Hermione could not shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She knew it was ridiculous because no one but herself had ever been in the library so late on a Friday evening. And yet. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and an alarm bell rang inside her. Something was not right.
It could not be Riddle, at least she knew that for sure, because he had left her here alone only an hour ago and the view her current place offered her of the entrance of the library would have made her immediately aware of it, if he - or anyone else - had come back. But since he had left her, no one else had entered the library. And until that moment she had assumed that she was completely alone.
Slowly, as if she had no worries in the world, Hermione put her parchment and books in her bag, wary of leaving her wand open on the table. Just about everyone in this castle knew that Hermione Dumbledore was a powerful witch who could be very quick with her wand. She prayed that no one would attack her while she carried her wand. If there even was an attacker in the first place.
She was about to shoulder her bag, the wand firmly in her left hand, when a powerful figure moved out of the rows of shelves and appeared in front of her. Before she could react, he casually said, "Expelliarmus," and with that the question of whether an attacker would dare to approach her while she still had her wand in her hand was settled.
"Avery," she said in a firm voice, "What is the meaning of this?"
"Good evening, dear Miss Dumbledore," replied the Slytherin casually, looking at her want in his hand. A grin played around the corner of his mouth. "That's a fine staff you have there, my dear. Pity it's no use to you anymore."
Hermione swallowed when she saw him carelessly throwing her wand behind her. Without magic, she was definitely inferior to a man of strength, especially one like Avery, who seemed to know what a gym was. Trying not to let her extreme nervousness show, she paced around the table.
"Very funny," she mocked. "I always thought our head boy was very particular about students not using magic against other students?"
The grin on Avery's face widened as he stood in her way. "Oh yes, absolutely. But you know, Miss Dumbledore, there are exceptions to the rule. You were there when our dear Tom publicly announced that he did not care for your health."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Indeed, Riddle had made it more than clear that they were not on friendly terms with each other, but nothing had happened since then. None of the students had behaved conspicuously towards her, so where did this attack come from now?
"I see you still don't understand," Avery grinned. The serene expression on his face did not quite match the menacing steps he was taking to force her to retreat bit by bit. Still smiling, he continued, "I'm here because I want to see for myself how much truth there is to the rumours."
Hermione's back bumped into one of the bookshelves. She cursed. This ended her escape, which had been hopeless from the start. All she had left was to hope that Avery would just say a few unkind words and then leave. Or that she managed to place her knee right between his legs.
"What rumours?" she hissed, noting for herself how frightened she sounded.
"The rumours," Avery replied quietly, resting one arm above her head, "that you are a typical American woman. That you would willingly spread your legs for any man."
Before Hermione processed what she just heard, Avery bridged the last distance to her, pressed his body against her and immobilized her while his right hand tugged at her blouse. Shocked and unable to believe that this was really happening to her, she tried to knock his arm away, but to no avail. No sooner did she show any resistance than he grabbed her hands with his and forcibly brought them together over her head.
"So wild, this little snake," he cooed in her ear before lifting his wand and, with a soft murmur, created a cuff that chained her arms to the shelf. Horrified, Hermione pulled at it, but it was hopeless; her arms were trapped.
"You pig!" she shouted at him, now completely frightened. "You don't think you can get away with this, do you?"
"Oh, yes, dear," Avery returned with satisfaction. His hands were busy ripping her blouse, his hips rubbing greedily against hers, leaving no doubt as to what this man was up to. He calmly continued, "As it happens, Tom Riddle is a very, very good friend of mine. I'm sure he'll see to it that nobody believes your story."
Hermione swallowed. There was indeed a high probability that Riddle could talk his friend out of this situation. After all, he had gotten away with murdering Myrtle himself. She desperately tried to kick at Avery with her knees, but his only reaction was that he grabbed her thighs with a smug grin, forced her legs apart and placed himself in between.
"You're out of your mind," Hermione spat at him, but Avery did not care for her any more. Greedily, he pushed the bra aside and then grabbed her breasts with both hands. Horrified, Hermione gasped, which was answered with an agitated moan from Avery. With increasing force, he kneaded her breasts, while his hard member rubbed against her through his trousers.
Against her will, tears began to run down Hermione's cheek. She cursed herself for not having seriously listened to her instincts. Had she been more careful, she would have had her staff in her right hand, ready to react instantly. Never would this dumb brute have been able to disarm her.
At last Avery let go of her breasts, but Hermione's relief did not last long. Horrified, she noticed that he single-mindedly unbuttoned his trousers. At the same time, his other hand tugged at her panties, until the seams finally gave way and tore. With a triumphant grin he hurled it aside.
"Now let's see how such a sharp-tongued American woman feels from the inside, huh?
"Please," Hermione sobbed, and she did not care that she begged, that she humiliated herself, that she cried unrestrainedly. "Don't. Avery, please. I'm begging you."
"Take it easy, pretty," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath touching her neck, his hands lifting her hips a little: "We will have our fun together, I promise.
***
Annoyed, Tom closed the book he was reading. He had left Hermione alone in the library over an hour ago and she still was not back. It was almost ten o'clock and the time had come when no student was allowed to be in the corridors. He had made it clear to her in the library that tonight, they would talk about the book they had picked out together. Was she trying to hide from him and therefore did not come back to the common room?
"Abraxas, I’ll go back to the library," he said quietly to his friend who was sitting next to him, also absorbed in a book. "Miss Dumbledore hasn't come back yet and I'm beginning to worry.
When he heard Hermione's name, Abraxas was immediately wide awake. "Hermione is not back? Shall I come with you?"
"That won't be necessary," Tom declined the offer. He had no interest in anyone watching him as he rebuked Hermione and made it clear to her how little he appreciated her resistance.
"Whatever you say," it came reluctantly from young Malfoy. "But I will stay awake until you return. A young lady should not be wandering about alone at this hour."
Tom looked down on his former friend. Contrary to what he had said so many weeks ago, it was obvious that Abraxas had more than just a polite interest in Hermione. He did not like that, not at all. Not only was Abraxas's attention to be his own, but he was not willing to share Hermione with anyone else. She was his personal little project. It would be more than annoying if she were to establish more than school contact with anyone. He needed her isolated, without friends, without protection.
He shook his head. His thoughts again rushed in a direction that was irrelevant to the current situation. This was happening a lot lately and he did not like it at all. He had to concentrate. With a noncommittal smile he nodded to Abraxas and then left the common room with determined steps.
He could no longer deny the problem. Ever since he had created the second Horcrux in summer, it became more and more difficult for him to concentrate. His feelings, his hatred distracted him over and over again, made his mind think about things that simply had no priority at that particular moment. He wondered if this change was only temporary while his soul was busy processing the second split. He cursed Slughorn for not being able to give him more precise information. He had to know if it was dangerous to make seven Horcruxes. He simply could not risk losing his brilliant mind. What good was all the immortality in the world if he could no longer think clearly?
He shook his head again. He had spent the whole last year reading all the books about Horcruxes he could find, and finally he had even talked to a professor about it, without any result. Apparently, there was no answer to his questions. At least not a written one, handed down. He would have no choice but to test it himself. He just had to take his time. One Horcrux per year. And if he felt the effects were becoming too extreme, he would not proceed. He had no other choice.
By now he had reached the library. To his surprise he heard voices from inside, one of them obviously belonging to Hermione, the other to Avery. Frowning, he stepped closer to the door.
"Don't! Avery, please! I beg you."
The pleading in Hermione's voice made icy cold rage rise in Tom. No one but himself was to produce that tone in her. She had no one to bow to but him. Without hesitation he pushed the door open and took a big step into the library.
The scene that presented itself to him was more than unpleasant. There stood Avery, his cock out, his hands greedily clawing at Hermione's hip, panting and staring at him with big, lust-clouded eyes. Hermione, for her part, did not seem to notice him at all, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her face, while she trembled all over her body.
"Good evening, Avery," he greeted his follower coolly, "Mind telling me what's going on?"
"Tom," Avery replied, his tone showing that he was unsettled, as he obviously did not know how to interpret Tom's cold tone. "I... I just wanted..."
"Enough," Tom cut him off sharply. "It's more than obvious what you were about to do. "Do me a favour and let Miss Dumbledore go. Now."
Avery's face darkened as his gaze returned to Hermione. He let go of her with clear indignation, but before he stepped away from her completely, he hit Hermione with the back of his hand so hard that her head hit the shelf and she lost consciousness instantly.
"That was more than unnecessary," commented Tom, still trying not to let his raging anger show. Avery had almost taken what was rightfully his. And he had seen Hermione in a state she had no one to show to but himself. With a slight smile he said, "Get your clothes in order and then see that you get back to the common room. It's past ten.”
"Tom, I don't understand," Avery started.
Again though, Tom cut him off, this time in a less friendly way, "We'll talk about it later. Be sure of that. Go now."
It seemed as if Avery slowly realised that Tom was not amused by what he had just done, for he turned pale as he trotted to the library exit.
Tom waited until he had disappeared, then he turned his gaze back to Hermione. Her blouse was torn, her breasts exposed, the rest of her underwear lying tattered on the floor. Somewhere inside him there was a desire to take advantage of the situation. To wake her up and finish what Avery had started.
But that was not his style. If he dealt with her, she would cry just as uninhibitedly as she had obviously done with Avery, but she would not fight him off. Oh, no, on the contrary. Her fear of him would drive her to let him allow her to give in to him. He did not have to destroy her clothes.
He took a deep breath. There were times for such thoughts, but this moment was definitely not one of them. Gently he released the magical bonds and caught the lifeless body of Hermione as she fainted and slid to the ground. Thoughtfully, he examined her figure before he took off his robe and wrapped her in it. There was no need for anyone else to know what had happened to her.
Carefully he lifted her up to carry her in his arms back to the dungeon. For a moment he had to struggle with his balance when he hit the door to the common room, but then he got it open as well. As promised, Abraxas was still awake. Apart from him the room was empty.
"Tom!" cried Abraxas, no sooner had he seen them than he said, "What happened to Hermione?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Tom replied as he headed for the door to the girls' dormitories. "I found her unconscious in the library. Could you open the door for me so I can take her to her bed?"
"Shouldn't we get her to the infirmary?"
Annoyed, Tom closed his eyes before addressing Abraxas with a worried expression. "I could not find any injuries. If we take her to the hospital wing now, all that would happen is that she would be questioned for being outside the common room at such a late hour. We wouldn't want to cause any more trouble for Miss Dumbledore, would we? If she still doesn't wake up in the morning, we can always do that."
"Perhaps you are right," Abraxas muttered hesitantly, but finally he went to the door and opened it.
It took little effort for Tom to get Hermione safely into her bed. He freed her from her ruined uniform and even put a new nightgown on her. Then, after he had tucked her in properly, he turned around once more and looked down at her sleeping figure.
He himself had declared her outlawed, but he never expected that any other student would approach her in this way. Apart from him no one had the right to attack her or humiliate her. He would have to make sure that everyone knew that she belonged to him. Whether she liked it or not.
She was his exclusive toy. Tom Riddle did not share.