Chapter Text

Mors Venit 

Hermione wrapped her coat tighter around herself as the cold January wind blew through her previously tamed hair. Her heeled boots were doing nothing to protect her ankles and the cobblestone drive that led to the Delta Phi frat house was actively trying to kill her. She'd much rather be at home wrapped in her fuzzy knitted blanket, reading another smut book on her Kindle while her cat purred on her lap. Instead, she was freezing to death in an outfit that left too little to the imagination that Ginny and Lavender forced her to wear under the threat of death. 

No.

She wasn't a sorority girl and had little to no interest in being surrounded by frat bunnies ready to throw their lives away for the chance that a Delta Phi might take interest in them and grant them a MRS degree. Hermione came to college to make something of herself, earn her degree in International Affairs, get accepted into a law program, and work at an NGO or heaven bless her the UN. She didn't have time to waste on frat boys or worse frat boy jocks that covered themselves in pads and helmets to try to mitigate the brain damage they received weekly. 

While she wasn't the type to go to parties, Hermione would rather be at any other frat than this one. It was initiation week, and the pledges that had survived the previous semester were being welcomed in with grand parties at all the frats this weekend. They could’ve gone to literally any of them, but no, this was Delta Phi, and they were known for throwing the best parties, especially since the Riddle brothers gained leadership. 

Lord have mercy, those boys. No not boys. Men. 

Hermione knew she was a bit of a shut-in and rarely noticed members of the opposite sex, but fucking hell, they were impossible to ignore. Now in her junior year, Hermione had endured three years of classes with Mattheo, and Tom was currently the TA for her International Law 3400 class. They had the same bone structure, jawlines that should be qualified as lethal weapons, and eyes that pierced through you. Not to mention the accent. Mattheo seemed to be the rougher of the two; he was boisterous and outgoing. While Tom was far more reserved, always watching with a calculating eye. He’d caught her staring at him during a lecture, his gaze snapping to hers, brows furrowed as a scowl graced his lips. She’d sunk in her seat as a blush spread across her cheeks and opened up her laptop to hide herself. Needless to say, she was very cautious not to ogle him openly after that. 

She might as well lay at their feet and spread her legs- showing up at their doorstep wearing a black bodycon long-sleeve dress with far too many cutouts for it to qualify as a garment and knee-high heeled boots so high she could finally reach the top of the doorframe- she looked like every other girl dying for a scrap of their attention. It had taken years but she’dfinally reached a place where she could interact with Mattheo without dirty thoughts clouding her mind. She didn’t need to lose that by seeing him outside of the classroom. Especially under the influence of alcohol, she’d already taken four shots while “pregaming” with Ginny and Lavender. Though she could admit they were keeping her warm enough during the trek to the party.  

It would be easier to dismiss them if they were just mindless meatheads, but they were intelligent which made them even more attractive in her eyes. The first time she witnessed Mattheo present in their debate class she was so turned on she went back to her dorm for a quicky with her vibrator. It was embarrassing as fuck squirming in her seat and clenching her thighs as he argued against Western intervention in undeveloped countries. It wasn’t a sexy topic but he was just as passionate arguing his stance as he was in every other aspect of life. 

After waiting in a short line at the door they were stopped by a man in a silver mask decorated with ornate filigree wearing a hooded black robe. She barely withheld her scoff as he spoke “Welcome to The Den. Beware of the snakes.” 

The unknown man tied grey satin ribbons on Gin and Lav’s wrist before taking hers in hand. He pulled out an emerald green velvet ribbon and tied it on hers before leaning close to her ear and whispering.  

“Mors Venit.” 

Death is coming.

While creepy she mentally thanked her parents for the Latin tutor they forced on her and laughed as she passed the robed stranger. Fuck these guys. All the cloak-and-dagger bullshit made all her previous worries wither under her new need to prove she wouldn’t be scared off. 

She walked over to where the girls stood waiting for her with a new sense of self-confidence and linked her arms in theirs after hanging her coat up on a post in the large foyer. 

Lavender sized her up with a critical eye, “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

“I have one condition for my wholehearted participation in tonight’s party.” 

Their eyes were alight with excitement as they made excited little hops around her in their heels, “ANYTHING!” They squealed at the same time, making Hermione briefly fear for her eardrums. 

“Keep me away from the Riddle boys,” she let her face become a mask of severity, letting them know she was beyond serious. “All the others are fair game though.” She felt a mischievous smile spread across her face as Gin wrapped her in an excited hug. 

“Let’s go get fucked up girls! And drinks! We need drinks!” 

They turned to her with shocked faces before laughter filled the air around them, loud to them but no doubt inaudible to those who swarmed in the living room, music blaring and bass so loud it was a miracle the house wasn’t falling down. 

Hermione decided she’d do the one thing she never really allowed herself and let go. She could allow herself one night to get drunk and be a normal college student. 

They’d drank far too much and a sweat had broken out at the nape of her neck and across her brow as the three of them danced. It had been a few hours and she’d seen not hide nor hair of either of the Riddle brothers. Though she assumed they were amongst those masked members standing sentry throughout the party. They didn’t drink or dance they all just stood there up against the walls. Gin had just dared Lav to grind up on the one nearest to them, her hips swaying as her hands trailed all over his large frame when the music cut out. 

She stopped abruptly stumbling towards them as the masked man slunk from her grasp and made his way to the grand staircase. Hermione couldn’t help but look for Mattheo and Tom in the sea of masks, her eyes passing over the black and silver before they landed on the two at the top. One was completely golden while the other was silver with golden details. 

The room, previously filled with loud chatter and laughter was now ominously silent, the only sound a nervous shuffling of heeled feet on the hardwood floors. 

“Welcome to the Den and thank you for participating in Delta Phi’s initiation revelry. As you may have noticed some of you were fitted with a ribbon when you arrived.” 

Tom’s voice made a shiver run up her spine. Goosebumps erupted and she rubbed her arms with her hands in an effort to soothe herself. Remembering that all three of them were given a ribbon. 

“If you received a ribbon please step forward. You have been chosen to participate in our rite of passage.” 

She looked at the girls who wore shocked faces and shrugged before tugging them to the front, “What’s the worst that could happen? We’re still technically on campus.” 

They stood in a small group of twenty girls all wearing ribbons of varying silver and black but she hadn’t seen anyone else with the same emerald green. Before she could catch a glimpse of the last few girl's wrists Tom spoke again. 

“The rest of you enjoy the party and a round of shots for everyone! We’ll see you on the other side.” 

Their group was ushered outside where a large garden spread across an immaculate yard. It was like something out of a fairytale, a garden that belonged at a castle or estate, not behind a frat house. Trees and sculpted ferns, Greco-Roman statues, and a large hedge maze that loomed. 

“You have ten minutes to hide before we come to find you to claim our prize. We will have thirty minutes to find you. Green fireworks will go off overhead once the time is up and everyone is caught. Understood?” 

Hermione raised her hand out of habit before answering, “What if we don’t get caught?” 

The masks she assumed belonged to Tom and Mattheo turned to her before a low chuckle broke out amongst the hooded figures. Their eyes bore into hers as she fought her blush. 

They replied in sync, “You will.” 

Another member with a black mask passed out golden shots called liquid luck to “help keep warm” in the frigid night air. Once we’d all taken the shot a bell rang in the distance.

“Your time starts now. Remember, Mors Venit.” 

She grabbed Lavender and Ginny’s hands and tugged them to the left of the maze skirting the entrance and along the outside wall. 

“I say we run together. Safety in numbers and all that jazz.”

“Hell no, I’m not getting caught because of you two slowpokes. Every woman for herself I’ll see y'all on the other side.” Ginny winked and raced off her red hair trailing behind her. 

Hermione turned to Lavender who laughed and tied her blonde hair into a messy bun, “It’ll be fine Hermy, live a little!” 

Hermione made her way towards the back of the property, assuming that the others would end up in the maze or somewhere closer to the house, she resolved to keep moving. She’d find a spot in a dark corner, maybe climb a tree, and hide out for thirty minutes. Then she’d demand a reward for evading capture. They'd been so sure she would fail and that made her want to remain hidden even more. The light and sounds from the party were dim in the distance as Hermione stood at the base of a large oak tree. There was no way she’d successfully make it up the tree with heels on and she didn'twant to give her position away by leaving them out in the open. She tucked the boots in between some of the protruding roots and covered them with leaves before bracing herself. There were enough low nagging branches for her to pull herself up and she momentarily contemplated jumping to the other side of the large hedge fence that bordered the property but she had no idea how she’d make it back onto this side of the fence. 

Finally nestled into her perch three-quarters of the way up the tree another bell sounded signaling the end of their ten minutes. They were coming. 

She could hear them breaking out in hoops, hollars, and howls that rang throughout the yard. It wasn't the loud and rambunctious boys that she had to worry about though. It was going to be the silent ones. The ones with calculating eyes and the mind of a true predator knew how to stalk prey without alerting them to their presence. 

Heart beating wildly as time continued to pass she was surprised no one had made their way this far back into the property. Hermione wished briefly that she was the type to wear a watch but without her phone or a watch, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. All she was aware of was the occasional screams and male shouts of victory coming from the maze. She knew avoiding the maze was the right way to go. Too many dead ends and the frat members no doubt knew the layout already. Those that chose to go into the maze were sitting ducks. 

The chill had firmly settled in and she wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to preserve as much body heat as possible. It wasn't quite freezing outside but it was cold as fuck and she’d pay the price if she stayed out in the cold for much longer. A rustle sounded nearby, followed by the snap of a branch. She bit her lip to stifle her startled gasp. They were close. Far too close for comfort. It was dark out here so there was little worry that they would see her up in the tree. As long as she stayed quiet she’d win. 

The footsteps left the way she came and she was sure that enough time had passed, she could quietly make her way back to the house and warmth and demand she be granted a prize for lasting the thirty minutes without being caught. She hadn't signed up for a stupid game of hide and seek out in the cold, and the longer she stayed out here the more her alcohol haze cleared and frustration made its way in. These stupid fuckers, luring girls out into the yard to chase around like a fucking hunt from one of her smut books. All they needed was some beasts and a fae lord. 

The bark felt like pins in her frozen feet as she made her way down the tree as silently as possible, pausing when she broke a twig off the branch she was holding onto. On bated breath, she waited for any sign she’d given up her position when she sat on the last branch before she could swing down. 

“Gotcha.” 

A hand wrapped around her ankle and she screamed kicking wildly with her other foot, making contact with the metal mask, matching groans coming from her and her assailant. 

She jerked and turned around trying to get a look at who had found her, throwing her body weight off balance on the thin branch as she began to fall the six feet to the forestry floor. She clenched her eyes shut and braced for a rough landing but found herself in the arms of another. 

“You can open your eyes. We won’t bite. Yet.” She opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Toms's arms. She jerked back, putting more distance between them as she struggled to get free of his grasp. 

“Let me go!” 

He tilted his head, and she wished he had taken off the mask so she could get a good glance at him up close. There was no way to access the thoughts running through his mind when his face and expressions were hidden from her. 

“Now why would we do that.” 

“We’ve caught you.” 

“Now it's time for us to collect our prize.” 

Mattheo stepped up behind her, sandwiching her between them and making it even harder to free herself. Her dress had ridden up, barely covering her bum and the apex of her thighs. 

Thinking she might be able to lull them into a false sense of security she went limp and raised her wrist untying the ribbon and dangling it in front of them. 

“Your prize. Fetch.” She threw it over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at them in challenge. 

“Now let me down.” 

They ignored her now silently communicating in a way only siblings or very close friends could do before chucking. She could feel the warmth of them and the vibration of their laughs stimulating her on both sides. 

She gasped unable to help herself and their chuckles grew louder and more self-assured, 

“Assholes! Let me down this instant!” 

It was enough that they’d caught her, she would not just dangle here between them as they laughed at her reactions. She hadn't practiced ignoring their appeal in such close proximity. Just as she reared back a hand to slap that stupid mask off Tom's face he dropped her. 

Hermione landed in a humph, the breath leaving her lungs as she fought to catch her breath. She brushed her now leaf-decorated curls out of her face before sitting up arms bracing herself. They were looming over her now. Their masks and cloaks were firmly in place which gave them a menacing air. 

“You motherfucker! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Not a moment after the words left her mouth Mattheo lunged at her, tearing his mask off and a hand wrapped around her throat. That passion she’d always admired in him had turned on her in anger as he snarled in her face, “You don't talk about our mother.” 

His curls were tousled and hanging over his forehead, blood smeared across the bridge of his nose where a fresh cut bloomed. His eyes though, drew her in and cut off her breath more effectively than the hand around her throat did, alight with fire and dark promises of what should happen should she ignore his warning. She nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. 

“I’m going to let go. Are you going to be a good girl or are you going to continue to struggle? We don't mind a bit of a chase.” A feral grin graced his lips as his mood shifted just as abruptly as before. 

“I me-meant no offense. I’m sorry.” She answered, bowing her head a bit in contrition. 

He released her and stood back with Tom who had taken off his golden mask, now stood with the cowl of his hood still shrouding his face and arms folded across his chest. She thought Mattheo alone was overwhelming but the sight of them together did things to her that she’d never admit out loud. 

She brushed herself off and stood on wobbly legs, pulling her dress down, it had ridden up and probably given them both a perfect view of the black lingerie set she’d been persuaded to wear tonight. 

Wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm she shifted from foot to foot, “Look you caught me, you got your ribbon. Can we head back to the party now? It's cold and I’m freezing my tits off.” 

Tom broke his silence as they slowly advanced on her, “Oh, you silly girl, the ribbon wasn’t the prize. You are.” 

Chapter Text

Hermione bolted. Turned tail and sprinted towards the house. She could hear them laughing behind her- Mattheo’s mocking voice vibrating through the air around her, “You’ll never be fast enough to outrun us, little rabbit.” 

Her ragged breath and loud footfalls muddied her hearing. Her hair whipped around her, feet aching as she stepped over branches and tree roots. She could see the tree line, the open yard just steps away; it wasn't the house, but it was safer than the cover of the trees. No one would see her in there. At least in the open, she had a chance of getting help. 

She could hear them just steps behind and pushed herself faster, begging her tired and aching muscles to hold on just a while longer. She fought the urge to turn around, knowing that it would slow her down. She wanted to see how close they were. Weigh her chances of getting away from them. It was slim, she knew; they were both football players, Mattheo the running back to Tom’s quarterback. They worked closely together on the field as they did every other aspect of their life. She wasn't athletically inclined, and her legs were not long enough to carry her a safe distance even if she was. 

Hermione's foot caught on a tree root, nearly sending her flailing, but Tom was right there to catch her, eyes full of mirth as he smirked down at her smiling face. 

“I’ve done quite a bit of saving you tonight, Granger.”  

“What a savior you are, Tom Riddle. How ever might I repay you for saving me when I was running from you?” She scoffed. 

His hands were snug around her waist, his warm hands tightening against her chilled skin as she spoke. Tom was not someone Hermione could allow herself to indulge in. Mattheo, maybe, but Tom? Absolutely not. Ethical complications aside, she could see herself drowning in him. In them both. While they’d see her as just another conquest. She didnt have time to drown, and she was not inclined to be just another notch on their bedposts. 

While looking up at his ridiculously handsome face, Hermione wondered why. This had to be some ruse. Hermione did not believe in coincidences; it wasn't by chance that she received a green ribbon. The only green ribbon, if her hypothesis was correct. Fury began to build within her the longer she thought about it. 

“You planned this!” 

Tom’s eyes filled with a malicious warmth as he pulled her to her feet completely, dragging her body close to his. Chest to chest, he grabbed a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. 

“And if I did?” His brow lifted in challenge. 

She began to struggle, throwing her weight and arms around to get away from his grasp. Cold hands caught her throat, trapping the protest from escaping her mouth. She could feel Mattheo behind her now, the velvety texture of his cloak caressing the bare swaths of her skin. He’d pulled her roughly against him; his body was solid and strong, an anchor to this moment, forcing her to remain aware of his presence. The smell of his cologne, the steadying weight of his forearm across her breast, bracing her against him. 

His breath tickled as it ghosted against her neck, “You’ve already been caught twice, little rabbit.” 

A slow but steady thrum built between her thighs, forcing her to shuffle uncomfortably, grinding against Mattheo’s hardened cock. 

“I- eep,” a squeal left her mouth at the feel of him behind her. That slow thrum was building in intensity as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb against her pulse. 

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace, all the adrenaline of the night finally crashing as she took relief in his warmth. 

Mattheo's other hand left her waist, trailing down to the apex of her thighs. She stiffened momentarily. 

“It scares you, doesn't it? Being so out of control. Makes your pulse race, and I bet your cunt is dripping. A bird as high-strung as you. Wandering into the snake's den dressed like a morsel just waiting to be bitten.” His teeth grazed her neck teasingly as his hand made its way up her skirt. 

“Lift her dress, Matt.” Tom’s voice broke her calm, her eyes springing open, and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. 

Hermione briefly considered calling a stop to it all. She could demand they let her go. The look on Tom’s face told her as much; his eyebrow arched in challenge, telling her to put up or shut up. With a small nod Hermione threw caution to the wind, relaxing her body against Mattheo, her legs parting slightly. She took in a stuttering breath when his fingers traced her folds, her hips canting for him to apply the pressure where she really wanted it. He played with her, featherlight touches that made her blood pound and body ache. 

A low whine left her lips when the tip of Mattheo’s finger swirled at her entrance, desperation clawing at her as she writhed in his arms. 

Mattheo’s voice whispered in her ear, a sultry vibrato that made goosebumps erupt across her skin, “What do you need, little rabbit? You want my fingers, don't you? You're dripping for them.” 

A breathy plea left her lips, the sound of her needy voice foreign to her ears. She'd never felt like this before. This all-consuming fire that burned in her was so at odds with the frigid cold of the air around them, whipping and biting against her exposed skin. Hermione let her head fall to rest against Mattheo's broad chest and closed her eyes, unable to do anything but focus on the feel of him. 

“Granger.” 

Head heavy, Hermione opened her eyes, her vision clearing as she took in Tom. The crunch of leaves and branches underneath his feet left a vibration in the air that spelt warning. He prowled towards her, closer and closer until every puff of warm air that left his lips dissipated in the few inches between their faces. She held her breath as he leaned even closer to her, his lips a whisper against her, eyes piercing as he spoke, “Beg.” 

One word. It was just a word. Hermione had read it before in the books that she'd prop up to read so she could trail her hands over feverish skin. But this was real, the evidence of it dripped down her thighs, earning a rumbling chuckle against her back. 

Her eyes didnt leave his, searching for any mercy he might have on her. That he might get tired of this cat and mouse. That the wait would eat at him just as it did at her, and one of them, either or it didnt matter, but someone would bring her to the peak she was desperate for. 

Mattheo strummed the fingers at her throat, “Your pulse is racing, Hermione. You want this. I can feel your little cunt clenching down on nothing. You want to be filled, don't you? Beg for it.” 

Eyes still locked with Tom’s, Hermione mumbled, “Pl-please.” 

The finger Mattheo teased her with slipped into her depths, one single digit that curled against her insides, her breath catching. 

Tom watched her lips, his hand capturing an errant curl and wrapping it around his finger before he lowered his head to the arch of her neck. Little nips at her collarbone, leading up to her ear, his breath hot and heavy as if it was her holding them in suspense. “Please, what?” 

Chest heaving, Hermione answered with a whispered yell, “Please- fuck. I need-” 

“We know what you need, little rabbit,” Mattheo added another finger, stretching her in a way that three of her own fingers failed to. They were so close, the heat of them encapsulating her as she rode Mattheo's fingers. Tom's breath against her skin, his fingers mapping out the bits her dress exposed, plucking and pinching bites of pain that left her gasping. The lewd sounds of panted breaths, and the embarrassing squelch as Mattheo finger fucked her into abandon rang through her. Wanton. She was burning for them despite her initial disdain for their game, just as she was about to reach her peak, Tom barked, “Matt.” 

He withdrew his fingers, and Tom’s eyes watched as Mattheo brought the hand that had just been between her thighs to her lips, “Taste yourself, Hermione.” 

Eyes locked with Tom, ass grinding against Mattheo, Hermione licked at the tip of Mattheo's fingers before wrapping her lips around them. Determination to turn the tables on them flooded her as she sucked them, a mimicry of what she’d do to their cocks if she got half the chance. 

Tom’s eyes flicked to Mattheo, a small, almost imperceptible nod, and suddenly he withdrew his hand just to force them back into her mouth roughly, her lips stretched around three of his fingers, eyes watering as he slammed them against the back of her throat. 

She let out a garbled moan as Tom dropped to a crouch, hands ghosting against the inside of her thighs, reaching up to her hips, his thumbs applying sweet pressure against the bone as he hooked them around the lace of her thong, pulling it down and lifting her feet one by one before stuffing it in his pocket. His head inched higher, a stream of his breath blown directly at Hermione’s aching clit, before his head dipped down to lap at her arousal. She could feel his tongue and tried to increase the friction before Mattheo’s hand left her throat to squeeze her hip in warning. 

Tom withdrew, taking in a deep breath before he stood up, eyes alight, lips glistening.  Hermione's body sagged against Mattheo, who finally withdrew his fingers from her mouth, a trail of saliva and drool left in their wake. 

Exasperation filled Hermione, and she pushed out of Mattheo’s hold in frustration.  “Wh-what? Is that it? Are you going to continue to play with me, or are you going to fuck me?” 

A dangerous smile lit up Tom’s face as they circled her, teasing touches, slight tugs at her hair, and filthy words making her head fuzzier than the drink they gave her ever did. 

“You're just a closeted whore aren't you, Hermione?” 

“Who’d ever believe, the Hermione Granger begging for cock. Begging to cum.” 

“You want us to fuck you, don't you? You want us to stretch that pretty little cunt of yours?” 

The words were a swirling vortex in the air around her, and she knew there was only one answer. 

“Yes, fuck- please.”