Chapter 28
January 3rd, 1944
Tom
Patience; something muggles consider to be a virtue. Even as a child, I understood how misguided that particular notion is. The sentiment behind it, however, is a lesson I continuously learn. Crafting plans of world domination means weaving patience into the threads of one’s soul, Wizard society wasn’t built in a day after all.
Apparently, there is one other value that is necessary for creating a successful reign; adaptability. Patience has assisted me well thus far; allowing for a group of followers with vast potential, gaining support and connections in a world I was not raised in, and recently has helped me win the favor of the most spectacular witch in this world—likely others as well. However, that very witch delivered me a glimpse into my future, and my plans do not turn out the way I wish.
Grappling over what I’ve learned has led to late, sleepless nights, visions of myself without a nose or hair while fighting the blurred blob that’s far too small to be a full grown adult. The knowledge that I fail in my current path was nearly as hard to accept as magic itself was when Dumbledore first came to visit me. Being a loveless orphan during a great war means foregoing hope at an early age, fantastical fantasies are pointless in a world where you have to fight for each meal.
Just like then, I simply need to come to terms with what I’ve learned, and figure out a path forward. The first change I will make, the only one I am confident about besides Hope, is bringing Abraxas more into the fold.
Besides being a loyal right hand or the destruction I cause to his family, Hope has mentioned that he is the follower she feels most comfortable with. Rewarding him works on two fronts; allowing him more control of his future and ensuring my future bride has someone, besides me, that she can trust.
The creak of a door pulls me from my thoughts, and the near constant occupant of my mind exists her tower, “Good morning, Tom.”
Looking up, I find Hope wearing her Ravenclaw colored uniform, her hair braided into crown atop her head. A sweet smile lifts her blush filled cheeks, and the affection in her gaze creates a new weakness in my knees. After the return of most of the student body yesterday, we spent our first evening apart in what feels like months. It was confirmation that I actually miss her when she’s away, a feeling that is becoming slightly less foreign as time goes on.
“Good morning, Darling,” I tell her with a matching smile, offering her my arm. “Are you prepared?”
Rolling her eyes, Hope places her hand in the crook of my elbow, lightly bumping me with her hip as we start walking, “Everyone important already knows about us. As long as no one throws hexes my way, I think I’ll make it.”
“If anyone dares to, I’ll teach them the error of their ways,” I tell her with a sweet smile while pulling her closer to my side. “However, I know how much you dislike attention. Informing the rest of the school of our status will likely lead to ample whispers, if not more.”
Her expression softens and a genuine smile stretches her lips, “I appreciate the worry, but I’ll be alright. News will spread eventually anyway, and I can handle myself. This won’t be the first time I’ve been subjected to the gossip mill, somehow I doubt it will be the last.”
Patting her hand, I lean over to kiss her forehead. I’m more than aware that Hope is capable when it comes to defending herself, however my girlfriend should not have to. Even if watching her decimate her opponent would be as attractive as the lingerie she wore for my birthday. No, I’ll have to preemptively sick my men on any problems, after all why have them if they can’t protect one witch?
Entering the Great Hall, the tables are all very full and the pleasant buzz of conversation fills the space. The ceiling is cloudy with flecks of snow falling before disappearing just a few feet above my head. Overall, it seems like people are happy to be back, which is a good thing. I have made my way around the school, and witches have seemed to come to terms with my extreme lack of interest in commitment. Now that things have changed, I have no idea what the reaction will be.
Stopping at the end of the Ravenclaw table, I release her hand from my arm. Folding her into my arms, I hug her firmly, and place a tender kiss on the top of her head. With one hand still holding her waist, I pull away enough to cradle her jaw in the other, and she leans into my touch with a blush spreading down her neck.
Leaning towards her, I whisper, “Remember to tell me if anyone gives you any trouble, and have a lovely day. Are we still on to meet at the room after dinner?”
“Yes, and I will,” she responds slightly breathlessly. “Will you be okay? I know some of your housemates have become rather…invested in me.”
The concern that enters her expression warms my cold heart, and I have to fight the urge to pull her into a passionate kiss, “You have nothing to fret about, the others know better than to challenge me.”
With that, I leave her to join her friends, and casually take stock of our audience. The whispers momentarily quieted, but are now back in full swing. Disbelief is written on so many faces, and I don’t miss the anger that simmers below the surface for some. Whether from witches I’ve refused to date seriously or wizards who wanted to stake a claim on Hope, about half the room seems relatively displeased with our public display.
“You weren’t kidding,” Abraxas laughs when I sit next to him. “You two seem quite cozy together.”
My laughter is genuine, but comes to a halt when a Black enters the scene, “When did you and Mikaelson become so well acquainted?”
Walburga Black plops down next to me in a rather undignified manner, huffing with her barely concealed rage when I firmly tell her, “After the stunt you pulled, neither Hope nor I are any of your business. I’m sure I do not need to remind you of the consequences if you try something else.”
My pointed look does take some of the bite out of her glare, but Walburga is still looking awfully displeased with me. Looking around the table, I notice most of the witches in my house paying close attention to our conversation. Naturally, none of them are outwardly staring, Slytherins are far more subtle than that. However, the heads tilted for listening and quick glances are easy to catch by now.
“What happened to being too busy to settle with any witch?” Walburga asks with enough venom to rival even the most dangerous of snakes.
From a few seats over, Crabbe starts chuckling before adding in, “Yes Tom, do tell. I seem to recall you waxing poetic about how relationships are a waste of your valuable time.”
A few of the nearby wizards snicker, though there’s an undeniable edge of tension beneath the amusement. Many glance over at the Ravenclaw table, likely sneaking peaks at my woman. The witches, meanwhile, look more like a pride of lions eyeing a wounded gazelle that’s being ripped apart by a fox.
The irony doesn’t evade me, the very witches that are now upset are the same that judged me heavily during my first year here. Being in a House full of rich, entitled children, I couldn’t hide the muggle orphanage I came from for long. Between growing into my superior powers and inheriting a handsomeness that exceeds any of my aristocratic peers, people stopped caring about my blood status.
Having Gaunt blood also helps, but even so, the way the witches in this school see me is odd on a good day. When they became so attached to me, I have no idea, its not like any of their parents would approve of a Halfblood. I suppose that as long as I was a free agent, the collective female population saw me as ‘shareable.’ Now that I’m spoken for, I guess they feel jilted.
I meet Walburga’s glare with a mild, patronizing expression, “Circumstances change. You of all people should understand the necessity of adaptability.”
Walburga’s eyes narrow as she scoffs, “Adaptability? That’s a rather sophisticated way of saying you’ve been led by the nose, or should I say cock.”
Several of the witches around us nod in agreement, some feigning polite disinterest while clearly awaiting my response. On the other hand, those sworn to follow me start to seem worried. I chuckle darkly, my ire for the witch speaking hitting a pinnacle.
“Led by the nose?” I repeat, letting the words roll off my tongue like they amuse me. “I think you mistake control for strategy, Walburga. If I were merely following, I would be sitting at the Ravenclaw table like an obedient pup. Perhaps I’d spend my time waiting for any scrap of attention she might throw my way. Although, who could ever admit to being so…pathetic?”
Walburga blushes fiercely, and I can practically see steam coming out her ears. Cygnus Black saves his younger sister from embarrassing herself further, “You must admit this is rather out of character for you—the school is shocked. You’re hardly known for making declarations of affection.”
“I don’t bother with declarations,” I reply smoothly. “I make claims.”
Walburga sneers, but she’s far too intelligent to miss the implication in my words. Hope isn’t just a passing infatuation. She’s a stake. An investment. Someone suitable for me, who I can spend my life with.
A particularly bold sixth-year witch, Genevieve Rosier, cocks her head and crosses her arms. I have no history with her, so why she cares is beyond me, “And what exactly makes her so special?”
There it is. The question simmering beneath every envious glare in the room. With a clipped sigh, I tilt my head, regarding her as one might a dull child, “Tell me, Rosier, do you think it wise to question my preferences?”
She swallows, and while she doesn’t cower, she wisely holds her tongue. In a weird way, I expected to receive the third degree from wizards, will still likely hear something from a Gryffindor or bold Ravenclaw. However, the witches are a surprise. I suppose it’s better they share their grievances with me rather than Hope. Walburga, for instance, seems intent on pressing her friend’s issue.
“It’s not just about preference, though, is it?” she muses, her expression sharp, smile cutting. “Everyone knows the real reason half the school wants her—power. I suppose even the infallible Tom Riddle can be blindly led to action by the promise of magical heirs.”
Giving her a bemused expression, I roll my eyes, “Only an imbecile would believe that Hope Mikaelson is only as good as the fruits of her womb. Someone who believes such a thing has no business coming anywhere close to her. Yes, power is quite the commodity, yet, there is a difference between wanting something and actually being worthy of it.”
She scoffs, clearly unimpressed, but she knows better than to keep pushing. “Just don’t expect me to be here waiting when she leaves you behind. You may have claimed her, but you’re not the only one playing a long game.”
“Of course not Walburga, I would never expect you to wait for me. You’re engaged to your cousin,” I tell her with a pleasant smile.
Every inch of visible skin above her collarbone turns a bright red, and then she pushes away from the table, leaving with an angry harrumph. A couple witches trail after her, while the others finally decide their attentions are better spent elsewhere. Though not directed at me, I do see plenty of scowls and frowns from the boys around the table as well.
“Strong words from someone in a budding relationship,” Abraxas says as he leans back in his chair, smirking in amusement. “You do realize half the school wants your head on a platter now?”
I pick up my goblet, taking a casual sip. “Then they’d better start training, I’m not easily led astray.”
*******
Hope
“That will be all for today, ensure your essays are at a minimum a foot of parchment. They are due two weeks from today,” Professor Cadwallader announces.
With a relieved sigh, I start packing up my Charms book and notes, thankful to be done with my first class of the semester. Neither Mary or Anthony were shocked to find that Riddle and I ended up together over the break, telling me that I was one of the last people to know about my apparent feelings. Even Amanda and Taylor shouted ‘finally!’ when I shared the news with them last night.
Unfortunately, the rest of the school was not so aware of the romantic dealings in my life. Once Tom left me at the Ravenclaw table, I turned to find nearly every eye in the room on me. Then the frantic whispers started, pointing, and dirty looks from various girls. I managed to distract myself with listening to Anthony detail his visit with Taylor over the break and Mary complaining about her family’s antics. The food also helped, even if it wasn’t waffle day.
Realizing that Mary is busy talking to our Professor, I make eye contact with Anthony before tilting my head towards the door. His nod of assent gets me moving, Mary usually takes forever when asking a teacher for clarification, something we are loathe to wait for her through.
On my way to the door, my feet suddenly stick together, sending me toppling to the floor. My shout of surprise is cut off by the impact with the floor, my bag falling off to the side. Then I growl in frustration, twisting to sit before breaking the sticking charm placed on my shoes.
“Oh my, you should really be more careful,” Ethel Wildsmith lilts from above me, twirling her blue tie around a finger.
She’s about four inches taller than me, with long brown hair, and hazel eyes. Usually, my interactions with her are limited to when she asks around for more parchment or an extra quill. But she’s been glaring daggers at me all morning, if anything I’m happy she finally did something. Having an evil eye on me all day isn’t exactly what I would call ‘fun.’
“Piss off, Wildsmith,” Anthony sneers as he moves to my side.
Offering me a hand, he pulls me to my feet while quietly asking if I’m alright. Before I can answer, Ethel interrupts, “Did you juggle boys this well in your old world as well? Surely they miss you, there’s always the option to go back where you came from.”
Despite her pleasant tone, there’s ice in her gaze. Brushing off my robes, I give her a sunny smile, “If I wanted to hear the useless thoughts swirling around in your head, I’d ask or use Legilimency. Since we are housemates, I’ll allow you that one. The next time you try something? I’ll show you exactly why I’m demolishing you in every subject, starting with Defense.”
Ethel blanches, and I let out a playful giggle, waving my fingers at her while turning back to Anthony, “Ready for Transfiguration?”
“Yeah,” he tells me with a shit eating grin, handing me my bag. Then he waggles his fingers at Ethel as well, a clear tribute to my threat.
Exiting the classroom, I roll my shoulders in an effort to calm down. Any bruises or scratches I would have received from the fall would be gone by now, if only my anger passed as quickly as pain. Letting her off easy goes against my nature, but realistically I can’t fight every girl that tries to put me down. Her jealousy is nothing but an irritation, and I shouldn’t let it get to me.
“I love how mean you can be,” Anthony tells me after a few hallways, still smiling brightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that you tend more towards calm and civility. However, when it counts, you always come through.”
Snorting at his statement, I tell him, “Thanks, I guess. I’m just happy Mary was busy talking to Cadwallader, otherwise she wouldn’t have let Ethel off with a warning.”
“Speaking of which, why did you? I know you’re more than capable of kicking anyone in this school’s ass, me included. So why let her off easy?” His questions are valid, but relatively difficult to answer.
After chewing on my words for a moment, I admit, “I have anger issues on both sides of my family. When I have to see someone everyday, especially when they have access to me in my sleep, I try not to rock the boat too hard.”
Anthony shrugs, throwing a casual arm around my shoulders, “Well, I would have never guessed. Day one I realized your manners are shite, but you do a marvelous job of reigning in any anger issues, as you said.”
Heartily laughing at his jab, I playfully elbow him in the side, “How haven’t you mastered the art of the back handed compliment quite yet? Aren’t you supposed to be a Pureblood?”
“Hey, if we’re supposed to act like our stereotypes then shouldn’t you be dimwitted and ugly?” he says with a fairly pointed look, only barely holding in his own laughter. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still daft half the time. But, your grades are spectacular.”
With a sharp gasp, I feign indignation, “I am the furthest thing from daft—how dare you, good Sir!”
Anthony gives me a rather dubious look, “You were so distracted when telling us about your first time last night that you almost put salt on your apple tart. Which, mind you, was with the very boy whom you’ve claimed to strongly dislike for months prior.”
I simply glare at him and stick out my tongue, unable to deny either accusation. The entire time I’m fighting a smile, at least until someone stops directly in front of our path. Our stationary road block is grinning sweetly at me, dark brown eyes looking me up and down, prompting Anthony to pull me a little closer to him.
“Mikaelson, might I have a word?” Cygnus Black asks, tilting his head toward a nearby courtyard.
“Not alone,” I tell him simply, glancing at Anthony to ensure he’s good to stand as witness before looking back at my most recent problem. “You’ll have to be alright with my friend, here, tagging along.”
My present disdain for Mr. Black did make me a little southern there, but I doubt either of them catch it—being Pureblood wizards from England. Thankfully, with a casual shrug, Black starts leading the way to the snow covered court yard. Anthony and I share a look of dread filled curiosity, and I cast a warming charm over the two of us when we step out of the relative safety of the castle. Only stopping when in the very center, Black tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his outer robes fluttering in the wind at his sides.
“I wanted to express my happiness in your romance,” he tells me with what I know he considers to be a charming expression.
I don’t bother to hide to my skepticism, simply saying, “Thanks.”
There’s a beat of silence before he continues, “If there’s ever anything you would like to know about your dear, significant other, I would be more than happy to share. I’m sure that I have many stories that would make you…quite curious about my old friend.”
Ah, there it is. Ignoring Anthony’s utter confusion at what in the world that means, I nod in understanding to Cygnus. This dunce thinks that I don’t know who Tom Riddle is, not really. If that hadn’t been most of the problem thus far, that might have been a good tactic. However, I’ve crossed that bridge, I love too many complicated people with questionable actions to truly judge his past. Knowing what his future could be, I can only assume something similar, if not a prelude, was going on in Hogwart’s walls.
“I know more than you do,” I tell him simply, with a casual shrug. “However, I’m not as loose lipped as you seem to be. Don’t go out of your way to help me now, when I actually could have used some help when your other friend attacked me.”
He regards me with a bemused expression, completely unaffected by my words, “If I had stepped in, then I would not have had the pleasure of watching you defend yourself so thoroughly. I’ve replayed that scene many times in my mind, each time it gets better.”
Taking a step closer to me and an opened mouthed Anthony, Black continues, “Not to mention, if you are upset about that, then surely you do not know everything about Riddle. Being around him for six years would allow me some insight into him that a lady from another world could not possibly have learned in such short a time.”
This time I snort, “You’re assuming a lot of things there, and I’ll let you know something very important.”
Taking a step away from Anthony, I move closer to Cygnus on my own sporting an evil smile. Once I’m only a step away from him, I ensure to clearly articulate, “If you think what Riddle’s done is scary, then you would piss yourself after seeing some of my memories. Are you under the impression that I’m some demure, simpering girl? I wouldn’t suggest learning the same, painful lesson as Dolohov—but far be it from me to ever deny you such a pleasure.”
The smile is successfully whipped from his face, and Black assesses me truly for the first time. Not like I’m someone he wants to pump full of magical babies, but as a genuine, possible threat. I grin, making sure to shine all of my naturally, fairly sharp teeth—just a small perk of the werewolf gene. When he’s silent for a moment, I turn back to my friend and close the distance between us.
Offering him my arm, like a proper gentleman, I ask, “Shall we, good Sir?”
Delicately placing his hand in the crook of my elbow, despite being a little breathless from confusion, Anthony responds with in a voice raised a couple octaves, “Indeed we shall, good Madam.”
Nearly marching, we walk in sync back to the interior of the castle, and I let the warming charm drop after we’re safely inside. Most of the students have found their ways to their respective classrooms, only a few straggling groups still roam the halls.
Anthony pulls me close and whispers, “What the bloody hell was all that about?”
My mouth pulls into a frown, and I deliberate for a moment. People like Mary and Anthony…they’d hear me out if I told them about myself. Knowing who they are, I would like them to be around for the long term. The real reason I’ve been hiding so many things about myself lately is for fear of Tom finding out, but he’s managed to wrangle nearly everything out of me. Trusting them won’t be hard, but telling two Ravenclaws my back story…we’ll have to do it in increments, that way I can answer all of their questions.
For now, I pull Anthony into the closest alcove, aware that we don’t have a lot of time left before class starts. Facing him head on, I smile reassuringly, “I promise I’m going to start telling you and Mary more about me, I’m sorry that I’ve been so secretive. You might not believe me right now, and we don’t have time for me to prove anything at the moment…In my world, there is a book series that details events that happen in this one. There wasn’t a plan to send me somewhere familiar, it was a complete shock when I ended up in Dumbledore’s front yard. He was a very important character in the series, and only believed me when I showed him some of my memories.”
Anthony stares at me dumbfounded for a few seconds, his mind working in overtime to take in everything I’ve said. His hands end up raking through his shaggy, brown hair with his green eyes practically glowing in the dim light.
“Alright, I believe you,” he tells me eventually, looking at me with utter befuddlement. “However, I do not understand how that has anything to with what Cygnus Black was on about. Is Riddle dangerous? Are you okay? Did we push you into dating a crazy person?”
Unable to help myself, I start laughing. Only my friend could hear such a wild tale come out of my mouth, only to worry about my safety. It warms my heart, even if it would have been more helpful months ago.
Once I’ve caught my breath, I place a hand on Anthony’s shoulder while he somewhat glares at me, “I can’t tell you everything right now, but Tom was also a character in the series. For now, just know that I am fully aware of who he is, and he is taking actions to change his future. Granted, there was ample reason why I was so hesitant to begin anything with him, but we’ve moved past that.”
He still doesn’t look thrilled about anything I’ve said, but Anthony nods nonetheless. After a heavy sigh, he offers me an arm, and then we finish our trek to class. Thankfully, Dumbledore is still sorting through papers when we arrive, the rest of the class already seated and waiting for the lesson to begin. Only two seats, situated far away from each other, are still vacant. Once we are seated, Anthony turns to me and mouths, ‘later,’ before Dumbledore calls the class to attention.
The old man is cheery and excited to be back in the country, having only arrived late last night. We did send a couple letters over the last weeks, but neither of us were particularly forth coming with information. Either way, class passes pleasantly as we all learn the theory behind changing a bowling ball into a balloon. Taking diligent notes is second nature to me, and by the end of the lesson, I’m more than comfortable with the information covered. When Dumbledore dismisses us, I notice Anthony whip his head towards me, sporting a pointed look.
I’m about to nod, acknowledging that we can continue chatting about everything, except a voice cuts through the noise of the room, “Ms. Mikaelson, I’d like a word if you please.”
Following the voice, I find Dumbledore smiling fondly at me. I should have realized he would want to sit down with me, and I send Anthony an apologetic expression on my way to the front of the classroom. Still sorting through the various papers and lesson plans on his desk, Dumbledore waits while students file out of the classroom.
“Mr. Potts, I do plan on keeping Ms. Mikaelson for some time,” his jovial tone firm as he looks at my friend waiting behind. “Perhaps after lunch you may take your turn with my lovely niece.”
Turning to Anthony, I give him a little smile while he lifts an eyebrow for a moment. Telling my friends that Dumbledore wants to treat me like a niece was one thing, but this is the first time I’ve heard him announce our new relationship status. Recovering after a moment, Anthony says his farewells before departing, leaving Dumbledore and I alone.
Picking up a pile from his desk, Dumbledore asks me to follow him. Leaving the room, we walk in comfortable silence as he leads me towards his office. It’s just as it always is, and I take my seat at his table while he prepares tea for the two of us. Within a few minutes, there’s a steaming cup of Assam tea in front of me with a splash of milk and two sugars.
Without coffee readily available, my faux Uncle managed to find a tea strong enough for my palate; thank the Heavens for Indian people. Lifting his own cup, Dumbledore takes a slow sip, his sharp blue eyes twinkling over the rim. The familiar scent of lemon and honey drifts between us, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, his drink of choice is something deceptively mild—pleasant on the surface, but layered with depth beneath.
Setting his cup down, he finally speaks, “You’re settling back in well, I trust?”
I take a sip of my own tea, savoring the warmth before responding, “As well as I can, considering the whispers that are following me again.”
“Hogwarts, though grand, can at times be stifling,” he tells me while lazily stirring his tea. “Might this issue stem from the new understanding you and Mr. Riddle may have come to?”
The warmth of the tea does little to keep my stomach from twisting. I should have expected him to get right to the knitty gritty, “If you mean that we’re officially together, then yes.”
“Fascinating. Love, my dear Hope, is among the most unpredictable forces in the universe. Even the most astute minds have trouble grasping its depth. I do wonder…” He pauses, swirling his tea absently as his lips curve ever so slightly. “Would you say that Mr. Riddle has changed?”
After a sigh, I cross my legs and set my tea down, “Tom is exactly what you said; a boy trying to find his place in this world. I think he’s always been who he is, but he…adjusts depending on what he wants.”
Dumbledore chuckles, as if genuinely entertained, “A most diplomatic answer. You always were perceptive. Although, I would be remiss if I did not ask; is there anything I need to worry about?”
That makes me snort, “No, I don’t think so. While I appreciate the sentiment; I understand that even if there was something to worry about, there’s not much you can do in your position. I’m a big girl, after all, I can take care of myself.”
Men are such simple creatures, even if their urge to protect me is unfounded. Imagine, I spent the morning hearing how Tom will avenge me if anyone dares to harm me, and here’s Dumbledore offering to help if Tom is doing anything untoward. In a weird way, Anthony is the only male in my life that I’m not suspicious of. Both Tom and Dumbledore have personalities that could lead to me being taken advantage of, neither of which seem to trust the other.
“There is always something that can be done, Hope. However, I am happy to hear that you do not require my immediate interference. Just let me know if that changes,” he tells me with a pointed look. Once I nod my confirmation, the seriousness leaves his countenance, “You know, I spent my holiday in America. A fascinating place, truly. I found myself wondering if it resembled the country that you came from.”
I raise an eyebrow, asking, “Did you enjoy yourself?”
His smile remains, but there’s something deeper in his gaze, “I found what I was looking for.”
A beat of silence follows before he continues, lighter now, “And I may have spoken of you once or twice—purely in admiration, of course. You do have a way of leaving an impression, even from an ocean away.”
That makes me narrow my eyes, but only slightly, “Oh? Had people heard of me before meeting you all the way over there?”
A sunny smile pushes his cheeks out, “Yes, it seems that some Ilvermorny professors heard rumors of a powerful witch studying at Hogwarts! Truth be told, I did find joy in acting as a proud Uncle, there are those who take great interest in promising young witches such as yourself. Although, I ensured to stay vague on your magical capabilities. I understand how you feel about attention, and inviting more is a fate I do not wish for you.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I tell him honestly, even though this feels…odd. “Do you have a lot friends over there?”
Dumbledore shifts his head in a ‘so-so’ motion, swallowing another sip of tea, “I suppose. Although speaking with other professors hardly brings me the same joy as speaking with those I’m more friendly with. My trip was leisurely, however I feel I did more work than most would enjoy during holiday.”
“If you enjoyed yourself, then that’s all that matters,” I say with a shrug.
“Indeed I did,” he says on a sigh, his smile faltering for a moment.
***********
Hope
With a thunderous scowl on my face, I walk through the halls more quickly than I normally would, rushing towards the stairs. This has been quite the day, and I just need it to be over. Ethel was not the last person to throw a hex my way, but thankfully I managed to block most of the others.
Ironically, the biggest problem I have with this is how quickly I heal. Sure, the pain goes away quickly—which is very nice. But, my friends have very much noticed a distinct lack of marks on my body after a day of rather intense and sporadic bullying. Soon other people might notice, people that I’m not planning on explaining some of my back story to tonight.
Each girl today made sure to let me know in some way that I’m a deceptive whore who has somehow managed to juggle any combination of Tom , Abraxas, and/or Anthony. Which, regardless of the invalidity of those statements, became a widespread rumor in a what felt like two hours. Before long, it was open season on Mikaelsons—just like old times, I guess.
Thankfully, Anthony and Mary were able to deflect or shield me from a fair amount of vitriol, but I realized I’ll have to start helping them train. Assuming they still want to be in my life once they hear how complicated it tends to be. The Slytherin boys popping out of every corner also hasn’t been a treat, but at least I left those interactions physically unscathed.
Exiting on the seventh floor, I don’t slow my pace. The last thing I want is another person to deal with, I’m exhausted and I still have Mary and Anthony to talk to after this. Turning the knob of the door I find, I push it open, only for my eyes to widen and my jaw to slightly hang open.
Today, it seems Tom summoned a massive hotel room; featuring plenty of plush seating, a hot tub built right into the floor, and a balcony overlooking the view visible from the clock tower. White and gold are the main colors decorating the room, but pops of green are present throughout. Well kept plants have been summoned, framing doorways or filling otherwise empty corners. The atmosphere is relaxing and light, the moonlight streaming in from large windows with sheer, white drapes that would billow in the wind if we allowed the breeze in.
Tom stands when I enter, holding two glasses of wine in front of a set table filled with desserts. There are palm sized glass oracle balls sitting in marble green and gold holders scattered around the room, an emerald ice bucket likely spelled to stay frozen sitting on a full-mini bar station, and various fur rugs decorating the floor with the most prominent being a gigantic bear situated right in front of the roaring fire. A river stone mantel and frame adds to the space, and then I notice small candles decorating most, free surfaces.
Having discarded his robes, sweater, and tie, he stands before me in an untucked white shirt, sleeves perfectly rolled up passed his elbows, and top three buttons undone. Regardless of the connotations in my world, in this day and age; he’s dressed like a slut.
Not even the pristine black slacks and shiny black shoes can make up for his state of dress, how much of his chest is on display, and I find myself blushing fiercely. I can’t tell if the presence of a king sized bed with plush white bedding makes this an elaborate bootie call, or if it’s date. Well, I guess I’ll find out.
“Wow, what made you pick this place?” I asked, gratefully accepting the glass of wine once he reaches me.
My smile must not hide my skepticism as much as I want because he starts laughing before pulling me into a hug, being careful of our drinks. His voice comes out smooth like smoke, “My plan was to treat you to a relaxing evening after what I’ve heard was a…trying day. Whether that meant destroying that fake hot tub with liquid bubbles, indulging in the various sweets I assisted the elves in making, or even having me get you off once for every grievance you have for the day. As the unintentional cause of your troubles, it is my duty and pleasure to treat you as the queen you are.”
My blush grows and I smile shyly at his statement, “I really wasn’t expecting all this.”
“Well, I do enjoy exceeding expectations,” pulling away enough to look at me fondly, keeping one arm around my waist. “Now, why don’t you share what happened?”
“How did you know?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Did one of your followers rat out the others?”
Among hexes and insults, I’ve also spoken to quite a few Pureblood Slytherins about my relationship status. In a weird way, Cygnus Black was the nicest of the bunch, although not the only one to offer to share tragic stories featuring none other than the man before me. I believe Cygnus was the only follower of Tom’s, I’m not even sure of most of their names. Sure, they’ve hit on me before, but I tend to only remember those willing to have an actual conversation with me or could potentially pose a threat in the future.
The surprise on Tom’s face makes my smile falter, and his tone is carefully calm, “I was referring to the witches taking revenge on you, is there more?”
My smile officially drops, and I take a huge gulp of my wine before answering, “Well, a few Slytherin boys did offer their congratulations on our relationship…before offering to tell me any stories about you—so that I ‘understand who I’m dating,’ or whatever. It wasn’t a huge deal, and I’m pretty sure most of them don’t follow you.”
My stomach clenches at the anger and concern slowly distorting his expression. Tom isn’t upset with me, but I can only imagine what will happen after this betrayal. His smile completely vanishes and somehow he becomes both hardened in rage, yet softer towards me, “I apologize again. While I had expected some to attempt to poison you against me, I am curious about those bold enough to start the day we announce ourselves. Tomorrow will be better, I will ensure it is so. Are you hurt anywhere? I am rather adept with healing magic.”
“Uhh, about that,” I pause for a moment, my lips lift slightly, and I blush further as I realize that I never shared this bit of information with him. “I can actually heal quickly; compared to you, seemingly immediately after the injury…”
Tom’s face goes blank for a moment, causing me to trail off, and then he starts laughing— hard.
“Is that so?” he asks in between ragged breaths.
Unable to form words from the shock of his reaction, I simply nod when he looks at me. Prompting him to shake his head in disbelief, “Here I’ve been, so worried about your safety between now and the summer—but your body continues to soar higher than my wildest dreams.”
“That’s a bit over kill,” I snort, rolling my eyes at his dramatics. Growing a nail into a claw, I quickly poke my finger hard enough to draw a drop of blood. Popping it into my mouth, before showing him the flesh that is now unmarred.
His laughter dies off, and he looks at me quizzically before asking, “Do you truly not see just how spectacular you are?”
That earns a full blown scoff, “It’s not exactly a super power, you have no idea how common the trait is in the supernatural community I come from.”
“Exactly,” he starts, setting his drink down to hold me in both arms from behind, facing the balcony view, before kissing the top of my head. “We aren’t in your world, Hope. Here, few have the ability to heal like you, and most are not respected in wizarding society. That is only one remarkable thing about you, and I have yet to find something within you that disinterests me.
“As far as I’m concerned, you are the fire to my ice—however, I don’t want to put you out. I want you to ignite further, to grow to your full potential and consume the world. It doesn’t need to be right away, one day you’ll tell me what took the charge out of you. The lucky thing is that time is on your side—you have a lot of it, my Darling.”
This time I smile when I roll my eyes at him, still nonplussed about abilities. I’ve never known another way, and it’s not like I don’t feel pain on a regular basis regardless. The draw backs of being who I am do tend to overshadow the perks, but how am I supposed to feel after losing everyone important to me? The worry that I’ve simply latched onto the first people that showed me kindness exists in the back of my mind. Holding hands with my fear that Tom is putting on a surprisingly good ruse, only to turn out to be my undoing.
“At some point, you’re going to give me a big head,” I say, resting my back against him.
Finishing my drink, I set it down on a near by table before turning in his grip, and raising to my toes to put my arms around his neck, “Can I ask a question about something you said a while ago?”
His grin returns in full force, the earlier anger forgotten—or more likely put aside for the time being, “Anything.”
Trying to ignore the sudden difficulty in keeping eye contact, I manage a strong voice, “What did you mean by; you can show me just how beneficial giving up control can be?”
Tom’s pupils double in size and heat explodes across his expression. Hands end up on my hips, lightly flexing, and the look he gives is possessive yet adoring when he lilts, “Oh, that. I’ve noticed you’re rather nervy, your mind always seems to be working—no matter the time of day.”
The words coming out of his mouth don’t exactly match the energy coming off him, so I hesitantly nod. My curious suspicion is only proving his point, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping it up. Not when his thumbs are rubbing lightly across my hip bones, the sensations only making my arousal raise more rapidly. Clenching my thighs, I realize there’s already moisture gathered there.
“Many people of great power or responsibility enjoy a time when they can relinquish an amount of control,” he explains in soothing tone. “Typically, this is performed with a trusted individual, preferably one you’re wildly attracted to—in the bedroom.”
Understanding immediately dawns on me, my eyes widening, at least until I start chuckling. For a second there, I got a little confused on what direction he was going with that. The phrasing he used is a very sweet way to bring up such a topic, and that’s what I find comical. Something tells him that gentleness doesn’t always show when he initiates these activities.
“Are you asking me to take a submissive role?” I ask, blushing but confident in my guess. The surprise that lights his eyes warms my chest even further, making me feel bold, “Let me guess, you’re the wizard that could take on such an arduous task?”
With a wink, his curly hair bouncing with the effort, “That’s hardly how I’d describe it, however I do check your boxes; devilishly handsome, domineering, and currently in a relationship with you. Is that type of proposition a normal occurrence in your world?”
“Not necessarily,” I say honestly, tilting my head in thought. “Although maybe, the real difference is that information is readily available where I’m from. Books were very accessible to me, but there were inventions that allowed for the masses to learn nearly anything they want.”
Toms hums in understanding with a thoughtful nod, “So, you’ve read books about these types of sexual situations.”
If I could get any redder, thanks to his statement— I just did. Tamping down the urge to deny it, my lips thin before I get back to the topic at hand, “What exactly are you proposing?”
After shaking off his thoughts, he returns to his charismatic self, “As often as you like, I can fulfill that role for you. There’s discussions to be had about what you’d enjoy, what you wouldn’t. A word or two to be chosen. However, I believe it may free you of some of that weight resting on your shoulders—even if only for hours at a time. I can assure you, I will make it worth your while.”
“Oh?” I ask playfully, entertained by how persuasive he’s being. With Tom, that usually means he really wants something, “Are you proposing this solely for my benefit, or do you have a preference?”
“I may have a predilection for being…in charge. In all things, not simply the bedroom or with my followers—I crave being in the lead. Being given authority over others sends a high through me, however I still believe you would benefit as well. For you, a session could be working off the stress or irritation others seem intent on inflicting upon you. Although, I have a few plans that may lessen the weight on your shoulders,” he explains, being surprisingly honest.
Tom really wasn’t kidding when he said he was waiting for me to stop running, but I’m still not used to him genuinely answering my questions. Having lived the life I have, I assumed that he would treat me similarly to how human boys treat girls in my world.
I was expecting half truths, a lot of patronizing behavior, and maybe some cheating down the line. After all, how long does a lady’s man need to take on the mantel of dedicated relationship holder? Sure, there’s always the chance that this is an act that will disappear the moment he has access to my powers. But, he also hasn’t been love bombing me, he’s just been treating me very well.
“Interesting,” I begin, training my hands from his shoulders, down his chest. “And, what would you do if I said I’m willing to give you…an audition of sorts?”
His gaze darkens, grip on my hips tightening, and his voice comes out husky and deep, “First, I’d have you pick a safe word, likely also a pause word. Then, I’d collect some errant supplies, before proving my worth to you. Over, and over, and over again.”
When he ends on a whisper directed right into my ear, a shiver runs down my spine. He feels it, how could he not with us so pressed together, and his smile turns slightly feral. Taking in a deep breath, it doesn’t calm me in the slightest like I hoped. Instead, I get a lungful of his scent, making my mouth water. Suddenly, his hands leave my hips, lightly trailing up and down my sides in slow motions. Tingles radiate where he touches me, my nerves feeling like lightning is bouncing through my system.
“Basilisk,” I say breathlessly, sounding as dazed as I feel. “To stop, and—and peanut butter to pause.”
Tom’s teeth shine in the light streaming in from the outside, and then he releases me, causing me to stagger slightly. Watching him curiously as he moves to the bed, I hear him whisper something but can’t catch the words. Even with some supernatural hearing. The smell of leather enters the room, and when Tom turns, I find two brown cuffs in his hands. My eyes widen and my core clenches, this is really happening.
Thanks to Tumblr, I was exposed to sexual content at a pretty young age. It was years ago that I first found BDSM, and I lost count of how many romances I’ve read that include it. A touch of nervousness enters me— I’m barely experienced in sex, let alone anything kinky. But, I can at least trust that Tom won’t do anything too bad, he wouldn’t jeopardize access to my powers even if the future he’s detailed is all a rouse.
With an out stretched finger, Tom gives me a ‘come hither’ motion with a hungry expression as a back drop. My hands clench together, the initial sour taste of being told what to do enters my mouth. But, I told him I would allow an audition, which means that I have to play along. So, I cast my pride aside, and slowly walk to the man that has claimed he’s going to offer me a great time.
“Have you ever been restrained before?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “Consensually, I mean.”
When I shake of my head to indicate no, Tom nods, grabbing one of my hands before continuing, “I am going to lightly restrain you to the bed, have you laid out before me like the feast you are. If you’re good, I’ll give you a reward.”
“And if I’m bad?” I hear myself asking, surprised by just how much he’s affecting me with only words.
A deep chuckle is my response, along with him shaking his head fondly before telling me, “If you’re bad, then I’ll ensure your pretty, little arse is red enough for any loyal Gryffindor to worship. Although, I’d kill any of them if they even came close to sneaking a peak.”
Moving surprisingly fast, Tom picks me up and tosses me to the center of the bed. I let out a squeak, not prepared to fly through the air before dropping onto the cloud-like bedding. Grabbing one of my feet, he yanks on my leg before securing my ankle to a foot of the bed. He moves to the other after, ensuring my legs are spread almost obscenely. Thankfully, I still have on my skirt and under things, otherwise he’d have quite the view. Kneeling on the bed, in between my legs, Tom gently cradles my face, pulling me into a short yet aggressive kiss.
When he breaks away, his hands train down my arms, before locking around my wrists. In the next second, they’re being held over my head in one of his hands, and I fall back against the mattress. Tom mutters something that sounds almost like accio, reaching with his free hand to grab the tie that flies across the room. Using Slytherin green and black satin, my wrists are quickly and efficiently bound. Standing up, he crosses his arms across his chest, and admires his work. Curiosity breaks through the building heat, and I test the restraints.
It would take some work, and some strength, but I could get out of these if I really wanted to. This feels nothing like the many times I’ve been held against my will, this feels exciting. My body starts throbbing, the most powerful being in between my legs. I can’t even press my thighs together in this position, offering me no respite from the arousal that’s building steadily. Tom reaches a hand out, and a quill quickly leaps into his grip.
“You know, there are so many ways for me to overwhelm your senses,” he tells me casually, twirling the feather in his thick hands. Making a show of just how dexterous he truly is as he walks to my left side, “I want to hear you begging for me; for my fingers, my mouth, my cock. And I’m a man who seldom does not get what he wants.”
Taking his wand out, he points it at my neck, then moves in a steady, descending motion. Fascination and arousal roar inside me as I watch my uniform disintegrate beneath his magic. His powers lick against my skin as it bares me to him, feeling like an extension of his hands. Once he’s satisfied with my completely naked body, he slowly begins trailing the tip of the feather around my left wrist.
I watch as he sketches intricate patterns up my arm, in no hurry to reach the next part of me. The sensation doesn’t tickle, it almost feels like Tom is lightly brushing his fingertip against my skin. Before he even reaches my shoulder, my nipples harden, and I shift my legs in their cuffs. The need to rub my thighs together builds, only made worse by the feather’s constant progress. When he reaches my chest, Tom outlines my breasts with his tool, then begins swirling the feather around in a spiral— the destination in the center being the stiff nub in a natural bullseye.
A whimper escapes me, and my mind slowly rids itself of any worries, insecurities, or memories of the day. My brain officially empties when I glance at Tom, finding him watching himself work, his eyes blazing as he intently studies my body. By the time the feather reaches my second nipple, I’m instinctively lifting my chest towards it, trying to feel more pressure.
But, that’s when he moves it away, eliciting a needy whine from deep in my chest. Jumping to my navel, I feel Tom gently rubbing the skin of my hips, detouring to my legs, and ensuring to spend plenty of attention to my inner thighs.
“I do believe you’ve gotten the tip of my quill rather…wet,” Tom says, sounding all too amused. Lifting the soft, rictal bristles up so I can see how clumped they are on the top third, he grins wickedly at me, “At the end of my last class today, my quill broke. This is the one I have for tomorrow, and now it’s ready—I’ll be able to smell you all day long. Perhaps I’ll become so ravenous, I’ll have to pull you into an alcove in between classes just to satiate my hunger.”
Gasping at his words, I’m so shocked that all I can do is watch him cast a stasis charm on the thing before moving to place it near his bag. On his way back, Tom stares at the floor with a smirk, walking with one hand in his pocket and far too much swagger for a proper, British boy. When he trails his thumb across his bottom lip, I groan while jerking at my restraints.
He doesn’t look at me until he’s reached the bed, and it bothers me for some reason. How can he go from watching me like he might never see a naked woman again, to walking in exaggerated slowness, looking like the fuckiest of fuck boys, without even one glance? Tom doesn’t look at me again until he’s walked all the way around the bed, reaching my right side. My glare is likely ruined by my dilated pupils, but I don’t care. Sitting up I pull my arms down, and reach for him with my bound hands.
Before I can touch him, he pulls back so that he’s out of my reach and starts tsking me, “Ah, ah, good girls use their words. If you want something, you ask for it.”
Frowning, I lean back down, moving my arms above my head again. Just the way he left me, and I try my best not to glare at the person I’m trying to talk into making me cum.
“I want you to touch me,” I tell him, beyond caring about how breathless and sultry my voice sounds.
“You’re a better student than this, Darling,” Tom lightly scolds, but there’s still a smile on his annoyingly handsome face. “Good girls ask for what they want.”
Clenching my teeth, I close my eyes in an attempt to control my expression. I’ve always had an expressive face when not carefully using a poker face—right now my mind only has enough room for one thought, ‘gods just touch me somewhere that matters, please!’
After a few deep breaths, I resume eye contact with him, sweetly asking, “Tom, will you please touch me?”
“Hmmm, no. I don’t think I will,” he says casually.
My jaw drops open, and I hear myself whine a drawn out, “Whyyyyy!”
Faster than a viper, Tom moves until he’s holding himself above me. Having never touched me, not even his clothes have brushed against me. My arms lift of their own volition, but I manage to stop myself before any contact is made. With a huff, I drop back down, probably not glaring at him. At least not with a ton of venom.
“I said I want to hear you beg,” he whispers into my face, his breath smelling minty with a touch of chocolate. If he leans down another two inches, our noses will touch, “You’ve yet to be very specific, I’ve no idea where to touch you, nor with what. In fact, you’re far too calm, perhaps I need to wait longer. How am I supposed to know how badly you want me, unless you tell me so?”
Without waiting for me to reply, he straightens on his knees before raising an open palm towards the table. One of the oracle balls, flies into his hand before he whispers to it for a couple moments.
When he sets it down against my belly button, it starts moving of its own volition, spreading a constant coldness across my skin. Despite the heat in my blood and the accompanying warmth from the large fire, I shiver as I wonder why my body isn’t heating it up. The thing feels the same temperature as the snow blanketing the grounds outside, yet the ball leaves a fire in its wake as it uses my breasts as slopes.
Then it travels down each leg; starting at my hip, teasing me around my wet and swollen outer lips, before moving away while he ignores my cries of protest. He doesn’t miss a single erogenous area, paying special attention to my inner thighs, the backs of my knees, and around my ankle. Finally, he switches to the other ankle, before following the exact path all the way up. Still, the entire time, the glass may as well be ice.
Struggling in my binds, I end up pulling my bound wrists against my chest. Tom growls, his hand yanking my arms back above my head, supporting his weight as he leans over me.
With his face hovering about a foot above mine, his eyes sear through me, and tells me in a grating tone, “If you do not hold these here— first I’ll spank your bum raw. Then I’ll restrain you further. Understood, Darling?”
“Understood, Sir,” it slips out before I can catch it, coming out far louder than I would normally want— my mind far past a filter at this point. With him so close, I watch his eyes dilate, and his smirk turns hungry, then serpentine. So, I continue in a desperate voice, “Please, please lick me between my thighs! I’m—I need you, whatever you’ll give me. If I don’t cum soon, I’ll go mad, please— I’ll do whatever you want. You can have me however you want!”
There’s only one thing on my mind; a critical need for Tom to get me off as soon as wizardly possible. Finally, finally, he nods while carrying a satisfied and cocky expression. He kisses me voraciously when I immediately open my mouth to him. All I want to do is drown in him, inhaling deeply, and trying to press my body against him without moving my arms.
Switching to my neck, he sucks and nips his way down before he gives me the mercy of moving to my breasts. Kneeding my aching flesh, I hear a whine/whimper combination that must have come from me, and only then does his mouth descend on the peaks. This time, he sucks hard, adding a touch of pain to the pleasure.
“Please, please, please,” I start chanting, twisting my body around under him, digging my fingers into the mattress. The satin around my wrists just tight enough to be exciting, and feeling so smooth across my pulse points.
His chuckling cuts me off, sounding very pleased with me, “Alright Darling, I’ll put you out of your misery. You’re doing so well, I can’t take my eyes off you. If I had a camera, I’d take a picture of you groveling for me, and hoard it for the rest of time.”
Changing position until he’s kneeling on the floor, Tom grabs my hips and pulls my body towards him. My feet end up touching my ass, my knees fully bent, but I’m more focused on the starved expression on his face. His eyes are glued to my sex, and I breath heavily in anticipation as he simply stares at me.
“You’ve made the most delicious sort of mess. As a gentleman, I am obligated to clean it for you,” he lilts in a deep, deep voice.
Then he wraps his entire mouth around my pussy, slurping up all the wetness that’s accumulated. My cry is a mixture of pleasure and relief, and I fist the bedding in my hands to keep from grabbing onto his curls. Unable to stop myself, my hips move in time with his licks. When he latches onto my clit, a long moan is pulled from my chest, and within moments I’m on the edge. I’m so worked up, trying to lift my hips further into his face when his hands force them back onto the bedding.
“I—I’m so close. Please Tom, please make me cum!” I all but scream at him.
He laughs against my heated flesh, squeezing my hips once before shifting his grip. Tom’s fingers end up gripping my breasts, twirling and pinching my nipples in sync with his tongue between my legs. After sucking particularly hard on my swollen nub, the dam breaks, and I let out a wail as my body quakes and trembles through the release. He never stops his ministrations, and the waves of pleasure go on and on. It could be minutes or it could be hours before I collapse against the bed, my entire body feeling tingly and like I’m on a high.
Breathing heavily, I gasp out, “Stop, I need more!”
Without stopping, Tom continues to feast on me while kneeding my flesh. Somehow, I feel like I both need him to pull away and also do so much more. Completely ignoring me, he continues swirling my clit in his mouth, intermittently sucking with varying strength. My struggling continues, only this time I’m unsure of whether I’m trying to get away from him or closer. Before long, Tom forces another orgasm from me, my voice cracking as I scream his name.
After shocks rack though my body, bliss flooding my veins, I can’t keep my eyes open while my breathing normalizes. I feel Tom lightly rubbing my limbs in an effort to help me come down. Only a few moments later, I blearily open my eyes, blinking until his handsome face unblurs. Then I can see him smiling at me with open want and admiration.
“So beautiful,” he quietly says with an air of reverence. “Are you alright to continue, Darling? Do you need anything?”
Shaking my head a couple times, I end up looking up at him with a kind of determination I’ve never felt before, “I need you, now. Please, Tom.”
Standing up, intense heat returning to his gaze, Tom pulls out his wand. After flicking it towards the bed, I feel the entire thing lifting or growing to become taller. Another flick of his wand halts the motion, and I’m confused until I look back at the wizard standing between my legs. Now, I’m situated at the perfect height as he stands, his hips level with mine.
The hunger clear on his expression tugs at my insides, and I start shaking with the need for him to continue. There are times that I’ve been horny, I am only human after all— but never like this. Clear thinking is a thing of the past in this moment, he has somehow managed to turn me into a one minded sex machine, and I’m loathe to question just about anything right now. Hogwarts could be burning down all around us, and I’d beg him to continue regardless.
Still wearing his shirt and slacks, I watch as he undoes his button and zipper. Fascination fills me as he releases his dick from it’s prison, and my eyes widen at the sheer size of the thing. During our first time together, I never got a good glance, and now I’m shocked that he was able to fit inside me at all.
I could feel that he was big, but cheese and crackers that thing is massive. How he has room to keep a third forearm in his pants is beyond me, and I’m not sure whether to complain or cheer. Tom chuckles at my wide eyed stare before nearly falling on the bed over me.
Gripping the tie binding me, he tugs me into a seated position as his grin turns wolfish, “You’re going to watch me impale you, Darling. I want you to see just how tightly your precious cunt hugs me, how your muscles beg for me to stretch and use you for my own pleasure. Would you like that? To watch the mess you’re going to make around my cock?”
My head is nodding before he even finishes the statement, and he holds my hands up to the neck of his white shirt. After I grip the fabric, his hands release me in favor of moving to my hips. In utter fascination, I watch through the window my arms make as he lines himself up with my entrance, looking far too much like a steam engine preparing to enter a single car garage.
First, he rubs himself across my swollen lips, spreading my wetness across himself, making me moan. Once he’s satisfied with the lubrication, he presses the thick head to my opening. My mouth opens on a gasp as he pushes inside me, and my head falls back at the delectable feeling of being stretched by him again.
A hand ends up in my hair, tugging me back into position, and my eyes fly open in surprise, “I said you will watch! Keep those pretty eyes open, Darling. I want to see the look on your face as I make you scream once again.”
My mouth forms a small ‘o,’ but I follow his instructions regardless. When he’s satisfied that I won’t look away again, Tom pushes another inch inside, rocking his hips against me. I have no idea how he can fit inside me, but I’m far from caring at this point. My core clenches as I watch him sink even further into me before sliding out, only to add another couple inches a second later. Once he fully sheathes himself inside me, we both moan simultaneously, and then I look up to see his face.
With clenched teeth, Tom stares at where we connect, his eyes ravenous. Then his gaze shoots to mine, and an almost evil grin takes over his expression, “Better hold on tight, Darling. You’re in for a rather barbaric ride.”
That’s the only warning I get before he starts savagely pounding into me. My body bounces from the force, his fingers digging into my hips almost painfully in his efforts. A gasp turns into a long moan as I fight to keep my eyes open. The only thing greater than the erotic image of him manipulating my flesh, is the delightful and overpowering feeling of him fucking me hard. He’s so large that it feels like every inch of my channel is being rubbed by him, hitting a pleasure button inside me over and over again.
My fingers nearly hurt from the force of holding myself up, and I hear fabric ripping but can’t find the energy to give a shit. One of his hands releases my hip, skating around my thigh to lightly pinch my clit between his fingers. A groan escapes me as my body jerks with his new ministrations; now each time he shifts inside me, there’s a corresponding sensation from his fingers rubbing my nub.
In what feels like no time at all, I shout out, “Tom—fuck, I—I’m, I’m!”
That’s all I get out before barreling into another release, my mind shorting out for a second. Coming back to myself, the first thing I notice is me screaming, my throat feeling hoarse from the strain. Then there’s the plush bedding against my back, cushioning me as a violent tremors course through my body. Finally, there’s Tom’s very large cock continuing to pound into me—only pausing after my body settles.
Still panting, my head lolls to one side as I look at Tom with a silly smile on my face. He kisses the top of one knee, staring at me with a hunger that hasn’t been sated, “I’ll never get tired of hearing my name come out of that pretty little mouth of yours. One day, you’ll call out my other name, loud enough that anyone near by will know just who worships you so thoroughly.”
Without pulling out of me, he gently smooths his hands across my legs, my abdomen, and my arms. Allowing me the time to catch my breath, and I study the damage done to his shirt. My fingers ripped the fabric in multiple places, a few holes make me realize that my nails must have cut straight through it where I was gripping.
Once my body has calmed down enough, I wiggle against Tom, frowning for a moment as I ask, “But, you haven’t finished yet?’’
Laughter escapes him, and he slowly pulls out of me. At this point, I’m so wet that his movement is audible, and I feel a sad kind of emptiness without him inside me. Taking out his wand again, Tom flicks it at my ankles, releasing me from the cuffs. Massaging the flesh for a moment, he smiles at me wickedly. Once he’s satisfied that my muscles haven’t gotten too sore, he grips one calf before flipping me over like a pancake. A small grunt comes out of me as my front lands on the bed, and I turn my head to look at him questioningly.
His hands return to my hips, lining himself up with my entrance from behind before driving into me in one move. My cry is a mixture of pleasure and surprise, and is cut short when his chest covers my back. The fabric of his clothing rubs against my sensitive, bare skin as he whispers into my ear, “I’m far from finished with you, Darling.”