The Gold Puppet

Disclaimer: not ours, hence no money, leads to two crying grown women.

A/N: First of all one warning: our updates won’t be as fast as before, because Serp got a full time job now and I am still recovering from a broken wrist, which won’t heal properly, so I am only allowed to type a limited amount of time in a row. We have to adjust our schedules to each other and with a seven hours time difference that’s a significant task. But we won’t abandon this fic. We enjoy writing together too much. Thanks for your patience and understanding.

We want to thank everyone who read, rated, and reviewed: Lady Miya, Cosettex, risotto, Fleur K, soniab, QueenRuby, magentasouth.

risotto: Well, this fic is not for Ron fans. LOL. So, I am sure you will be able to enjoy hating him some more in this one. XD

Fleur K: *shivers* Lovey dovey Tom. *shivers again*. Is it just us, or do you agree that lovey dovey Tom is scarier than every other fluffy thing out there? And don’t worry, we won’t abandon this fic, we both had/have real life interfering with our writings. So here is your update.

soniab: Glad you’re enjoying this fic. Hold off on the cliffies? Muahahaha! Sure, we promise. What do you mean, we lie? *snickers* Well, Tom Riddle is our fav. character. That should tell you something.

QueenRuby: You’ll definitely see more of a dominant Hermione. We’ve both written submissive Hermione before, and we do like to turn things around and do something different in this fic. Although it will probably take some doing for her to get the upper hand. It’s not in Tom’s character to admit he enjoyed being dominated. Yes, you got that right. He enjoyed it.

magentasouth: I’m not really sure how to respond to your review. I’m glad you’re enjoying the fic, but I find your lack of understanding that things can happen in real life quite irritating and the overall tone of your review offensive. But I can say this: both apprentice and this one will get finished eventually.

~-0-~

The Gold Puppet

Chapter 18

Healer Lewis kept his eyes on the black diary sitting on the table in front of him for a while before sighing and turning his head to the side. He'd already flipped through it, feigning sincere interest in the item he'd planted at his old hideaway. He'd killed two birds with one stone there since he recognised three of his chicken shit Death Eaters who had bailed on him during the battle at Hogwarts. It had been incredibly entertaining to leak their whereabouts to the Auror Department. No, after the disaster of losing his body for more than a decade, when most of them kept going on with their lives like nothing happened, they pretty much used up all Lord Voldemort's mercy with regards to issues of loyalty. Those who were not supposed to stay low on his orders would be dealt with accordingly.

In his kind, understanding Healer's role, he had explained to Snotter in the simplest of terms that he knew of this journal's existence from one of Ginny's memories he'd extracted, and that the fortunate "recovery" of the book would be incredibly helpful in determining her full trauma. He'd then confiscated said diary under a medical excuse, knowing that it wouldn't stand up to scrutiny should the meddlesome boy have the Unspeakable Department look at it. Besides, he'd already reached his goal with it. From Potter's reactions, it was obvious to deduce he'd read it cover to cover. The guilt was etched on the moron's face.

Delicious.

He'd definitely had to ... compensate Hermione on the train for her Horcrux's assistance. Turning Potter into the villain of the story was incredibly entertaining and rewarding.

However, now the insipid boy was demanding for more information about what had happened to his equally annoying and uninteresting girlfriend. Although letting him know would undoubtedly lead to delightful consequences, he still had a date with his bushy-haired witch. He weighed the pros and cons of both options and finally made his decision.

"Mr. Potter ..."

"I want to know what happened," Harry said through gritted teeth. "If I have to stay in the unknown ... if I can't at least share Ginny's pain ..."

"It's too much of a burden, Mr. Potter," Lewis said in a low voice, standing up from his chair.

He walked over to the window. From the reflection, his bright blue eyes discreetly followed every single one of Harry's moves.

"I've told you already," Harry spoke a bit louder, frustration apparent from his tone of voice and stance, "I don't care. I want to know everything, every single despicable thing Lord Voldemort did to Ginny."

Repressing a smirk, Lewis plastered a sympathetic expression on his face and turned around. He walked around the table and patted Harry on the shoulder.
"My dear boy, I understand how hard it is, but I suggest watching the memories some other day." He held up his hand when Harry opened his mouth, presumably to argue. "You are not in a calm state of mind. If I show you what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had done to Ginny ... no, I will never forgive myself, and if Ginny knew, she would agree with me. I promise," he added when Harry opened his mouth again, "I will show you the memories. Just not today."

With his forehead creased into a frown, Harry seemed to be mentally struggling against himself.

Get on with it, stupid boy. Lord Voldemort does not have all day, Lewis thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Alright," the Boy-Who-Needs-To-Die finally heaved. "But you have to show me the memories."

"I promise," the Healer replied with a firm nod.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Right on schedule. Excellent.

"It appears that our time is up. Nurse Lorraine will assist you in scheduling our next meeting," he said, returning to his seat.

After exchanging a few more words with Potter, he dismissed the boy with a wave and benign smile. Only when the door closed did Lewis allow the expression of glee to appear. Chuckling softly to himself, he pulled out the top drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle of Polyjuice Potion there.

Time to pay baby pumpkin brains a visit.

Yet, before he was able to rise from his seat, there was a knock on the door.

Did Dumbles Junior forget something?

"Enter," he said tiresomely, checking his watch even though he knew it was nowhere near three o'clock yet.

To his surprise, it wasn't Potter. A hint of a smile crossed his face when he recognised the two who entered. It was about time. He'd been spreading those rumours to the hospital gossipers ages ago. The rumours how his clinic in the States had had remarkable results curing mental instability from prolonged Cruciatus exposure. Experimental results, very risky. Its treatment required the constant presence of the closest family members. Naturally.

Unfortunately, he couldn't go around and whack all his enemies, no matter how badly he wanted to draw his wand and perform his favourite curse right now. It would raise suspicions if everyone passed away. At some point, someone was going to wonder why so many of the people who'd opposed Lord Voldemort's rule met with odd "accidents" and said someone might start investigating. Not that he was worried too much with the dolts he had as adversaries. So far the only one who had made him had been Granger.

He snickered internally as he recalled how she'd called out his true name during her climax.

No, Granger wouldn't be his adversary for very long. Her subconscious had already shifted sides. It was only a matter of time. Lord Voldemort would make her understand where her true loyalties should lie. Until she realised this fully, until he had re-established his forces, until this country—this world was under his thumb once more, he had to move with caution and restrain himself from speaking those two lovely words that created such a delicious green aura around his victims.

Alas, caution dictated that some of his future victims had to simply "move abroad". Out of sight, out of mind. Healer Lewis leaned back in his seat and placed his chubby fingertips against one another.

"Yes?" he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly as if he didn't know their identity.

Augusta Longbottom and her grandson entered the room. How many years had it been since he had gone to school with this witch? One thing that had not changed was that haughty look on her face, staring at everyone like they were supposed to bow down at her feet and follow each and every one of her orders. She had been rather annoying back at Hogwarts, and it seemed like that had not changed at all.

She was looking at Healer Lewis with a critical eye, as if she was trying to discern if he could be trusted or not.

As if that was something that could be seen with simple observation when one was not him. Well, during this conversation, she was going to find him to be ... quite trustworthy.

His eyes slid over to the young man standing beside the old vulture and sporting a polite smile. It appeared that the young man had learned to be a lot more confident after killing Nagini.

The thought of his Horcrux being destroyed by the stupid, insipid, pathetic, unworthy kid that was standing there was enough to cause fury to flood through his veins and nearly show on his features. But then, he recalled his plan, and the sneer that was about to appear on his face turned into an amiable smile.

"Hello," Neville spoke up. A tinge of nervousness still made it into his voice despite his calm demeanour.

"What can I do for you?" He plastered a sincere helpful expression on his face as his mind answered for Neville: Dismemberment, poisoning, a couple of rounds of Crucios, boiling your internal organs one by one.

"Are you Healer Lewis?" Augusta Longbottom asked sharply, her eyes giving him a once over again.

He leaned forward, picked up the brass plate with his name imprinted on top of it from his desk and checked it. "Yes," he said after a brief pause. "It is I. Unless ... of course, someone is impersonating me, which would be real inconvenient I suppose," he said smiling broadly at his pun.

"Wonderful," Augusta sneered, "a comedian. Let's go, Neville. This is a waste of time."

She turned on her heels to leave.

So predictable.

"No," Neville said abruptly, causing Lewis's eyebrows to lift at the boy's daring. "No," he continued softer, "we came here to seek help for Mum and Dad." He turned from his grandmother back to Lewis. "I am Neville Longbottom and this is my grandmother, Mrs. Longbottom. We were hoping you could help us."

Lewis raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Your Mum and Dad?"

Neville nodded. "They ... they've been tortured ... by Bellatrix Lestrange ... one of You-Know-Who's followers, by the Cruciatus Curse."

Healer Lewis allowed an expression of realization to dawn on his face.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom, I suppose?" he asked, frowning as if he was truly trying to recall details.

"Yes," Neville replied with a nod. Augusta was still standing to the side, glancing at Lewis askew. Apparently, sense of humour still did not sit too well with her.

The Healer nodded slowly. "I've heard about them for Nurse Lorraine." He smiled warmly at the young man. "I should have guessed. You look very similar to your mother."

And destined to the same fate? Hm ... Probably not. A much, much shorter lifespan.

A humble smile appeared on Neville's face. "I'm here ... We're here because we've heard about the experiments you are conducting and we wanted to learn about it."

Healer Lewis had initially thought that the whole "healing" procedure was easy enough to explain. However, either he was too intelligent, or the boy was overly stupid. Or maybe both. Personally, he was leaning towards the last option.

However, after spending an unnecessarily long period of time explaining the therapy to Longbottom, the boy only had an inkling about what was going on and Lewis finally understood exactly why Bella and Rodolphus ended up driving Frank and Alice Longbottom insane. They were trying to ask the two former Order members simple questions, but they just did not realize that those two imbecilic Gryffindors had brains the size of fairy dust. They had no idea what was being asked of them, let alone giving an intelligent answer.

Of course, he then had to spend a good amount of time explaining to the miserable old vulture why his method would work. It had reminded him how she used to drive him insane during their Transfiguration lessons by asking Professor Dumbledore the same question over and over again, which the old coot happily complied to. The man even made him assist Augusta, as if Dumbles knew he was about this close to throttle the insipid girl over her evenly silly questions and blow his cover. It had been a strain on his temper and his Mr. Perfect Act. Still, he managed to play the helpful, charming Head Boy to Augusta. She'd been extremely thankful for his assistance. It had never been a difficult job to con the woman, and she had not changed too much throughout the years.

It would have been hard for others, but he could not possibly fail in tricking these two brainless, unintelligent, worthless, idiotic, moronic, inane, harebrained waste of spaces. Not to mention the fact that he did have enough of Polyjuice Potion to last him throughout the conversation.

Naturally, potato head and his grandmother finally decided to take the trip to the United States with Frank and Alice, even though Lewis had "kindly" reminded them that there were risks.

Now, they could not accuse Lord Voldemort of not warning them ahead of time.

Lewis could not suppress the vile smirk from appearing on his face once the door of his office closed, and one look at the clock hanging on his wall only made his smile widen. He had to hurry and change.

Time for his meeting with his little lioness.

~-0-~

With a crack, Tom Apparated straight into the prefects’ carriage: the incredibly, empty prefects’ carriage. Confused, he looked around. Where the hell was she? He had some really creative "punishments" planned for her. His eyes fell on the envelope pinned on the door.

Seth, it stated in a familiar tiny scrawl.

Furrowing his brow, Tom Riddle paced to the door, yanked off the envelope and opened it.

Darling,

You are late.

His eyes flashed to his watch. It was six minutes past three o'clock. Six lousy minutes! He'd loved to see her try to explain something to Neville Longbottom and still make it to anything on time. His eyes narrowed as he read on.

It seems you need to be taught the importance of punctuality.

He scowled. Lord Voldemort didn't need to be punctual. People waited for his presence. Always.

Ignoring the contradiction to that statement presented by the currently very absent Hermione Granger, he continued with her letter.

It wouldn't do for you to think you can keep me waiting, and we definitely have to ensure you learn to understand the virtues of showing the proper respect to your mistress.

Insolent little witch. His hands clutched to the parchment harshly, and he disregarded how his heart started to beat faster in excitement.

Therefore, I believe I have to rescind my previous suggestion of granting you a reward for your services since it's sadly obvious it's too soon for you to deserve such favours.

His breathing turned heavy and his face turned hot as his temper rose.

Of course, I understand you felt ... lost without my directives these past couple of days when my parents took so much of my attention. However, I will no longer neglect my duties to train and discipline you properly.

His eyes flashed red, while he absentmindedly rubbed his perspiring face with the back of his hand.

You have been a good little pet, but we should always strive for perfection.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down and count to ten, but his heart pounded furiously in his chest, flushing the adrenaline through his veins rapidly.

So, I decided to commandeer two carriages. And maybe—just maybe ... if you're a very good, obedient boy and please me enough, the door between the two will open and I will "teach" you in person.

A smirk erupted on Tom's reddened face. She was in the next carriage. Big mistake, Granger.

His wrist flicked, but nothing happened. Stunned, he jerked up his sleeve. His holster was there, yet his wand was conspicuously absent.

To his surprise, the letter suddenly turned hot in his hand, and he looked at it. Red letters appeared, forming new words and sentences as if they were written right now.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, trying to evade your punishment? I recall warning you NOT to lose any parts you might value when you Apparated over to this carriage. Imagine my surprise when your wand appeared straight into my hand a few moments ago. It seems you didn't heed my very valuable warning, too. What am I to do with such an insolent, silly wizard?

Tom Riddle lowered the note slowly and glowered at the door that should lead directly to her. If she thought he needed a wand to undo a simple Collorportus, she was very much mistaken. His hand grabbed the knob determinately. He concentrated briefly before pushing his magic into it. Triumphantly, he felt the knob absorbing his magic.

Oh, she was going to pay when he got his hands on her.

He turned his wandhand's wrist and waved with his hand to the side, expecting the door to slide open.

It didn't.

For a brief moment, he stared at it, confused. Then, a bolt of his own magic jolted from the knob directly into his chest. Pain, so much pain. His hands clutched to his chest; his legs caved, and he landed on his knees in front of the door, huddling over, while trying to catch his breath. The letter, which he had pressed to his chest now, turned hot again.

Promptly, he held it in front of his face.

Bad idea, Seth. The words formed almost as fast as he could read them. You showed me your capabilities at wandless magic. Naturally, I had to take that into consideration when I warded the carriage. It wouldn't do for my pet to escape, now would it?

Tom let out a growl in frustration. He loosened his tie slightly. Sweet Salazar, it was hot in here. Had she turned up the temperature to torment him?

Who gave you permission to undress? The letter stated, burning hot.

Tom smirked at the door, knowing she could see him. With a swirl, he pulled his tie over his head and tossed it away. The letter turned hot again, but he didn't look at it anymore. Instead, he held it up in both hands and ripped it to shreds dramatically, making the pieces dwindle down like snow around him before shrugging his outer robe of his shoulders. Tauntingly slow, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt demonstratively. If she thought she was in charge, he'd just have to show her how very much mistaken she was.

In the other carriage, Hermione placed the quill back in the potion's bottle and lay back in her seat relaxingly. There was no need to write anymore, now that he'd shredded the parchment on his end and inhaled the full dosage of the potion, which turned airborne the second the "ink's" flow got interrupted by a tear. She hadn't known Seth that long, but she knew him well enough to expect this turn of events.

Well, she didn't mind his little stripping act at all—he had a nice body to look at, after all—and it would turn pretty interesting quickly enough. Smirking deviously, she wondered how long it would take him to figure out he shouldn't have ripped that letter apart. The potion would have worked either way. Only now, it would hit his body much quicker and harder than it would have done if she'd to wait for his skin to absorb it.

"Oh yes, do take off that shirt," Hermione commented, enjoying the view very much.

But she enjoyed it even more when he tried to get to his feet, staggered on one bend leg and leaned back on the floor with one knee quickly. He supported himself against the door, panting heavily. His brow furrowed, crinkling his forehead, causing Hermione to snigger.

Figured out something is off?

Her laugh echoed throughout her empty carriage when frustration appeared on his face upon noticing that his pants had turned a bit too tight in a delicate area.

It sure was beneficiary Hogwarts had started earlier. With the train not even half full, she'd had no problem convincing the Head Boy and the four prefects present to leave this side of the train to her, as they patrolled the rest of it. She'd done her share already and was now reaping the benefits of having not procrastinated on her duties. She'd have the rest of the trip to show Seth some proper manners.

Lazily, she drew her wand and flicked it at the door casually. "Flagrate!"

On Tom's side, fiery letters formed the taunting sentence: Excited much?

Silently, he glared at the message, knowing she'd poisoned him with some potent Lust Potion—most likely through that damn letter.

The ink!

He couldn't believe he hadn't considered checking the ink before. It wasn't like he hadn't used the same technique himself. Crap, he was so screwed. If she'd been clever, and unfortunately she was, she would have personalised the blasted potion.

Hermione swished her wand, shifting the flames around. Speechless? How unusual.

"Bitch."

Now, now, now, such crude language, the flames teased. It's Mistress Bitch to you.

Quickly, Tom checked the time. The train would arrive at Hogwarts in, give or take, two hours. He could hold himself in check for two hours. It would be the longest hours of his life, but then, he'd be out of here and that carriage ride to the castle would be the longest ride of Hermione's life. He had, after all, two full hours to think of all the punishments he could bestow upon her for humiliating him. She would come to regret giving Lord Voldemort two full hours to consider his options.

A screeching sound reached his ears and he tumbled to the floor, falling flat on his stomach when the train hit the breaks abruptly. Alarmed, Tom raised his head, pushing himself up slightly by his hands. She had to be kidding. No fucking way!

Red flames were visibly altering in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to properly read what she wrote.

Ooooh, we seem to have hit a snag there.

His face morphed into a sneer. A snag, sure. Like she had nothing to do with said snag.

Might take a while to fix. I'd better go and console the younger children not to be too frightened. Don't worry, NO ONE will disturb YOU.

"GRANGER!!!" he yelled furiously and somewhat worrisomely. "Undo this situation at once!"

The flames faded out without forming a new message. Apparently, she'd left for real.

Tom Riddle hit his forehead against the floor several times in frustration. That sadistic, little Mudblood witch was going to make him suffer. There was no way he could get a release without the antidote, and if he was not very much mistaken about the kind of Lust Potion she'd used, and he was certain he wasn't, then that antidote could only be supplied by her.

He groaned, turning on his back while rubbing his aching groin, knowing full well that this was only the beginning. If she was able to stall for time long enough, he'd fuck anything to relieve the tension. She could put Albus Dumbledore in front of him and he'd willingly oblige. The repulsive thought nearly made him vomit and it lessened his wantonness, but he knew it was only a brief reprieve.

Pretty soon, his considerable mind wouldn't be able to focus on anything but the demands of his body. So, he had to find a way out now. Two hours he could have hold himself together, knowing an end would be in sight and keeping his mind focused on the task of getting there. Now the timetable had blurred into the unknown, it would be so much harder to keep his faculties together. His face expressed the admiration he felt for the cleverness of her scheme.

No wonder Potter had always beaten him—on his side was that little, devious, rotten, filthy, disgusting, vicious, evil, vengeful, sadistic, loyal, intelligent, cute, beautifully wild, wonderful, sensational ...

Shock visibly painted his expression when he realised all the positive attributes he was granting Hermione Granger with.

Oh no, the stupid potion was beginning to affect his capabilities to think properly already. He was doomed. He banged the back of his head against the floor in sheer desperation.

~-0-~

Meanwhile, Hermione strolled through the train with a small smile on her face. Taking her time to speak to those wandering around about how "strange" it was that the breaks had suddenly blocked for no reason at all and how "inconvenient" that nothing seemed to be able to loosen them.

Well, she knew how to loosen them. But, really ... she wasn't done punishing Seth yet.

She'd been walking around perfectly submissive without any knickers when someone failed to arrive on time. And one could only be the dominant party in the relationship if one stuck to their own terms.

Hermione giggled deviously.

Of course, said event of him arriving too late had been anticipated by her, because well ... even if he had been precisely on time, his Apparition into this train would have been temporarily delayed by her wards anyway. Satisfied her entire power play had worked to her benefit, she nodded courteously to the current Head Boy, Anthony Delaney, in passing.

"Shall I order the others to return to the prefects carriages?" Delaney suggested questioningly and somewhat intimidated by her presence—after all, the only time Harry Potter had spoken in public about how he'd prevailed, he had described in utter detail what his friends had done instead of focusing on himself.

"No," Hermione ordered abruptly. "It seems someone found it an entertaining idea to throw a Weasley-enhanced Dungbomb in there. I warded and put an Air-Cleansing Charm over the compartments, but it will take several hours before the air is breathable again."

Delaney's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I shall investigate the matter immediately."

"Don't bother, I already found and dealt with the culprit. He will learn to respect this," she pointed to her Head Girl badge, "thoroughly."

"Good, good," Delaney muttered. "I'll patrol the corridors again."

"Yes, you do that," Hermione replied authoritatively and moved along.

It wasn't much fun bossing morons around, she considered. Really, they made that Head Boy? Delaney was the best they could find? Not one single suspicion on how the train brakes could have failed and whether it might be foul play—her foul play.

She sighed.

Fortunately, she had someone better to boss around. A smirk formed on her features as she wondered how Seth would be coping right about now. She was tempted to send him another message but refrained, knowing the less distractions he had, the more difficult it would be for him.

Hermione let out a soft snigger, taking all the time in the world to move back to the carriage. She'd never had this much fun bossing Harry or Ron around. They were no challenge. They either ignored her bossing about or did as she told. Incredibly boring!

Seth, however, was a whole different ballgame. He, obviously, was under the mistaken impression he didn't much care for someone else to tell him what to do. Seth wanted to be the one in control all the time. Given he was quite a gifted wizard, that made her life a hell of lot more precarious. Yet, she knew from past experience that he enjoyed being dominated. The silly wizard was only fooling himself, or maybe he was testing her? Turning it into a match to see if she was worthy to submit to? Mmm ...

So far their match had been a draw, a stalemate, a pat. She needed to beat him fully to show him who was in charge. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought; it was a very arousing idea to dominate someone like Seth. Only here was where it all could turn risky for her, seeing she had to enter his "cage" in order to "punish" him.

Carefully, she opened the door to the first prefects’ carriage and entered—her wand drawn just in case. But she needn't worry, Seth was on the floor of the other one. He'd ripped off all his clothes and was moaning in clear agony due to his current predicament. It was obvious his mind had completely shut off already and he was in no condition to cause her any problems whatsoever.

Triumphantly, she stroked her wand. This went far easier than expected—a bit disappointing, actually. She'd have to make sure he learned a thing or two about stamina, self-control, and the pleasures of delayed gratification.

Swirling her wand around to lower the wards just for her, she entered the carriage with a haughty expression and sneered demeaningly, "Need an antidote, dear?"

A surprised yelp left her lips when an invisible arm yanked her back against his front and his fingers curled around her wandhand. He waved her wand with their joined hands at the image of his body on the floor, and it dwindled away into a dark shadowy mist that charged towards them, circling them before raining down behind her and showing her where his naked body truly was.

An illusion, she'd fallen for a stupid Fata Morgana Charm. She just wanted to hit herself over the head.

"Now," Tom snarled in her ear, "I believe you need to be taught a lesson in obedience."

He swirled her around and pressed her up against the carriage's door with his clearly aroused body, capturing her hands above her head in a single-handed grip, while his free hand drew her wand slowly over the side of her face. Hermione quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"Impressive," she said, unabashed, as if he hadn't cornered and caught her. "Your self-control pleases me. You may remove one item of clothing off me."

A deep, dangerous, carnal snarl left his lips as if his basic instincts took over and he was no longer in charge of himself.

"I will remove whatever and how much I desire."

"No, you won't," Hermione replied certainly, her eyes set.

Slowly, he moved his lips to her ear, while her wand got traced over her neck by his hand. "I will have you naked and panting against me in no time, Granger," he breathed against her sensitive skin there, causing little tingles to travel through her body. "Think you're the only one who knows how to work the human body into a state of frenzy?"

"No," she replied honestly, "I am, however, the only one who can cure your condition, so I suggest you heed my valuable warning this time and follow my directives, which I especially simplified so that even your tiny brain capacity can understand it."

She felt his breathing hitch and his body's excited tremble. She could tell how much her words infuriated and yet turned him on at the same time. It was a thin line she walked on, a dangerous, thrilling, thin line. And she decided to push him.

"Choose with care, my pet," she whispered huskily, licking his naked skin in one languorous movement, causing him to shudder in wantonness. "It may be the only item I'll allow you to remove today."

"Blouse," he spoke hoarsely, his lust-filled mind taking over but still recalling he'd demanded of her to not wear any knickers on the train. It was a gamble she'd complied even after he failed to be on time, but somehow he felt she would not disappoint him in the matter.

"Excellent choice," she praised, fully in charge despite that he had her pinned to the door, was armed, and was physically the stronger party of the two. "You may proceed."

He vanished her blouse immediately with a flick of her wand and a sibilant noise left his lips when he saw she wore nothing underneath but a black lace bra. The lace gave him an only mildly obscured visual of her breasts. She smirked when she noted his grip on her wrists tightened, while his gaze stayed fixated there.

Men.

Like her mother had said, soooo easy. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Are you going to keep staring or do something?" she deliberately sneered.

Slowly, he raised his head, pressing his naked body hard against her chest and meeting her eyes with an impassive expression.

Shucks. Maybe not so easy after all. How on earth is he able to remain this composed with that potion running through his veins?

The question ran through her mind while she stared back, trying hard to maintain her composure underneath his intense, dark gaze as she acknowledged that he had her trapped good, physically. She experienced every line, every curve of his body against hers and he'd left her no room to move even an inch. Something stirred in the core of her being, something that demanded satisfaction and fulfilment of the almost overwhelming yearning that rushed through her.

She had to keep thinking to not lose the upper hand. It was hard. Actually, it was nearly impossible. But she was stuck now, lost in their silent staring match where both parties tried to act oh so unaffected by the situation. Her expression was just as blank as his, but she could feel her heartbeat speeding up; her breathing turned heavier; a drop of sweat trickled down her neck. Hermione blinked before she frowned.

Is the carriage turning hotter?

From the corner of her eye, still not giving up on their staring competition, she noticed the delighted smirk that formed on his face and it deepened her frown.

Not good.

She could practically taste his pleasure as her concern, along with his smirk, grew substantially.

Why and what is he so happy about?

The Head Girl was missing something, she knew it. The problem was: She had no idea what she missed. And without any information to go on, she had no idea how to counter whatever it was that changed his demeanour. Hermione held her breath when he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers without cancelling their eye contact. It couldn't even be called a kiss, but still ... she let out a disappointed moan when he withdrew. Her lips tingled and she licked them to moisten the sudden dry sensation in her mouth. Her blood pounded audibly in her ears, while she drowned in the depth of his eyes. To her excitement, he leaned in again. His eyes flickered over her heated face, before he drew his lips passed her cheek to her ear. She shivered in response.

"Close your eyes, Hermione," he ordered barely above a whisper.

She complied, breathless.

"Good girl," he purred.

The vibration against her skin made her shudder and that aching need rose further inside of her, turning up the heat even further.

Wait a sec.

Her eyes snapped open, alarmed. She was experiencing the effects of the stupid Lust Potion she'd poisoned him with!

Impossible, that was ... impossible.

Suddenly aware of what was happening, her mind registered the magic that exchanged between them at every inch of bare skin that was in direct contact with the other's. That same magic transported her Lust Potion from his body to hers. Her muscles tensed, and she tried to struggle to regain her freedom. But he merely chuckled and tightened his grip on her wrists, while his hips held her lower body stationary.

Hermione groaned in defeat. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Finally figured out what's happening?" he breathed tauntingly against her neck, sending a titillating rush over her nerves' endings that lowered the sound of her groan to a rumbling inside her chest. "It took you long enough."

Her frustrated growl made him snigger gleefully.

"So ..." he paused, tilting his head in mock thought, "what shall I do with you, Hermione?"

She gritted her teeth in annoyance, while the rest of her body was quickly becoming one throbbing aching need, which was supposed to happen to him. She couldn't believe this was happening. This wasn't supposed to be possible. She checked and double-checked the potion's characteristics. You couldn't get infected by sheer contact, let alone have it transported into your system as he had just done to her. She grudgingly remembered that he had told her Potions was his only good subject.

Liar.

This obviously took some serious Charms capabilities as well. Ugh. And she'd already witnessed some of his curses and the speed of his casting, so she had no doubt about his DADA grades. Then, she had to take under consideration their last debate on developments in Arithmancy, which proved without any doubt that his skill in that area was way above average as well.

Potions is my only good subject, her mind mimicked mockingly. Can you imagine not being good in Potions and having him as a teacher?

Snape's pet.

That had to be where he got this "antidote" from. It was nowhere to be found in the authorised Potions' books. As if that stupid Half-blood Prince hadn't caused her enough headaches with his scribbles that made Harry better in Potions than her. All those imbecile Death Eaters spreading their obnoxious Lord's knowledge around to harmless, innocent Hogwarts students like Seth and Harry, causing her problems. She grumbled angrily about the unfairness of it all.

But her irritation grew when she suddenly became aware of his body trembling against hers in contained laughter.

"This isn't funny," she hissed, glaring at him flustered.

His amusement at her predicament didn't lessen and he made absolutely no attempt to hide it anymore. His face was set in such a wicked, gleeful expression, it would have made her grow cold to the marrow of her bones had his hand not been stroking the side of her body in a very exciting, pleasurable manner.

"On the contrary, I find all this very entertaining," he countered casually.

Smiling broadly, he pressed his mouth against hers and she could no longer formulate a sane reply in her mind, because all she could think of was the way his lips moved against hers, how his tongue slid around hers, how he breathed her in and forced her to follow his lead in this all-consuming kissing expedition.

When he finally allowed her to catch her breath and rested his forehead against hers, her face felt so hot it was scaring her tremendously, because she knew her mind would slip out of control next. She had to focus, keep her thoughts away from how his body was moulded against her, how his long, strong fingers kept her wrists wrenched together above her head, how his other hand's fingertips titillated every inch of her skin, and how badly the desire throbbed in the core of her sex. She couldn't lose control that badly. She didn't want to lose control; she didn't!

"Too bad," he whispered ruthlessly. "I am going to make you."

Her eyes widened in autonomic fear response and her breathing hitched. He is going to make me?

A flick of her wand and his slid out of her skirt's waistband on her back, returning to its rightful owner who immediately tossed hers demonstratively over his shoulder. She heard the clattering sounds as it bounced a couple of times before eventually rolling away. She pressed her eyelids together, hard, and took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself.

"Naughty witches like you won't be in need of a wand," he taunted, tracing the lines of her face with his.

Tilting her head back, she gasped as his magic brushed over her skin, sensitising it to an extreme that made her cheeks burn from embarrassment at her wantonness state. She'd even subconsciously pressed her hips against him. Merlin, she wanted ... needed him. Right now.

"Well," he smirked briefly at watching her dishevelled state, "not that you seem able to cast anything at the moment." He clicked his tongue and shook his head disapprovingly. Calmly, he brought his lips no more but a hair width away from her ear shelf. "If you want to be the dominant party in this relationship, Hermione," he whispered her name languorously, "you still have a couple of things to learn."

His soft chuckle wrapped around her like a nice warm blanket on a cold winter night. If he hadn't held her boxed in against the door, her knees would have caved and she was sure to be crashing down on the floor, for the muscles on her leg had turned completely flaccid at the excellent attention she was receiving.

Merlin, how could any one individual possibly be capable of making her feel this way? His voice alone was enough to make her climax. His scent was intoxicating, and she wanted to rub her whole body against him to keep that smell with her. Forever. And his magic ...

An elongated moan slipped from her lips, exhibiting her longing to its full extent.

His magic was like a drug to her: dark, addictive, thought-consuming and ecstatic. No one person should have this kind of power over another. It was ridiculous, insane, mental, dangerous ... and absolutely the most erotic thing she ever experienced.

"Perhaps ..." he tilted his head and glanced sideways at her face calculatingly, "I should show you how it is to be done?"

---

A/N: From now on if you leave a review, I will reply to it at the forum at a place where everyone can read with or without an account there. You can find it at: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php?showtopic=15639

---