Chapter 19
Nov 15th, 1943
Hope
Doing a little dance in my seat, I completely ignore Mary and Anthony’s playful jabs at my ridiculousness. What can I say? Waffle day is the best day at Hogwarts. These deliciously light, fluffy pastries that have just the right amount of crisp brown on the crust. They’re all bigger than my head, and hold up great against the real maple syrup provided.
Sometimes, I really go all in and add some combination of chocolate chips, fruit slices, and/or whipped cream. However, even when they’re only wearing syrup, I love them just as much as when they’re all dressed up. This truly decides it, today I am going to the kitchens and thanking the Elves with som—
“Hope!”
Opening my eyes from savoring my latest bite, I see Taylor and Amanda running in my direction from the entrance. The worry on their faces is a bad sign, it gets worse when Taylor sits down on my free side, with Amanda standing nearby Mary carrying an uncomfortable expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask after a big gulp, thinking the worst.
Taylor takes a fortifying breath and says, “We just managed to weasel it out of Trevor Macmillan, apparently the Purebloods in power have called open season on you.”
Horror fills me, this is it. There’s going to be a literal witch hunt among witches. Though, it won’t be my first. I can’t even get words out, pinching myself to make sure I’m not stuck in one of my newer nightmares. Pain, no jolting and seeing blue curtains, damn.
“Are…how long do I have? Do you know how they plan to do it?” my voice comes shaky and unsure.
Will it be a classic burning? Maybe Mary will be able to talk them into something quicker if they do manage to catch me. I was really enjoying going to Hogwarts, too.
The work is easy, I’ve made friends I’m happy with, and other than some issues with one boy I’m currently not thinking about, I’m very happy with my life here. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry first that Dumbledore’s plan might be working, I haven’t allowed myself to think on it. At all. Not that it matters anymore, what with the rich and powerful after me.
“What are you on about?” Amanda blurts out, making me realize both Gryffindors have no idea where my questions are coming from.
Shaking off her confusion, Taylor tries to continue, “What I mean to say is, the parents have told their so—”
Then the morning mail arrives in the form of squawking owls, interrupting her explanation. I don’t normally get mail, seeing as everyone I’m familiar with is currently in this castle.
So, I’m pleasantly surprised when a very stately looking owl with a beautiful spectrum of brown and white lands in front of me with a package the size of my hand. An envelope is secured to the beautifully wrapped box with a ribbon, and I happily give the owl some sausages from the table.
Until I notice the terrified look on all my friends faces.
“What?” I ask the collective group.
“That’s the Malfoy family owl,” Mary whispers. Her wide eyes haven’t left the package in front of me, looking at it like it might suddenly jump up and attack me.
Then I’m just plain confused, “But, I’m not Malfoy.”
“No shite, Hope,” Anthony breathlessly laughs. Now looking more on the side of completely disbelieving rather than horrified, “That means that someone that likely isn’t enrolled in this school from the Malfoy clan sent you…something.”
My feelings don’t waver, and I turn to search for Malfoy. It’s not difficult, I’m already facing their table, and I find unbridled panic written on his face. Taking stock of the rest of the table, most of the boys are openly staring in shock and the girls might be plotting my demise as I’m sitting here. Curiosity officially takes over, and I open the letter.
Miss Mikaelson,
I trust this letter finds you in good health and excellent spirits. Allow me to extend my sincerest apologies for reaching out without the benefit of a formal introduction. However, upon hearing my son Abraxas speak with such admiration of your exceptional kindness and unparalleled beauty, I felt compelled to write to you directly.
As the head of the Malfoy family, I take great pride in encouraging my only heir’s affections for a witch of your caliber. It would bring my wife and I immense joy to extend to you an invitation to join us for Yule at Malfoy Manor. I understand that your guardian, Professor Albus Dumbledore, is anticipated to travel abroad during the holiday season, and it would be our pleasure to ensure you are well accommodated during his absence.
Enclosed with this letter is a modest token of my appreciation, a mere gesture of the high regard in which we hold you. My wife and I eagerly await the opportunity to make your acquaintance and to share with you the traditions and warmth of our home.
Wishing you the very best in all things,
Armond Malfoy II
Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy
I almost burst into laughter. Is this the proper British way of sucking someone’s dick? Far too curious to stop there, I rip open the package to find an ornately carved wooden box. The wood is smooth with small, swirling designs that I trace with my finger.
Once I open the lid, I audibly gasp, and my eyes bug out in alarm. Inside is a sapphire the size of the end of my pinkie on a silver chain. Mary and Taylor’s shocked sounds fill my ears, while Amanda’s hands land lightly on my shoulders in quiet comfort.
“What does this mean?” I hear myself ask.
Anthony makes a sound of annoyance, since he’s stuck on the other side of the table, but Taylor cuts him off, “As I was trying to tell you, at the last Board of Gov—”
“Hope, if you would please allow me to explain,” a familiar voice says from behind me. Ignoring Taylor’s annoyed growl, “I promise on everything I hold dear, I’ll tell you the truth.”
Once Amanda steps aside, Abraxas Malfoy and his sheepish expression become visible. Based on his reaction to me receiving the package, I believe him, and give Taylor an apologetic look as I stand from the table. Making sure to tuck both the box and letter beneath my arm.
Before I make it two steps, I turn back to grab my plate and silverware, “Really, I would hate to waste…”
My friends chuckle and roll their eyes as I walk away. Before I’m completely out of the hall, I turn back to what must be Taylor and Amanda explaining my situation. Both Mary and Anthony send me a worried look, their mouths not quite able to smile when they catch my eye.
Malfoy leads me to a nearby alcove and all but crumbles onto a bench. His knees are wide to accommodate him leaning so far forward, hands overlapping on the back of his neck for a moment before moving to his hips.
Straightening his back, he meets my eye when asking, “May I read the letter my Father sent?”
Numbly sitting next to him, I balance the plate on my knees, adjust my fork and knife, then hand him the letter and the necklace. He looks at both as I soak up the little joy left in waffle day.
“Hope, you have to know, I told him that you and I are friendly. This is not an acc—”
“Yeah, dude,” I interrupt while laughing. “I wasn’t born yesterday, didn’t believe it when I read it. I’m really just confused about the letter, and completely lost when it comes to the box.”
Breathing a big sigh of relief, Malfoy finally explains what’s going on, “My Father is a member of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. The second meeting of the term occurred last week, where Headmaster Dippet informed them of your existence.
“Although, truth be told my Father believed you to be a boy at first. The important part is that multiple members of the Board are Pureblooded, rumor will spread amongst the community, and, much like my Father, many will want your powerful genetics incorporated into their families.”
Swallowing a big bite of waffle, I feel a short moment of relief as I realize my initial over reaction. No one wants to kill me, they simply want me to fuck their sons. It’s not something that I’m happy about, but the lack of out right violence is nice.
“So, this is your dad’s way of forcing a romance between us?” I ask incredulously.
Bobbing his head from side to side, Malfoy says, “More or less I suppose. He gave me an order to court you, I had asked for time to think on the matter. It seems that four days is all the generosity my Father is willing to give me.”
Well, I do feel a touch better having context. However, Abraxas seems about ready to have a mental breakdown. I suppose I can’t blame him, we did spend an afternoon discussing just how unsuitable someone like me would be for someone like him. If I was forced to date someone simply because my Father wanted to barter me for more power, I’d likely feel the same.
“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” I tell him honestly. “While I can’t say that either of my parents treated me…like that, I do understand what it’s like to have your life planned out without a say in the matter. It really sucks, huh.”
My humorless laugh brings a sardonic smile to his face, “I’ve known for my entire life the burden that comes from being a Pureblood. My life is not my own, it is for the continuation of a dynasty. I mean no offense, Hope. But, how could you understand what that’s like?”
His question could have been mean, but his defeated tone completely takes the bite out of it. Even his expression feels more sad than anything, and then he turns his gaze back on his shiny loafers. This could be an elaborate ploy to pray on my goodwill to learn more, on some level I realize that. However, Malfoy has never been a good actor.
I could smell his leading questions from miles away, and this feels nothing like that. If Malfoy isn’t acting, if this is a true reaction to his Father’s meddling, then this is also the perfect opportunity to get one of Riddle’s followers to sympathize with me.
“Fair point,” I sigh while shaking my head. “Although, ask me why I came to this world.”
Turning to look at me, Malfoy sounds as confused as he looks, “Why did you come to this world, Hope?”
“Centuries ago, in my world, a creature was created with a very specific purpose,” I start, only the knowledge that Riddle already knows this keeps me going. “Without a clear way to die, Nature waited for a chance to create one, to return balance to the world. I am that chance, and so my family sent me here. To give me the most amount of time before having to fulfill my destiny.”
His mouth drops open in his surprise, his gaze searching my face for any hint of a lie. My sad smile must get through to him, because he nods before turning straight forward.
I allow him time to process what I’ve said, prepared for more questions. Even if we are having a meaningful conversation, he’s still a Slytherin, and he has a master to serve.
“How?” he breathes before looking back at me. “How are you meant to end a creature that’s in a different world?”
Chuckling, I tell him, “I’ll worry about my fate, it’s mine alone. Why don’t we focus on your Father for now, seeing as his wants effect both of us. Just know that in a weird way, I understand.”
“Right, of course,” Malfoy says with an entertained smile. “Perhaps you should have been a Slytherin, what with all of your secrets. You would fit in well.”
That surprises more laughter out of me, “Please, I’m a Halfblood! I’d get torn to shreds my first night.”
He joins me, Malfoy’s chuckle deep and tired, “Well, at least that doesn’t matter anymore.”
Letting my humor subside, I tilt my head curiously, “What do you mean? Why would my blood status suddenly not matter?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Malfoy asks incredulously. When I shake my head no, he mimics the action before continuing, “Do you honestly think that the head of the Malfoy line would send a letter like that to anyone other than a potential future bride?
“I informed my Father of your blood status and he nearly laughed himself silly. What matters is how powerful you are, and the likelihood that your children will inherit your abilities.”
My blood goes cold. In an odd way, my Halfblood status has protected me. Sure, Slytherins have more or less followed me around from day one, but I always knew their interest wasn’t innocent.
My blood status kept their ambitions in check, the understanding that I was too low for any of them to marry. Without that keeping the snakes at bay, I’m worried I might get bitten.
“So, you really mean that all the heirs from all the families will be, what? Fighting over me?” I ask, my voice gaining a few octaves.
Standing, I hastily set down my now empty plate and silverware, not worrying about all the metal clinking together. After a quick cleaning spell, I run my fingers through my hair, pulling slightly. While this isn’t the worst case scenario, I can’t imagine a pack of rich, entitled boys sent after me will be good. Somehow, it felt easier to handle when I assumed they just wanted a designated mistress.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Abraxas sighs, and I turn my bewildered expression on him. “My Father might be the first to contact you, but it’s only a matter of time before others join in.
“Slytherin might have the most Pureblooded heirs, but there are more. Not to mention the various families that want the prestige that comes with our blood status, they will likely be after your hand as well.”
Sitting down again, this time it’s my turn to feel defeated, “I’m not going to ask you this because I trust you or because I’m going to listen to you. But, what do I do?”
I don’t bother looking at him, this must be exactly what he’s been waiting for. Me, in need of guidance, asking one of Tom Riddle’s followers for help. Whatever advice he gives me will be taken to Mary and Anthony.
I’m sure that Taylor and Amanda can help, but now might be the time that I share a secret or two. The least amount of people that know about me, the better.
“I would recommend becoming attached to someone, and quickly,” he tells me with a surprising lack of smugness.
Turning to glare at him, I say, “Let me guess, you’re going to volunteer yourself for this dangerous job?”
He starts laughing again, looking at me with far more amusement than I like, “I wasn’t planning on it, no. To make my Father happy, I was going to ask you on a date or two, however I knew what your answer would be. I am not enough to stop the scheming that is likely happening as we speak.”
I could roll my eyes, but I ask a question I likely already know the answer to, “And who is enough, then?”
The brilliant smile he gives sends chills down my spine, “Tom Riddle.”
*********************
Hope
Walking around the space, I open jar after jar, sniffing to see what’s inside, wishing they were clear. Garlic powder, cocoa powder, dill weed, and then finally the cinnamon. Taking the jar, I head back to my work station, dancing around the various beings trying to stop me.
“Oh please, Miss,” Deek calls as he nervously tugs at his big ears. “Yous doesn’t need to, wes is happy already.”
Setting the last of my ingredients down, I kneel before the elderly elf, “Deek, I’m thrilled that you are all happy. But, I’m doing this both to make you all smile, and as a thank you. You all work so hard, you deserve something in return.”
I know they aren’t paid, I’ve already asked Deek to confirm. Dumbledore doesn’t have a house elf, so Hogwarts is where I’ve gotten my information. They all work so hard, are forced to wear scraps of tattered fabric, and they all blanched at the idea of having a living wage.
“Yes, Miss! We thanks yous, Miss,” Dopny exclaims from her Father’s side.
Deek frowns at her, “Dopny, wes is House Elves. Wes help witches and wizards, theys do not help us!”
Both stare at each other with matching angry, green eyes, Dopny’s skin is a lighter brown than her Father’s, and they’re wearing the same colored wash clothes sewn together. A small stand off ensues, and I don’t want to patronize them, but they’re both so adorable.
“It’s okay, Deek,” I tell him with a kind smile. “Dopny already told me that this bread is going stale, you can’t serve it to the students or teachers as is. Please, let me do this for you all. It will also make me very happy.”
That seems to do the trick, as Deek sighs before saying, “Okays, yous makes us foods. As long as wes makes you foods next time.”
“Deal,” I exclaim with a brilliant smile.
After a very long day of discussing my options with my friends, I needed to get away from people. Mary, having walked in Pureblood spaces the majority of her life, was very aware how potentially dangerous this situation could become for me. Anthony on the other hand, was every bit the older brother I never had. He kept arguing with Mary about protecting me, and she kept pointing out that it’s not possible for him to stay by my side at all times.
To my complete and utter dismay, they both eventually came to agree with Malfoy; I should date Tom Riddle. Of course, I couldn’t tell them why that’s a terrible, horrible, awful idea, so I left before we could agree on a conclusion. I could talk to Dumbledore about this, but somehow I doubt his ignorance on Dippet’s little announcement. If his plan is going to help, then he better hop to it.
Focusing back on the task at hand, I put the finishing touches on the dessert I’m making. My dish is perfect, the raw bread pudding smelling deliciously of allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cream.
Most of the work is soaking the raisins and bread beforehand, but I let them sit while arguing with Deek. I did have to make a lot, seeing as there are dozens of elves to feed. Putting the last tray in the oven, I put my hands on my hips, and smile at my slowly cooking creations.
That’s when the door opens, and I watch the elves start scurrying about, “Well, this is certainly a surprise.”
Facing the door, I find none other than Tom Riddle appraising me. The smugness on his face is unnecessary, but I halt the instinct to frown at him. Other than my newest problem, I’ve done a lot of thinking about Riddle and the idea that he’s going to make me a potion for the full moon.
He’s claimed to want more than just my magic, telling me that I’m his or whatever. The idea of he who must not be named having true feelings for someone is laughable, let alone me. If he’s feeling any type of love for me, then I’m confident it’s for my magic or what I could do for him.
Not exactly someone I want to hop into a relationship with, even if it is all for show. But, against my wishes, Dumbledore’s advice runs through my head again.
“What can I do for you, Riddle?” I sigh while moving to clean up the mess I made.
I feel his eyes follow me, and after a pause he continues, “Are you baking something?”
“That I am,” I announce simply.
In almost no time, the space is spotless again. Really, I just needed to clean some dust from the spices and a little bit of cream I spilled when soaking the bread. Then, I’m putting everything back where it belongs. Making sure to take a swig of bourbon before replacing the bottle.
“Why?” I hear him ask from behind me.
Not bothering to turn around, I reply, “Because the House Elves take such good care of us, and are barely even given a ‘thank you.’ Making them a treat is the least I could do, and I enjoy baking.”
Steps sound through the room, a large man moving closer. His scent wraps around me, and I bite my lip to stop myself from closing my eyes and inhaling. Riddle must be close if he smells this potent, and when I turn I find him far less than an arm’s length away.
“Adorable,” he murmurs while lightly stroking my cheek with his thumb, my breath catching. When he pulls his hand away, he pops his thumb in his mouth for a moment, “Mmmmm, cinnamon? What are you making?”
My patience bottoms out and I glare at the man. If he’s here, then it’s for a reason. Either Riddle came looking for me, or he was going to try something underhanded with the elves. My complete lack of trust in his morals keeps me from jumping to a sound conclusion.
“Bread pudding, the recipe from my world,” I tell him hesitantly before realizing that a simple dish can’t possibly be used for evil world domination. “Where I’m from in the United States, it’s really popular. I’m hoping the elves enjoy spicy food, though.”
Cocking his head to the side, Riddle asks, “What do you mean?”
Deciding against this topic of conversation, especially while he’s standing so close, I blow out a puff of air, “I know you aren’t here to discuss my baking. Can we get to it? I’ve had kind of a day.”
Between the stares and rude comments from nearly every bully in the building, I really just wanted to relax. My friends helped as much as they could, but my exhaustion was swift and total.
Word spread about my letter from Malfoy Sr., and if this is the response to that, I have no interest in what will happen when more people are after my affections. I thought the beginning of the year was bad, but at least I was more or less left alone. Now, I can feel the hungry stares following my every move, even if they turn away when I look around.
“I can do that,” he tells me with a toothy grin. “In truth, I came here to warn you. I’m aware that Abraxas explained the reasoning for his Father’s letter, however I worry that you might not grasp how…pertinacious the elite can be in this world.”
Stepping away from him, I move to sit on a couch in front of the fire, “I understand perfectly fine. All the legacy families want their lines to be on top, and will do almost anything to get me married to their sons. Although, I imagine I have the most to fear from your followers.”
Staring at him pointedly, I’m displeased when his smile stretches. Sauntering over, Riddle sits down right next to me. Scooching over, I put as much distance between us as I can. Which, only ends up being about a cushion and a half.
“Correct, that is likely true. My men do pride themselves on their sneaky tactics, it’s part of the requirements to work under me. However, what I want to know is what you plan to do?” he asks.
Giving him a dubious look, I should have known this is why he came down here. Not wanting to play into his hand, I feign ignorance, “Plan? Why not pick the suitor I like best, and go from there?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he lightly scolds, his finger waging back and forth in front of his smile. “Come now, Hope. You aren’t going to get engaged to someone knowing that you need to die. Even if you do come back, you would have to explain your changes to your fiancee. Not to mention, I can’t imagine you would enjoy a life of being a Lady.”
Rolling my eyes, I ask, “What makes you think I have a plan?”
“Well, I’m starting to think you might not,” he tells me with a curious look. “Although, I can’t imagine a Ravenclaw has gone this many hours without thinking through at least a few options.”
Sighing, I turn to the ceiling and decide to just give in to his questioning. He’s not going to stop bugging me until I satisfy his curiosity, and I’d like to know why he’s pushing to date me.
Only an idiot would think that Abraxas Malfoy came to me with a plan to thwart his Father’s wishes on his own. The boy literally explained to me how strict parents are and how heirs and heiresses are born only for the whims of their elders.
“Everyone seems to think that the best solution is to attach myself to someone that would make my potential suitors think twice before doing something. Rumor has it that becoming a member of Dumbledore’s family could do the same, so I’m weighing my options.”
Riddle’s neck cracks, and I turn in time to see his annoyed expression. He hides it quickly, going to back to smiling lightly at me, but his eyes have fire in them.
“I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore could protect you from Pureblood ambitions,” he scoffs. “Your other plan may have merit, depending of course on who you choose.”
Laughing, I rest my head against the back of the sofa while still looking at him, “Why does that not surprise me? You’d rather I go with the plan that benefits you, it’s almost like you planned it.”
Now he rolls his eyes at me, “I will admit to feeding the idea to Abraxas, however I cannot take credit for Dippet announcing your existence. Personally, I could go without the obstacles that creates. However, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t spin a bad situation into my favor.”
“How exactly is this a bad situation for you?” I hear myself ask as I straighten.
Anger bleeds into my voice, this isn’t his problem. This is mine, one of many unfortunately. The only thing I asked for help on, is killing me. No where in there was ‘love life guru’ or ‘doting boyfriend.’
Riddle looks at me like I’m slow to learn, “Have you not been listening to me, Hope? I’ve spelled my intentions out pretty clearly.”
That surprises an outraged scoff out of me,and I find myself standing over the irritating man, “Oh please, saying that you want me and that you protect what’s yours? That spells out nothing more than obsessive tendencies and an inability to ask for what you want.
“I am not yours, nor am I anyone else’s for that matter. The person I attach myself to will be someone that I like, someone that will be honest instead of trying to trick me, and, I can promise you this, it will not be you!”
Quick as a viper, Riddle is up and in my face. Before I can back away, he grabs my hips to stop me, staring deep into my soul with intensity pouring out of him, “I’ve heard your ramblings, Hope. I’ve heard your fear, your assumptions, and I can even see why I would be grouped in with everyone else in your mind. But, you want honesty?
“Fine, then I can honestly tell you that you have haunted me since I met you in that book store. That I can’t even look at another witch without you infiltrating my mind, ruining anything I want to do. That all I can dream about is that damn kiss you are so intent on forgetting that I wake up reaching out for you every morning. Is that the honesty you’re after? Are you happy now?”
His grip on me tightens, and we’re both breathing heavily, our scents mingling together. Tom’s eyes are blown wide, from this close, I can see his pupils devouring the black of his eyes. I know when people are lying, I always have.
It’s a little feeling in the back of my head, possibly magic, that has never steered me wrong. This is the first time I’ve fought against that feeling, not wanting to accept that his confession…is real.
My eyes betray me, darting to his full lips that are just barely open. Then he pulls me forward, his mouth crashing into mine. My hands weakly push him away, my heart absent from the action. My hesitance only lasts a moment, but then I taste him again, and it’s all over. Then I’m kissing him back.
Tom’s mouth leaves mine for a brief second, just long enough for him to sit on the couch, pulling me to straddle his lap, before our frantic kissing continues. Gripping the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand, I move his head to the angle I want, and my other wraps around him, gripping the opposite shoulder. Breathing becomes difficult, more so when hands trail along my body.
Caressing my thighs, gripping my chin, squeezing my ass, and then his fingers dance around the buttons on my shirt. Even without real contact, I feel my nipples tightening painfully, and a stuttering breath escapes me. Within seconds, he untucks my shirt from the skirt, and his hands start mapping my abdomen. Goosebumps erupt across my skin, my muscles jump and jolt, reacting to every one of his touches.
When he inevitably reaches my bra, I’m about to pop out of skin in anticipation. A whimper escapes me, and I feel him smile against my mouth. Rolling my hips against him, I savor the moment his smile disappears. Doing it again, Riddle groans, sending fire straight to my core.
Finally, his hands delve beneath my bra, and twin moans of relief fill the space. Our kissing becomes more intense, movements becoming frantic, and all pretense of gentle flies out the window. His hands savor me, kneading my flesh, tracing my nipples, plucking the stiff buds, and making me cry out.
I have no idea how long our makeout lasts, it could be minutes, hours, or even days for all I know. But, eventually the aggressiveness subsides, and I rest my forehead against his as he fixes my shirt for me. Both of us still breathing heavy, slowly returning to reality.
“Does that count as another reason you should accept being mine?” he smugly asks, his smile brightening the room.