the glaring exception of said Slytherins. Hermione had managed to duplicate Lee’s comedic biasness almost exactly.

“You can let them play on their own like they are now or if you want to control one of the teams, Gryffindor for example, just say Gryffindor Lions. Basically, just say the name of the house and their animal mascot. It’s all explained on the back of the note.”

She smirked inwardly listening to Flitwick and McGonagall remark to one another over the ingenuity of her charm and transfiguration applications.

“How did you manage this?” Karkaroff questioned.

“The idea originated from my father’s obsession with sports and my grandfather’s antique train collection. The rest took a lot of reading and more than a few failed attempts.”

“You made them talk!” Flitwick exclaimed excitedly.

“Ah, well, mostly Mini Lee and the team players. The audience just makes cheering, booing, or chanting sounds.”

“30 points to Gryffindor for your creation, Miss Granger,” Flitwick awarded to her surprise.

“And 20 points to Gryffindor for contributing so generously to magical cooperation, Miss Granger,” McGonagall praised like a proud momma lion to her young cub who had made its first kill.

What she didn’t tell them was that it was Tom who had done the brunt of the work. That along with Meira’s memories of charms and transfiguration were what led to the Quidditch pitch creation.

Looking around, Hermione could not help but to notice Karkaroff’s appraising stare. His dark eyes swept over her and lingered long enough to get Moody’s hackles raised.

After a few moments of watching Mini Harry and Mini Cedric chase the Snitch and answering various questions from the professors and some from the students, Hermione cast a Finite Incantatem, much to the disappointment of everyone else.

Krum regarded her silently. “Vhy?”

A genuine smile touched her lips. “Because you saved me.” When Harry didn’t, hung in the air like an omen. She kissed his cheek lightly, enjoying the blush that arose where her lips had been. She returned to her table and grabbed her bag leaving behind dozens of eyes trailing after her.

But only one dared to follow her.

He grabbed her arm and dragged her into a secluded corridor.

“I would say that this is a surprise, but…”

“What’s going on with you and Krum?” his eyes, that were furious and at the same time repentant, seemed to penetrate her.

Twice today, she had found herself accosted and accused in the halls. “Channeling Ronald Weasley, are we?” she arched an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s called expressing my gratitude. Perhaps you have forgotten, Cedric, but it was Viktor who saved me.” A small part of her enjoyed the way he winced from her damming words. “Not you, not Harry – Viktor! Someone who has no…” she blinked rapidly feeling the tears rush to her eyes and the heavy lump form in her throat. “No real connection to me. Someone that I haven’t loved as a part of my family since I was eleven-years-old. Someone that I haven’t let inside my body and became a lover to when I know he will never truly be mine.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Hermione, you have no idea how I hated what happened that day. It crushed me to leave you there helpless and Harry was no better than myself.” Always the loyal Hufflepuff defending others when you can barely defend yourself, she thought snidely.

“I see.” She was wholly unmoved by his declarations.

“I would never have left you down there if you were in real danger or if I had a choice.” He urged her to understand.

A dark smile that she usually reserved for people like Draco and Ron curled her lips. “So then I suppose you want a reward then too?” she pressed against him, slipping her leg between his as his breath hitched. “You’re worried Viktor has my attention.” She slipped her hand underneath his shirt, lightly scratching his stomach with her nails. “My affection.” She stood on the tips of her toes. Her tongue flicked his earlobe and she could feel his cock pressing into her stomach. “My favors.” His eyes fell closed when he felt her nails drag against the cloth covering his cock. “You want it all for yourself.” He bucked in her hand when she squeezed him lightly. “Don’t you?” she pressed her lips against his throat, her tongue caressing his carotid artery as he hissed. Her small hand slipped through his unruly hair tugging sharply. “Answer me, Cedric.”

Whether it was the sharp tug of his hair or the undeniable command in her voice, Cedric moaned loudly and answered before his mind could truly process what she had said. “Yes! I want it, Hermione. It’s mine, no one else’s.”

Invisible shackles suddenly wrapped around his wrists and his arms were wrenched roughly above his head nearly lifting his feet from the floor. Then he felt the shackles at his ankles spreading his legs widely.

He opened his eyes, gaping at her in shock. He didn’t see a wand in her hand nor did he hear her whisper a spell.

But his mind fell back in a lust induced haze the second he watched her lower herself to her knees. How long he had wanted to see her in that exact position! Nights upon nights, he fantasized of Hermione on her knees sucking his cock, rubbing himself raw with thoughts of coming in her mouth. But in reality he never pushed the issue because he didn’t want to pressure her. She was still young. Younger than any he had been with. In spite of all they had done, an irrepressible innocence still hung around her. However, now it seemed slightly tainted by something dark and malevolent. Gone was the shy, reserved girl he met at the Quidditch World Cup and in its place…he didn’t know who she was.

He watched her tug his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, blissfully unaware that she was following the course of his thoughts with interest and feeling more resentful with each passing minute.

His cock stood proud and firm before her. She made sure he was watching as it disappeared inch by agonizing inch inside her warm, wet mouth. Cedric threw his head back and groaned, desperate to keep his wits so he didn’t buck as far as the shackles would allow into her pliant, mouth.

She gripped his hips sucking him with the skill and vigor of a woman beyond her years. She pulled back slightly to stroke with her hand and alternated every so often with sucking his shaft and licking his sack.

He panted heavily. His willpower broke and he bucked as far into her mouth as he could. Hermione could feel his cock expanding further in her mouth signaling his approaching climax. She relaxed her throat and pushed forward until she felt his pubic hairs tickle the tip of her nose. She gripped his sack firmly and he groaned deeply, expelling violently into her mouth.

She swallowed and sucked until he grew flaccid in her mouth. She released him and rose watching as he leaned forward, his eyes closed and an expression of pure bliss on his face.

His hair was damp from sweat and his chest rose and fell heavily. He opened his eyes and her expression worried him greatly. “Hermione?”

She wiped the remnants of his spilled seed from the corners of her mouth and watched him through impassive eyes. “I get it, Cedric. Cho is the Pureblooded witch you marry and I’m just the Mudblood slut you fuck.”

Cedric didn’t know what horrified him more. The fact that she referred to herself as a Mudblood slut or that when she said it the impassivity of neither her eyes nor her voice changed.

“Hermione, please, it’s not like that.”

The restraints disappeared and with nothing to hold up his weakened body, Cedric fell to his knees with his pants and trousers still around his ankles. He looked up at her from his knees imploringly. He could feel Hermione, who had quickly became one of the best and most exciting parts of his life, slip through his fingers and he was helpless to prevent it.

“Goodbye, Cedric.”

She turned her back as if he wasn’t there and heedless to his cries of her name, walked away. She simply walked away.

Now that her debt to Krum had been paid, Hermione could focus on other things. Like brewing the counteragent to Dumbledore’s Suppression potion. She knew without a doubt that with the rapidly approaching Third Task she would need Meira’s support more than ever.

The Dark Lord was returning and aside from finishing where he left off thirteen years ago with her best friend, she knew where his priorities lie.

She could deny it no longer.

He was coming for her.
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His White Queen: A Prequel