Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: I know, I know, you want to know what happens after Hermione meets Sarah… You will, very soon.
The Library
December 17 th , 1997
The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade
Hermione took a deep breath, her fingers twitching as she noticed Ron making his way to her, gently pushing through the younger students searching for a place to sit.
They were due to leave for Christmas vacations the day after tomorrow, so as a treat to the students (most of who were disgruntled that they hadn't be allowed to visit Avalon), classes that day ended earlier, and they were allowed to visit Hogsmeade.
Hermione had, hesitantly, agreed to meet Ron at the Three Broomsticks, choosing to ignore his hopeful look and his subtle innuendos about renting a room at the Inn for the night. She had been distant lately, he had complained, and things only worsened between them after her return from Avalon.
Hermione had felt like crying when he said that, a weight settling heavily on her shoulders.
Ronald was crass, he tended to overreact to things, and he wasn't the most supportive boyfriend, but he was kind, and gentle, and was working on his issues, recognising his inferiority complex – born out of years of having to compete with five older brothers, and a sister, for recognition – influenced his behaviour towards her and their relationship.
He was trying, and he deserved her honesty; maybe he didn’t need to know everything – Merlin knew it'd kill him to learn she had slept with Professor Riddle, – but they couldn't go on with their relationship when she wasn't fully invested anymore.
He deserved someone better than her, someone, who could share in his interests and offer him the life he wanted. Someone who didn't daydream about her DADA Professor, and didn't spend her nights pleasuring herself to memories of the one night she spent with the older man.
Tom had suggested – who was she kidding, he had ordered her, with no regard to her wants – that it was better for both of them to forget about what happened in that cabin . He was her Professor, not to mention ten years her senior, and he had no intention to destroy his career and reputation by getting caught screwing a student.
“You didn’t seem to mind I’m your student two hours ago when you had your cock in my mouth.”
A spark in his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Last night was a mistake, Miss Granger. A mistake I regret greatly, and I shall never repeat. I plan to forget about it, and I advise you to do the same."
And that had been it.
During lessons he ignored her, and when he was forced to address her, he was dismissive and patronising; typical of him really, but she couldn’t just shrug his cruelty off, not after what had happened between them. Now she cared, and his indifference caused her pain.
And when they crossed paths outside of his classroom or the Great Hall, he wouldn’t even look at her, pretending she didn’t exist.
And the fucking cherry on top was his blossoming relationship with Aurora Sinistra; everyone knew Professor Sinistra had her eye on Professor Riddle since his arrival. She was the youngest female Professor, only a few years older than him, and they had hit it off almost immediately if you were to believe the gossip.
They were often seen walking around the castle, talking and laughing, and some Gryffindor sixth-years claimed they had seen the Astronomy Professor sneak into the DADA classroom late one night, and she hadn't come out before they had been caught by Filch.
Hermione didn’t know if the rumours were true, it hurt her to even think about the possibility of Tom sleeping with the older witch, but after last night…
Ginny had an exam in Potions this morning, so she had begged Hermione to cover her rounds so she could study some more, and Hermione had foolishly agreed.
She had just finished her rounds and was on her way to the Gryffindor Tower when she saw them.
Professor Sinistra, her robes open and the top three buttons of her shirt undone, had her back against the wall, her eyes bright as she looked up, Tom hovering over her, his hair falling over his enchanting eyes as their faces grew closer.
She had made some noise, although she couldn’t remember even breathing, and Tom’s eyes had flashed to her, dark and dangerous, his jaw clenching at the sight of her, before he straightened, casually carding a hand through his hair, while Professor Sinistra, face flaming, had closed her robes, muttering apologies.
Furious and hurt, Hermione had shaken her head, apologised for interrupting them, and fled the scene, her chest squeezing painfully as she fought back tears.
That was the last time, she promised herself while curled on her bed, tears drying on her cheeks, the last time she’d allow him to hurt her. She’d do what he’d asked, and move on.
But she could not do that with Ron; even before Avalon, their relationship was suffering. They wanted different things from their future, things she could not, would not compromise on, and she needed to accept that she was not the right witch for Ron.
She needed to let him go.
“Hey, love, sorry for keeping you waiting, Harry wanted to go to Zonko’s and we lost track of time. Here, I’ll get you a butterbeer, alright?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
A few more blessed minutes to compose herself, and straighten her resolve; it was the right thing to do, ending this relationship. He would hurt, but he’d eventually get over it.
Biting her lip nervously, she smoothed her hair away from her eyes and took another deep breath.
xxXxx
She had expected shouts and accusations and even some cruel remarks; Ron was known for lashing out when he was angry and hurt, but he proved much more mature than she had given him credit for.
He was hurt, but he maintained his equanimity, quietly asking if he had done anything wrong; he thought that things were getting better between them, so he felt kind of blindsided, and he wondered if this was his fault.
Aware this was a very precarious situation, she rushed to alleviate his doubts; as trite as it was, she promised it was her issues that caused this, not him. She needed time alone, and she couldn’t string him along, not when she wasn’t sure she’d want to be with him when she found the answers she was looking for.
They talked for hours, eventually leaving the pub to walk around Hogsmeade, away from the many curious eyes on them. She cried when he promised to remain her friend, and he awkwardly hugged her, wiping her tears away with gentle hands.
We were friends before we became anything more. I think we can salvage our friendship, but I need time, okay? I might be insensitive sometimes, and I might get angry, but never forget that I love you.
Around dusk, he escorted her back to the castle, dropping a kiss on her forehead outside her room, and promised to see her around before leaving, his own eyes wet as he turned the corner.
xxXxx
December 18 th , 1997
DADA Classroom
Professor Riddle worked out a kink in his neck, muttering darkly about the lack of ergonomic furniture on this godforsaken school. You’d think someone would have thought about introducing Muggle office wear to their society, but nooo, they had to sit on those ancient, barely tolerable monstrosities.
Merlin, his neck hurt!
And to top off his already dark mood, his students had been particularly rowdy and insubordinate that day; usually, one glare from him would shut them up, but today, even his best glower did not affect them.
It was times like these when he thought Filch wasn't completely barmy for reminiscing about the good old days when he'd been allowed to string students up by their ankles and leave them hanging for hours.
Severus had laughed at him when Tom had lamented about the idiocy of his students; first and second years he could understand, but shouldn’t students who had qualified for NEWTs level DADA should be able to defend themselves against a Boggart? Or a Grindyllow? What fucking standards did the Ministry set, for allowing people like Malfoy or Weasley to pass their DADA OWLs with Exceed Expectations?
“Weasley might be lazy, but his best friend is Mr. Potter; his natural affinity for DADA makes him quite adequate in helping his best friend pass the exam. And not to mention, Mr. Weasly is dating Miss Granger, and I doubt she'd allow him to stay too far behind in his studies. She might have a tendre for him, but I can guarantee she's relentless in her academic pursuits, and she demands the same dedication from her friends, and her boyfriend."
“Well, I think she’s hardly better than Malfoy. Arrogant, loud-mouthed, she parrots anything she reads in a book, but fails to grasp the deeper meaning of the magic involved – “
“Come now, Riddle, I know Miss Granger has her flaws – Merlin knows I could happily part with her incessant questions, and obsessive need to always have the answer, – but even you have to admit she’s superior to her peers. She’s the most intelligent student in this school, and she’s likely to match your grades when she graduates.”
“Of course you'd say that! You are tutoring her, aren't you? Let me ask you, Severus, what did she have to do to convince you to spare her some of your free time?"
Severus snorted.
“She barged into my office and wouldn’t leave until I agreed to help her. She’s tenacious that one.”
“And has she lived up to your standards?”
“I wouldn’t waste my time with her if she hadn't." A sip of his firewhiskey. "She's insecure, stubborn, and too narrow-minded to think outside of the box; all qualities that prohibit her from achieving her potential. But she's getting better, now that she admitted her short-comings and actively works on overcoming them. I've considered offering the chance to apprentice under me after she graduates, but I do not think she's interested in a career in Potions. She's too ambitious for that."
“Hm.”
His fellow Professor laughed a rare sight.
“Heed my words, you’ll find she has buried herself under your skin without your noticing soon enough. She’s surprising like that, Miss Granger.”
He shook himself out of the memory; he knew where this particular train of thought would lead, and he had no intention of travelling down that road again. As tempting as Miss Granger was, he needn’t a distraction. Especially one that could cost him everything he had worked so hard to achieve.
Simply put, she was not worth the risk.
Now if only he could convince his body of that little fact.
Growling low in his throat, he pushed the papers he was supposed to be grading away and stood up.
“Fuck me, professor. Make me cum. Please.”
He loosened his tie, suddenly feeling overheated.
Severus had been right, damn the bastard.
Miss Granger had dug herself under his skin, and he was itching for her, his mind rebelling against his wishes when he allowed himself some peace, his memories of that cabin replaying behind his lids every time he closed his eyes, her soft whimpers filling his head, his skin tingling with echoes of her touch.
He had tried to get her out of his mind, but Sarah was so different from her, his mind couldn't stop making comparisons and finding her lacking; too slim, her hips too narrow, nothing there for him to grab as he fucked her, where Miss Granger was delightfully curvy, her hips and thighs fleshy enough for him to grab as he thrust inside her willing body, her perky breasts bouncing from his heavy thrusting.
He was planning on taking Aurora up on her offer soon, hoping the older witch might be enough to get his mind off of Miss Granger.
All she had to do was walk in his classroom, all prim and tidy, and he’d be reminded of how she’d looked, spread out on the carpet, skin flushed and marked by him, soft lips parted in pleasure, and eyes alight with passion.
Utterly debauched.
He’d taken to casting a cooling charm on himself before teaching his seventh year Slytherin/Gryffindor class, but it proved ineffective when he noticed her biting her lip in thought, or scrunching up her nose in annoyance when he failed to acknowledge her raised hand.
She was a disease, burning him from the inside out, and he feared the repercussions when she finally broke free.
Tom was not a man of many passions; he craved power, yes, and he had carnal needs – he was a healthy, young man after all, – but he had never felt that consuming need his peers had spoken about, that absolute desire, only satiated by a single person.
Until Miss Granger.
He remembered seeing her, that first night at Hogwarts; she had stood up as she'd been presented as the new Head Girl, exchanging a polite head tilt with Draco Malfoy, her fellow Head. He had thought nothing of her, just another teenage witch; she could dedicate a little more time to her hair – that thing was a beast on its own, – but there was nothing… extraordinary about her.
And then she’d walked into his classroom.
“I respectfully disagree.”
The ‘arshehole’ he could feel was at the tip of her tongue went unsaid, and it amused him.
“Out of curiosity, Miss Granger, were you always such a disagreeable little swot, or you became one recently?”
She bristled, but maintained her composure, ignoring the mocking titters from the Slytherins. Tom recognised that that was uncalled for, but for some reason, the Head Girl brought out his worse self.
"As I said," she sneered at him, her eyes flashing amber. "I don't think we can use Dark Magic without consequences. Yes, intent matters, and God's knows you could use even a simple slicing hex to decapitate someone, so we know Light does not mean innocent, and I do agree there's a lot of Grey area between Dark and Light as set forth by the Ministry, but you can't use the Killing Curse, and walk off scotch free. It'll leave a mark on you, on your soul. No matter how you frame it, it's dark magic."
“And what about the Imperius curse?” he asked. She was right, of course, the damn swot, but he wasn’t about to say it to her. It would mess with the game, and he found her oh so amusing when she was annoyed with him. “If you use it to save someone from jumping off of the Astronomy Tower, isn’t that considered good by your standards?”
“That –“
“What if I use it on an enemy who’s about to kill me or my loved ones?” He cut her off, delighted to note the hard glint in her eyes. He ignored the stir of arousal, his cock jumping to attention at the colour rising in her cheeks. It had been a long time since he'd had an intellectual debate, and he'd always found intelligence arousing. Too bad she was a Know It All swot. “Should I be sentenced to Azkaban for life for protecting my self and others?”
“There are several other enchantments you could use!” she shouted, exasperated. “You can’t just play with people’s minds, and then claim it was the right thing to do! There’s something called ‘free will’!”
“If you had the chance to travel back in time, and kill Gellert Grindewald when he was a child, would you do it?” he asked lowly, knowing he had her. She was a Muggleborn, she knew what Grindewald’s ideologies were, and what would have become of her if the Dark Wizard had succeeded in his quest. “If you could erase him from existence, just a quick, painless death, would you do it?”
"That's beside the point," she meekly argued. "We were talking about –"
“The basis of your argument, Miss Granger, is morality,” he smoothly interjected, approaching her desk and looming over it, looking down at her. “You say it’s immoral to play with a person’s free will, and I agree with you. But there are always exceptions to every rule, and you should have known that.
“All of you," he addressed the whole class but didn't move away from her desk. "There might come a point in your life, that you'd have to choose between what is right and what is wrong. You might find yourself in an impossible situation. And then, you'd have to wonder what's more important: your morals or your life.
“It won't always be an easy choice. The line won't always be clear on the sand, so you need to think, and you need to decide for yourselves. But that will be your choice, your fight, your burden to bear for the rest of your life.
“All I'm going to say is this: it's a lot easier to make amends if you are alive. You can always repent later."
Smirking down at her, he walked back to his desk, his skin prickling from the daggers he knew she was staring into his back.
He had looked forward to his seventh-year classes, just for the chance to spar with her; she was smart, he could admit to that, but she was also innocent, and naive. She knew nothing of the real world, and he enjoyed putting her in her place when she got going.
He did not know when he started desiring her; he first realised it when he caught her fooling around with her ginger boy-toy outside Gryffindor Tower, his large paw hitching up her leg, her pouty mouth parted in a delighted gasp.
He had given them detention, and he'd been amused by the way her eyes were cast to the floor, her face burning; clearly, she'd been mortified at getting caught in such a compromising position, but Tom had not teased her farther. He'd been too busy fixating on the image of her bra peeking through her unbuttoned shirt.
Black lace.
Who knew the Gryffindor Swot owed such sexy lingerie?
Watching her walk away, he'd noticed for the first time the way her hips practically sashayed as she walked, the hem of her skirt brushing her thighs invitingly, and a sliver of skin peeking through her ridden up shirt.
Tom had fought it for hours, but he’d been unable to resist the mental imagery of the Head Girl pinned against a wall, a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans; he’d wanked to that fantasy, cursing himself for allowing her to get under his skin.
The next day, he’d asked Snape to oversee Weasley’s detention, and he’d visited Sarah, desperate for some relief; she’d been delighted, eager to please him, but even after he’d spent himself inside her for the third time, the Head Girl still plagued his mind.
During her detention, he had scolded her, treated her like a wayward child, and insinuated that perhaps he should talk to Dumbledore about her inadequacies as Head Girl; after all, ‘you are expected to be a role model for the rest of the students, Miss Granger. What would they think, if they had walked in on you and your little boyfriend, humping against a wall?’
Her outrage at his comment had been amusing, but it solidified his worst fears; the way her eyes had sparked, her heaving breasts as she panted in impotent fury, and the blush high on her cheeks…
Damn it, he wanted to fuck her.
Badly.
“Did you hear?”
Tom looked up, frowning. When did he leave his office?
Cursing inwardly, damning the ignorant girl for causing him so much drama, he slowed his steps; without realising it, he’d walked out of his office, and was on his way to the Great Hall.
Well, he better eat, if he could not satiate another need of his.
“About Weasley and Granger? Yeah, the whole school knows!”
Interest peaked, he rushed around the corner, noticing the two young students ahead of him; if he remembered correctly, they were Ravenclaw fifth years, not very bright, but mischievous nevertheless. And some of his most ardent admirers.
“Do you think she cheated on him? Claudia from Slytherin said she heard him telling Potter that.”
His blood froze. Had she –
“Please!” the brunette scoffed. “Granger? Cheat? She’s too righteous to even think about doing something ‘immoral’.”
Oh, you’d be surprised, Miss Caltrope.
“Then why did she dump him?”
Tom stopped in his tracks, heart lurching inside his chest.
“Are you honestly surprised? Weasley might be a chess prodigy, but they have absolutely nothing in common! I’m surprised they lasted as long as they did!”
“I bet there’s someone else!”
“Pff, Granger would never do that, I tell you.”
“Perhaps… But what if she likes someone else, and she felt guilty about it, so she dumped Weasley to be able to get with the other one?”
“You read too many romance novels, Roseanne!”
They continued talking, but he didn’t hear them, busy trying to get his breathing back to normal.
She broke up with her little boyfriend. Why? Why would she do that?
Even the teachers in the forsaken school had placed bets on her marrying the idiot, sighing over young love; only Severus and McGonagall argued that eventually, Miss Granger would grow bored of Mr. Weasley, and she'd need someone intellectually equal to match wits with.
Maybe she can’t stop thinking about the cabin as well, he thought, a smirk gracing his lips as he recalled the way her eyes had widened first in shock, then in anger when she caught him with Aurora. The little hellion had looked ready to claw his throat out.
Was it jealousy? He wondered. Miss Granger was peculiar, she didn’t react the way she was supposed to; unlike the majority of the students, who thought with their heart first, Miss Granger was pragmatic and logical. She was one of the few students who had not been enthralled by his physical appearance; even male students were awestruck by him, some wanting to be like him, and some simply wanting him.
But Miss Granger… Oh, Miss Granger had not been interested until he'd opened his mouth. He'd noticed the way her eyes had lit up, her teeth biting into her lower lip as he lectured them on his lesson plan and his expectations from them.
Miss Granger was attracted to intelligence.
So, if he thought about it, her wanting him was unsurprising; what was shocking was how long she'd managed to hide her attraction until she'd finally surrendered to it in that cabin.
He'd been furious with her that day, when Mr. Potter had informed them that Miss Granger was missing; obtaining a personal object from Potter – a clip for her hair that Mr. Potter was holding for her, – he had sent the rest of the group to the Inn, and went searching for her alone.
When he'd finally found her, his fury at the Acromantula who was about to devour the young witch had only been surpassed by his fury at the witch herself for daring to get caught. But he had to take them to safety first, before scolding her.
Thankfully, he had memorised the Island's layout from the map proudly displayed at the Inn, and he knew there was a cabin in that general direction, where the manager went to chop wood for the Inn.
When inside and safe, he’d allowed a small portion of his anger to show; but the damn girl had ignored him, farther provoking him.
When he’d grabbed her, he’d felt the first stirrings of arousal in his pants; grounding his teeth, he’d hissed at her, resisting the urge to shake her. But he lost the battle because of her blasé attitude.
It was then, that she finally allowed him to see her desire for him; he'd been shocked, stunned at the revelation, but then elation had taken over, and then he'd been lost to his passion.
He’d taken her, so many times he had lost count; after allowing her to fall asleep, he’d waken her up again, only to torture her with his tongue before driving into her with a muffled shout, burying himself to the hilt in her warm depths. She had clawed at his back, screaming in pleasure, as her back arched, her eyes screwed shut.
He had not stopped, taking and taking until the sun had finally risen in the sky, and even then, he'd forced her on her knees, bouncing on his cock as she whimpered, her body over-sensitive.
He’d enjoyed the look of shocked anger at her face when he’d told her to forget about their night together, but when she called him out on it – y ou didn’t seem to mind I’m your student two hours ago, when you had your cock in my mouth, – he had a hard time reminding himself why getting entangled with a student was a bad idea, and why he shouldn’t just rip her clothes off of her body, and continue to have his way with her all day long.
But he’d managed.
And now, he needed to find that resolve again, because his cock had risen to the occasion, and all he could think about was getting Miss Granger on her knees so he could properly appreciate her oral skills once more.
Damn it, get yourself together, Riddle, he mentally hissed, tightening a fist and gently smacking his forehead. Clenching his teeth together, he took deep breaths, trying to shove the memories away.
She’s not worth the risk.
"Please!" she mewled, closing her eyes when his tongue parted her folds, and he sank two fingers inside her. "I can't –"
“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” he groaned, lapping at her folds, fingers pumping inside her.
His eyes snapped open, and he swallowed, the material of his clothes feeling rough against his oversensitive skin, his temperature rising.
“What do you think your friends would think if they saw you now? Riding your professor, begging him to fuck you… Not so proper now, are you?"
“Shut up!”
“You don’t want me to,” he rasped, rhythm faltering as he felt his orgasm approaching fast. He wrapped one arm securely around her waist, helping her ride him faster, and he maneuvered his other hand between their bodies, finding her clit, and started rubbing the small, hard nub with his thumb, stimulating her inside and out.
Hermione threw her head back, her nails dragging down his back, leaving scratch marks; her inner walls started fluttering around his hard flesh, and she mewled in pleasure.
“Such a dirty girl.”
Tom cursed, his eyes flashing red for a second, before he gritted his teeth, and reached for his wand.
Detention. He’d have her in detention for the rest of the fucking semester for doing this to him. She deserved nothing less.
xxXxx
“Please, please!”
“Quiet now, Miss Granger. Or do you want your friends to hear?”
She cursed him, and he chuckled before diving back in, his tongue parting her lower lips easily, her juices slipping down her thighs as he lapped at her, his nose bumping her swollen clit and making her whimper.
He honestly had every intention of giving her detention after tracking her down to the Restricted Section of the library – her skirt was half an inch shorter than the regulation allowed, he'd checked, – but he had not been prepared for the sight of her, halfway up the ladder, stretched to her tippy toes as she struggled to reach a book, her skirt riding indecently high on her thighs, exposing a scandalous amount of creamy flesh to passersby.
Her eyes had widened comically when he made a noise, part growl part cough, and she’d looked down and saw him, but anger had quickly taken the place of her usual timidness, and she’d opened her mouth to say something inane, but he beat her to it.
Taking the three steps separating them, he reached up and took her by the waist, quite literally lifting her off of her feet and lowering her to the floor.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Merlin, he’d forgotten how sweet she tasted! He wanted more…
Shoving her against the shelves, he wasted no time hitching up a thigh around his waist and rubbing his erection against her, making her mewl with lust. Her tiny hands fisted in his hair, soft groans and whimpers, dispersed with swear words leaving her lips as he plundered her mouth.
He couldn't take her, not here, not when her friends were three aisles away and they would probably rush back to check on her if they thought she was in distress.
But he could give her pleasure, he could make sure she would not forget about him while she'd be away for Christmas. Perhaps it was hypocritical of him, wanting her to remember their time together when he had no intention of repeating this, but he needed her to want him as much as he wanted her.
If he was to suffer, then damn it all to Hell, he’d make sure she’ll suffer right alongside him.
Dropping to his knees, he'd smirked at her stunned expression, before flipping her skirt up, shoving her thin, satin underwear to the side and took hold of her knees, parting her legs so he could lower his mouth to her most sensitive spot, his tongue parting her slit and finding her embarrassingly wet.
“Fuck!” she’d whispered, watching him with dilated pupils.
“Sorry, can’t do right now,” he’d mumbled, before going for the kill. Wrapping his lips around the tiny, little nub, he’d sucked.
“Fuckfuckfuck –“
She is so wet, she’s desperate for it, for me.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good," he groaned, licking up her slit before moving down again and pushing his tongue inside her. Hermione choked, her back arching as he released one of her legs to reach for her clit, rubbing the nub gently with his thumb. She reached for the shelves behind her, for something to hold herself steady as he worked her inside and out, his tongue thrusting in rhythm with his nips and licks on her clit.
God, he was driving her insane!
“Please, Tom, please!” she cried, gasping when he used his other hand to trace her rosebud, jerking with shock and want.
“No one has ever touched you here,” he murmured, withdrawing from her depths. I will be the first.
“N-no,” she admitted, panting. A devilish smirk, but surely he wouldn’t… Not in the library! When they could get caught so easily!
He returned his attention to her slit, sinking a finger unexpectedly inside her, and pumping, his lips nibbling on her clit.
Her mind was lost, her hands burying themselves in his raven locks, practically humping his mouth, as he added another finger, his teeth grazing her sensitive nub.
This… This is too much!
“Too… much!” she growled, clapping a hand over her mouth to stop from shouting. She was so close…
"I'll be the judge of that, Miss Granger," he admonished her, his fingers pumping inside her leisurely. With a wicked grin, he found what he was looking for, and twisted his hand just so, his fingers scraping at that spot inside her that made her see stars.
Bucking against his hand, both of hers clapped over her mouth to muffle her cries, she surrendered to him, throwing one leg over his shoulder, and giving him free rein over her body.
“That’s my girl,” he hissed, leaning over and resuming his attentions on her cunt, parting her flesh and lapping at her juices, his tongue in perfect synchrony with his fingers as he fucked her, her whole body shaking as heat started unfurling from her core outward, her nerves tingling all over her body, her skin so sensitive she felt ready to burst.
A twitch of fingers, a nip, and she broke apart, lights bursting behind her eyelids, as she clamped her mouth closed, attempting to smother the whine that tried to escape from her lips, her whole body shaking as her inner muscles clenched and unclenched rhythmically, drenching his hand with her release.
He didn't let up, his thrusting gentler, prolonging her bliss as he licked her clean, careful not to touch her clit, knowing how tender it was.
Finally, after her walls softened their hold on him, he withdrew and Hermione slowly opened her eyes, her core pulsing when he licked his fingers clean, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.
Neither spoke for a few precious seconds, their breathing still coming in harsh pants and with a start, Hermione realised he had not come. Eyes flashing down, she blushed when she saw the tent in his trousers, memories of his cock thrusting inside her making her shiver in anticipation.
Will he continu –
"That would be twenty points from Gryffindor, for indecent conduct in the Library, Miss Granger," he informed her, a devilish look in his eyes.
Her mouth dropped open.
“What?!” she hissed, outraged.
"Allowing your professor to eat you out in such a public venue is uncouth, and immodest, Miss Granger! Hardly a behaviour befitting the Head Girl!"
“You utter bast –“
"Careful, Miss Granger," he warned, reaching out and gripping her chin, lifting her face and rubbing his thumb over her lower, bee-stung lip. So tempting. “You wouldn’t want me to add detention on top of your loss of House points, now, would you?”
She was at a loss for words; what could she say, when her thighs were still slick with her release and his saliva, when her lips felt tender from his kisses, and arousal was still stirring in her belly, her quim fluttering with anticipation for his cock.
“No,” she answered robotically, hating herself for shivering at his touch, her body warming at the heated look in his eyes. “I would not want that.”
“Fabulous,” he announced with a smirk, releasing her and smoothing his clothes, rearranging his robes to cover his raging erection. He’d take care of that problem back in his rooms; he had plenty of material for a good wank, and although he’d have wanted to bend her over a table, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight, it was neither the place nor the time to succumb to such basic urges.
She’s still an unwanted distraction, after all.
“Have a happy Christmas, Miss Granger,” he told her, thrilled at the fury in her eyes. “I’ll see you next year.”
Perhaps, by then, he'd have gotten over this silly infatuation. There was plenty of fish in the sea, after all, and Miss Granger was hardly a beauty.
"Happy holidays, Professor," she snarled, smoothing her clothes down.
“Remember to behave,” he warned for the last time, choosing to ignore the numerous expletives she mumbled at him, a smirk on his face.
xxXxx
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Sarah accused.
Barely looking up from the newspaper, Tom arched an eyebrow at her, his indifference clearly shown.
Sarah narrowed her eyes, her hands balling into fists, but she refrained from lashing out. Tom would not respond well to angry words and accusations and she wasn’t sure her claim on him was as secure as she hoped, so she couldn’t risk angering him.
Damn it, why don’t I get pregnant? We hardly ever use condoms, and he never pulls out!
“Why?” Soft, trembling, the perfect amount of vulnerability and yearning in her tone. She even managed to tear up.
"I know it might come as a surprise to you, Sarah," he started slowly, bored, "but I hardly plan my schedule with you in mind. Accommodating your every whim is not part of our deal.”
She flinched.
“You make it sound to sordid –“
"I'm financing your extravagant way of life in exchange for sex," he smoothly interjected, finally affording her his full attention. She shivered at the intensity of his gaze; he might be the spitting image of her late husband, but Thomas had never made her feel so alive, and full of desire with just one look from his dark blue eyes. "I'm paying for your clothes, your jewels, your food and drinks, your shopping and all your travels, and in return, I ask you to spread your pretty legs for me on occasion. That's the extent of our… relationship.”
She forced a tear to roll down her cheek.
“Don’t you care about me at all? After all this time?” she asked, lowering her eyelashes, a hand flying to her throat.
Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d known Sarah would react this way; she sensed his waning interest, and after last night, when he returned home to find her sprawled on his bed, wearing only a diamond necklace, and instead of ravishing her, he simply told her to get lost and went to his en suite, she was on a mission to get back into his good graces.
“Please, Tom” she simpered, rising and rounding the table to kneel at his feet, her hand caressing his inner thigh. Leaning forward, she bit her lip, her eyes half-lidded. “I’m not asking for much! I haven’t seen you properly since you got that job at your old school! I miss you.”
Brown eyes lit with lust filled his mind when he blinked, a soft mouth parted in a silent moan as he pleased her with his tongue, her hand fisting his hair as she trembled, his own hands gripping her supple thighs.
He swallowed, feeling his cock hardening in his pants. Sarah noticed, her pupils dilating, and her lips lifting in a satisfied grin.
Idiot. As if you could tempt me so easily!
Shaking off his disgust he motioned for her to stand up; he had no patience for her antics, not when his mind was preoccupied with someone else. Someone immeasurably more enticing, but unfortunately unattainable.
"Go and pack. I feel like celebrating Christmas away from England. How does Paris sound?"
She squealed in delight, practically bounding up the stairs.
Tom rolled his eyes.
Sarah had her uses still, but he'd grown weary of her clinging; he didn't appreciate her attempts to trap him by getting pregnant, but he would hold back his temper for now.
Paris was a good idea; Bellatrix was currently in Lyon, so while Sarah would inevitably spend her days shopping and galivanting with her silly friends, he’d visit his old friend.
Perhaps Bellatrix, with her wild hair and heavy-lidded eyes, and her willingness to allow him to use her body as it pleased him, would prove enough to obliterate the silly chit from his mind.
A/N: No, Bellatrix won’t play a major role in this. She will make an appearance, but her part will be small.