So, last night I was watching “Into the woods” (I mean, duh) and I started thinking of another couple that fits the red-riding-hood-and-the-evil-wolf dynamic perfectly so i made something and this happened. It’s a little bit abstract?? I don’t know?? I just hope you like it. Also, please remember that english is NOT my first language and this could have many granmatical mistakes and I apologize in advance for them. Ok i think that would be all, enjoy? ?? ?
She clutches her bag tightly against her chest. She’s never been here. She doesn’t know where she is. Sure, she’s got indications which in theory should lead her to where she’s headed but they forgot to mention how beautiful her surroundings would be and it tempted her oh so much to take another road. Maybe one of those roads was a shortcut. Maybe they were simpler. Maybe they were easier. But she has orders and she’s always followed indications. Rules. She likes them. They take you to were you should be. In theory, that is. How could have no one told her that she would be tempted to take another road? How could they have forgotten to mention that crucial bit of information?
She is standing in a crossroad now. She knows, for a fact, that she should take the path on her left - but what would happen if she took the one on her right? Surely she would get to her destiny, wouldn’t she? She bits her lip, undecided. Yes, she loves following the rules but she’s always been a little bit curious and - what was the saying? Curiosity killed the cat? Would it be her end to go down that road?
She releases a sigh through her nose, thoroughly annoyed with what was her current situation and, yes, tempted also, because she is brilliant and she wouldn’t be if she never questioned everything and now - now she was questioning whether she should follow her directions - her orders - or her curiosity.
Later, before the sun sets, she decides to go through with her gut instinct because how bad could it be? She takes a few deep breaths and readjusts her bright red cloak over her chestnut curls. She is not dumb enough to start walking through a unknown path without talking some courage into herself. Maybe it’s stupid, but she doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to know something others hadn’t got the bravery to face so she takes a step forward to the path on her right. And another one. And another one. She goes on walking far enough to lose sight of the crossroad at her back.
She was right. This road is hauntingly beautiful. She feels someone watching her but, then again, she could be a little paranoic when facing the unknown so she shrugs it off and keeps walking, marveling with what she finds on her way.
She is sure she will come out of this place with a lot of knowledge. Knowledge few will posses and it exhilarates her. The feeling that she will be one of the few with all of that information sends chills down her spine. Or maybe it’s the continuous feeling of being watched. Followed. But she is certain she was alone - was she?
She sees the end of the road and, again, she was right. She is headed to where she was supposed to be so she hurries up but, then again, in her curiosity, she forgot all the warnings she was given. She forgot all the terrors they mentioned and she is suddenly very aware of the pair of eyes whatching her calculatingly. She freezes on her feet, cold sweat running down her back.
“I - Is someone there?” She questions, cursing herself for letting her voice tremble.
A bush shuffles a few feet from her and she turns her head so quickly she is surprised she hasn’t broken her own neck.
“Hello?” Again, ruffling behind her. She turns around ready to fight, ready to run, ready to just do something that would save her from the darkness but - nothing. She sighs, scolding herself for being so bloody jumpy and turns around again to continue and get away because she doesn’t know what is her imagination and what is real anymore and she is starting to feel a little panicked and -
“Bloody hell!” She curses out loud when she sees a boy - no, a man - standing in front of her. Then she says nothing else because he is gorgeous and apparently her cell brains can’t process the fact that someone could be so damn perfect so they stop working altogether.
He is tall, pale and dark at the same time. His skin smooth as alabaster and his hair dark as the night just before dawn. He has high cheekbones and dark eyes, they could be dark blue, she reckons, but the sun has already set and it’s not like she could revel in the details. He doesn’t look like a threat, but he is a stranger and she instinctively clutches her bag closer to her chest as if she wanted to merge herself with it.
“H - Hi, my name is Hermione,” she stutters a little bit and by the way the corners of his lips curl upwards, he has noticed.
(She would be lying if she said that it didn’t annoy her that he could be laughing at her.)
A moment later, he nods politely and it annoys her even more. She feels patronized and she doesn’t like one bit. He still hasn’t said a word, instead, his eyes are roaming over her figure and she can’t pinpoint if the look on his face is of appreciation or disgust and - guess what? - it annoys her too.
“You are the first person I see down this road in a very long time. Why are you here?” He suddenly speaks and she doesn’t answer immediately because he just listened to his voice and - oh. It’s a sweet baritone, sweet and deep and rich and it burns her, like hot caramel sliding over her skin. She feels like she would do anything - anything - if only she could hear that voice forever.
Suddenly, she is rudely distracted from her reverie with a light cough. Oh. Oh. He asked her something. What was it? Christ, what had he asked -
“Oh, um, well yes. I may have taken the wrong turn somewhere so - ”, she is interrumpted by his hand, which he is holding up in the air as if to silence her.
“Do not lie to me, Hermione.” He murmurs, her name sliping off his tongue almost like a prayer and it feels so sinful, so intimate, she has to phisically stop herself from moaning out loud. Now that would be embarrassing. Oh, he is still talking. “I am fully aware that everyone who wants to go there,” he signals her destination vaguely over his own shoulder, “has to come across a crossroad and that they are always - ”, he stops, as if he was trying to find the correct word and, when he does, he continues, “well, recommendated, to walk through the path on their left, am I correct?” He questions her, but he already knows the answer so she doesn’t see the point in answering. “So you came down this particular road on your own, why is that?”
He is circling her now, walking around her as if he was a predator and she was his prey. Maybe that’s what all of this was about. He was going to consume her. This was her end. He certainly looked like he wanted to devour her. And the worst part was that that thought didn’t terrify her as much as it was supposed to do. What if he consumed her? What if he devoured her? She always knew that the saying was that the curiosity killed the cat, but, then again, they always forgot to mention the last part, where it said that the cat died knowing. And she was so desperate for that kind of knowledge.
“Tell me, Hermione, what are you doing here?” He interrumps her train of thought one more time but, this time, she answers and her voice doesn’t quiver, doesn’t tremble, doesn’t shatter.
“I wanted to know, I wanted to understand, I wanted to learn why I wasn’t supposed to come through this way when it could certainly lead me to my destination in less time.” She answers truthfully and, at his sharp intake of breath, she can tell that he is pleased with that answer.
Suddenly, it’s her turn to gasp because his hands have found their way around her waist and she is promptly pressed against his chest. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t say anything, in fact, she just stares at him, and he stares into her eyes too.
“Stay”, he begs. “I could teach you so much more.”
She feels his fingers touching lightly the fabric of her cloak. Her red, red cloak a heavy weight over her shoulders as if to remind her what she was supposed to be doing. The cloak her mother made for her. She takes a moment to look over his shoulder towards her original destination and sighs, mostly because she knows that her choice has already been taken, when she took the right path insted of the left one, the one she was supposed to go through. She looks into his eyes one more time and finds so many hidden promises in there that her breath catches in her throat and suddenly she can’t speak so, instead, she just nods.
Then, all of a sudden, he kisses her, and it’s all teeth and lips and tongues and saliva and oh god more teeth and before she can even get used to it - it’s all over. She looks at him, a little bit breathless if she’s honest and scowls.
“What?” He asks airily, as if kissing her was the thing he had been waiting his entire life for.
“I don’t even know your name”, she continues frowning, because her mother voice is suddenly resounding in her head and Hermione you shouldn’t speak to strangers it’s dangerous and it’s stupid to remember that now because she’s done a lot of things she isn’t supposed to do only in that day. She can’t find regret within herself for her last actions, anyways, so she just brushes it off and continues to look at him intently.
The corners of his lips do that thing again where they curl slightly upwards as if he wanted to smile but he wasn’t sure how it worked. It’s almost a smirk, she thinks later.
“Hello, Hermione,” he pauses, and she supposes he does it on purpose, but she lets it slide because he is about to tell her his name and nothing else matters. “My name is Tom Riddle.”
And when he sees the look of pure terror take over her features, that’s when he truly offers her his wolfish grin and now - now she is certain that he will devour her.
aaaaaand here it is, idk, just… tell me what you think?? i may post this on ff net and or on ao3?