Chapter 35
March 1st, 1944
Hope
“Calm yourself, you don’t want to inhale your food. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a hiccough,” Mary admonishes through giggles.
That makes me snort, but doesn’t stop the bouncing in my seat, “Of all the differences, I think that might be my least favorite. Where I come from, we call them ‘hiccups.’”
“Oye, I believe that’s what Americans call them,” Anthony stouts happily. “Either way, Mary has a point. Simply because it’s your favorite day does not mean that you want to spend the rest of it being a distraction.”
With an aggravated sigh, my face drops ever so slightly, “I’ll take my time, I promise. It’s not like I forgot how to eat or something.”
“No, instead you have the elves tell you the menus for the week. Waking us up before dawn so you can be early to get your fix,” Mary says, yawning to emphasize her point.
“You guys are really putting a damper on waffle day,” I grumble. Crossing my arms, and pouting slightly.
They aren’t wrong, but today is supposed to be a happy day. Through all the cooking and baking we’ve done together, I’ve shared my love for their waffles with the elves. How could I not? Perfection is hard to come by, nearly impossible, but I swear they’ve cracked the code on at least this morning’s dish. Soon they’ll pop into existence in front of us, mountains of them appearing on every table in the Great Hall.
Except, my friendship with the elves has afforded me a special place in their adorable, little hearts. Since the end of last term, a special waffle appears on a plate in front of me. Each waffle day is a surprise, which is why I have to be present the moment they show up on the tables. One day there was lemon curd filling the divots, another there was sautéed mushrooms with caramelized onions and Parmesan cheese. No matter how odd the toppings, I’ve thoroughly loved every creation.
“She’s just jealous,” Anthony snickers. “Not even Dippet gets special meals from the kitchens, let alone a specific request.”
Mary huffs, but her cheeks flush from embarrassment, “Keep it up, Potts. I don’t need to share the spoils from ranking above Malfoy this term, I’d wager the elves would appreciate your portion immensely.”
“That’s just rude,” he sulks, pouting at his empty plate.
“Please, no fighting! It’s waffle day, today might as well be a sacred holiday,” I scold my fellow Ravenclaws.
The two break out into more laughter, enjoying just how protective I am. Rolling my eyes, I turn my gaze on the rest of the room. For the most part, students are still sleeping, but there is a sparse crowd at each House table. Nearly all the adults are seated, but they likely wake up early to prepare their lessons for the day. Tom is still missing, but so are those that are still following him. I had asked if he Obliviated everyone, including Walburga who was more or less aware of their antics despite not being a member.
He assured me that he thought everything through, has ensured no stone has been unturned in the minds of those in his House. Even with my previous knowledge of this world, I can’t be sure who he needed to work on. It isn’t like Harry Potter was given a deep look into young Voldemort’s world, I have no idea who his original following included beyond what I’ve learned in this world thus far.
Food popping into existence brings my attention back to the table, and I gasp in delight. Before me sits a golden waffle acting as the bed for assorted, candied nuts. With a bit of maple syrup from the table, these almonds, hazel nuts, walnuts, and a few pecans will be heavenly. My mouth hangs open and I feel the need to rub my hands together while chuckling evilly. The plans I have for this dish, all I want is to devour every inch before me.
“Perhaps it does make sense that her and Riddle get on like they do,” Anthony stage whispers to Mary. “I can’t tell whether she loves that waffle or wants to torture it for the next two months.”
Taking a break from the food, I turn my gaze on the boy across the table from me, “What would you call being cut up, bitten, and digested? If you think I can make this agony last for more than the day, then you clearly overestimate my self control.”
Mary snorts indelicately, “Well then get to it! There’s only a few hours before we have to get to Potions, and you have a tendency to get lost in your mind on waffle days.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. With a heavy hand, I pour ample syrup over my breakfast. While I’ve never been into food commercials, I’m starting to understand the appeal. The issue is that I’m more than aware that there is someone paid to dress the food up to look as appealing as possible. That usually employs some unsavory techniques, almost none of the food featured on TV is actually edible. Much like how you would never lick a model’s face once they walk off the runway, you shouldn’t eat the subjects of commercials.
While they might not use makeup specifically, what they do use would taste just as appealing. That knowledge has taken out a lot of the intrigue, but here I sit, enjoying the glistening and downright sexy meal before me. If I saw this meal on TV, I’d probably drool while laving at the television. The first bite is as delicious as I’d hoped, as is the second, the fifth, or even the twelveth. Candied nuts remind me of baseball, bringing back memories of the few MLB games my Father or Uncles brought me to. There aren’t very many other times that I’ve come across the treats, no matter how simple they are.
They’re just as I remember, crunchy with a sugary taste, although the slight tingle on my tongue is new. I suppose I’ve never had magically prepared, candied nuts, and it’s a fairly common reaction to magic hitting the taste buds. With a shrug, I take my time in meticulously chowing down. My friends know that I’m more or less dead to the world during waffle mornings, only my worried friends or a stray owl could pull me from this deliciousness.
Only when my fork and knife have nothing more to play with do I finally look up. The room is now filled with bustling students, and all the professors have left. If anything, people are making their way out of the Great Hall, and an odd feeling comes over me.
“Thank goodness you’re finally done,” Anthony complains, standing and grabbing his bag. “Let’s get going.”
Mary rolls her eyes, “She asks for so little, we can give her one morning every few weeks to stick to the clouds.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” I shrug, following my friends actions.
My eyes stray over to the Slytherin table, searching for someone, and I find Tom standing by the head of my table. He looks as handsome as ever in his school uniform, smiling at me with all the adoration I could ever hope for.
“You seemed to enjoy your breakfast,” he says once we’re all within ear shot. Offering me his arm, Tom asks, “Shall we head to class?”
Placing my hand in the crook of his elbow, my expression becomes curious at the sensation. The usual butterflies seem to be a bit lazy in my belly today, flying through my midsection with about half the vigor they normally do.
If anything, that makes me a little excited— we’re officially coming out of the honeymoon phase of our relationship. Once upon a time, I never thought that I’d get used to Tom Riddle of all people treating me like the most important lady in the land. Yet, here I am, acclimating to our circumstances.
Potions goes by quickly, just a simple lecture on the history on cheese based potions. Slughorn is a talented public speaker, but even I could do without so many tangents. Half the class is spent with him laughing over his past students or a tale he heard during various travels. But, I’m not about to be the busy body who gets the teacher to focus more, so instead I reminisced about the other students of Hogwarts.
Thankfully, since sticking with one man for a few months, the attacks have lessened to nothing. Sure, jealous witches still give me the stink eye, but I haven’t been verbally or magically assaulted in a long while. Without memories of being his Knights, Tom’s ex-followers have become a bit more aggressive. However, I put my foot down on who can and cannot walk with me to class. They’ve stopped asking, no longer enjoying the various rejections I’ve dolled out.
Mary and Anthony even chased a few away, but no one bothers me when I walk with Tom. Abraxas is still allowed, but we normally do so to discuss Quidditch parties. All in all, the last weeks have been like a dream. Other than training my friends, my time has been spent doing what regular teenage girls do; hang out with friends, go on dates, cook with the elves, and lots and lots of studying.
Stepping into Defense class, I release Tom’s arm, and give him a peck on the cheek before moving over the Ravenclaw huddle. From the corner of my eye, I see him reaching for me, but I pretend like I didn’t notice. In a weird way, his cheek left my lips feeling cold and small. Probably just the dungeons lingering taste and smell messing with my senses. Still, I somehow feel better standing next to Mary and Anthony.
My mind only has so long to question the matter, then he walks into the room. Jet black hair styled in perfectly tussled waves sits atop his head, framing his chestnut brown eyes perfectly. With a tall stature, broad shoulders, and I don’t understand how I never noticed the way his teeth sparkle when he smiles. Never have I been turned on simply by the color decorating cheekbones, yet here I am, stuck in a trance as I feel my nipples tightening painfully. The robes obscuring his body feels like a crime, and like a moth drawn to a flame, I feel my feet carrying me closer and closer to the angel deigning to attend this class.
“Cygnus,” I say breathily, not recognizing the sultry cadence of my voice. For a moment, I wonder, why am I— but no, this is right. This is love.
The apple of my eye turns to me, offering a grin I’d love to paint one day, “Hello, Hope. How are you today?”
As if my body was not my own, I watch my hand raise to rest against his chest. Stepping into his personal space, I look up at him through my lashes, “I would be a lot better if you and I skipped class. Surely there are better ways to spend our time, maybe even get a work out in?”
Gasps can be heard all around me, but I only have eyes for Cygnus. Despite not being his father, I bet Sirius Black will look a lot like his Uncle before me. I’ve never seen anyone so handsome or panty-provoking.
“Hope?” I hear a familiar, masculine voice call out, but I couldn’t be bothered with who it belongs to.
My angel’s smile widens, and when he looks to someone else, I watch my hand lift to his cheek. Pulling his attention back to me, the feel of his skin beneath my fingers has me fascinated. Cygnus must have shaved this morning, his chin smooth and inviting. Unable to stop myself, my other hand joins in the exploring, leaving his face to explore the expanse of his shoulders, followed by his chest.
“Oh, gorgeous, you have the best ideas,” he lilts, his voice wrapping around me like the warmest of hugs.
“You don’t even belong in this class,” Another familiar voice sounds, this time feminine.
Barely pausing, my love continues, “The things I could show you, could do to you right now. If only there weren’t so many eyes.”
“They don’t matter. If they see something they don’t like, then they can leave,” I tell him with a contented sigh.
Hands end up on my shoulders, trying to take me away from the man that’s so beautiful it hurts. I barely spare the curly haired obstacle a glance, shoving him away from me with enough force to send him flying back slightly. Before he can hit the ground, I’m back to my curiosity. How can one man’s chest be so broad and strong? If I thought I trained hard, my Cygnus must do double the work.
“My, aren’t you a strong one?” he asks with clear amusement in voice. Amusement I put there.
Smiling, I relish the blush that blooms across my face, “No one will take me from you, my love.”
Shouting breaks out in the room, but I don’t care about anyone else. The triumphant expression on my beloved’s face is all I can focus on, hating when his focus drifts to the noise around us. The name ‘Tom’ is thrown around, but it barely registers—somewhere in the back of my mind, it stirs like an old song I’ve forgotten the words to. But it isn’t important. Not like Cygnus.
“What did you do to her!”
“You better give her the antidote right now!”
“Black, this is too far and you know it.”
Except, he only speaks to me, ignoring those bold enough to defy our wishes, “Gorgeous, why don’t we go to the Great Hall? I’ve dreamed of laying you out on one of the tables.”
My gasp is one of many, and pure excitement races through my veins, “Please, that sounds perfect. Exactly what I need right now, my love.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I rub my whole body against his like a cat in heat. I want to be saturated in his scent, I want it clinging to my skin and following me throughout the day. If anyone manages to separate me from my heart’s desire, then at least I’ll still be able to smell him. His arms encase me in his warmth, and he gently lifts my face to his, pressing his lips against mine. Heat and arousal rise within me to dangerous heights, and suddenly I’m all too aware of the unnecessary layers separating us.
Then multiple hands grab my clothes and my arms, pulling me from the love of my life. I watch figures wearing black outlined in green man-handling my wizard, but I can’t seem to get to him. Each time I manage to escape a pair, sending bodies flying, more hands end up trying to manipulate my actions. My pleas and shouts go unheard— suddenly, a flurry of ropes begin binding my arms to my body and my legs together before I can shove everyone off me.
Thrashing, I fight with everything I have to get out, trying to kick my feet apart. With grunts and groans, my wrists and ankles start to bleed as I break through the binding. Only for more to be added, slowly turning me into a rope mummy, leaving just my neck and face uncovered. Red, brown, and white hair surround me, but I don’t care who they belong to. All I want is to look at my dear Cygnus, to feel him touching me more, and to finally feel him between my legs.
Like a worm, I still struggle against my captures, but I manage to roll in my love’s direction. My mouth falls open in a rage filled scream as I watch two boys attacking the only man, the only person in this universe I care about. Spells and curses fly through the air, and my poor Cygnus is about to lose. No one could expect him to win, it isn’t a fair fight. He’s up against far too many, and my heart breaks at the scene. Using all my concentration, I erect a shield around my beloved. The following attacks bounce off my magic, and my love stands tall with a well-deserved, arrogant expression.
“What is going on in here?” An older voice yells over the commotion.
Still struggling within the ropes, I try to inch my way closer to the most handsome man that’s ever lived. When I’m dragged back by a brown haired monster, my progress waning before my eyes, I let out a long wail. How can someone be so evil as to separate us? Can they not see how in love we are?
“Professor, Miss Mikaelson has been poisoned with some form of love potion,” the curly haired nuisance announces. “Might I take her to Madame Smethwyck?”
“Oh, please,” my love scoffs. His voice sounding like music produced by divine instruments.
“That’s quite an accusation, Mr. Riddle,” an old man says, but I interrupt him.
A dangerous growl escapes me, “I don’t go anywhere without him! Let me go this second or I swear I will make everyone in this room regret it.”
These idiots have about five seconds before blood is spilled, I’ve been very patient thus far, all things considered. But I will not suffer separate rooms from my love, not until I have his name or his ring on my finger.
“Is that not proof enough?” the feminine voice asks, ignoring my very real threat.
“He should be expelled!” the brown haired terror shouts. “No one should be able to drug another student like this.”
Another growl fills the room, and I feel my eyes change as fury rolls off me in waves, “Touch him and you die.”
A moment of tense silence falls over the room, and I feel nearly every eye on me. Not that I care, and for a split second, I almost think that my threat is taken seriously. That hope is squashed immediately, though.
“I suppose she should be handled before further action is taken, ensure Miss Mikaelson is taken care of before returning Mr. Riddle,” the old man instructs.
“No!” I scream, sounding positively feral but unable to stop or calm myself down.
Switching to Greek, I start chanting, my voice steadily gaining momentum. My goal is to put the Traveler’s Curse on everyone in this room— if they won’t let me be with the one I love, then Nature will ensure that they never know rest either. My head gets thrown back with the strength of the spell and a phantom breeze enters the room. Books and desks begin to be uprooted, papers flying around, before everything goes dark. The last thing I heard was someone shouting, ‘Stupefy!’
****
Tom
Murder is the only thing on my mind as I stalk through the halls, aiming straight for Dippet’s office. Professor Merrythought was right that getting Hope help was the primary concern, one that I would not trust with another soul. Something about her body language on the walk over to Defense piqued my curiosity, she wasn’t walking as closely to me as usual. My lovely werewolf also never deeply inhaled, something she often does when we become close after a class we didn’t interact in.
Simple oddities that should have been more worrisome at the time. It wasn’t until she gave me the cold shoulder once we arrived that truly had me wondering. The very first thing I did was ask Abraxas what he thought might be going on. Neither of us expected Cygnus Black to walk into our class, let alone Hope’s reaction to him. I called her name at least three times, but she acted like she barely even heard me. No, her wide eyes and doting expression were saved only for the man that she normally cannot get far enough away from.
Hearing what they were saying to each other, I quickly understood his goal; to get Hope to commit an act that would require her to marry. Being in the age we are, sex is still a taboo topic to even the most progressive of people. No matter if it was from something no better than rape, society is as society does. The potion would be a moot point if she was literally begging him for it, there would be too much doubt circling, and then we would have to run away together to find any semblance of peace. Being thrown across the room was tough medicine to swallow, made even worse by the fact that my housemates did not know just how strong she is previous to today.
Having to Stupefy her hurt, but it was necessary. To make up for it, I reverently carried her down to the hospital wing. Madame Smethwyck knew exactly what to do, and I whispered that I would be back in her ear along with my love before leaving. No matter who she wakes up in love with, at least I know that she’s comfortable. The med-witch and I became close after I ended up in her care as often as I did as a young lad, I’m confident in her abilities to keep things quiet and will have my witch in tip top shape in no time. The same cannot be said for Mr. Black.
Each step I take toward Dippet’s office is measured, controlled, but only by a thread. My fingers twitch with the need to wrap around a throat—perhaps snap a spine if I’m feeling generous.
The boy was clever. I will give him that.
Barging into the Headmaster’s office with no warning, effectively pausing the ongoing conversation. Dippet is joined by both Merrythought and Dumbledore, neither are happy to see me. Ever the oblivious and foolish oaf, my Headmaster absently blinks at me as if I were a book out of place.
“Mr. Riddle,” Dippet starts, sounding as confused as he looks. “This is hardly the ti—”
“Expel Cygnus Black,” I demand, moving to stand with my hands behind my back and perfect posture.
Three simple words, the sole idea standing between myself and homicide. Only, Merrythought is the one to respond, “That is not your call, and a rather rash action, I might add.”
Keeping my eyes the chilling black, I turn to him very slowly, and my voice is icy, “Is it? A student, under the effects of a powerful potion, was nearly manipulated into public fornication with a boy she would normally never spare a glance toward. Tell me, what would you call it?”
“I have to say, I agree with Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore says angrily, although I’m unsure if that stems from the issue at hand or being on my side in something.
Dippet looks back and forth, a troubled look on his far too pale face, “The situation is…delicate.”
Delicate. The word makes my murder list itch to grow, only the two Professors being present stopping the killing curse from exiting my lips.
“Cygnus Black has already been detained,” Merrythought informs me. “He will not be leaving the castle until we’ve determined a proper course of action. This is beyond delicate, I would say. If we expel Black without undeniable proof, his family will retaliate. Hogwarts could lose funding, and—”
“And what?” I cut in coldly. “A girl nearly had her future stolen, and you’re worried about politics?”
Merrythought rolls his eyes dramatically, “No motive has been uncovered. You are simply grasping at wands, boy.”
Dumbledore clears his throat, “I believe the answer to be right in front of our noses, if one is willing to see it.”
Every cell in my body yearns to roll my eyes, but I manage not to. Saying with only a tight voice, “To force her into a marriage.”
“Now, even if that is the case, we are dealing with extenuating circumstances,” Merrythought says with a very deprecating tone, all but scoffing. “You know how many letters we’ve been receiving, there is a cold war happening outside the palace walls. It was only a matter of time until a student was forced to do something underhanded by their families.”
Against my will, my head snaps to Dumbledore, but I don’t keep my eyes from narrowing. This is the first I’m hearing of letters, and despite the complete lack of guilt present on the man’s face, I doubt Hope’s Uncle has informed her of such a thing. Whether Armond is the only bold enough to send her something directly or if action was taken afterwards, I don’t care. What I do care about is the fact that more is happening in this school than Dumbledore can control, and he is all but hindering Hope from understanding the full scope of things.
“The Black family has been very persistent— it would be a pity to ruin such a bright future due to a momentary lapse in judgment,” Dippet murmurs while stroking his beard.
It takes a large effort to control my eye color, let alone my tone. Thankfully, Dumbledore at least pretends to be a decent family member, “I hardly believe Miss Mikaelson would have been afforded the same sympathy, had his plan actually worked. Even without her will power intact.”
“That is true, that is true,” Dippet’s thoughtful voice hums. After a moment of quiet deliberation, he places both hands on the desk, standing shakily, “I will not be able to come to a decision until every facet has come to light. Professor Dumbledore, since you are Miss Mikaelson’s only form of guardianship, I must insist that you sit out of the discussion that is to be had with Mr. Black. Professor Slughorn will act as both witness to his answers and a trusted adult who likely has the best chance of gleaming the truth from the young lad.”
Merrythought all but preens like a peacock, and Dumbledore looks unhappy yet does not fight the Headmaster on his declaration. My jaw ticks, the only outward sign of the storm raging within me. Black will be able to manipulate those two idiots as easily as I wipe my arse, there is no way that he doesn’t graduate in a few months.
That means that I’m going to have to dirty my hands, perhaps Hope will have ideas on just how far in my bag of evil tricks I can delve. All I can think about is disemboweling the sorry excuse for a wizard before slowly force feeding him every inch of his stinking intestines. Yet, Dippet will likely only sentence Black to community service and an apology.
“As for you Mr. Riddle,” he continues, giving me a pointed look. “I understand you are fond of the witch, and I can assure you that I have her well being very much in mind while making this decision. You may find out with the rest of Slytherin what is to be Mr. Black’s fate, however this conclusion will not be rushed.”
With a respectful nod, I say a quick goodbye before I’m out the door again. If they won’t do anything, then I will. Technically, I am of age in the wizarding world, however it is unfortunate to have to be the only adult. My feet carry me quickly, my long legs heading to the only logical place for Merrythought to stash one of his favorite students; his office.
Bursting through the door, I find the bolded name on my kill list lounging in a chair with his feet propped up while eating candies off the Professor’s desk. The audacity. I stand in the doorway, watching as Cygnus Black lazily chews on a sugared fruit drop, as if he were not seconds away from potentially losing his life.
“Riddle,” he drawls, flicking a glance up at me before popping another sweet into his mouth. “Here to weep over your witch?”
I do not move from the doorway. Not yet.
“Enjoying your last meal, Black?” My voice is deceptively light. “How fitting that it’s stolen.”
That makes him roll his eyes, answering me with his mouth full, “Is that meant to be a quip? You used to be more clever.”
“I don’t need to be clever,” I start, finally entering the room. I have no idea how long I’ll be alone with him, time is of the essence. Silencing the door without him noticing is easy, so I continue, “I’ve already achieved what you set out to do. Although, I expected Pollux to come up with a better plan. Sending his younger son on a failed errand makes me wonder how much he truly values you.”
Scoffing, the idiot plants his feet on the ground, leaning forward with the angry face of someone taking the bait, “Of course he values me, why else would my Father want me to marry the most powerful witch in the world?”
“Because it would be harder for Alphard to reach her here at Hogwarts,” I tell him, bored that my ex-follower can’t figure this out on his own. “And no matter how hard Walburga tries, she could never fill Hope with little, Black heirs.”
Alphard is a few years older than his siblings, and thank the heavens for that. Cygnus is no competition, he has to resort to ill-fated, underhanded tricks like this. His older brother would have given me a run for my complete lack of money, though. The elder Black brother is suave and debonair without trying, the clear good looking sibling, and shares more of Hope’s values than his family cares for.
What they see as a weakness, I am positive my witch knows to be a strength. Not that they’re bright enough to deduce that on their own, the Black elders probably believe that Pureblood standards will eventually sway the witch. Likely why they sent the bloodthirsty oaf on the errand, not that their input will save him from my wrath.
“Regardless of your opinion,” Cygnus stouts, lifting his nose into the air. A clear sign that I’ve ruffled his feathers, “You are smart enough to realize I’m going to get detention— at most. If Mother knows one thing, it’s outrage.”
Sitting on the edge of the desk with a loud thunk, I lean into his personal space with a blank expression. On the other hand, his eyes widen in surprise, just as I’d hoped, “Yes, yes. I’m more than aware you plan on hiding both the truth and behind your family to skirt a punishment, which is why I plan on rectifying both issues. Legilimens.”
With lightning speed, I shove my wand into his throat staring straight into his shocked gaze. Enjoying the way his Adam’s apple bobs in fear, and I don’t hold back a small smirk. Occlumency was a well practiced skill for everyone in my Knighthood, it was required given our goals. I don’t mind, breaking through his mental walls is the least of his worries. However, I do relish the painful cries that fill the room, down right grinning when the smell of coppery blood becomes present.
****
March 2nd, 1944
Hope
The first thing I notice as I come to is that my bed smells different. Instead of my scent and those of my roommates, I find rosemary and far more people than I feel comfortable being vulnerable near. Fighting against unconsciousness internally, I try to remember anything before sleeping while staying as physically still as possible. There was my glorious waffle, the Potions lecture…I think Tom walked me to class…then things are fuzzy.
When my eyes finally open, stark white is what I find. Between the bright light, the monochromatic bedding, and the privacy curtains, I’m the most colorful thing in view. Glancing around and using my peripheral, I impersonate a statue while assessing the situation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in a hospital. Wait— Hogwarts. So, I’m in the hospital wing?
“Hope!” Mary’s voice calls out right before she comes into view from behind a sheet.
Sitting up, I catch my friend as she jumps onto the bed next to me. There were tears in her eyes that seem to be multiplying based on her shaking shoulders, “What happened?”
“Cygnus Black poisoned you,” Anthony’s voice growls, pulling my attention back where the crying redhead came from. Abraxas stands behind him, sporting a severe expression while glancing around the room. “Madame Smethwyck had to enlist our Head of House to retrieve a few antidotes— for Amortentia, Forgetfulness, and Lust potions.”
My hands curl into fists, and I feel my eyes changing color— how dare he. But, before I can unleash my fury, I need to know more, “How long have I been out?”
Finally lifting her head from my shoulder, Mary sniffles with a blotchy face, “A full day, Madame Smethwyck had to keep you sedated until the cure was finished.”
Taking in the angry and worried atmosphere, I can’t help but ask, “What happened? I don’t really remember anything.”
“The deviant planned to have you debase yourself in front of nearly half the school,” Abraxas growls, finally deigning to enter the conversation. His focus is on me, but I can tell his awareness is spread far beyond this sectioned off room, “Black suggested the two of you head to the Great Hall for some…intimate activities.”
Mary clutches one of my arms, her tone dangerous despite the tears, “His goal was to force you into a marriage, Hope. If you were caught having relations with someone, Hogwarts would be unable to shield you from the pressures of society. Not even Dumbledore’s name could save you from Cygnus if his plan had succeeded.”
The blood drains from my face, and for one horrible, gut-wrenching moment, my ring finger feels bare. Quickly, I check my left hand. Still situated on my forefinger sits the Gaunt Signet ring, and I hold it close to my chest, against my rapidly beating heart. Unable to voice my worries, I simply ask, “And Tom?”
“He stayed by your side nearly all night,” Anthony tells me with a sympathetic look. “Although, he left about an hour ago, saying something cryptic about running an errand for you?”
Nodding my understanding, I turn to Abraxas for him to confirm. Only, his voice is not the one that continues, “Forgive me, I had planned on being present when you awakened.”
Like a damn K Drama, Tom enters the space with a flourish, the hanging sheets billowing behind him. Even without the charming smile I’ve gotten so used to, he looks as perfect as always. Not a single hair out of place, no hint at the violence I’m sure he’s committed, and worry darkens his features as he scans my form. Releasing a relieved huff, I sit straighter as he comes to sit on the bed next to me. Mary shifts to be closer to my feet, giving me a knowing smirk that makes me want to roll my eyes.
Regardless, I turn an apologetic expression to my fiance, the one who was likely treated poorly by the drugged up version of me. My friends that live in the details are suspiciously keeping them under wraps, which only tells me that I made a complete ass of myself. Whether my words or actions hurt him, I’m a good enough guesser that I can put two and two together.
Before the first, contrite word can pass my lips, Tom holds a hand up to stop me, “Do not give me that look, my Darling. You are not responsible for anything that happened under his influence. I’ve taken care of nearly everything, the only left is to dole out the miscreant’s punishment.”
“What do you mean?” I breath, confusion filling me. No matter how happy I am that he isn’t upset with me, he and Abraxas are making it seem like there’s more to deal with than one Pureblooded asshole.
“While the school might not be punishing Black the way he should be,” Tom seethes, being incensed simply by mentioning the fact. I can’t blame him, until now, he likely relied on the patriarchy and nuances of Pureblood society. Having them bite you in ass is never fun, something my world prepared me for in spades, “I do not have the same qualms. Therefore, I pulled the information from his mind and have done everything in my power to prepare for your recovery.”
A frown forms, and I feel my eyes crinkle, “Did he do more than just drugging me?”
“It’s how he managed to do it that is the problem. Using Polyjuice, he masqueraded as myself before asking the elves to use a special glaze when making your waffle. The candied nuts that acted as a topping was the culprit. Deek and Dopney were beside themselves when they learned they were used to harm you, that is where I have been, and why I wasn’t here when you first awoke. I knew you would not want them worrying or to blame themselves,” he explains.
Gasping, my eyes go wide. Cygnus used the elves against me? No matter how angry I am that he meant to hurt me, to steal my future from me, he isn’t the first or likely the last. I’ve more or less gotten used to the constant danger aspect of my life, regardless of my irritation or need for self preservation. But using the elves, using waffle day against me? Unforgivable.
Rage and fury mix within me, and a small breeze ruffles the sheets and bedding while magic gathers all around me, “Where is he.”
My growl is very real, and is so threatening that Anthony and Abraxas take an instinctual step back from me. Thankfully, both Mary and Tom seem to share my emotions, the latter taking one of my fists to smooth out my fingers.
“Currently, sitting in his first detention,” my wizard tells me, his voice soft yet carrying a dangerous undertone. “Beyond uncovering the truth, I haven’t done more than scare Black. Now that you’re awake, we can discuss how exactly we will make him regret ever crossing you.”
Baring my teeth, I all but hiss out, “I want him dead. I want to watch the fear enter his gaze before the life is slowly leached from his eyes.”
“If that is what you want, then I’ll make it happen,” Tom tells me, brushing some hair behind one of my ears. The action helps to quell some of my ire, my feelings for him momentarily eclipsing my burning rage.
Meeting his gaze I shake my head with no small amount of disappointment, “No, we can’t. That’s a bit too drastic, just a wish.”
“Why not?” he asks, looking put out that I’ve changed my mind. One of his curls falls over as he looks down at me, making him look even more handsome.
“Because,” I tell him with a small smile. “I need his descendants to still exist. We can’t do anything that would jeopardize their births.”
While I’m in this world, I would still like to know the characters that I came to love growing up. They might not be the same as from the books, seeing as events are changing all around me, but still. I’m almost completely sure that Narcissa and Andromeda are his daughters, making his life important.
Abraxas’ son deserves the person he loves the most, and the brave Black daughter that turns her back on Pureblood society needs to come to fruition. Through her, Nymphadora Tonks will be born, one of my favorite people in the entire series. Bellatrix, the third sister, I could do without on the other hand. But, two out of three tilts the scales in Cygnus’ favor, unfortunately.
“I’ve actually been thinking about this,” Mary chimes in, her expression turning devious. “Having so many siblings and cousins, revenge is basically my second language.”
That makes Anthony chuckle, but Tom turns to her with a curious glint in his eye, “What do you have in mind?”