Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Somewhere in Time	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 64471 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, LSMerlot! Special thanks to Nerys for inspiration and what-nots (glad to have you as a partner-in-crime ;)...). Huge thanks to those of you who have read, rated, and to Mr. Galion for reviewing!

Review reply can be found over here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php?showtopic=15710

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Chapter 26
His back rigid, Draco turned his whole body around and stared at Riddle who now had his eyes away from the book and directly on him. Riddle's lips were curved into a friendly smile which almost seemed like a sneer when the candlelight flickered. Those bottomless, dark eyes were like the most lethal of all poisons—cold, unfeeling, deadly. Quite unfortunately, Draco had a very distinct feeling that he was the target.
"I ... I still have some homework to finish."
And while I'm at it, I really should finish that homework in the library, so I won't be here for the rest of the night.
Those thoughts remained in his mind because Draco knew that if they were spoken out loud, Riddle's displeasure would increase tenfold.
"We still have a couple of more days. Come."
The command was so apparent in his voice that Draco immediately went over without thinking. The moment he found himself standing in front of Riddle, he regretted his decision. Nevertheless, it was not as if he had any other options.
"Sit," said Riddle, gesturing towards an armchair opposite of his.
Draco cautiously sat down in the designated seat and glanced around. A feeling of doom cascaded down on him when he realized that they were the only people in there; the rest of the common room was empty. He had definitely fallen into a snake's pit. Well, he was a snake, too, but compared to Riddle, he was a harmless snake, those uninjurious, little garden snakes.
Swallowing again, Draco tried to fight the urge to get the hell out of the place. He had never faced the Dark Lord all by himself, and it thoroughly threw him off guard. He wondered where the other people had gone—or was it Riddle's plan? What was Riddle planning to do to him? Why was it necessary for the other people to not be here? Images of what the future Dark Lord could do emerged in his mind, and try as he might, he could not push them away.
The only thing he could be sure about was that Riddle would not attempt to kill him. However, sometimes, living could be more horrifying than death.
"You must be rather delighted ... that your friends are back in Hogwarts, aren't you?" Riddle asked, marking the book with a piece of paper and placing it on the table.
Undivided attention from the Dark Lord. Aren't I the lucky one? Hopefully, it doesn't turn into a torturing session, or else, Draco Malfoy, you're on a roll. Let's hope Riddle doesn't make it into a daily habit, Draco thought sarcastically and nodded his head while he pulled up his Occlumency walls. He was awfully glad that he had always remembered to cast a Sticking Charm on his left sleeve to prevent it from rolling up at the most inappropriate moment.
Placing his elbow on the armrest, Riddle propped up his chin with a single hand while he glanced at Draco from the corner of his eye, that smile not completely gone from his face.
"Strange how ... friends would refer to one another by surnames, don't you agree?"
An ice-cold feeling washed down from Draco's head to the bottom of his feet, but he still managed to remain composed.
"It is something we've done since Durmstrang. We got off to a bad start and didn't become friends until later on in our school years. So occasionally, we'll still banter and revert back to calling one another by our surnames," he explained, praying that Riddle would believe that.
"Oh?" Riddle asked, raising a single eyebrow and leaning back into his chair. It was evident that he did not believe a single word Draco uttered, much to the latter's dismay. "But friends often do trust one another, don't they? Why do they find it so difficult to trust you immediately?"
He knows—He was in the hallway—It was him—I'm dead—
He stopped his thoughts from running out of control since that would directly let the Dark Lord have an easier access to his brain. He brushed back the bangs that had fallen into his eyes and laughed as if it were not something strange to him.
"We like to joke around like that. I've always played jokes on them, so they do find it difficult to believe in what I say. They never know when I'm telling the truth and when I'm lying," Draco replied.
Riddle did not answer immediately but averted his eyes, staring out the window that lined the top of the walls.
"Is that so?" he said softly as if he were contemplating that idea to himself.
In a slow but graceful move, Riddle was out of the armchair, and he walked over to the chair next to Draco's. He leaned against the armrest with his back towards it and stared down at Draco.
"But I am still quite ... baffled, to say the least, and perhaps you will be kind enough to provide me with answers," he said.
The colors drained from Draco's face when he saw that wand hanging loosely in Riddle's hand. Riddle must have noticed it since when Draco looked up again, the Dark Lord had the most horrifyingly chilling smirk on his face.
He should have told Abraxas who he really was. He should have told his grandfather and gone home with him to Malfoy Manor for the holidays.
Merlin's pants, he was screwed, and he knew he could not tell anyone about this.
Riddle's control over Slytherin House was apparent. Even Alphard, who couldn't care less about Riddle's words, never thought about reporting him to the professors. All of the other Slytherins both adored and feared Riddle. If he were to tell on Riddle, they would probably cover up for their idol, and Draco's condition would undoubtedly worsen. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore was not here and the other professors would probably believe whatever Riddle told them.
"I did think you were a Slytherin, and so, self-preservation would have been your priority. But apparently, I was ... mistaken," Riddle said, his voice as cold as his eyes. "You seem to ... be more concerned about Miss Granger than I had guessed."
Draco gaped at him.
For Salazar's sake, Granger again? He's got to be kidding me, he thought to himself.
"But you didn't seem too bothered by her going to Slughorn's party with Mr. Potter," Riddle mused out loud. "Care to tell me why?"
"We're just ... just friends," Draco replied.
"Are you really?" Riddle asked. "It certainly doesn't seem so."
"We are! We really, really are!" Draco immediately replied.
Riddle placed his hands on Draco's armrest and leaned forward.
"Then why did you feel the need to warn Mr. Potter about Miss Granger ... harboring feelings for me? Or that I've taken an interest in her?" A small sarcastic smirk formed at the corner of his lips, but suddenly, his face was wiped clean of emotions, though his eyes remained cool. "You're meddling, Draco."
Draco froze. Half of his brain wanted to lean as far away as possible from the young man standing in front of him or just simply run away and hide. The other half logically told him that he should not make any sudden moves; it would just provoke the hunter.
"You're meddling in things that you're not supposed to, Draco," Riddle continued in that misleadingly gentle baritone. "Do you know what happens to people who foolishly do that?"
"I ... I didn't mean to," Draco said, shaking his head in the process.
Dear Merlin, why did I think it was a good idea to worry about Granger again?
"You didn't mean to," Riddle repeated with a mocking undertone in his voice. "You didn't mean to ..." Now, the laughter was apparent in his voice, but suddenly, it turned cold once more when he spoke, "To say the least, your accidental moves will undoubtedly cause me more trouble, and I suppose that was what you were wishing for, weren't you?"
"N-no," Draco lied.
"Crucio."
The word slid out of Riddle's mouth so gently. The impact of the hex, however, ripped a bloodcurdling scream out of Draco's throat while he fell down from the armchair to the floor. It must have been minutes, but it felt like hours to Draco.
All the while, Riddle's expression did not so much as flicker.
The curse stopped, and the moment he could inhale and exhale a bit more normally, Draco's eyes flew over to Lord Voldemort, fearful of what his next action might be. He had no idea when Riddle had moved, but the latter was now circling around him slowly, his hands behind his back, still holding onto his wand.
"It's no wonder Harry and Ginny find it hard to believe you. A rather proficient liar, I must say," Riddle said, silent fury emanating from his figure.
Draco shivered slightly, knowing from past experience that speaking up for himself would definitely lead to more torture.
"Or was it because you fancy Miss Granger?"
What the—?
"You've got it all wrong," Draco answered, speaking very quickly. "I was never interested in her. The only person who ever liked her was Weasel King ... well, and Krum, too, though I never understood why. We fought most of the years we were in school, and she and Potty weren't even in school for the last—"
He abruptly stopped in his words.
Crap, he thought as a very vivid image of Hermione Granger slapping him during third year appeared in his mind's eye, and he recalled the scary things she could do to a person when she was angry. A nearly invisible shudder went through him when he recalled "SNEAK" written across Marietta's face. If that were printed on HIS face ...
A pissed off Hermione Granger could definitely be more ... creative than the Dark Lord. At least the Cruciatus did not leave any marks.
And so, Draco made his decision. Swallowing hard, he altered his wording, "—few weeks because they were on an escape from a dark wizard."
Grindelwald, Grindelwald, Grindelwald, he chanted in his brain, pushing the images of snake-face away to the best of his abilities. All the while, he struggled to keep his Occlumency walls up.
"Crucio."
Draco howled in pain as he crashed into his armchair.
"Do inform me when you decide to tell the truth, Draco," Riddle said.
"I'm—I'm not lying!" Draco yelled. "I—I never fancied her! Father would have thrown me to the trolls for liking someone who's not a pure-blood."
"We still have another half an hour until dinnertime, Malloy. Do take your time in considering if you want to tell me the truth or not. I can wait," Riddle called out.
Half an hour ... Now, I'm going to get another bruise there ... Half an hour ... Dear Merlin, this is hell ... I can do this ... I can't do this ... I can do this ... Someone kill me now ... I've already gone through him last year ... I can get through this ... But Mum was there last year ... Perhaps I should tell him the truth ... He'd kill all of us if he knew the truth ... He had fifty plus years of experience back then ... He's only seventeen now ... Not like it feels any better, the thoughts ran through Draco's mind.
The pain was very nearly unbearable. He felt as if each part of his body were being ripped apart, organ by organ, tissue by tissue, cell by cell.
"I'm not lying! I'm not lying!" the blond hollered at the top of his lungs. "I told you already! Only Weasley and Krum liked her!"
Riddle lifted the curse, and his eyes narrowed.
"Gareth?"
The word slid off his tongue slowly, instilled with venom. Draco shuddered.
"There was another Weasley back home," he replied. Well, there were no ways this maniac could harm Weasel King, sadly enough, so Granger could not possibly kill Draco for this.
Honestly, why was he suffering in Ronald Weasley's place? Life was so unfair. He would have pushed everything onto Potty if he had not known that Granger would have his head.
Riddle crouched down right next to his head, all signs of friendliness gone from his face, posture, and aura. Cruelness spread out like the grips of a ghost—its fingers grasped Draco before he knew it. A cold smirk appeared on Riddle's face as he stared at Draco.
"Do you still insist on lying to me, Draco?" he asked.
Cold sweat broke out on Draco's skin. "I'm honestly not lying. I was never interested in Hermione. There was another Weasley back at home—You would've known if it was Gareth. I mean, Gareth's friendly with you enough to tell you, isn't he?"
"Sounds reasonable enough," Riddle conceded after a moment of contemplation.
Draco released a relieved breath until Riddle's dark eyes slid over to him again.
"Seems like you've been creating a well thought-out story since the first moment, haven't you?" Riddle said.
"I'm telling the truth. I'm really telling the truth," Draco repeated, his heart racing again.
"Last chance, Malloy," Riddle spoke quietly, his eyes fathomless again.
"I'm really ... really not—"
His words were stopped by a swish of the Dark Lord's wand. However, it was not the Cruciatus that hit him. He had no idea what curse it was. He felt as if every single one of his organs were inflating at a rapid speed, but he knew they were not since his body did not change in any way. Yet, those feelings did not stop until pain started shooting through him from every direction as if someone had just lit a firecracker on every part of his body.
He screamed.
~-0-~
Hermione Granger stopped in front of the blank wall with determination in her eyes. Well, that was really all she had right now, but what she needed was the password to the Slytherin common room. She did have her wand, but she found it prudent for her to keep it stowed away in her pocket. She would have to suppress the urge to pull it out and hex the Head Boy when she saw him.
She felt like giving him a taste of his own medicine. How dare he curse Draco just because he was in a bad temper! Well, yes, it was probably insulting to him and his over-inflated ego that someone dared to break up with the future "greatest wizard in the world"—she mentally snorted at that title—but that did not give him an excuse to harm an innocent other.
To her relief, the bricks of the wall hiding the Slytherin common room moved, and a furious-looking Tom Marvolo Riddle stepped through the doorway. When his eyes landed on Hermione, a notable glint of surprise flashed through them, but it was immediately covered up by impassivity.
He was about to stroll away when Hermione hurried up in front of him, stopping him.
"I need to speak with you," she said in a clipped tone of voice.
Her audacity took him aback, and he quietly observed her features as if he were trying to see what she was thinking.
Her previous conversation with Draco floated up to the surface of her mind, and she fought against the urge to avert her eyes. If she wanted to remain in control of the situation, she could not look away, even if it meant that he was trying to use Legilimency on her. The best she could do was not think of anything condemning to her friends and focus on her self-given mission.
"I'm afraid that will have to wait until another day, Miss Granger. I—"
"No, we need to talk right now," she insisted, staring firmly right back at him.
"I'm afraid I cannot comply," he replied frigidly, and he walked around her, preparing to ignore her.
"Afraid that you'll miss your chance to harm another innocent individual?" she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.
He froze mid-stride, his features hidden from Hermione since he was merely one step behind her.
"Or am I mistaken? Is the victim Draco again?" she asked, swirling around and staring daggers at the back of his head. "How could you do that? It's vile, wicked, cruel, outrageous—"
Taking a quick look around the corridors, he muttered the password to the wall. The opening to the Slytherin common room appeared again, and Tom pulled a still ranting Hermione inside.
She abruptly stopped in her words when she saw a familiar blond sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace. An infuriated shriek left her mouth, and she wanted to go over to him but Tom was grabbing her arm and pulling her in a different direction.
"You monster!" she screamed. "You killed him!"
"He's still breathing," Tom replied harshly.
His actions were slowed down by her struggling and ranting, but he still managed to pull her into one of the dorms.
With a quick backward slash, the door slammed shut and locked itself. Tom pushed her to the center of the room and threw another spell backwards, presumably casting a Silencing Charm on the room.
"How could you do this to Draco?" she demanded.
"He'll live," he replied coldly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her.
His nonchalant expression made her even more outraged.
"You can't just take out your anger on other people. They're not just some kind of worthless objects! What gave you the right—"
"What gave you the impression that I was angry?" he cut in, not even bothering to deny her accusations.
His arrogance added more fuel to her fury. Wasn't it enough that he had tortured Draco? He was not even showing an inkling of remorse towards that.
She grimaced. Of course. Everyone should just bend to his will. Because he was Lord Voldemort.
"Anyone could see that you didn't take what happened in the library too well."
An ugly sneer contorted his beautiful features. "You think too highly of yourself, Miss Granger. Why should I bother myself over small, insignificant things such as that?"
"One would have to be awfully stupid and dense if they could not link one and two together. What is the chance of the two events happening on the same day?" she pointed out. She narrowed her eyes. "You can't just bully other people because of your own personal problems. Draco's not here for that purpose. He's not an object, for Merlin's sake! He's a living, breathing, thinking being, just like yourself—"
As she spoke, the only thing that happened was an increase in her irritation. Not only had he not answered, but he turned his back towards her and walked in front of one of the windows. He stared out of it while she was talking, so she did not notice it when a flash of red passed through his eyes as she expressed her concern towards Draco and reprimanded him. Although, even if she had, she would not have cared since she had already decided to give him a piece of her mind today.
"—Frankly speaking, Riddle, you are just a coward. If you were so upset about what happened, you should have just taken it out on me, not some other innocent individual," she berated.
In a flash, before she could even register it, his wand was out, and she crashed down, screaming in pain. When he finally lifted the curse, she was left lying on her stomach on the floor. He had turned around, his tumultuous eyes a great contrast to his calm face as he stared at her.
"A rather enlightening speech, Hermione," he said quietly. Fury had made a crack in his facade, and she could feel more than see his wrath. "I should thank you for correcting my error in being overly lenient towards you. If I had known how protective you were about Mr. Malloy, I would have made it a priority to use him to get the answers out of you."
As he spoke, her hand crawled into her pocket, and her fingers curled around the wand even though her hands were still shaking violently from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. Her face was hidden from his view by her hair, and a vicious grin appeared when he did not notice what she was doing. No doubt he was under the impression that she could not do anything in her state.
"Perhaps you would have loosened your tongue if I had simply invited you to the Slytherin common room last night. Or are you more concerned about Mr. Evans?" he leered. "After all, you do express utmost care when it comes down to the two of them. Or do none of them mean anything to you at all, and you're simply playing everyone like a fool?"
She had not concentrated on the latter half of his words. His threat to harm both Harry and Draco made her grit her teeth and strengthen her resolve. In a single move, she pushed herself off the floor, pulled out her wand, and returned the favor.
Revenge had never tasted sweeter as his screams of pain reached her ears.
Take that, Riddle. That was for Harry, Draco, and all those other people you've Cruciated in the past, present, and future.
Carefully, she pushed away the delightful little tingles she had gotten from retaliating, knowing that it would be dangerous to dwell on that exuberant feeling. If one thrived on revenge and torture, they would be well on their way to becoming the next evil overlord—like the one yelling on the floor in front of her.
"How do you like it when it's used on you?" she asked quietly as she lowered her wand.
Tom's eyes snapped open, and instead of hatred, surprise and curiosity were now present in them as he locked eyes with her. For a moment, the absurd and hilarious image of him being a closet masochist entered her mind, but she quickly shook that away. It was clear he had not enjoyed the pain at all. He was probably confounded that she had managed to cast the spell back at him right after being held under the Cruciatus.
Suddenly, he sat up, all the while keeping his eyes on her. Just when she was about to open her mouth and speak, he started laughing. He literally started laughing, and Hermione had a strong feeling that he was laughing at her. That notion in itself made her really, really aggravated.
"Was that the Cruciatus you were trying to cast on me, Granger?" he mocked. "Because it really didn't feel like it at all." He looked at her condescendingly. "Never casted an Unforgivable on someone, have you?" He snickered, much to Hermione's resentment. "You have to mean it for it to work properly. Righteous anger won't make the pain last for long."
He then broke out into laughter again. Hermione stared at him. A twinge of annoyance went through her when she recalled that Bellatrix Lestrange had used nearly the same exact words to taunt Harry. She was not only annoyed because he was openly mocking her, but the idea of that fanatical stalker of his having personal lessons from him irked her to no ends.
She could definitely show him a "proper" Cruciatus Curse this time.
No more righteous anger, I promise, she thought spitefully to herself.
"I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Granger. I would've thought that after reading those books in the library, you would've learned something from them."
She recalled how she had pulled out a book about the Unforgivables a few weeks ago, that day when he had provoked her and had gotten her banned from the library. That memory, on top of his critique, made her very irritated with him. Her wand arm twitched, and before she could hold it back, she casted the curse on him again.
However, he was out of the way before it could hit him. He lunged towards her with a snarl, his hand extended towards her wand and his face livid from the fact that she dared to cast the curse at him again. With a yelp, she fell onto the bed behind her with him on top, and she held onto the wand with all her strength, refusing to surrender it to him.
They rolled around on the bed, each trying to gain the upper hand, but to no avail. Several times, he nearly got singed by the sparks that came out of the tip of her wand. However, Hermione was not faring any better since he was physically stronger—much stronger, which was strange considering how lean he was—than she was. The neatly made bed now had pillows in disarray and bedspreads pushed back and wrinkled due to their battle.
She glared furiously at him as he hovered over her, still trying to prise the wand out of her hand. His other hand was restraining her to stop her from punching him. His legs held hers in place, preventing her from kneeing him in a rather sensitive area. Therefore, his entire weight was on her. His face was contorted by anger, breathtakingly alluring and sinister at the same time, and he glowered at her as if he wanted to rip her apart.
Suddenly, she felt tendrils of his magic wrap around her wrist, and the wand easily slipped out of her hand.
With a furious shriek, she made a grab for it, but he was quicker. He immediately threw her wand far into one of the corners of the room before gazing back at her.
"Let go of me!" she said through gritted teeth, preparing to bite him if necessary as she panted beneath him.
"I win," he taunted, a victorious smirk in place of the previous wrath.
"Argh!" she growled out of frustration.
Damn him!
"Care to disagree, dear?" he further prodded her.
She twisted her wrists around, trying to get them out of his hands, but was unsuccessful. During which he, of course, made it a point to chuckle to himself at her fruitless, pitiful attempts. All the while, she continued to stare daggers at him, which made his laughter even more pronounced and gleeful.
"You vile, evil, wicked, ignorant, arrogant—" she seethed.
"Now, now. I wasn't the one who tried to throw two Unforgivables at a fellow classmate," he said.
Ri-ight. As if only one were any better, she thought, still glaring at him.
"No retorts?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "That's a rather rare occurrence, wouldn't you say? Hermione Granger, not arguing about something."
Her temper sparked. She lifted her head, clamped her mouth on his shoulder, and bit down. An annoyed hiss left his lips, and she realized with satisfaction that her bite had drawn blood when a faint metallic taste swirled around her tongue. He quickly released one of her hands and grabbed her hair. The moment she realized he was going to pull her head back, she unclenched her jaws. The idea of tearing out his flesh was just plain revolting.
Now that her hand was free, she proceeded to hit wherever she could reach. Another low growl left his mouth, the sound rumbling against her chest as he released her hair and grabbed her free hand. Before she could bite him again, he leaned slightly backwards, waved one of their combined hands at her, and immobilized her.
"There. Much better," he commented, smiling at her furious expression. He paused, tilting his head slightly and observing her features. "If you're so keen on biting, my little lioness ..." he said, trailing off with a vicious expression on his face that made her turn cold to the marrow of her bones. "... why don't I ..."
He bent forward to her neck.
"... return ..."
His mouth gently touched the skin there, and she stilled in horror at the thought of what he might do.
"... the ..."
His breath tickled, causing goosebumps to erupt over the rest of her body despite the tension she felt.
"... favor."
His last word came out as a whisper, and the moment she heard it, his mouth clamped down on her neck, causing a twinge of fear to unravel at the pit of her stomach. Her breath hitched when his teeth nibbled the skin there instead, never truly drawing blood. The speed of her heart quickened as he applied a bit more pressure, causing tiny tingles of pleasure to run from her neck down to the tip of her feet.
His mouth traveled up to a sensitive spot right beneath her ear, gently nipping every centimeter of skin he came across, nearly making her moan. His hands undid the buttons of her robes, and when his hand came in contact with the bare skin right beneath the hem of her shirt, she gasped.
"You belong to me," he whispered.
She thought she felt a jolt of magic travel from his hand into her skin and all the way up to her brain, but she could not be sure because her mind suddenly felt a bit clouded. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness. There seemed to be something ... off with her, but she could not pinpoint it.
"If you don't want this, Granger," he said in a low voice beside her ear, "now's your last chance to tell me to stop."
Stop? Why would she want him to stop?
She looked into his eyes. Just because they couldn't be together, it didn't mean that she didn't want this. It was just that it was ... wrong for her to do this ... this was Lord Voldemort ... She really shouldn't ... and ...
Then, he captured her lips. All of the walls she had built up against him shook as the edges of her resolve started to crumble. His tongue swerved around hers, taunting, daring her to join him. She wanted to shake her head, to throw away the feelings he was giving her, to wave away the temptations that were luring her heart, mind, and soul; but at the same time, she wanted to succumb to his touch, give into his kisses, and surrender herself.
She felt trapped as he deepened their kiss, forcing her to stop fighting against him, and the moment a small sigh from her vibrated between them, his victorious elation surrounded her. She had no idea when he had undone his spell, but her arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued ravishing her mouth and drove her wild with his touches until her thoughts were dominated by him.
And by him only.
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Somewhere in Time