Green Eyes

Later that day, Max caught up with Hermione under the trees on the Hogwarts lawn. This was the free period they always shared together, while Minerva had Advanced Transfiguration.

As he plopped onto the grass next to her, Max silently observed that she looked like a very ill glass China doll. Her black, glossy tresses matched the dark rings around her huge, green eyes.

"Hart. You alright?" Hermione looked up and was flooded by the worry and care in Max's sky blue eyes. “Minerva told me what happened this morning.”

She smiled wanly, wishing her friends would stop worrying. “I’m fine, really!”

"Then why are you hunched over your stomach like that? And why have I seen you look over your shoulder three times in the past minute? Are you expecting the Abominable Snowman, or something?" Max ran his hand through his blonde hair, worried.

He hesitated for a moment, then gently pulled a stray curl away from her face. "There are no monsters here, Hart. I promise you." His voice was low and hoarse, and his hand lingered, close to her face.

Hermione was becoming very confused by his behaviour.

Max suddenly seemed to make a decision, and leant over Hermione. "Hermione. I don't know what you're afraid of. But you will be safe with me, always," he whispered heatedly, the blue sky on fire in his eyes.

With that, he deftly pushed his hand into her hair, and pulled her into a kiss that was sweet and hungry. He crushed her into his arms and broad chest, knowing that this was right, knowing that he would never, ever let go.

Finally, she is mine, and mine alone to protect, was all he could think.

Hermione moaned, and collapsed softly into Max's arms, paralysed with pain. Someone was applying a burning battering ram to every inch of her back, over and over.

In response Max only held her closer, as if she were a little bird that would escape if he didn’t hold her down. He could feel her heart thrumming as he continued to kiss her.

The pain inside Hermione's head was building higher and higher, and once again, Hermione's body took refuge in unconsciousness.

She collapsed in a dead faint, coughing blood onto the grass. As Max looked on, horrified, she lay for the second time in her life unconscious in a pool of her own blood on the green grass of Hogwarts.

****

Hermione came to groggily a few minutes later. She was cuddled against Max's broad chest as he grimly hurried towards the Entrance Hall. Max was swearing loudly.

"Uh..." she moaned, closing her eyes against Max's warmth, and thanking the stars that her long sleeves and robes prevented her from touching his skin. She could feel the wound in her back smarting and seeping.

Max saw her eyes flutter.

"Hermione, what the fuck happened back there? Minerva was right, you are sick. Why the bloody hell haven’t you told anyone?" Max seemed almost crazed. "We're going to the Hospital Wing NOW."

Hermione gasped. The hospital wing? No. No one could see the tattoo or the words across her back. What would they think?

She weakly pushed away from Max's chest, mumbling, "no Max...feel fine...honestly. Just...got to lie down."

Seeing a travelling staircase next to them, she jumped on and sailed away before Max could react.

"Hermione. What the bloody fuck! You just bloody collapsed on me, coughing BLOOD." He yelled at her retreating figure. "I'm getting you to the Hospital Wing even if I have to drag you the whole way there."

With that he turned and ran, obviously trying to capture Hermione on her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. However, the staircase had landed Hermione directly in front of the Fat Lady, and she stumbled into her bed without seeing him, falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

****

When she awoke, it was midnight. Around her, her dorm mates slept soundly in their beds.

She moaned as she ripped her bed sheet from where it had dried into the bloody letters on her shoulder blades. Examining the wound in the mirror, Hermione saw that the if she didn’t get some antiseptic potion for the deep gashes, they would soon fester.

Despite being completely exhausted from the past few days, she set out with through moonlit corridors, determined to steal the potion she needed from the Hospital Wing.

Suddenly, she whipped around at the sound of a silky voice.

"You really should learn to watch your back in these corridors, Miss Hart."

Before she could even register where Riddle's voice was coming from, an invisible hand slammed and bound her against the wall - this seemed to be a habit of Riddle's.

She stood pinned against the wall as Riddle's strode into view, his perfect, stony face impassive as ever.

"What a surprise that I should run into you here." he drawled softly, although Hermione knew this was a lie - Riddle always knew where she was, thanks to the mark.

Hands crossed carelessly against his chest, he stood back and surveyed her with evident approval.

Slowly shaking his head, he said, "My, my, Miss Hart." he said. "You really are too much. Too beautiful." His steely eyes suddenly darkened. as he said, almost to himself, "Sometimes I want to kill other men for even looking at you." He brushed a lock of Hermione’s hair from her face.

Hermione found her voice, glad that Riddle had not yet silenced her. “I know what you’re trying to do.” she said with fake bravado. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Really?“ Riddle raised an eyebrow, leaning over her with one hand against the wall. "Then why, when I do this" - he pressed his body against hers - "do I feel you shaking like a leaf, my little bird?".

Hermione turned her face away from Riddle’s, biting back a cry of pain as the wall pressed into her wounded back.

She tried not to concentrate on Riddle searing her with his intense gaze and body heat.

She tried not to feel his ribbed stomach and powerful arms through her thin robe.

She tried not feel his arousal pressed against the Dark Mark on her stomach.

In short, she tried not to feel trapped.

Riddle contemplated her for a single second, and then reached up and with surprising violence wrenched Hermione’s face towards his, pressing her into a hungry, bruising kiss. He roughly entwined his other hand in Hermione’s thick, dark curls.

Hermione was so surprised, and was pressed so hard into the brick wall, that she gasped in pain. Riddle took advantage, immediately pushing his tongue into her mouth with obvious confidence and skill. Every part of Hermione's petite frame stiffened and seared as he ran rough hands over her hips, breasts, and the skull and snake on her stomach.

Soon, Hermione no longer had the strength or willpower to resist his dark, magnetic pull. She closed her eyes and melted into his burning touch, beyond all thought and beyond care. Tentatively she pressed her tongue against his own, revelling despite herself in her heightened sense of touch and taste.

Feeling Hermione become pliant and willing in his arms, Riddle responded with even greater ferocity.

He pulled her hand under his shirt, and moaned when she began to tentatively caress his ribbed muscles and chest. Hermione could feel his broad shoulders shifting and bunching under her fingers. His dark eyes were on fire, searching her, raking her.

Suddenly Riddle growled, grabbed Hermione’s hips and pulled her up the wall, pushing his thigh between her legs. Nestled astride his leg, Hermione let out a sharp gasp as a wave of pleasure issued from the point of contact.

Riddle was now licking and nipping her neck and collarbone, while his hands were plundering her breasts. He growled again as he felt Hermione's nipples shrink under his calloused hands.

Riddle now felt for Hermione’s hand again, and pulled it down to his enlarged, straining cock. Placing the little hand at its base, he began to moan and shudder as he guided Hermione up and down his length.

"Look at me." He hissed as she stroked, his voice hoarse with need. "Show me those green eyes, little one." His hungry eyes bored into hers, a smouldering battle of grey on green.

Riddle's shudders gradually got more and more violent, but he never took his eyes off of her face.

Finally he wrenched her hand away, pulling her robes up and gripping his already leaking cock.

Hermione made a small whimper of fear. Was she really going to lose her virginity to this possessive mass murderer?

Riddle read her like a book. "Frightened, Hart?" he asked hoarsely, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'm just ...not very experienced." Hermione breathed, watching his trembling member with round eyes.

Riddle chuckled darkly. "All the better," he said, and without another word shoved his straining cock into Hermione.

They both moaned in pleasure, and Hermione in more than a little pain.

Riddle drove in again and again, brutally, forcefully, his eyes ever open and locked on Hermione's face. He feasted on that mixture of pain and pleasure in her eyes, driving deeper inside of Hermione that she had thought it possible to go.

His thrusts soon became erratic and more forceful. With each push, he began to mutter 'Mine. mine. mine. mine.' His possessive eyes darkened, and he pulled Hermione into one last bruising kiss before pulling back and moaning, "say. it. SAY. IT."

His punishing grasp on her tightened until Hermione was sure her arms would snap. She closed her eyes, and defeatedly whispered "I'm yours... I'm yours."

With a deep moan Riddle exploded in side of her, her tight folds milking his cock of all his seed. In the final moment of passion he savagely bit into Hermione's shoulder, drawing blood, and slapped his hand against the wall for support.

Riddle leaned his forehead against the stone wall of the still deserted corridor, recovering as he watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was still magically stuck to the wall like a rag doll.

She had closed her eyes and leant her head against the wall as two tears leaked out from under her eyelids.

Riddle leant over her, his dark hair and eyes smouldering as he kissed them away.

"Let me see those eyes, Hart." he whispered. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes round and swimming. He contemplated them, planted one last sweet, burning kiss on her lips. "You're mine, and mine alone." he informed her. "Don't you forget it." With a whirl of his cloak, he was gone.

Only when he had slipped out of sight was she released from the wall, to collapse in a burning, bleeding heap on the cold stone floor.