Chapter 27
December 23rd, 1943
Hope
Waking up in my Hogwarts bed is like waking up from a weird dream. Riddle and I got back last night, after I studied at least eleven different marriage ceremonies. My mind was so jumbled by the end of it, I’m surprised I could form coherent sentences. But, I missed my single bed, the blue bedding and curtains that smell like clouds and lavender. Sure, the Manor was more comfortable and had more space, but it didn’t feel like this. Like some semblance of a home.
Swinging my legs over the end, I walk to the bathroom, magically turning on the shower. Once it’s warm enough, I step under the spray, and relish the slight burn that relaxes my muscles. Admitting to the Malfoy’s that one of those ceremonies might work was hard, but I made them a promise. Trading my time and subsequent information for House Elf rights was certainly something neither Malfoy expected, but it’s the deal I made.
I wasn’t about to spend hours pouring over ancient books for nothing, I couldn’t care less whether or not I can partake in a soul bonding ritual. But, after the firm doubt I planted in their minds, Armond insisted on knowing if any in their collection might work. The death is the tricky part, regardless of if the ceremony lasts throughout reincarnations. Most of the ceremonies involve literally tying a couple’s lifespan together or utilizes phrasing such as ‘for this life and the next’ or ‘until death unites us eternally.’
Becoming a vampire means that I both won’t be in this life or a reincarnation, I’ll be changing species technically. Magic, as beautiful as it is, tends to be unforgiving about technicalities like species change. One wrong interpretation, one overlooked clause, and the entire spell could unravel—or worse, backfire catastrophically. Only one of the ceremonies I studied accounted for my very specific situation.
Rooted in pre-Merlin druidic practices, it was designed for beings with complex, cyclical lives: phoenixes, selkies, and others who undergo profound metamorphosis. This ritual doesn’t just bind two lives together—it binds their essence. The ceremony, known as ‘Eterna’s Promise,’ emphasized adaptability, allowing the bond to endure transformations of the body and even transcend death itself.
As I work shampoo into my hair, I remember how excited Armond was at the prospect of it working. Thankfully, I never promised anyone I would go through with it. I simply bargained better treatment of their staff for my honesty and reading comprehension. Completing a ritual like that with Abraxas, with anyone, would be a disaster. It uses ancient magic, primal and raw, and it requires far more than just words.
Blood, naturally, but also something far deeper: a sharing of power so intimate it would expose every flaw, every strength, every shadow within each participant. The couple’s magic would not simply merge, but weave into a single entity, leaving them bound in mind, body, and soul. If one of them changed—by death, by species, by choice—the bond would evolve alongside them. There would be no secrets, no thoughts or feelings you could hide from each other. There is one caveat, it does require two presently living participants, which does put a bit of a time limit on my marriage prospects. That part did dampen Armond’s joy, but only ever so slightly.
Shutting off the water, I grab a towel to dry off with. A quick spell deals with my hair, and combing it out is easy. Grabbing the first dress my fingers touch, I end up in light blue gown with long sleeves to help with the chill in the castle. Technically, I’m heading down to lunch since I slept through breakfast. Dreams of a forced marriage and an all powerful Voldemort kept me tossing and turning all night.
Stepping out of the common room, I’m surprised to find someone pacing in front of the dorm entrance. He must hear the door shut, because the moment it does, I’m gifted the person’s face.
“Hope,” Tom starts, his jaw oddly tight with a stern expression. “I’d like to talk, preferably somewhere safe for both of us.”
Surprise and dismay flood me, there are too many options for why Riddle could be ticked. Clearing my throat, I opt for a casual smile, “Alright, but can we pick a place with food? I’m starving.”
His nod is terse at best, and a chill runs down my spine. For once, he doesn’t offer me his arm, and we walk towards the Room of Requirement in tense silence. My mind spins the entire way, wondering if the Malfoy’s tricked him into thinking I agreed to a marriage with Abraxas. If not that, then some other lie to ruin what they must see as their son’s competition. But, even so, Tom Riddle is smart enough to see through a lie, especially from people he already doesn’t trust. Once we arrive at the seventh floor, he summons a door, and holds it open for me.
Turns out, he picked the Three Broomsticks, with a buffet of food set up. All classic dishes that can be found either there or Hogwarts, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. I all but run to grab a plate, filling it with as many goodies as I can carry. Once I’m satisfied, I find Riddle sitting at a table, glaring at his folded hands.
Sitting across from him, I start digging into my food, and he wastes no time getting to his questions, “So, did you enjoy your stay at Malfoy Manor?”
Tilting my head to the side, I swallow my mouth full before responding, “Yeah, it was fine. I’m not surprised that every adult asked me any and every question they could think of, but the goat was a bit of a shock.”
Tom nods as I take another bite, his ire simmering beneath a deceptively calm expression. “It must have been exhausting,” he says, his voice smooth, almost soothing. “All those probing questions. It’s remarkable how curious people become when they sense someone has power they cannot comprehend.”
I hum around a mouthful of food, not bothering to dignify that with a response. Given that he’s doing the exact same thing right now, I don’t want to say something wrong. Despite the last weeks of what could be considered friendship, if not more, I can’t forget who he is. A genius sorted into Slytherin, someone sly and cunning. Someone I shouldn’t discount simply because he’s claimed an infatuation with me.
“Of course,” he continues, his tone light but with a dangerous glint in his eye, “it’s not only adults who are curious, is it? I’ve found that curiosity runs deep in all beings, regardless of their station. Don’t you agree?”
His words make me pause mid-chew, but I recover quickly, dabbing at the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “Curiosity is only natural, why would it be unique to a singular group?”
Tom leans back in his chair, a small, humorless smile curling his lips, “Indeed. But curiosity unchecked can lead to complications, in my experience.” He taps a finger against the table, watching me with an intensity that makes my appetite waver. “Take, for instance, House Elves. Fascinating creatures, wouldn’t you agree? Loyal, resourceful… yet prone to mistakes, or should I say slips.”
I force myself to continue eating, though the food suddenly tastes like ash. My heart races, is he upset that I used a bargaining chip to get them better treatment in Malfoy Manor? He already knows how fond of the creatures I am, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked for their help during our first date. But, I can’t see how he would be upset with me being a do-gooder. Based on things he’s said, he’s perfectly aware of my bleeding heart or whatever.
“House Elves are remarkable, yes,” I say carefully, keeping my voice neutral.
Tom doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studies me, his gaze sharp enough to cut through skin. I can’t figure out his expression; curiosity and false calm stand in the forefront, but I sense a deep anger, and I have no idea what it’s rooted in.
When he speaks again, his tone is casual, but the words are anything but, “I had an interesting conversation recently with one such creature. You might know him; Dobby, I believe his name is?”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth, the slice of ham slipping off the prongs, and plopping back down onto my plate. The blood drains from my face while I think about Dobby, about the conversation I had with him.
“Funny thing about Dobby,” he continues, triumph dancing in his eyes. “He doesn’t quite understand that mentioning a secret is as good as sharing the information.”
Every muscle, every cell tenses, but I manage to keep my voice casual, “That’s a shame, although Abraxas might find that little tip more useful.”
He smiles widely, but not in the way I’ve become used to. No, this smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “Oh, he’s aware. Just as I am aware of that little secret you shared with Dobby, that fantastical story about him being a hero. Famous, even, in your world.”
My stomach drops, and I set my fork down, feigning calm even as my pulse thunders in my ears, “I tell stories all the time. Dobby seemed like he could use a little pick-me-up. House Elves deserve to feel special too, you know.”
Tom tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle he’s nearly finished solving, “How very noble of you. But, I do find it interesting that you’d choose that story in particular. A story where Dobby plays a pivotal role in toppling powerful dark forces. Quite the imagination you have, I saw it myself. In Dobby’s memories.”
I can’t stop the flicker of panic that flashes in my eyes, and Tom catches it immediately. His expression softens, but only slightly—like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.
“You’re full of secrets, Hope,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “And I’ve been patient. Very patient. But, I’m currently under the impression that you’ve been lying to me. While I might be willing to overlook omission with you, I am not with out right lying, and my patience is officially at the end of it’s rope.”
My silence is deafening, and my mind whirls as it tries to find an escape route out of this conversation. He’s right in front of me, already studying me within an inch of my life. The soft smile on his face could be some lingering affection, or it could be him trying to slither past my defenses.
If I lie now, to his face, there’s a very good chance that Tom Riddle will disappear from my life. Voldemort will likely come out to play, and I don’t know how the Room would do in a fight between him and I. My precarious situation would become even more so, and I’d find myself right back on the battle field that I left in my old world, just a different opponent. On the other hand, telling baby Voldemort about his future…he would be able to fix every mistake he made, probably succeeding in his goal of world domination.
But, the Tom Riddle sitting in front of me has already done things that the one I read about would never. Book Tom would never plan such an adorable first date, asking House Elves to help him, and truthfully answering all of my questions. He wouldn’t stake a claim on a Halfblood, hell Voldemort never got married or had a long term relationship. Both of which he’s already more or less expressed interest in with me involved.
Even if those are solely born from a selfish need for my power, he still is deviating from his path. Maybe…maybe if I tell him the truth, I can convince him to deviate even further. Maybe the future he has planned for us won’t be a pipe dream accepted by a scared, lonely girl who just wants to be safe and loved at the end of the day. When push comes to shove, I’m caught, and I’ve already retired from heroing. This isn’t my fight, but it will be if I lie here, right now.
“Okay, fine,” I sigh, looking down at the table and slumping against my chair. Without much hope for how this conversation will go, my voice is quiet and dejected, “I’ll tell you the truth.”
******************
Hope
“So, let me see if I have understood you correctly,” Tom says, his curly hair in disarray from him running his hands through it so much, and a manic look in his eyes. “In your world, there exists a series of books—and later, films—detailing the lives of people in this one? Including, though not limited to, myself, my followers, Dobby the House Elf, and Albus Dumbledore?”
“Pretty much,” I sigh, chancing another glance up at him.
For the last hour and a half, we’ve been discussing more or less the finer points of the Harry Potter books and movies. I haven’t given away his name, simply said that a prophecy foretold that an infant would be Voldemort’s undoing, and then the actions he takes ensures that fate.
Letting an evil genius know that I’m fully aware of the various murders and sins he has and will commit isn’t smart, but based on the look on his face, it might have been necessary. Watching someone’s dream die isn’t exactly heart lifting, but watching Tom grapple with the idea of losing—especially after splitting his soul so many times—I feel a small seed of hope taking root in my chest.
“And I,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on a distant point, “was the villain that Dobby helped to thwart, who reveled in senseless death and rape, allowed a werewolf free reign to infect whomever he wished, who ultimately failed—twice?”
Whether he sees my nod, I’m not sure. Tom’s gaze is far away, his mind whirling with everything I’ve told him. Waiting for him to come to terms with what I know is difficult, but having him in front of me helps my burning curiosity. It would be worse if I left him to sort this out on his own, unable to see just how far his foundation has been shattered.
“I don’t understand, I would never do a significant portion of what you’ve told me. Especially to Abraxas’ grandson, why would I believe an underage wizard could kill Dumbledore?” he finally looks at me, his eyes pleading.
After a deep breath, I maintain eye contact while telling him, “I think you were slowly driven mad by dark magic. Whether from practicing so much of it or from splitting your soul too many times, I’m not sure. Maybe both? What I do know, is that after graduating, book-you spent a time collecting dark artifacts by being a shop boy, before you disappeared from society.
“Everyone assumes you were traveling, but regardless, Dumbledore became headmaster while you were away. He…wouldn’t hire you to be the Defense teacher because you looked wrong. Likely felt like a danger as well, from my experience, literally raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Dark magic fundamentally changed you, drove you mad, and when you were brought back to life, only that piece of your soul was revived. Without being anywhere close to whole, your appearance…was only loosely human.”
My words only trouble him further, and I watch the blood drain from his face, “Could I…will you show me?”
His voice is barely a whisper, and after I nod, a shaking hand lifts his wand. Remembering the movies, the part where Voldemort is reborn in the graveyard, certain clips of the final battle at Hogwarts, and his fight with Dumbledore in the Ministry of Magic, I put a firm vault around the rest of my memories. He doesn’t even attempt past the barrier, seemingly satisfied with what’s available.
I’ve been very careful to keep the Golden Trio anonymous, Snape’s deception, and anything that is truly pertinent to the success of the Order. This time, I told Tom that I would hide the information I see fit from this story, and his anger slowly faded as my explanation progressed. Now, his eyes are closed as he watches, but I can see the blatant horror on his face.
When he leaves my head, Tom looks nearly as pale as the ghastly Voldemort from the movies, “That…that is my future,” he whispers hoarsely, “if I persist as I am now? If I continue as I have always intended?”
The entire time that I’ve known Tom Riddle, he’s always been some form of the same person to me: a dark lord in a fledgling reign, an evil genius who enjoys pain, or a cunning playboy intent on using his charms how I might use chopsticks. But, right now? In front of me sits a boy breaking under the realization that reaching for his goals, the way he has insisted on doing so, will inevitably result in his down fall.
After a moment’s hesitation, I reach across the table and grip his icy hand, “If you continue using dark magic recklessly, then yes. You’ll be consumed, just like Josie was. But, if you adjust your course, realize how far is too far, then maybe you can still get what you want. It just can’t look anything like…that.”
Tom’s nod is distant and his fingers don’t tighten around mine. This is it, the defining moment in both our lives, if I’m being honest with myself. Worry tightens my throat like a noose, and without thinking, I stand from my seat. He doesn’t look at me, I doubt he even realizes that I’m moving. Until I force his chair back from the table, sitting in his lap saddle side, and grabbing both sides of his cheeks until his wide eyes lock onto mine.
“Be honest with me now, even if you haven’t before,” I demand, my voice firm, searching him for any signs of deception. “Do you genuinely want a future with me, regardless of your ability to adopt my powers?”
The shock in his eyes at my forwardness turns to confused determination. His hands end up on my hips, his grip tight, “Of course, Hope. I wasn’t lying then, and I’m not lying to you now. I want you by my side.”
“Well, I will not be with someone who wants the world to literally burn,” I tell him seriously, keeping his face level with mine. “I will not take part in the future I read about. Keeping me around and keeping your mind sound require the same thing; tempering your darkest impulses.”
Tom searches my eyes right back, and I swallow heavily before he asks, “If I do, if I change myself and my plans, will you be with me? Truly?”
I rear back like I’ve been slapped, my hands falling from his face as my eyes widen in shock. He grabs one of my hands, bringing it back up to cup his cheek as he continues, “I want a different future. A future with you, Hope. I want to get to know you more, to learn everything about you, the magic can come later. But, I need some assurance that I’m not walking down a path with a built in dead end.”
A give and a take, he’s offering me something resembling a compromise, his future for mine. My hesitation isn’t because I’m not interested in what he’s proposing. But, being in an outward relationship, in this time, at this age, Tom might as well be slipping a promise ring on my finger. This could all be a long ploy, but the lie is so obvious even in my head. I believe Tom, that he wants a future with me. The issue is what that future will look like, and trusting that it even is a possibility.
“Only if you swear to share your plans with me,” I whisper breathlessly. “I need to know that I’m not walking into a carefully laid trap.”
He sighs, but nods all the same, “I suppose after what I just saw and what you’ve told me, I can’t fault you for that. It will take time for me to…adjust my plans to this new information, however I swear on my magic that I will share when I have.”
“I can work with that,” I tell him, surprised he agreed so easily.
He drops my hand in favor of cradling my face with both of his, his minty breath sweeping over my turned up face, “The plan has always been to bring you in on my plans once you finally realize that our futures are intertwined.
“We can go at your pace, but no matter how my other goals for the future change, marrying you will not. After this conversation, I’m not sure of a lot. However, I am sure that my future will be brighter with you by my side.”
My throat is tight when I reply, my head already shaking and hands resting against his chest, “I can’t change you, Tom. Not without prep time, and it would genuinely shock me if you don’t lose your powers. Sure, you’d gain a couple, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the same. My Uncle Cole, he never truly got over losing his magic after he transitioned, and it destroyed him for a long time.”
“I wouldn’t lose my magic if you Soul Bond with me,” he huskily whispers, reluctance and hope warring in his gaze. “I’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let me. But, I’m not dumb enough to ask for that now. Just know, that if you Soul Bond with me, I vow on everything I hold dear that I would gladly spend eternity with you, using the powers I gain to make you happy.”
My eyes widen and my heart hurts with longing. Someone who would tie themself to me, someone who actually understands what that means, and I find myself so tempted. It’s a bad idea. A disastrous idea; we’ve barely dated, and our contact has been spotty at best for the what, five months that I’ve known him? The fact that my heart is reaching for this future isn’t a good sign, but despite coming from a thousand year old family, I’m still a twenty first century girl.
“We hardly know each other, Tom. Not to mention that we would have to do that before my birthday,” I say with a pointed look. “There isn’t enough time, and you would have to agree to being seventeen for the rest of your life. Oh my gosh, you’d also have undo both of your Horcruxes!”
I practically shout the last part, my breathing heavy as the various reasonable arguments tumble out of my mouth. Now, I’m gripping his shirt tightly, and he just gives me a look as if thinking ‘aww she’s so adorable when she’s like this.’ Tom might as well have booped me on the nose, I’m looking at him like he’s insane when he calmly responds.
Still lightly holding my heating cheeks, “In this world, it’s incredibly common to know people far less than we do. Technically, you know more about me than anyone here, as I imagine I am the same?”
My frown and nod of assent only prompts him further, “That cannot be discounted. The rest is simply semantics, Darling. I’ll be of age in the wizarding world—as will you if we time it right—and looking youthful forever is seen as a blessing to most people. Getting married before your summer birthday is a non-issue, being the same age as you for eternity would be the ideal situation, and—assuming an ingredient to your flavor of immortality is death—I can spend the Spring absorbing my Horcruxes.”
Mouth slightly agape, I nod while staring into his eyes with confusion. For a brief time, I simply wonder why I ended up in this world—in this country. If I entered this world in America, where I came in from, that would make more sense. Except Rebekah said something cryptic about Freya making sure I end up in the ‘best possible location,’ and this is the culmination of that very location.
Somehow, I’ve pretty much been proposed to by who I remember as he who will not be named, and thanks to being genetically disposed to a terrible taste in partners—I’m probably going to go through with it. Chewing on my lip, I really let myself wonder what an actual future with this boy might be like.
Tom would likely get a job working for the Ministry, maybe as an Auror to start or something with a straight shot towards Minister. Between both of us working, we could use all our vacation time traveling the world. Being vampires, we’d never get sick, although I’d likely have to spend some time training Tom.
If the Soul Bond Ceremony I read about is used, then his power will be added to mine, but he’ll have access to the lot of it as well. No matter his current magical might, one successful disarming spell drastically changes the stakes in a fight. In theory, we would need to get married before transitioning, but after the full moon. Lest Tom go through…all that. Having some big event doesn’t interest me, it’s not like I have family to invite. Neither does he for that matter when I think about it.
“Yes, you have to die to begin the transition. If we go through the ceremony, we’d likely die within hours of each other anyways,” I sigh, relaxing back into him slightly.
His thumbs start soothingly stroking my cheeks, “You don’t have to go through that alone, we can do it together.”
“If, and that’s a big if, I agree to this, we’ll have to discuss it thoroughly,” I tell him firmly, even if I’m getting tired. This has been a nerve wracking day and I’m starting to feel it, “There’s so much you don’t know, so much you’d have to prepare for. That’s only the beginning, I don’t know how you’d manage through your last year of schooling.”
Letting go of my face, I end up slumped against Tom’s chest, and he pulls me into a tight hug, “Hope, you don’t have to put everything on your shoulders. Besides telling me the pertinent information, you can let me handle everything else. Let me take care of you, focus on living your quiet life. When you’re ready, I can show you just how beneficial giving up control can be.”
*******************
December 31st, 1943
Hope
Practically running on the snowy path, I trek back up to Hogwarts, my breath puffing out in front of me. The sun is already setting and Tom and I agreed to meet at dusk; I have to hurry. The last week has been weirdly relaxing, Tom and I have found ourselves in a strange routine. Each morning, he waits outside of Ravenclaw Tower to walk me to breakfast, where he makes my plate for me. Being the holidays, the four House tables have been taken out in favor of one long, horizontal table. By now, the other occupants have become accustomed to seeing us together, but I still wrote to my friends and Dumbledore just to be safe.
Breakfast is followed by a walk around the castle, usually having us end up in the library. Sometimes we research peaceful ways to die, other times we read simply for pleasure. Lunch comes and goes, and I always insist on hanging out with the elves. Deek and Dopney will take a tea break with us after finishing cleaning up, and we chat about anything and everything. I was surprised when Tom so readily entered into conversation with them, but he always treats the elves with the utmost kindness and respect.
Dinner is always lovely, and then Tom and I either retire to the Astronomy Tower or the Room of Requirement. Simply depending on our mood that evening. Somehow, after spending nearly all my time with him, I’m still excited to see his stupidly handsome face. Each morning, there’s a ridiculous smile on my face, and every night puts a twinge in my chest when I say good night.
Racing up the steps, I hurry towards my dorm. Like the liar I am, I told him that I was tired, and wanted to nap. He’ll forgive me, lies tend to go over well when they’re a fun surprise. Despite never telling me, I know that today is Tom’s birthday. Just a perk of having grown up liking Harry Potter media a tad too much.
Although, I haven’t mentioned it—yet. After being so wonderful, taking the need for a massive swerve in his endeavors pretty freaking well deserves something special. At least, I think so, the man has been practically waiting on me hand and foot. Other than making most of my plates for me, he carries books in the library, pulls out chairs for me, even has joined me for work outs—insisting on rubbing my feet when we meet again after a subsequent shower.
Not to mention how respectful he’s been. Granted, I haven’t said yes to a relationship with him—‘I need more time,’ is what I told him. Other than some chaste kisses goodbye, plenty of hand holding, and an innocent arm around my shoulders, there have been no more surprise moments of intense passion. He always finds a way to cool down a heated room, and it’s irritating how successful he’s been.
Between my building sexual frustration, the vigilant princess treatment, and genuinely pleasant company—I’m going insane. So, I’m giving in. Fuck it, you know? I came here to be happy, and even if I regret it later, I am happy when he’s around.
No matter how insane that is, I can’t deny it anymore. Turning the last corner, I’m met with Tom Riddle’s back, and my heart gallops with excitement. Racing towards him, I only make it a couple steps before he hears my approach, turning around with a confused expression. Feeling bold, I leap at him, throwing my arms around his broad shoulders.
Tom catches me, swinging me in a couple circles while chuckling in amusement, “Well, hello there.”
Once he sets me down, I give him a brilliant smile, my hands resting on his chest as I lean in to whisper, “Happy birthday, Tom.”
The look of shock on his face only lasts a moment, then he starts shaking his head, “Of course you would know when my birthday is. Am I correct in the assumption that no one here told you?”
My nod of assent prompts him to continue in a conspiratorial whisper, “I would greatly appreciate if you kept this information very private. This day…is not one with pleasant memories.”
My smile turns bittersweet, and I grab his hand before pulling him along with me. My buzzing restlessness is apparent to him, and by the time we’ve reached the stairs, worry enters his eyes. Moving to the seventh floor eases the worst of the suspicious looks I get, but the already present door seems to a raise a concern or two.
“Hope…,” he starts, looking between me and the door. “Who is on the other side of that door?”
Rolling my eyes, I pull him forward, and soothingly tell him, “Not a single soul, I promise.”
That settles him, and he all but yanks me away from the door when I try to touch the handle, “I think not!”
My laughter echoes in the room as he usher’s me inside, the seemingly endless space taking his breath away. Once the door closes, I don’t bother to worry over the volume of my voice, “You nearly always chose the Astronomy Tower to spend time in, I figured something similar would be a good place for a small celebration. If you’re up for it, that is?”
I end up with my hands folded behind my back, worrying my lip while I stand in front of a picnic on a plush platform illuminated by a few spelled candles. The room I summoned uses a trick of mirrors, but looks like a vast field of grass in the height of spring, flowers from Mystic Falls surrounding us. The false sky, however, is the true gem.
Supplying the room with every celestial event I’ve been lucky enough to witness, the room has incorporated multiple of them into the endless cosmos of stars and galaxies. Staying still while he takes everything in is more difficult than fighting a leprechaun, but I manage through the seconds that feel like hours.
“This is…” he starts, trailing off with a look of wonder on his face.
Without finishing the sentence, he eliminates any distance between us, pulling me up into a passionate kiss. He devours my squeal of surprise, and then I’m kissing him back. After slowly running the tip of his tongue against the seam of my mouth, I open for him, moaning at the first real taste of him in weeks. Teeth nip and tongues dance, but he pulls back before anything can go further.
Both breathing heavily, I smile up at him confidently, “This isn’t all, if I’m being honest.”
One eyebrow raises, and I pull out of his grasp momentarily. Only long enough to grab the wrapped present out from my cloak pocket before taking the thing off. It’s a comfortable temperature, the room could almost be considered warm to a human given we’re living in the height of winter.
Handing him the package, it’s pretty clear that a book resides inside almost immediately. Which results in a smile, like I knew it would, and he rips into it. The smell of the black leather binding fills the air, and he runs his hand over the back cover. When he flips it over, completely ridding it of the wrapping, he drops the paper in shock.
“You don’t have to keep a name you don’t want,” I tell him softly, shifting shyly on my feet. “This can mean something else, it doesn’t have to be the way I remember.”
Staring at the front cover in something between surprise and awe, I think Tom looks actually…touched. Etched in emerald green, bold print is the name ‘Voldemort,’ proudly displayed on the front of the journal. When he finally looks at me again, I might mistake his expression for passion.
“I haven’t been gifted many things,” he tells me softly, taking me back into his arms with the journal cradled against my back. “however this is the best of the lot. Including our setting; I’m not easily impressed, yet you keep amazing me.”
Blushing, I let out a sigh of relief. For a moment there, I was worried his silence was a bad sign, just insecurity trying to get in the way of a good time. But the glint in Tom’s eye, that’s new.
“Can I show you what I packed?” I ask, not able to hide my excitement any longer.
After rolling his eyes, he nods followed by me pulling him onto the large cushion. It’s blue felt, at least 10 x 15 feet, that the room conjured at my request. Being about five inches thick and made of firm, memory foam material, movement shouldn’t disturb the food or candles too much. Just to be safe, I spelled a sticking charm onto the bottoms of the candle holders before placing them mainly in one corner. The wicker basket isn’t large, but the inside is spelled like Mary Poppin’s bag. Kneeling next to it, I start pulling out all the foods that I’ve noticed he always picks for himself, plus a few additions from my world.
“Hmmmm,” I say as I pause my movements, turning up to ask the room. “Could you please give us a table to put some of the food on? The same height as this…ottoman?”
Immediately, a dark wooden block the size of a moderate dinner table appears near the candle corner. Adjusting where I sit, I start spreading the dishes out for him to peruse. Everything is in small portions, like tapas, so there’s less waste. What with the mini Shepard’s pie, vegetable stew, fish and chips, and Hogwart’s famous pudding. The elves were kind enough to supply me with those dishes, plus the ingredients for me to whip together butter rosemary steaks, some Jambalaya, Beignets, and a hearty helping of Bananas Foster. Having grown up in various states of house arrest, I became comfortable in a kitchen a long time ago.
“Truth be told, I did tell the House Elves that we’d be celebrating. I didn’t share the specifics, and when I gave them the extra food, they didn’t ask a lot of questions,” I tell him with a little chuckle, pulling plates, silverware, bowls, and a bottle of wine out.
The wine goblets are last, but I do stick my head in the basket to make sure I got everything. Once I’m satisfied, I turn back to Tom and find him pouring us each a glass with a brilliant grin stretched across his face. That twinkle is still in his eyes, and my heart flutters in my chest.
“I believe I can live with that,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to him. “However, I feel I need to ask, where did all this come from?”
Leaning into his side, I accept a sweet peck on the cheek, “It’s your birthday, and you deserve to be celebrated.”
Tom nuzzles my neck, making me giggle like a school girl, “You know that isn’t what I mean, Darling. A simple cake with candles could have gotten the point across. What brought on the feast and lovely scenery?”
“I suppose I haven’t been very subtle,” I say, doing my best not to stiffen with residual nerves. Pulling away enough to look at him, I can’t help the blush as I continue, “Today is your birthday, and where I come from, people in relationships tend to go all out for their partners.”
That makes his eyes widen, his voice somehow becoming even happier, “People in relationships, you say? I don’t remember entering one of those, when did that happen?”
“Oh, stop it,” I tell him with a chuckle, pushing his shoulder playfully. “I know I’ve been…hesitant, but my Aunt’s sent me here to live instead of simply surviving. Being around you, even when I was still keeping complicated secrets, I’m happy. You make me happy, and I’m ready to stop running. I…want to see where this leads.”
Before I know it, Tom has all but tackled me, and my back ends up flat on the cushion, “Are you sure? You must be sure, Hope. Once you’re mine, I don’t think I could let you go.”
His expression is so earnest as he leans over me, one hand cradling my jaw with his weight resting on his other arm. My breath escapes my lungs, and for a moment I’m trapped in his dark gaze. With the starry back drop behind him, Tom looks more like a dream than a man.
“I’m sure, I promise. Whenever you’re ready, I’m already planning on fully explaining my family, and why I came to this world. Preferably not tonight though, we’ll have to use an abandoned classroom so I can use a chalkboard, it gets…complicated,” I admit with a small sigh.
Suddenly, Tom straightens and grabs his wand. My confusion only lasts a moment, then he casts a stasis charm over the food. Once that’s completed, he moves a safe distance away from the dishes, and then grabs my calves. In one swift motion, he both tugs me closer to him and wraps my legs around his middle. My core tightens, and I sit up while grabbing his shoulders, smiling when he plants one on me.
My hands end up in his hair, pulling him even closer against me. Our bodies meld together, his muscles rippling all around me. Even with a leaner build, his strength is apparent in every motion and limb. I open my mouth for him, and then I’m swallowed by his taste and scent, both fogging my mind. A hard length ends up pressed against my stomach, making me gasp, and my hips roll against his on their own.
His moan is like music to my ears, and I start blindly pulling off his robes and shirt. Tom chuckles at my fumbling hands, but I free him of his top layers soon enough. Feeling his expanse of skin, I hum in satisfaction. Then he starts working on my wrap dress, untying the bow at my waist, and slowly pushing it from my shoulders. Pulling away from him, I lift myself up to toss the fabric away, giving him a view of his last present for the evening.
A satin green, lace lingerie slip makes his eyes nearly pop out of his head. Being in the 1940’s, it’s actually a bit mundane compared to what I’ve seen, but Tom doesn’t seem to mind. The skirt of it nearly shows the matching panties I have on underneath, riding up thanks to me straddling the man. His hands slide over the fabric, lightly trailing over my body, and heat spreads from every point he touches.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks quietly, seeming to understand my plans for the evening.
“Yes,” I tell him confidently. “I want to do this, with you. The outfit is your present, the rest is for me though.”
I finish with a wink, and he laughs at my silliness. When he kisses me again, I can feel the smile still plastered on his face. Now, his hands abandon their chaste exploration, and a firm squeeze of my ass makes me moan. This is the most action I’ve gotten in weeks, and I’m starved for his touch.
Our make out becomes more passionate, teeth are added, and soon I’m panting in excitement. I feel my nipples tighten and my core clench in anticipation, only made worse when his fingers slowly trail up my sides, ghosting around the outline of breasts. A whimper escapes me, and only then does he need my heavy flesh. Tom moans into my mouth, enjoying how my breasts are an ample handful for him, and I happily swallow it down.
Once he starts lightly twisting my nipples I can’t take it anymore, pulling away to whisper, “Please, Tom.”
His hands move, one gripping my hip, and the other cradling the back of my head. Without breaking the kiss, he lays me flat on the cushion, being adorably gentle. Lips move to my jaw, my neck, sucking lightly while he pushes the straps of my slip from my shoulders. The further his mouth goes, the further the fabric is removed from my body.
Lacking a bra, Tom wastes no time descending on my uncovered breasts. I can’t help but cry out when he laves at my stiff nipples, making sure that both receive ample attention. Rubbing my thighs together, I’m not surprised to feel wetness gathering there. Once he’s satisfied, Tom continues moving down my body, and soon he completely rids me of the thing, leaving me only in a green, lace thong.
He takes a moment to appreciate my nearly naked form laid out before him, licking his lips with a predatory gleam in his eye. Goosebumps form on my skin, and a shiver runs down my spine, but not from being chilly. No one has ever looked at me like this, like they could easily forego the food I brought and have me as their feast instead.
Moving away from me, Tom kneels on the ground before yanking on my legs, eliciting a surprised sound from me. With my butt nearly off the edge, the man looks very pleased with our arrangement, and quickly takes off and tosses my panties with the rest of our clothes. His hungry gaze meets my bare cunt, and he places a thigh on each of his shoulders.
Trailing kisses up one thigh, I squirm in anticipation as his tongue laves at my sensitive skin. When he presses a wet kiss to the line where my leg meets my pelvis, I let out a shaky breath that turns into an impatient groan as he abandons his path. Switching to my other thigh, he repeats his slow ascend from just above my knee, inching closer to where I so desperately want him.
My fingers thread through his hair, needy sounds coming from me that I don’t recognize, “Tom, I need you.”
My statement elicits a rumbling growl from him, and he finally gives me mercy. With incredible enthusiasm, Tom descends on my cunt, noisily slurping my juices as his tongue explores my folds. A groan sends vibrations across my most sensitive area, and I cry out, trying not to clamp my thighs around his head.
“I missed this,” he murmurs into my flesh. “Your taste, it’s more exquisite than anything I’ve had before. All I can dream about is feasting between your legs, and listening to your sweet cries.”
Then he’s back to it, only this time he focuses his attentions on my clit. My moan is louder than it should be, but I’m far from caring. Sucking the bud into his mouth, his tongue swirls around it in circles, and my legs start to shake. Unable to stop myself, my hips start rocking in time with his tongue, and I grind myself against his face. I’m so high strung after not being touched in so long, and far too quickly I’m dancing on the edge of an explosive orgasm.
“Oh gods, yes, yes, yes,” I chant, giving myself over to his ministrations. “Tom, I—I’m coming!”
My grip tightens in his hair, and my trembling thighs end up squeezing his head, but he doesn’t stop. My back arches from the snap, and my body takes on a mind of its own. Chasing everything he’ll give me, my mind is overwhelmed by so many of my nerves firing at the same time.
The waves of pleasure keep going and going, and I hear my voice echoing throughout the room. Tom only stops when my body collapses against the cushion, my chest rising and falling with heavy pants as I catch my breath. Slowly kissing his way back up my body, I feel his hands smoothing over my limbs, helping me come back to myself. A stupid grin almost makes my cheeks hurt, but I couldn’t help it if I wanted to.
Pulling Tom the rest of the way up, I all but shove my tongue down his throat. Despite how amazing that was, I’m not done. Not by a long shot. Tasting both him and myself is enough to make me feel drunk, my senses engulfed by him. The entire room smells like sex, and I can’t get enough of it. My hands travel down to his pants, undoing the button, but pulling too forcefully at the zipper.
He starts chuckling at the sound of ripped fabric, and I absently tell him, “I’ll fix it later.”
Shaking his head, he gives me an adoring smile before ridding himself of both bottom layers. My eyes widen when I finally see what he’s working with, and a touch of fear is added to my heated my emotions. Granted, I heal quickly, but I’ve only ever been with Landon—once. He wasn’t tiny or anything, but Tom is…large.
Not only that, but he’s long and thick, the red and purple skin making up his dick must span at least ten inches. I’m not entirely sure my fingers would overlap if I wrapped a hand around his length, but my fear quickly transforms into something deeper than anticipation. When I meet his gaze again, I find Tom already watching me, his eyes scorching me with their heat as he unconsciously licks his lips.
Climbing up my body, I wrap my legs around his waist in a move that feels far too natural. “Last chance to back out, Mikaelson,” he playfully tells me while lining himself up with my center.
“If you stop now, I swear I’ll make you bleed,” I try to scold. My voice was supposed to come out threatening, but it sounds like a whine even to me.
A self-satisfied smile overtakes him, and is the most erotic sight I’ve seen as he kneels between my legs. At least until I watch him slowly sliding into me. The thick head breaches my entrance, making me gasp and cry out at the stretch. It isn’t from pain, exactly. But, it feels like a twinge of pain wrapping around a surge of pleasure, somehow heightening the wondrous experience. Tom’s jaw hangs barely open as he slides further into me, staring amorously at where we now connect.
When his gaze snaps to mine, I reach out for him, and he leans into me for another searing kiss. With a snap of his hips, he thrusts the rest of his length into me, and I cry out at the sudden fullness. My iHe waits a few moments for me to adjust, breathing heavily into my neck as a quiet moan escapes from deep in his chest. My nerves cry out for more, my quick healing taking care of the worst of the ache, and leaving only need in it’s wake.
Shifting my hips, I do my best to ride him from this position, and I end up begging him, “Please, more. Please Tom, you feel so good.”
After an open mouthed kiss just under my ear, he starts to slowly slide out of me, only to forcefully thrust back in. We quickly find a rhythm, my hips meeting his every movement. The sounds of skin slapping together mixes with the wet squelches he’s orchestrated from me.
“Fuck, yes, Hope,” he says into my neck. His hands span across my hips and ass, lifting my bottom to reach even deeper, “You take me so well, so warm, so tight. Fuck, you feel so good—driving me mad.”
Tom lifts his head, looking me at me with pupils devouring his eyes. The look of absolute bliss on his face nearly sends me over the edge, but I manage to hold on. My hands travel the expanse of his shoulders, his chest, his back, anything and everything I can reach. His muscles are taut beneath his skin, shifting with each of his movements. When he changes the angle again, I shout in pleasure as he hits a special spot deep inside me. Tom quickens his movements, ensuring that he keeps this new angle, and I clench around him at my quickly heightening pleasure.
After only a handful more thrusts, I pant at him, “I—I’m close, Tom.”
“Come with me, Hope,” he commands, his voice deep and husky. “Let me feel the pleasure only I can give you.”
My eyes widen, but his words send me over the edge. One minute, he’s smiling savagely at my shock, and the next I’m screaming his name with my head thrown back. Tom’s shouts are added to mine, filling the room with an intense concoction of our mutual climaxes. I feel him explode inside of me, the feeling foreign but oddly satisfying.
The sensation makes me clench around him more, and the groan it elicits from him makes my nerves dance as I come down. We’re both breathing heavily, but when our eyes meet again, we both smile brightly. He slowly slides out of me, then tucks me against him, my back pressed tightly to his chest.
“You’re mine now, Hope,” he whispers into my ear before nuzzling my neck. “And I’m never letting you go.”