#Tom Avery x male reader

[supercap2319]

"So, why doesn't this taste disgusting?" Tom Avery asked as he waited for Y/N to stop cramming it into his mouth, before giving him the blood bag. It was weird. This was supposed to taste gross, make him vomit this stuff up, but he didn't want to. He likes the coppery taste on his tongue.

Y/N looks at him. "Because you're a vampire now. Vampires need blood like a human needs a double bacon cheeseburger with fries."

Tom nods. "That's a weird comparison that I never thought I'd ever hear in my life." He drinks the remaining blood, but is still hungry by the time he's finished. As if sensing his still apparent hunger, Y/N hands him another one and Tom greedily rips into it with his new fangs and gasped when he saw his sclera blood-shot red. Black veins underneath his eyes. He looks at Y/N. "What the fuck?"

"What? Were you expecting us to have horns too?" Y/N jokes as Tom rolls his eyes exactly like Stefan.

"You're hilarious."

Y/N smiled. "Come on. We need to go."

"Go? Go, where?"

"The monster league. A little town in Virginia called Mystic Falls. You can meet my boyfriend, who looks exactly like you. Literally."

"Wait, what?!"

[lostmyremembrall]

𝒯𝒽ℯ ℬℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒜 𝒩𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝒟ℴ

Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader Genre: Romance, fluff, feminist Summary: It's a depressing time for you to be alive when women are expected to become a housewife after Hogwarts. You and Tom, two orphans from the muggle world, made Heads, but you're still overcome with self-doubt. Tom overhears your conversation with Slughorn and decides to cheer you up. Well, in his unique way.

Warning: None. Photos aren't mine.

Part of a Series! -> 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨'𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Recommended music: The Toy Boat from the Arcane series

The first Slughorn meeting of the year finished uneventfully as curfew approached with the ding of the grandfather clock and with Slughorn teasing the students to return to their dorms before both of the Heads present caught them in the act. Each student bid Slughorn good nights and thank yous as they sleepily shuffled out of his office. However, it was obvious to Slughorn, along with everyone in the room, that Canopus and Alphard staggered out of the room too drunk, an observation evident in his raised eyebrow of Slughorn. You, however, were stopped by Slughorn on your way out. You signalled to Abraxas, who stopped by the door, to go ahead.

Slughorn peered into your eyes above his spectacles. When his worry lines deepened, Slughorn looked a lot tired and older than he was. “Something troubling you, my girl?”

You blinked a few times. You supposed you have been rather quiet tonight during dessert. “I’m not sure what you mean, professor.”

“I can imagine how difficult it is to be Head Girl, in times like this, with your… status.” You winced upon hearing the last word; Slughorn was clearly struggling to find the right word for ‘muggleborn’. “Not to mention you and Ms. McGonagall being the only two women in the practical Defence against the Dark Arts class…” Slughorn lowered his gaze to your trousers again and shook his head, as if condemning the world for putting them in a situation where they had to wear pants. “I couldn’t help but notice a strange look cross your face earlier.”

You nodded. It made sense that your irregular behaviour became a reason for concern. “I was… picturing my future, sir.” You started slowly, testing out each word on your tongue. “I see my male friends, Mr. Riddle, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Lestrange and Mr. Avery, and I can easily picture them as a professor, Minister of Magic, a renowned Quidditch player."

As you started, more words started spilling out. "But, I don’t belong in that world. However hard I try, whatever I accomplish, I cannot see anything but becoming a housewife for my future,” Your eyes lowered to a spot on the carpet, your brows furrowing again. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Slughorn as you told him that seven years of education from him was wasted on her.

“I have seen you grow up, Ms. (y/l/n).” A completely irrelevant comment brought your eyes back up to Slughorn. His eyes had drastically softened as he beamed down at you. “I still remember your first potions class. Immediately after teaching you about bezoar, you went on to steal it from my personal cupboard.” You fidgeted under Slughorn’s judgemental look from above his spectacles. He wasn’t smiling, still reprimanding you for what happened 6 years ago, but the kind, excited twinkle was evident in his eyes. A look that made you concerned he was going to continue telling this story for the rest of his life.

“Quite a Robin Hood, you were, stealing it for that Avery boy who had gotten a bad food poisoning. Although, a simple healing spell at the Infirmary would have done the trick.” A fact that made you blush in embarrassment still to this day. Slughorn boomed in laughter, holding his shaking belly.

“I was disappointed, yes. But what I did not tell you as a child was how proud I was as your professor.”

Your eyes widened, to which he responded by widening his eyes and nodding. “Yes! Indeed, you would be surprised. You got quite a scolding back then. But, Ms. (y/l/n), you have no idea the bliss it brings to an old professor when his student takes what they learned in class to help others.” Slughorn trailed off, his eyes glossing over as he reminisced about the past.

“And here you are. Despite some disregard for school rules, a Head Girl! My point is that what you have accomplished is no easy feat. Your parents. Your bloodline in this extremely prejudiced society. Your gender in this biassed world. Although, you did seem to have some difficulty adjusting in the beginning,” Slughorn chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he looked at his empty glass. “You should be extremely proud of yourself for coming this far.”

“I am not saying you should be content with your current situation,” Slughorn, seeing your disappointed frown, quickly added. “The world will certainly change thanks to people like you and Ms. McGonagall. Slowly, but certainly. All I am asking you is to take a moment to be proud of the role model you have become,” Slughorn smiled down at you, “as much I am proud of you.”

You couldn’t help but reluctantly smile at his kind comment.

“And you aren’t going to be a nobody,’ Slughorn, encouraged by your smile, continued. “You’ve already made it to the Slug Club!” He spread his arms to his office. “You will forever be one of the few students who make it into the photograph shelf. As long as I teach, I will be talking about you and your great colleagues to the students after you, for generations to come.” Slughorn added with a wink,

“And surely, being a member of the Slug Club comes with a few perks, hm? Connections in every industry. I will not be surprised if I find your name in the paper headlines one day, Ms. (y/full/n), the first female Minister of Magic.” He exaggeratedly drew the headlines in the air with his wand. Your full name with the title sparkled in the air for a moment before disappearing in smoke.

You laughed at the pure absurdity. “Thank you, sir. I think you’ve cheered me up quite a bit.”

Slughorn seemed significantly relieved at seeing you laugh carelessly. He smiled and nodded. “Good good. You young folks stress too much these days,” Slughorn rested an arm on your shoulder, guiding you to his door. “Go easy on yourself.”

“You make it sound so easy, professor,” You chuckled and shook your head. He had nothing to worry about; his career was already made with only happy retirement in sight.

His voice suddenly serious, “The professors are all rooting for you, Ms.(y/l/n),” Slughorn paused the door halfway, peering at you through the crack. He beamed at you one last time, “Whatever you achieve Ms. (y/l/n), that first day of your potions class had already made me plenty proud to call you my student.” 

You smiled at his sincere comment. “Thank you, professor.”

With a single nod of a reassuring smile, Slughorn closed the door fully with a quiet thud. You were suddenly left in the dark.

“What a touching story; a great role model you are, Head Girl.” The cool voice mimicked Slughorn, the mockery echoing in the dark corridor. “If only he caught you accidentally encouraging underage drinking to the fifth years.”

You groaned. Of course, he had to ruin this rare moment of wholesome bliss. You turned on your heels; there he was, leaning against the stone pillar. A smug smile on his lips as always.

“What did you want now, Riddle?” compared to the kind comments from Slughorn, just being in the same space with Riddle was draining your energy. 

The lethargy must have shown in your voice more than you meant; Riddle frowned feigning a broken heart. “Just thought it would be considerate to wait for my Head Girl.” Out of the corner of your eyes, You caught Riddle actually pouting. The snake has metamorphosed itself into a puppy, you thought, reminding you of the mimicry employed as an adaptive tactic in evolution. Oh, you knew exactly what he was doing.

“I didn’t know the word ‘consideration’ was part of your vocabulary,” You said coolly, swiftly moving past him back towards the Head dorm.

The commentary seemed to really tick off Riddle, as he dropped the subject, and moved on. This time, his voice icier, “Why are you determined to think you are destined for failure?” he asked following in your footsteps.

You cursed yourself for not putting up a silencing charm before you talked to Slughorn. Your cheeks burned as the realisation dawned on you that Riddle must have heard everything. Suddenly, the wholesome moment with Slughorn seemed contaminated by the tinge of embarrassment spreading within you. Every reassuring compliment from Slughorn seemed like proof to Riddle that you were merely a child who relied on external validations to keep yourself together.

“Must be easy when you’re born a man,” the bitterness seeped into your voice more than you intended to, like a cauldron that was spewing black smoke everywhere from underneath the rattling lid.

As expected, you crossed a line. Riddle’s face drained itself of any teasing playful manner as the usual smug look dropped. He stopped dead, causing you to stop in shock as well, a clear contrast from his usual casualness.

He turned to you, “It will do you well to stop assuming things about people, (y/l/n),” His boiling anger was concealed underneath his cool mask, the irritation visible only through his narrowed slits of eyes. You hated to admit it, but you knew he was right. Envy was not a good colour on you.

Riddle tore his eyes away and sighed.  His stormy eyes drifted down the hall, almost glaring at the empty corridor ahead of him. “Longing for greatness also plagues my thoughts,” he quietly murmured. He was now still as a mannequin. If you were to see him from a distance, you would have judged him to be a completely different man. After a while, he added, still refusing to meet your eyes, “It’s crushing, actually.” 

You wondered if his stormy eyes were reflecting his psyche, something more than a simple vexation towards you. You thought you heard a hint of despair in his voice. 

“It’s gotta be the orphan complex. Our obsession with greatness,” you mumbled, wanting to somewhat lighten the mood.

Surprisingly, Riddle did not admonish you for bringing up the orphanage. He chuckled, “Perhaps,” a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips in a hesitant admittance.

An awkward silence fell between you two as Riddle took the chance to shamelessly observe you. You knew he tended to do that after a month of working with him, but under his intent gaze, you still squirmed uncomfortably.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“Hm?”

Riddle seemed agitated at having to explain further. “I know you will be a great witch someday, (y/l/n). I can feel it in your magic.”

 You doubted your ears.

“The power, the drive, the intelligence; it’s all there.” Riddle looked in the distance. “I wasn’t surprised that you and I made Heads; the brightest, most promising witch and wizard of our generation.” 

After a moment of pause, he added. “If anyone is going to make history, I know it will be one of us.” 

You stared at him in shock. Was Tom Riddle, the narcissistic man who liked to deem himself god, admitting that you were his equal?

“You’re one of few capable of intriguing me. That’s an accomplishment in itself.” He scoffed, “Although, you still have some ways to go. If only you took the time to read more often, you would certainly catch up.”

Aaaand, it was gone. “Alright, Riddle,” you decided to stop him there, grimacing. “I can no longer tell whether you’re admiring me or yourself.” You had no particular interest in Riddle’s celebration of his own ego.

Riddle’s eyes twinkled in a playful manner. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As annoying as he was, you admitted that was most likely, the best a specimen called Tom Riddle can do when complimenting others. Besides, his smile was charming enough to make you want to forgive his confidence bordering on narcissism. Enough for you to break into a chuckle.

A/N: This is a snippet out of my long fanfiction series I am finishing, but with an alteration to the reader rather than my oc.

[magicbystarlight]

Venomous - Part One

Sewlyn (Pureblood) Reader x Tom Riddle

Masterlist

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 2,392

Warnings: 18+, Dubious consent, sexual harassment, Tom Riddle. Nothing super explicit in this chapter but there will explicit content later on. Minors DNI.

"Selwyn."

It was an alluring whisper against your ear that had the hair raising on your neck. The hidden alcove far past the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room should have been remote enough to keep you safe. To keep him from finding you.

“Riddle." Your voice held none of the easy charm his did, meek in comparison. You refused to look up into his face and stared unseeingly at meaningless words on a page.

"You weren't hiding from me, where you?" he cooed, pushing strands of hair behind your ear.

A violent shiver ran through you at his touch. You should run. Flee. Escape. An entire ocean didn't seem like it could put enough distance between you two. Yet you couldn't force yourself to unlock your frozen muscles. "Of course not. Why would I be hiding from you?"

His fingers traced a path to your chin, pulling it from the book and forcing you to look into his dark eyes. "Yes,” he murmured hoarsely, “what reason would you have to be hiding from me?"

Why had you agreed to this? Surely Slughorn would have understood if you said you had to study. With O.W.L.s only four months away, it wasn’t a full lie either. 

"Ahh, Miss Selwyn! I was beginning to worry you wouldn't show!" Slughorn exclaimed from his seat. He was surrounded by a group of all male, Slytherin students. You really shouldn't have agreed to this.

"Sorry, Professor. I was finishing an essay for Transfiguration and time got away from me."

He let out a boisterous laugh. "Not to worry, my dear, not to worry! You're here now," he said with a wide grin. "Boys, this is the lovely young woman I was telling you about! Are, uh, introductions needed?"

You looked across the mostly familiar faces at the table. "I don't believe so, Professor. This is practically a family reunion." Purebloods loved their incest. Everard Lestrange. Azar Avery. Barnabas Burke. Peter Rowle. Robert Goyle. They were all some type of cousin or, in Azar's case, an uncle.

A deep voice spoke from somewhere hidden behind Slughorn. "My apologies, but I have yet to have the pleasure of being properly introduced to Miss Selwyn." The room turned its attention to the one who had spoken.

"Ah, well how wonderful!" Slughorn said with a clap. "This is Miss Selwyn. A year below you, but a very impressive Potions Mistress. Be careful of her though, she brews a quite potent Amortentia."

The handsome boy—a man, more accurately—came into view as he stood from his seat beside the professor and slowly, methodically crossed the room. You’d seen him from a distance hundreds of times but, before tonight, you had never caught his attention. Now, as he stood only a few inches away, you were the center of it. His gaze raked itself up and down your form before locking on your own, bringing a fire to your cheeks. His hand extended and yours stuck out mechanically to meet it. Your breath hitched as he lifted it to his soft lips. "It is a delight to meet you. Tom Riddle."

"My, my, Tom! Such a gentleman!" Slughorn sounded rather pleased with himself. "Burke, why don't you take the seat next to Rowle so Tom and Miss Selwyn may get better acquainted, hmm?"

No, oh please no, you thought. Tom was a model student, a Prefect even, and the whole of Hogwarts was infatuated with him. It was common knowledge that he would be made Head Boy the next year. Combined with his impressive physique, chiseled features, and breathtaking smile, he was the epitome of every girl's fantasy man. 

Even yours.

But there was something that had you on edge. The hammering in your heart had to have been caused by more than the attractive man's closeness that left a lingering smell of cedarwood and rebellious thoughts. The way he watched you triggered the same response that an animal had when it realized it was being hunted—fight or run. Hair raised on your arms, muscles tightened in anticipation. 

Tom's lips curled up as he released your hand and offered his arm. "What a wonderful idea, Professor. Shall we?" His steps were as slow and methodical as they had been the first time but now with you trapped at his side. He used the time to compliment your dress, running his fingers down the long sleeve. His words and actions were soft, but there was a venomous aura radiating in his touch that made your skin burn beneath the cloth.

He played his role as the charming Prefect well, pulling out your chair and pouring you a drink. He made polite conversation with Slughorn, occasionally asking for your thoughts. On the surface he was a perfect gentleman. If it weren't for the numerous times his hand brushed against your thigh under the table you may have even been inclined to believe the performance.

"What’s this business with you brewing a love potion?" Azar teased from the other side of the table during a lull in conversation. "You’re not supposed to learn that until after O.W.L.s. You weren't planning to use it on someone, were you?"

Slughorn nearly choked on a swig of Butterbeer. "Avery! That's a highly inappropriate thing to insinuate."

"Don't worry, Professor. He’s looking for gossip. Being the disappointment of the family can be quite hard on him." You shot Azar a bright smile to which he responded with a roll of his eyes. "But, no, dear uncle, I didn't brew it to use. I’ve been testing my abilities on more complex, dangerous potions outside of class. For fun."

"Dangerous?" he scoffed. "It's a love potion. What's the worst it could do? Make you snog someone to death?"

The boys in the room laughed with the exception of Tom, who remained unnervingly quiet beside you. You waited patiently for their chuckles to die, taking a sip of Pumpkin Juice once it had fallen silent again. "Love is a dangerous thing, Azar. People will do illogical, reckless things for it. But love potions don't create love, do they?" The orange liquid swirled in the cup as you sat it down. "No, no. They create obsession. An insatiable desire to be with and please whoever gave them the potion no matter the cost. People will die for love, but an obsession is something they kill for."

The boys remained silent, uneasy looks passing between them. Perhaps they had finally realized that girls trying to slip them love potions on Valentine's Day was a tad more sinister than they previously understood. Slughorn nodded solemnly. "She's right, love potions are nothing to jeer at. Especially Amortentia."

The remainder of the night passed slowly and Tom grew bolder as it wore on. You thought of calling him out, but held your tongue. This was a room full of his friends—even if they were your family—and a professor who was more than willing to look the other way on certain behaviors when it benefited him. There had been stories about worse things happening at Hogwarts. You knew how it had played out for others. Labeled the villain and shamed as a teasing harlot looking to exploit a well-respected man. This was something you would deal with alone. When he rested his hand on your dress covered knee you shoved it off harshly, crossing your legs and shifting them out from reach.

"Lestrange," he called out to your cousin sat next to Azar, "didn't your father send you a new watch?" The entire table turned its attention to Everard who looked down proudly at his new accessory as he lifted his wrist to show them.

Your attempt to glance at the watch was interrupted when your chair moved soundlessly closer to Tom. The hem of your dress, which had once fallen below your knee, was flipped up dangerously high and his hand made contact with your nylon-covered thigh. His grasp was so tight as he forced your leg back down you were sure it would bruise. 

"Are you alright?" Azar asked, having heard your gasp.

Your mind shouted for you to tell them. Someone would believe you. Someone would help. "No, um, a very sudden migraine came on." Tom’s fingers relaxed slightly—a reward for your silence.

"Oh no, my dear! Do you need an escort to the Hospital Wing? Or to your common room?"

Tom dragged his hand further up, pulling material from one of the clasps holding the stocking up and sending toe curling thoughts to your head. "Yes, would you like me to escort you?"

"N-no, no. It's alright. Richard should be here shortly. He offered to walk me to the Tower after he was done with rounds."

"Bones? My, my, I didn't realize you kept such fine company, Miss Selwyn! Well, in any case, I have a tonic I think might be useful to you. An old student of mine knows how fragile you ladies can be…" His chair scraped loudly as he rose. "I'll be right back," he called out over his shoulder as he disappeared into a side room.

Tom's fingers dragged across the bare skin, rising higher and higher.

"What have you been talking to Bones for? Blood Traitor like that's not worth your time," Peter asked on your other side, still oblivious to what his friend was doing to you under the table.

"He's nice to talk to," was all you could manage. You covered Tom's hand with your own in hopes that it would force him to stop and force your mind away from the fire it stoked in you.

"Would you really prefer his company over mine?" Tom asked lowly, almost threateningly, while his hand continued to push further up your thigh despite the resistance. You met his gaze again.

No. You would much prefer having Tom take you to a dark corner of the castle or an empty classroom. His fingers going further and taking whatever he wanted. You would prefer indulging yourself for once in something you absolutely shouldn’t.

But you could not have that. It was not how a Selwyn conducted themself. While you weren’t the heir to the name—that duty landed on your elder brother—you were still bound by the expectations of your birth status, whether you liked it or not. Richard Bones wasn't even a potential romance; you were no more than friends and there was no desire for more. He was the safe, untempting choice to wander dark corridors alone with. 

"It'd be rude of me to leave when I have no way of letting him know."

His hand slipped away, a smirk playing on his lips. "Next time, then."

The scene changed rapidly, molding Tom's face into Slughorn's.

The potion looked perfectly fine. It still had the same mother-of-pearl sheen, there were no bubbles, or any other physical signs something had happened to it. But it was different. It was wrong. "Have you added anything to the potion, sir?"

He let out a roar of a laugh. "Of course not, my dear! It's perfect! The best Amorentia I've seen!"

It didn't make sense. The day prior it had smelled like rain, old leather, and Earl Grey. While hints of those were still there, it was an overpowering scent of something woodsy that now filled the room. Something had to have happened to it. The possibility of someone trying to sabotage it wasn't too far of a stretch. There were a few people who disliked you and a few who would just think it’s funny

"I must say quite I enjoyed having you around last night! You did well keeping the boys in check, you know. Rowdy bunch they can be," he smiled to himself. Rowdy would not be the word you would use to describe them. "I'm hosting another dinner on Saturday, I think it'd be wonderful if you could come along again. I know Tom would certainly enjoy having you there. Kept asking about you…" 

Cedarwood. That was the smell. Tom had smelled like cedarwood. 

The first lie you could think of slipped out before your mouth went dry, "I'm sorry but I promised I'd help Professor Merrythought read through some essays Saturday night."

It changed again and again, flicking through more than half a year of excuses you’d used to avoid his parties. Slughorn’s face phased into Azar's then Peter's then Everard's—all asking you to visit them over the summer holiday followed by careful rejections. Letters answered with more excuses to avoid being around them and possibly Tom. Your increasingly desperate attempts during the first weeks of your Sixth Year to never be alone for fear he'd find you and you’d give in to the terrible thoughts you had about him.

And then there they were: every horrifyingly erotic thought he'd ever stirred in you forcing their way forward. You didn't want to see them again, oh Merlin, not again. The door on those thoughts slammed shut and you found yourself back in the alcove of the dark corridor, alone with Tom Riddle. 

How long had he been staring at you?

"Was there something you needed?" you asked, pulling your head from his grip. The loss of his touch felt nearly unwelcome as your skin tingled.

"Something I wanted to give you, actually," he said, seemingly unbothered as he removed a velvet jewelry box from his pocket, "Avery had mentioned it was your birthday a few days ago. Seventeen’s quite an important age, is it not?” Out of the things you had expected from Tom, a present had not been one of them. You reached for it, only for him to pull it back. "If you wouldn't mind, I would prefer to give you this in a more...private setting."

You stared at him confused. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"We're in a secluded hallway far off the beaten path. There isn't a more private place than this on a Saturday without a Hogsmeade trip."

He merely smiled, offering his arm much like he had that night in Slughorn's office. "Indulge me." Don't go. Don't go. Say no. Don't go. But curiosity gnawed at you. Your fatal flaw, your incessant, desperate need to know, tugged you from your seat in the small alcove to slide your arm through his and let him pull you along the lonely corridor.

Next Part

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 10 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3k

Part 10 - Mors Grano

The days after Avery’s poor attempt of gathering information went by quite eventfully. Not only had Avery and Lestrange almost gotten expelled by Dippet for what they had done, but had received the worst detention you had ever heard of. 

Every day, up until the N.E.W.T.s would start, they had to help Mr Carpe, Hogwarts’ caretaker, to clean every last bit of the castle. Without magic of course. And when they weren’t scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, or polishing trophies, they were copying the school rules on parchment, by hand. The amount of paper they had to fill looked like it wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up. 

Even if they still wanted to, their new schedule didn’t even give them enough time to trail, or even think about you. They barely had enough time to finish their homework before tumbling into their beds.

You would have felt sorry for them, but Tom’s snarky grin, which he wore every time you saw the two in the hallways, reminded you that you didn’t have to. 

Thank Merlin you hadn’t told Avery much when he had disguised himself as Tom. You had just confirmed that the engagement had been arranged but thankfully hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going round about Tom and you. 

Camille almost didn’t believe you when you told her what they had done. After a lot of head shaking and “no, they didn’t”s she just stared at you with her mouth open and proceeded to laugh for a full minute or two when you told her about their punishment. 

It was a lucky coincidence that she had found an interest in Ben, as she didn’t mind now that you were spending a lot more time with Tom. She was preoccupied as well by the looks of it. 

After the accidental sleepover, you had stayed in Tom’s dorm overnight more often. Not on accident though. It had become a routine to you, to have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to the Slytherin common room, where Tom’s dorm was.

Tom was sitting at his desk when you entered the room, apparently deep in thought and studying the Potions book he had gifted you.

“Alright?” you said when you closed the door.

He nodded as you went up to him.

“Found anything interesting for the Moly?” you asked. “It still looks quite healthy to me.”

“Not really,” he answered and turned towards you. “Nothing specific.”

“Oh, I just got an owl from my parents. ” You crammed the letter out of your bag and handed it to him. “They’ve fixated the date. For the wedding.”

Tom read the letter quietly, his eyebrows twitching slightly once or twice.

“June 30th,” he said.

“That’s only one day after we graduate,” you stated and tried to lighten the mood by joking. “Seems like they can’t wait for the big day.”

He nodded as he gazed into the flames inside the fireplace, a tiny grin pulling on the edge of his mouth before he looked up at you. “Can you?”

To prevent the chuckle that built up inside of you from bursting out, you took Tom’s hand, lightly pulled on it and gestured towards the couch, where you wanted to sit. He closed the Potions book, but kept one finger inside it and took it with him when you led him over.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said as you let yourself fall onto the cushion. “It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“True,” he simply agreed. 

“I can’t wait to try on the dress, though. That’ll be exciting,” you went on and noticed him smiling. “And then there’s the most important part, of course.”

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t know what you meant.

“Elsie,” you explained. “Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least.”

Morfin had to, didn’t he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn’t be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo’s filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

“He will free her, won’t he?” you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s what they agreed on.”

“But?” you asked. 

“But,” he went on, “You’ve seen how they are.”

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense. 

“They’ll never let go,” you breathed. “But how-”

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I have to show you something.”

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. “I thought you’d come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn’t… Just see for yourself.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin’s book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it. Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured. Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given. 

You didn’t bother reading the list of ingredients, as your hands were shaking far too much to even detect another word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Dippet had brought it up in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1760. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to figure out what had caused such an increased amount of deaths, which happened to involve male wizards only. The potion and most of its ingredients got banned afterwards and you had never heard of another case since.

Until now. It suddenly all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and had coated it with Mors Grano. They had known how to cure Elsie all along and had patiently waited, days and weeks, had let your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given the letter to her, even though it had been addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten year old, innocent, little girl. 

You weren’t sure if you had to throw up, or just needed to punch something really hard, but your stomach did twists and turns that you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

“They…” you whispered. “And you knew?”

Tom swallowed thickly. “I didn’t at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison.”

“And you never told me?” you asked, your voice loud and on the verge of breaking, while you attempted to get up from the couch.

“Let me explain,” Tom said and grabbed your hand. “Sit down.”

“What is there to explain?” you asked, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’ve known for months. Even before your first visit. Before Elsie got sick. And you never tried to prevent it, nor did you tell me.”

Tom’s grip around your hand got tighter the more you tried to get him off you. “I said let me explain. I let you explain yourself when I saw you with Avery, didn’t I? Imagine I just ran away then. Now sit down.”

Finally, Tom’s grip loosened, allowing you to tear your hand away from him. Not knowing what to think or say, you sat down but couldn’t bring yourself to even look in his direction.

“Yes, I knew,” he began with a sigh. “And I didn’t care until I found out what they wanted to use the potion for. But I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I still can’t. I’m unable to talk about it. They were a step ahead. Understand?”

The Gaunts were a step ahead. They always wanted to be. Just like on Christmas Day, when they wanted you and Tom to do-

“An unbreakable vow?” you asked with wide eyes. “You had to vow not to tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I vowed not to tell. But I didn’t vow not to show.”

He turned one page inside the book and handed it to you again.

Mors Grano - antidote

Ingredients: 

The skin of a snake

2 fresh Foxgloves

3 blossoms of a Moly

4 drops of Moondew

5 tears of a Banshee

“The antidote,” you mumbled. “Full with an ingredient list and instructions. Morfin brewed it already then? They gave it to Elsie, otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten better.”

“He didn’t complete it,” Tom answered, apparently trying not to say something that would interfere with the vow.

“He left out something? They gave her an unfinished antidote?”

Tom nodded. 

“The tears?” you guessed, solely because it was the most powerful and rare item on the list.

“I’m not sure. They never let me into his chamber after the engagement.”

“Can we… Can we steal it from him? And add the last ingredient?”

“Marvolo has the flask on him at all times. He’s suspicious, even of Morfin.”

Bloody hell. Marvolo’s paranoia was a real pain. You scanned the antidote again, thinking of all the ways you could get your hands on that potion.

“But I could brew it myself. Most of the ingredients are easy to find. Foxgloves are for sale in Diagon Alley, I’ve seen them countless times. The Moly, we have it here,” you listed and looked at it standing on the desk, finally realising why Tom had tried to keep it alive so badly. “Snakeskin from Nagini. We just wait for her to shed. Moondew and the Banshee tears will be tricky, however.”

Tom nodded at every new thing you had said. “You figured it out.”

Your stomach had stopped squirming at the glimmer of hope you had for saving Elsie. You carefully read the recipe for the antidote again, understanding how long it would take and how hard it would be to get the potion right. If everything went well, it would be finished mid to late June at the earliest. Besides, Slughorn had never taught you such advanced techniques. 

Now that you were thinking of your Professor, it began to dawn on you. “Do you think Slughorn has Moondew and Banshee tears in his chamber?”

“Possibly,” Tom answered. “But do you really want to steal from him after what Avery and Lestrange did? I’m sure he’s got it all locked up in his office now.”

“Well, I have to try. Where else would I get those things from? And I better try soon. The antidote will take months to make as it is and the earlier I start, the better.”

Tom took the book, got up from the couch and put it into the drawer of his desk, closing it shut slowly.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going to Slughorn then, aren’t we? Come on.”

You followed him out hastily, trying to sort out your thoughts. Frankly, you had not expected to get the ingredients this quickly.

“Wait, how are we going to do it?” you asked, struggling to keep pace. “We can’t just sneak in and grab the things we need. He might be in there.”

“Even better then,” Tom said, not deigning to look at the other students strolling along the hallways. “I talk, you get the stuff.”

As Slughorn’s office was located on the sixth floor, it took some time to get there. Your mind was still racing around the facts you had just been given and you needed to talk about it.

“I can’t believe they made you vow,” you muttered. “Marvolo and Morfin are…”

“Bastards,” he finished your sentence when you stepped from one of the moving staircases to another. “I’m aware.”

“Well, yes they are.”

You were the only people on the staircase, floating higher up towards your destination. Tom looked over his shoulder to double-check if anyone could hear him.

“You know what,” he said pensively. “I actually expected people to ask me what I, or my family, had done to make the engagement happen. Seeing as it was them who got the ball rolling. But everyone suspected you. They all thought your parents bribed us.”

You thought about what to answer for a moment. A sour smile had formed on your face. One that, for all you knew, every woman had worn at least once in her life. 

“A woman's intentions will always be questioned a hundred times harsher than those of a man, Tom. What else is new?”

He pressed his lips together, nodded and kept quiet until you reached the sixth floor.

“Wait,” you said and got a hold of his hand when you had entered the corridor of Slughorn’s office. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me. The book, the Moly and now this. You know you don’t have to.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly in response. 

“Trust me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than I do. If I can make their lives a bit harder, I’ll gladly do it. And besides, I want to see your sister become Quidditch captain one day. That will really piss them off.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words, as you had arrived. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.

“Get behind me,” Tom ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

You did as he said, pressed your back against the stone wall and watched from a small distance how Tom knocked on the door and Slughorn opened it.

“Oh, Tom,” the Professor said. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon Professor. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I have some questions about Avery and Lestrange. I’m trying to sort out some things for Professor Dippet. Would you mind letting me in?”

Slughorn opened the door fully and stepped back. “Of course, boy, of course. Come in.”

Tom had left the door open for you to slip in behind them, which you instantly did. He lured Slughorn to the far end of his office, walking backwards and keeping an eye on you. Slughorn’s potion stock was right next to the entrance, where you knelt down between the shelves, in case he would turn around unexpectedly.

The small drawers weren’t tagged, but you noticed that their contents were sorted alphabetically. As you silently roamed through them, you could hear Tom and Slughorn speak.

“So, Professor,” Tom said. “Do you know if Avery and Lestrange have taken anything else? Apart from the Polyjuice Potion?”

The Professor hummed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why?”

Every single one of the drawers was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even had completed potions in it, but you still hadn’t seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly, while being quiet at the same time and making sure not to miss anything.

“Well, there were some items found. Residues of Moondew and Banshee tears,” Tom explained.

“Banshee tears?” Slughorn asked.

“Yes. We can’t be sure if it was them, but I thought if you missed those things from your supply, the two might have something to do with it.”

“No, everything else is there, I counted it myself,” Slughorn assured. “What baffles me are the Banshee tears.”

Tom was an excellent liar, even though Slughorn would have probably bought anything his favourite student said. The bottom drawer at the penultimate row was stuck. You pulled the handle tightly but it only opened up an inch and gave a screech while it did, making you freeze from fear.

“Did you hear something?” Slughorn asked, his voice echoing your way.

“No, I didn’t,” Tom answered and coughed. “Why are you surprised about the Banshee tears, sir?”

“Well, those tears are rare,” the teacher answered, his head directed towards Tom again. “Very rare and also not very legal, boy. I’ve never seen them anywhere in my whole life. They couldn’t have been from me.”

No Banshee tears from Slughorn then. You pulled out your wand and cast a nonverbal spell to loosen up the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Eventually, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mollowsweed, mandrake, maw, mistletoe berry... Moondew. Thank Merlin! There were over ten vials of it in the drawer, so you hastily took out one and put it into your pocket.

You peeked over the counter, locked eyes with Tom, and pointed towards the door to let him know you would leave.

“I see,” Tom went on, his eyes back on Slughorn. “We’ll have to look into that. Anyway, if you do notice some Moondew missing, against all expectations, I’m going to have another talk with Dippet about Avery and Lestrange.”

“I’ll let you know, boy. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

I’m pretty proud of this plot twist, not gonna lie. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Let me know if you want to be tagged, or untagged. Thank you for reading!

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[wonderswritings]

Request Guidelines

I’ve had a lot of people messaging me asking what my guidelines are for requesting because the one I have up does not have enough information on it so I’ve updated my guidelines:

*When you request something, please Be Clear with what you want. I need more than steve rogers smut or fluff? This gives me nothing to write with.

*I reserve the right to reject a request. I try my hardest to write each request I receive but it does get the best of me and I never get around to do it. If you do send in a request and I do not either:  1) know who the person is  2) you hound me repeatedly for the story, on or off anon 3) I’m uncomfortable writing it, I have the right not to write it

*If you request anything NSFW, you MUST be older than 18. I can not stress how important this is.

*I will do oneshots, drabbles, imagines, mood boards, and a short series (if needed)

If you do not follow the guidelines, I WILL delete the request.

Do NOT hound me. I understand asking about, or seeing if I’ve gotten the request because of how stupid Dumblr is, but hounding me to write it and publish it is not going to make me write it any faster or post it and there is a chance that I’ll just delete the ask. 

Here is a list of who I will write for: Marvel: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Thor, T’Challa, Clint Barton, Logan Howlett Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester The Walking Dead: Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Jesus DC Comics: Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Mon-El, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Vampire Diaries/Originals: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson Actors: Chris Evans, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Stephen Amell, Grant Gustin, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln

I am willing to write: Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Loki, Peter Quill Supernatural: Crowley, Rowena, John Winchester The Walking Dead: Carl Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Negan DC Comics: Kara Danvers, Wally West, Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, Nathan Heywood, Leonard Snart, Aquaman Actors: Tom Holland, Chandler Riggs, Daniel Gillies, Chris Hemsworth, Kit Harington,  Jason Momoa   Game of Thrones: Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Khal Drogo Greys Anatomy: Derek Shepherd, Mark Sloan, Owen Hunt, Alex Karev, Jackson Avery

I will not write: Polyamory, Incest, Smut for Peter Parker, Carl Grimes, Tom Holland and Chandler Riggs

Frequently asked Questions: Do you write person of colors stories? I have never written for a person of color for the simple fact that I wouldn’t know how to write them. There’s differences between a white person and a person of color so I wouldn’t know how to portray them without offending anyone.

How do you feel writing for the LGBTQ community? I am comfortable writing for the LGBTQ community, I just tend not to unless someone requests me to. I do not want to offend anyone so most of my stories the reader is a girl, and a few stories I will do a gender neutral reader

Do you write male x male, female x female? I have written a girl x girl story where the requester asked for Supergirl to be switched as her male counterpart but I wrote it as a girl x girl story. I also have a Black Widow story that hints at a little something in the past which is a girl x girl. If someone requests a specific pairing like male x male or girl x girl, I would have no problem writing it.

How do you write Y/N? Y/N is generally based off of me. I try not to write any descriptive pieces about hair/face/body because not everyone has what I write Y/N to be. If I do describe the appearance it is most always based off of me.

How do you feel about people talking to you either on your post or through your messages/anon? I have no problem with you talking to me. You can talk to me through private messaging if you don’t want it to be public, or you can talk to me through asks. If you send in an anon, I only ask that you are nice and polite. I’ve had to cut off anon and delete a lot of messages I’ve received because of the little assholes who think they’re entitled to be a dick because I haven’t done something that they like. 

Do you have other writing profiles? Wattpad: Marvel_base001

How do you tag? On my side blog @capstags where my tagging system is, I have lists for each thing I write. Anything related to that topic, I tag you in it. I do ask that you reblog or comment to be tagged just because it shows that you are active

Will you put your beliefs/religion in a story you write? No. My religion and beliefs may not be the same as another persons and I do not want to offend anyone.

Do you have a permanent taglist? Originally, no. But recently I made a new taglist that is for permanent tags. That list, well post, is at @capstags and it should be the first post on there. 

Will you write a story for an OC? If I have to. I tend to stay away from having to write OC’s just because of the variety of readers.

Do you write ships? No. I don’t have any interest in writing any type of ships. If I do write a story that involves a character x character story and it just so happens to a be ship, it’s coincidental. I don’t really write stories where the main pairing is a ship.

How long does it take you to upload another story chapter or a new story? I don’t actually have a time frame for when I post an update to a series or a new story. I usually will post a new story when I feel as though my followers feel as though I don’t write enough or posted enough, or when notes have gone down. For my series, it’s mainly whenever I have the next part written, or whenever I actually remember to post it.

You have a lot of discontinued stories on your master list, why? Well, for starters when I started those stories, I was really excited to share them. Then after I posted one or two parts to the story, the enthusiasm I had for it dwindled because of the response I got for it so I just stopped writing it. I have added more discontinued stories to my master list because I know for a fact that I won’t update them and it’s unfair to my readers/followers to have it open where it leaves it open for a possible update when I know I’m not going to. 

Do you do challenges or anything along those lines? I have in the past done a challenge and I had only two people to actually participate. I do ships once in a blue moon but the last ships I did turned out to be a total disaster thanks to some very rude anons. I also participate in other peoples challenges. If it is a challenge that last a year or a few months (like my bingo cards) then I’ll open up a new tallest for that specific challenge, though sometimes I forget to tag that list in those challenges because I have a lot of tag lists. 

Will you ever update your old unfinished series? Honestly, probably not. I started those series because I wanted to write it and then after a while, notes started to go down and I lost motivation to actually continue to write it.

[supercap2319]

Okay, so Stefan is my number one Vampire Diaries's guy, but I’ve noticed a lack of Paul Wesley’s other portrayals on the show like Silas and Tom Avery x male reader. We should remedy that, right?