The air in her parlor was a haze of incense and candle smoke, every surface gleaming faintly gold and green in the low light. Across the desk, Jade was studying you the way an astronomer might examine a rare star through a telescope—distant, yet wholly consuming.

“Still alive,” she murmured, voice honeyed velvet, “though looking rather… worn.”

You didn’t answer. That was a game she enjoyed—letting your silence stretch until it snapped.

From the far wall, a second shadow peeled away. “You’re making them nervous, Ma'am,” Topaz said, stepping into view. The flickering light caught on her sharp smile, and on the subtle gleam of her fangs. “You promised to let me play this time.”

Jade’s eyes flicked toward her colleague with faint amusement. “Play. I recall you said that last time, and you almost drained our dear guest dry.”

Topaz leaned against the desk beside you, her proximity a blade of heat. “Almost. You stopped me. And I was very… disappointed.”

Her gloved fingers brushed your jaw, tracing along your pulse. The touch was deceptively casual, but the hunger behind it was impossible to miss.

Jade rose from her chair in a smooth, liquid motion. She circled behind you, fingertips grazing the back of your neck. “I believe,” she said softly, “our guest understands the stakes this evening. Don’t you?”

Your throat tightened. Between Topaz’s playful aggression and Jade’s precise, coiling presence, you felt like prey caught between two predators—one who wanted to see you squirm, and one who wanted to see how far you’d run before she reeled you back.

“You came here for a deal,” Topaz reminded you, her voice curling around your ear. “And we’ve both decided you’re… interesting enough to keep.”

“Investment-worthy,” Jade agreed, her hand resting briefly on your shoulder before trailing away, an invitation and a warning in one. “Though you understand investments require… returns.”

Topaz tilted your chin toward her. “One taste.” Her eyes glittered like trapped lightning. “And we’ll see where your balance lies.”

You should have refused. Every rational thought screamed at you to walk away. But Jade’s presence pressed behind you like the inevitability of gravity, and Topaz’s gaze pinned you in place.

Jade’s lips were at your other ear now, her cool breath raising the hairs on your neck. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I always collect what’s due. But… I am patient. Mostly.”

Topaz chuckled low in her throat, clearly enjoying the way you tensed between them. “I’m not.”

The world seemed to narrow to their voices, their hands, the almost-synchronized way they moved—like a predator with two mouths, two heartbeats, one will.

Jade’s fingers tipped your head just enough to expose the line of your throat. “One bite,” she said. “Shared. Consider it… a joint venture.”

Topaz’s lips curved. “You’ll be fine. Probably.”

You barely had time to draw breath before the sting came—not sharp pain, but a deep, molten pull, like your heartbeat had been stolen and replaced by theirs.

Jade’s bite was deliberate, each draw measured, as if she were tasting fine wine. Topaz’s was hungrier, hotter, her hand steadying you when your knees threatened to buckle.

The room swam, the haze thickening with the rhythm of your pulse. Somewhere between them, you felt the strange, intoxicating tether of their presence—two predators feeding not just on your blood, but on the way you yielded to them.

When they finally pulled back, you were half in Jade’s grasp, half in Topaz’s.

Topaz licked the corner of her mouth, eyes glinting with wicked satisfaction. “They taste as good as they look.”

Jade dabbed the corner of her lips with a silk handkerchief, her gaze lingering on you with quiet triumph. “I told you,” she murmured to Topaz, “worth the investment.”

Your breath came shallow, your pulse loud in your ears. Somewhere in the smoke and candlelight, the thought formed that you hadn’t just made a deal tonight.

You’d been claimed.

And both of them knew it.

“You are,” she answered her own question. “Lord Voldemort,” she laughed. “People are still so scared of your fucking name that they won’t even print it in books .” She laughed again and her smirk turned nasty, cruel even.

“And now you’re here. I need to know how many you’ve made so far. Horcruxes, how many have you? And where are they? It was a lot of work to track down seven of them. I’d rather…” she trailed off and realized she knew exactly how many he had. He was in Albania, which meant he was looking for the diadem. The diadem was the third Horcrux he made, so that meant he had the diary and the ring.

“The diary and the ring,” Hermione breathed. “Where are they? Have you found the diadem yet? You must still be looking…” she trailed off again. “You must have went to look for the diadem before you went to see Hepzibah Smith,” she mused almost to herself.

But Tom was standing right there and he heard it all. Suddenly, he slammed her against the wall and Hermione realized that what was pressed so insistently against her belly was not a wand. It was much too thick for that. She gasped and her breath left her entirely when he trailed a finger down the gaping neckline of her dressing gown, his finger leaving a path of fire in its wake. The sexual chemistry between them was electric, magnetic and suddenly she was burning for him.

“Don’t try to distract me,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders almost involuntarily. She willed her legs to stay put, no matter how much she wanted to wrap them around his waist and trap that long, hard, hot length between them.

“Oh, is this distracting?” Tom asked, breathing in her ear. Hermione had no idea what he did with the wands, but they weren’t in his hands now. Now his hands had pulled open both sides of her dressing gown, cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. Her mind went blank with need and she panted, unable to answer him.