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Tom Riddle, owner of Chevalier Noir, drew Hermione to him the moment she stepped off of the stage. Even in the dim lighting backstage, her skin shimmered as brightly as the corset set she wore. She looked up at him questioningly.
“The Malfoy scion is here tonight.”
Hermione sucked in air, her eyes growing wide. She’d heard of him, of course, everyone knew of him, but few ever saw him. He was said to be achingly beautiful, but a bit of a recluse - a remnant of an old relationship gone wrong.
“He wants to see you, my diamond.”
“Me?” The word was said in surprise, but her mind was already whirling with ideas on how to make him interested, keep his eyes on her. “Where is he?”
“In a private box, of course,” Tom told her. “Hermione…”
She moved the curtain slightly and peeked out. Her eyes roamed over the private boxes until she saw what she could only describe as a ruggedly handsome man. She murmured, “Well, he is quite attractive.”
“And he is already infatuated.” Tom pulled the clip that held her hair up and smoothed the waves down her back. “I don’t think I have to tell you how important your meeting is, Little One. He could keep us running.”
Hermione glanced at the man who’d taken her in at a young age, after her father’s debt was too much to keep her. She’d heard rumors that the venue she called home was starting to go under and the look on Tom’s face told her she’d heard correctly. She turned and placed a hand on his cheek.
“I won’t let you down.”
After changing into a silver dress that glittered with every move she made, Hermione made her way to the party room where dancers and performers and patrons mingled and made promises for the night. She found the man she’d seen earlier easily, his tousled hair and bright eyes calling to her from across the room. Taking a deep breath, she made her way over to him, catching his eye and giving him a coy look.
A fellow performer drunkenly pushed into her, and Hermione found herself falling until a pair of arms caught her. “Oh!”
He was her savior.
“Are you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned.
“Yes,” she answered lightly. “Thanks to you.”
“Oh, I didn’t –”
“But you did,” Hermione said, moving her hands to his chest. “I heard you enjoyed my number.”
He swallowed. “I-I did, yes. You were beautiful. Are beautiful.”
Hermione flushed, his words making her heart race. “You are far too kind, My Lord.” He stared at her in confusion, but she went up on her tip-toes and grazed the lobe of his ear with her mouth. “Meet me in my dressing room in 20 minutes. Fourth floor - the door with a diamond. I’ll be waiting.”
She turned abruptly and left, knowing he would be too intrigued to not follow. On her way to her dressing room, she ran into Tom whose eyes shone with glee and a bit of greed. “Hermione! Lord Malfoy –”
“–will be mine,” she promised. “Don’t worry.”
“Good,” he said, brushing her hair back. “Give him the sparkling diamond he deserves. I’ll make sure he’s on his way.”
Almost 30 minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Hermione stood and smoothed down the satin robe she wore, parting the lapels a bit more. When she opened the door, she was struck once more at the sight of this gorgeous man who looked like he belonged with her friends and family rather than the nobility. He followed her in when she beckoned and she wasted no time in drawing his face down to hers.
“You’ve kept me waiting, My Lord.”
“I’m sor–”
He was cut off by the press of her mouth on his, by her tongue licking at the sea of his lips. He groaned, tasting the sweet tanginess of wine, and couldn’t stop himself from winding his arms around her waist. A moan passed between them as her fingers found the strands of his hair. She walked backwards toward the red settee and he followed her every step.
“This wasn’t what I expected,” he panted when he pulled away. His eyes dropped to her swollen lips, the heaving of her breasts, the parting of her thighs as she sat and leaned back.
“No?” Hermione blinked innocently at him. “What were you –”
Pounding on the door interrupted her, causing her brows to draw in. Tom called, “Hermione, my diamond, I’ve come with Lord Malfoy.”
Hermione’s eyes grew wide. She stared at the man standing above her in confusion. “But then… Who are you ?”
“Hermione, open up!” There was a strain in Tom’s voice.
“Uh, Harry. I’m Harry Potter.”
“Who?”
“Ron said you’d know who I was?”
Anger crossed over Hermione’s face at her old friend’s name. “Ron! Of course he’s involved.”
“Hermione? We’re coming in.”
“You have to hide!” She was frantic. Glancing around, she pulled open the doors of a small closet and shoved him in. “Don’t make a sound!”
Not even two seconds later, her dressing room door opened. Tom’s face showed a mixture of tension and concern. “Hermione?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly. She reached up and patted her hair, something Tom knew she did when she was nervous. Immediately, his face softened and he moved to the side, revealing a tall man with white-blond hair. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room as Hermione laid eyes on the real Malfoy scion. She let out a shuddering breath. “My Lord.”
He strode over to her, confidence in every step, a bit of arrogance on his face. He stopped before her and lifted her chin with a single finger. His grey eyes were a storm as he studied her before one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
“Yes,” he said in a low tone. “You are perfect for me.”