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grangerhater · 1 year ago

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MINE, ALWAYS

pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

synopsis : they are rivals but once they are assigned roommates for a school trip they actually forget to argue about that, surprisingly accepting they have to share a bed.

warnings: rivals w sexual tension, eventual sexual content, (wanrning : plot before p0rn), piv, bj, f!ngering, one bed trope, everyone is above 18 obviously, possessiveness

smut, enemies to lovers, and some fluff if you squint

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and students excitedly disembarked, ready for their annual school trip. Among the bustling crowd, Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N found themselves eyeing each other warily. For years, they had been rivals, their rivalry filled with tension and sparks flying whenever they were in close proximity. This trip was no exception.

Fate had a funny way of working sometimes, and in this instance, it meant that Draco and Y/N found themselves assigned to share a room at the quaint inn where they would be staying. The room was cozy, with a single bed taking up most of the space. When they exchanged glances, they both felt a mixture of anticipation and unease at the thought of spending the trip in such close quarters.

After settling in, Draco decided to freshen up. He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing through the room. Y/N took this opportunity to unpack their belongings, trying to focus on the task at hand and ignore the butterflies fluttering in their stomach.

Minutes later, Draco emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair tousled and a towel wrapped securely around his waist. His silver eyes met Y/N's gaze, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes, a longing that neither of them could deny. Y/N felt their heart racing, their body trembling with anticipation.

But just as quickly as the moment had arrived, it vanished, replaced with the familiar tension and bickering that had defined their relationship for so long.

"You're taking up all the space," Draco snapped, eyeing the scattered belongings on the bed.

"Well, maybe if you weren't hogging the bathroom for so long, I wouldn't have had to unpack here," Y/N countered, their voice laced with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Draco rolled his eyes, his trademark smirk playing on his lips. "Always finding something to complain about, aren't you?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk of their own forming. "Well, someone has to keep you in check, Malfoy."

As the trip continued, their bickering continued. Every interaction between them was laced with snarky comments and subtle jabs. But beneath the surface, there was an undeniable chemistry that neither of them could ignore. Every look or touch was charged with unspoken emotion, a tension between them that neither could deny. Even when they fought, there was a deep understanding of each other's feelings that kept them connected throughout the trip.

During a visit to a picturesque village, Draco and Y/N found themselves exploring together. The narrow streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of market vendors, but their focus was solely on each other. They wandered aimlessly, their banter providing a soundtrack to their journey. The tension between them seemed to grow with each passing moment, filling the air with an almost tangible electricity.

As they strolled along, they came across a small park, secluded and peaceful. Unable to resist the lure of the empty benches and serene atmosphere, they sat down, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

"You know," Y/N began, their voice softer than before, "I've always wondered why we seem to clash so much, other than the fact you are a spoiled little prick."

Draco's expression softened, curiosity evident in his eyes. "And what conclusion have you come to, Y/L/N?"

A small smile played on Y/N's lips. "I think it's because we bring out the best in each other, even if we don't always realize it.

Draco's gaze softened, his walls crumbling in the presence of Y/N's vulnerability. "Perhaps you're right. We've always pushed each other to be better, even if we've gone about it in the most antagonistic way possible."

Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they reverted back to their familiar bickering.

"You're still as insufferable as ever, Malfoy," Y/N teased, their voice filled with fondness.

"And you're still as infuriating, Y/L/N," Draco shot back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

But this time, the bickering was laced with something different. It held a hint of affection, a deeper connection that both Draco and Y/N were beginning to acknowledge.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the village, they made their way back to the inn. The room awaited them, the single bed serving as a constant reminder of the tension that had simmered between them all day.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, their gaze flickering between Draco and the bed. They took a deep breath, their usual shyness and insecurity being replaced by a newfound confidence. "I suppose we'll have to make do with the sleeping arrangements, won't we, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and desire. "I suppose we will, Y/L/N. Still despise your face though, don’t be spreading around that i allowed you to share my bed."

Y/N smirked, rolling their eyes. "Of course, Malfoy. Wouldn't have it any other way."

And so, with a mix of tension, desire, and undeniable chemistry, Draco and Y/N climbed into the single bed, their rivalry and bickering fading into the background. In that moment, they found solace in each other's presence, their hunger finally acknowledged and their connection strengthening.

When only pure silence was heard right before they fell asleep Y/N heard a whisper yell from Malfoy’s side "You think you're so much better than me? You think you're so much smarter? You're just a nosy, stuck-up, know-it-all-Bimbo!"

"At least I'm actually smart enough to understand the concept of 'personal space!' You're just a spoiled, entitled brat who's never had to work for anything in your life!” she replied firmly yet half asleep

Draco's body tensed at Y/N's comment, their bickering reaching a boiling point. His hands wrapped around Y/N's wrists, roughly manhandling them and pulling them close.

"You're so stubborn!" Draco hissed, his breath hot against Y/N's ear. "Do you seriously think I won't do anything if you refuse to listen to me?"

Y/N glared back, struggling against Draco's grip, but unable to break free.

Draco's grip tightened around Y/N's wrists, a possessive glint in his eyes. He leaned inhis lips brushing against Y/N's neck as he whispered "You're mine, Y/N you belong to me" He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin as she moaned in pleasure

Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N struggle against him a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear as he whispered "You know you want this. You want me to take control, to make you mine" With a sudden movement Draco spun Y/N around, pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her bodypinning her wrists above her head as he claimed her lips in a rough, possessive kiss.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her body responding to Draco's touch despite her angerHe pulled awaya wicked grin on his face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear once more.

"You're mine, Y/N. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize it" With thatDraco claimed Y/N's lips once more, their bodies moving together in a frenzy of desire as he asserted his dominance over her once more

Y/N's struggles ceased as Draco's touch sent shivers down her spine. She arched her backpressing herself closer to him, craving more of his touch. Draco's hands roamed over her body tracing every curve and dip, igniting a fire within her.

Their bickering forgotten, they gave into their desires their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Draco's lips met Y/N's, his tongue exploring her mouth as she moaned in pleasure. He pushed her onto the bed, his hands roaming over her body as he stripped her of her clothes

Draco pushed Y/N against the wall, his lips crashing against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. He gripped her hips tightly, grinding his hard cock against her thigh.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch despite her anger. Draco's hands roamed over her body, his fingers digging into her flesh as he claimed her as his own.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck as he bit and sucked at her skin, leaving marks of his ownership all over her body. Y/N's body trembled with desire as Draco's hands roamed over her, his fingers finding their way between her legs.

He teased her, rubbing her clit with a fierce hunger before plunging his fingers deep inside her. As he fingered her, his other hand found its way to her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple until she cried out in pleasure.

He continued to finger her, his pace increasing as he took her closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Finally, he pulled his fingers out of her, turning her around and pushing her down onto her knees.

He unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard cock and thrusting it into her mouth. Y/N took him eagerly her mouth enveloping him as she worked him with her tongue Draco's hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he fucked her mouth with a fierce hunger.

He pulled out of her mouth pushing her back against the wall and lifting her legs up to wrap around his waist. He thrust into her with a fierce hunger, his body slamming against hers with each movement

Y/N cried out in pleasure, her body writhing against his as he took her closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Draco's thrusts became more urgent and intense, his body trembling with desire as he neared his own peak.

As he continued to pound into her, his grip on her throat tightened leaving marks of his ownership all over her body. Y/N's nails dug into his back as he continued to thrust into her with a fierce hunger

Their bickering reached a boiling point, with Draco manhandling Y/N and claiming her as his own, he took control making her his in a rough, possessive kiss and teasing her with a fierce hunger before plunging his fingers deep inside her.

Finally, they reached their climax, their bodies writhing in ecstasy as they cried out each other's names. Draco asserted his dominance once more, reminding Y/N that she belonged to him.

Draco's grip on Y/N's body loosened as he pulled out of her, his chest heaving as he looked down at her. Y/N's eyes were closed, her body still trembling with pleasure.

Draco leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he whispered, "You're mine, Y/N. Always" Y/N opened her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I know," she murmured, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't want it any other way"

Draco helped Y/N to her feet, holding her close as they stood there, their bodies still intertwined. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his hands trailing down her body as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Y/N. I could never get enough of you"

Y/N blushed, leaning into him as she whispered back, "I feel the same way about you Draco. I love you"

Draco's eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I love you too, Y/N. Always and forever”

They stood there for a few moments longer, their bodies entwined as they basked in the afterglow of their passion. Finally they pulled apart, their eyes meeting as they smiled at each other

Draco took Y/N's hand, leading her towards the bed. "Come on" he said, his voice low and husky. "Let's get some rest, we have a lot more exploring to do tomorrow"

Y/N smiled, following him to the bed as they settled in for the night, their bodies entwined as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms

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colorsunimaginable · 11 days ago

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the spare // chapter seventy // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary:

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5k warnings for this chapter: light fingering?

banners by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

Chapter Seventy:

January brings in a bitter cold front.

I show Thomus the Muggle magic of indoor heating known as the radiator. The sturdy metal contraptions try their best, but I still find myself layering my clothes and keeping the fire roaring in the living room anyway. My ass has been parked on the couch with the softest blankets in the house piled on top of me.

Thomus usually joins me in the evenings, and we'll either read together or put a movie on. During the day Thomus is in the office, typing away or dulling his quills for The Daily Prophet.

I don't really go out of my way to read any editions he leaves laying around. The few I flipped through had fun, exciting headlines like ZÜRICH UNDER SIEGE! and EXECUTIONS IN ZÜRICH: DARK LORD WELCOMES SWITZERLAND TO GREAT ORDER! Several articles spewed hateful rhetoric about Muggleborns and there was even an ad featuring Muggleborn repellent.

And so… yeah, I don't really need to consume so much negativity on a daily basis. It honestly would send me spiraling with that being my only access to the outside world.

I'm content staying in my own little delusion. Where I'm still in the dark about the details of the war raging around us, but I'm okay with that. The less I know, the less I'll stress. I can watch my silly little movies, make a never ending pot of leek and potato soup, and spend time with Thomus, who's the perfect distraction.

One morning during breakfast with Thomus, I realize it already has to be late January. Did he ever have that meeting with Voldemort?

I glance at him in time to see him scoop up the last bite of his oatmeal. I guess I could just ask him, right?

"Did you ever… have that meeting?" I ask, prompting his eyes to find mine. There are times where he's left the cottage, but it was usually to 'follow a lead', or so I was told. "With… "

He tilts his head, giving me a patient look.

"Um, the one that Yaxley mentioned the… Dark Lord would summon you for?" I finally get out. "From the New Years party."

"Right," he says, like he's expected this question somehow, and continues casually, "and you want to know what was said about you."

My face heats and my jaw drops, but I recover the reaction by immediately saying, "Yes." Then give him a sheepish smile. "Wouldn't you?"

He smiles in return, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

I start with a question not totally unrelated to the meeting, but something I've been dying to ask. "Why are there so many articles written about me?"

Thomus raises his eyebrows and smirks. "I was wondering when you were going to ask about them," he says, then crosses his arms and shifts down in his seat. "And to answer your question, it's not exactly a secret that you, an American Muggleborn back to back Wandless Magic Tournament Champion, are the property of a Death Eater."

I roll my eyes. "That's quite the mouthful, isn't it?"

He narrows his own. "Are you trying to under value yourself?"

"No," I scoff, shrugging. "I'm just saying the title doesn't really matter."

"Of course your achievements matter -"

"Not really."

His eyebrows raise again, seeming in utter disbelief. "Darling, your achievements are utterly remarkable for a mudblood. You should be proud."

For a few long moments, there's only silence that follows his statement as I let the hurt of his words sink into my chest.

"My achievements don't matter when I'm being held prisoner for the crime of my blood," I say quietly. "If you take my 'remarkable' abilities out of the recipe, what's left? My worth is no greater or less than the other… mudbloods."

His eyebrows and mouth are pinched inward as he stares at me before slowly nodding. "I shouldn't have called you that and I apologize. I wasn't thinking."

I'm taken aback by his quick apology and I just nod. Somehow it feels reassuring.

"With or without magic," he says quietly. "You're still dangerous."

I know he doesn't mean it as a compliment, but I decide to treat it like one. Straightening my back and squaring my shoulders, I give him a false bravado smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

He gives a wry chuckle, glancing away and bouncing his leg.

"So what was it?" I press. "Either you bought me because you knew who I am and what I can do, or because you…" I trail off. My thought process had been confident, now I'm not so sure.

But he's looking at me, waiting for the rest. My eyes go to the table, how my fork sits on my plate.

"… just because you wanted to own me, and I don't think that makes very much sense." I peek at him to see he's looking out the frosted window.

"I haven't lied to you," he says pensively. "Yes, I knew who you were when I bought you, but it had little to do with my motivation."

He's definitely holding something back, especially because he's given me that answer before.

"And these articles about me warranted a summons from the Dark Lord?" I prod. "Why now? It's not like he didn't know I could do wandless magic. He saw it in my own head."

"I'm not sure he knew to what extent," he says slowly. "He doesn't take seriously Muggleborn achievements. But a few months ago someone leaked the status of your citizenship to the wizard news outlets in the states."

My expression slips to confusion. "But what about the one Skeeter wrote in May? Yeah, it's vague, but wouldn't that have told people where I was months ago? It's old news."

"Around here, yes, but remember in the states, The Daily Prophet isn't as popular," he says, and then mutters, "Especially now."

"Well, that's your own fault, isn't it?" I say. "You've even admitted to me it's straight up propaganda."

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and gives me a look that says he's well aware.

"Can you tell me a bit more about Skeeter's one?" I ask.

Thomus sits up, putting his crossed arms on the edge of the table. "Actually, I'd like you to tell me a bit more about it."

My eyebrows rise. "Why? I didn't write it."

"Neither did I."

"But you were quoted in it."

He rolls his eyes. "I gave her what she wanted to hear and, shockingly, she twisted my words." He tilts his head, looking me dead in the eyes now. "And what's your excuse?"

"For what?"

"Are you guilty of the crimes she accuses you of?" he asks.

I press my lips together, smiling as I shrug. "I want a lawyer."

He barks out a laugh. "What?"

"I will not perjure myself. I've seen how your courts work, I'd probably be sentenced to death just because of my blood status." I'm making light of it now, but when the mudblood hunt was sweeping through the Ministry, I was terrified.

He doesn't seem to find that as funny as I do. "Who did you impersonate?" he asks seriously, but there's an eagerness to his tone. Which to me says he's been wanting to ask this for a while.

I still smile at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

His eyes narrow. "Rita?" he says, incredulous.

I nod. "Yup."

"Why did you need to get into the Ministry that badly?" he asks.

"Had my reasons," I shrug.

He lets out a long frustrated breath as he sits back, dropping his arms. "I'm assuming one of those reasons has to do with why you were hiding out with Potter?"

I take a deep, slow breath, nervous to tell the simple truth. "Yes."

"… and with how Samantha died," he states. "The plaque."

I feel my pulse jumping wildly in my throat as I reply with the same answer. "Yes."

None of this information is really new, unless he's only now putting all the pieces together. But we're getting side-tracked.

"So Voldemort's concerned about me after all?" I press after he'd gone pensive again.

He tsks, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "That's not how this works."

"Oh, come on," I whine, tilting my head and puckering my brows. "Are you really not gonna tell me what you talked about?" I might've even subconsciously pouted my lower lip.

From how he's gazing at me, for a moment I think he's finally going to open up… until he smirks.

"Do you really think batting your lashes and looking adorable will work?" he asks, thankfully amused and not insulted.

I press my lips together and sigh heavily through my nose, trying to smother my embarrassment. "Sorry," I sigh. "I think just being on his radar makes me really nervous."

"You don't have to be," he says, measuring his words for emphasis.

I give him a look. "Let me guess, it's because you've gone to 'great personal lengths' to ensure I'm not a threat to him?"

Thomus doesn't answer me immediately, slowly crossing his arms over his chest again without looking away. "What is it about that phrase that troubles you? Have I not gone to great lengths to protect you? To ensure your safety and well-being?"

My eyebrows push together slightly, meeting his guarded eyes. "But that's not what you said though. Ensuring that I'm not a threat doesn't mean keeping me safe. It doesn't mean protection."

"Is there something specific you're trying to get me to admit?" he asks hesitantly. I desperately hope it's because I've been vague and not because I keep pushing for answers he doesn't want to give.

I pinch my wrist in my lap, trying to dampen the anxiety painfully spreading through my chest. A deep breath kicks in my occlumency and I can bring forth rational thoughts, even if they stumble out of my mouth instead of gracefully stepping down.

"I - I guess I just want to know if you've been bullshitting me this entire time." Oh god, my voice cracked already. I just take another deep breath and keep going, looking out the window. Well, the cracks in the paint on the wooden frame. "With how you make me um… feel, and telling me that I'm important to you - and, and making me believe that I'd still be worth something to you if I wasn't…" I pause, taking a deep breath in through my nose. "If I wasn't a threat that needed to be dealt with." Another, shakier breath and my voice comes out as a whisper. "Is this real? Do you really care about me?"

I finally bring my eyes back to him, so terrified of his reaction. So afraid to be disappointed. To be utterly heartbroken.

I'm not quite sure how to read the face he's making. His eyes are so serious, not in a hard, scary way, but heavy and emotional. His mouth is soft, the right corner tugging upward. My heart pounds in my chest as hope springs forth, so desperate for good news.

"I think I got you for a steal," he admits softly, continuing to gaze at me. "If I cared about you then the way I do now… I would've paid anything, anything…You're worth more than gold to me."

The sincerity in his voice and his face and the tenderness in his eyes makes my lower lip tremble. I can't bare to look away from him even as my vision gets blurry from my tears. His thumb comes up to brush away an escaped tear and I grab his hand and hold it between mine.

I sniffle and clear my throat, but still whisper. "Thank you for defending me at the meeting on New Years. It meant a lot, especially because you didn't know I was there."

He leans forward, twisting in his chair to get as close to me as possible. Thighs and knees pressing together, his other hand slides around my tummy.

"I'm sorry I didn't start doing it sooner," he says. "Especially when I knew you were there."

I shrug a little and give him a small smile. "I understand it's complicated."

"But it's real," he murmurs. "I can't lie about that anymore."

"Well good. I don't want to lie to you either." I say this, knowing full well I'm going to have to lie to him in the near future. I keep a teasing smile on my face even as I feel my heart breaking while thinking about the inevitable doom. At least I'm not lying about this. "Because it's real for me too."

His head tilts and his smile mirrors my own. He pulls my hands toward him to press his lips to the back of them, meeting my eyes.

I go for a shot at levity, needing to forget that we won't get a happy ending. "Since we're being honest," I say, sitting back and looking him up and down. "Wanna fuck?"

He starts laughing and coughing all the while his face turns a super adorable pink.

"Oh, I'll do more than fuck you," he swears hotly.

I pull my hands out of his and stand, failing to keep the grin off my face. "Promises, promises," I tease.

His hands are on me in an instant, one arm securing me by the fupa as his other smacks down hard on my ass cheek. I cry out in surprise at the sting and then moan as that hand slips down to rub over my pussy between my thighs.

The way his lips are all over me, it's a miracle we make it to the bedroom before we're naked.

~*~

I don't get much sleep that night. Our confessions over breakfast left us insatiable in a way I hadn't experienced before. Even now, lying in bed wrapped in his arms, I'm unwilling to peel myself away. Despite getting several rounds of orgasms and enough cum fucked into me today that I wouldn't be surprised if my pH balance is off, I'm not tired of it, of him. It feels like a dream.

We still have the lamp on, casting it's muted yellow glow across his room. He's lying on his back, though his hips twist toward me, our legs intertwined. His arm is my pillow and I have the perfect view of his profile from where I'm tucked into his side.

He's just so handsome and how could someone like him ever feel something real for someone like me? It's superficial, yeah, I know. But he's meant to be with some blond bombshell like Diana, not… me. I can't even imagine what we look like side by side.

I don't know where we're supposed to go from here. How can I have the man of my dreams in a living nightmare? I want to believe he's been slowly changing. I want to believe he's not secretly worse than I fear.

Would he run away with me if I asked? We'd probably have to seek asylum with M.A.C.U.S.A…. Maybe pretend to be No-Majes for a while. Oh god, he'd have to meet my parents.

All terrible ideas, but it means we'd be out of danger, and we'd be together. It means we'd choose each other.

But… I really just can't see that happening. I can't see beyond this. His name is tattooed on my arm as a mark of ownership and I still refuse to ask for freedom.

Yes, he's confessed feelings, but are they strong enough to completely abandon all of this? Turn his back on his family? And what about… what about Bellatrix? He's a man with conviction. Of course those ties of loyalty would be impossible to sever.

Time to overthink and re-evaluate everything. Could I really just… go home? Have I really tried hard enough? Sacrificed enough? I've only destroyed one of his Horcruxes and he's still kicking and Sam is still dead. And fuck… he's only getting stronger. Kyle's plan feels weak in the eyes of the bigger picture. I've already tried so hard and yet the nightmare isn't even close to being over.

I don't know what makes me sadder. Not being able to be with him, or knowing he wouldn't chose me.

The pain of that knowledge consumes my chest until it hurts to breathe. It hurts to think that I was never an option in the first place just because of my blood and I ache for what could be.

As I gaze at his face, trying to commit it to memory, I come to the grim conclusion I have to know what was said between Voldemort and Thomus. If I'm going to come face to face with him one day without anyone there on my side, I need to be ready.

The easiest way I figure to do that is to just go into Thomus' memories. Since he's already asleep and obviously unprepared, I can get in pretty easily.

Before I completely submerge myself in his head, it dawns on me that I'm just another person who's taking advantage of his trust. The shame and regret burns under my skin and it's suddenly too painful to look at his face. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold him tighter to me, my fingers nearly digging into his ribs.

He deserves so much better than me. Someone he won't be bullied for liking, and more importantly, someone who won't betray his trust for their own selfish needs.

Upon swearing no malicious intent, I cross the threshold of his Occlumency walls. He's currently dreaming, which is good because then he's not paying attention when I slip to his memories, searching until Voldemort's face becomes center focus.

We're in what looks like an office in a castle, my best guess would be Hogwarts. The portraits and grandeur signal it could be the headmaster's, though I guess in this case, it's Voldemort's. Since Thomus' consciousness isn't present at the moment, I slow the memory down a bit, and step outside of Thomus' perspective. Standing next to him, I see his beard is about the length it was two weeks ago.

In the focal point of the room, Voldemort sits on a raised dais in a massive chair behind a massive desk. He looks just as creepy and alien-like as the last time I saw him. To Thomus' credit, he doesn't seem nervous at all. I wonder how many times he's had to stare that monster in the face.

"Do you know why, exactly, they're demanding her release?" Voldemort asks.

"Yes, my Lord," Thomus replies smoothly. "They believe that since she's not a citizen of the British Wizarding Ministry, then she should be released to her country of origin."

"Why is this filth of such significance? Because she can do a few tricks without a wand?"

Thomus pauses only briefly. "She is a Wandless Magic Tournament Champion, sir. Two years in a row."

At this news, Voldemort sits up. "That is who your Lot is?"

"I apologize, sir," Thomus says. "I thought you were aware."

"I've heard she cheated," the Dark Lord sniffs. He stands, his long black robes slithering along the floor. Except it's not just his robes slithering about, it's also that giant fucking snake glued to his side.

Thomus chuckles. "Yes, I've heard that theory floating about as well. However, I can assue you she's no different than any of the rest," Thomus says, much to my surprise. Voldemort raises an eyebrow at him, despite not having any. "That scheme is quite advanced for her, I'm afraid."

He says this so easily, so casually, and it's so convincing that I actually take a step back from him.

"Ah," Voldemort hums, circling the room, gazing at the different portraits. Most of them sit empty. Except for Dumbledore's. Dumbledore stares Voldemort head on from his chair, looking seriously unimpressed at the Dark Lord below him. "And what of her abilities? Has she given you any trouble?"

"She has only needed a stronger suppression potion," Thomus replies. "With it, her magic isn't a threat and neither is she. When not suppressed, the abilities she does have are unremarkable. Best not forget she's only a mudblood after all."

Voldemort turns on his heel at that. "Are you quite sure you feel that way, Thomus?" he hisses, starting toward him. "I've recently been made aware that your behavior has been quite unbefitting of a Death Eater of your blood status."

There's a heavy silence and his next words sink me all the way to rock bottom.

"You, of all people, should know better than anyone," Voldemort chides. "It would be a shame to lose you to the same fate."

Thomus swallows. "Yes, sir."

Voldemort sighs, his hand coming down onto Thomus' shoulder. "You are, and have proven yourself to be valuable to me, young man. I will not forget all that you have done in my service. You deserve your pet." His other hand comes to grasp his other shoulder. "But do not let that dirty blooded whore fill your mind with romantic notions. If you must, use it to your advantage. Play into it. Let her believe you care for her. Her loyalty and obedience will be a powerful tool."

Voldemort releases Thomus after a moment and dismisses him with a wave of his arm. "That will be all."

"Of course, sir."

I keep to Thomus' back as he seamlessly turns and leaves the room to descend a spiral staircase. Dazed, I follow Thomus as my head swells with doubt. Is he still pretending? What if he's been fucking with me this whole time? Just like last time.

I'm not sure when I go from following Thomus on the stairs, to trailing behind him in what looks like the Forbidden Forest. The large mossy trees feel both far away and crowded so close an unsettling, panicked feeling creeps across the back of my neck. I can't see my way out of here through the blue mist. All I can do is follow Thomus' ever shrinking form, anxiety spurring my feet faster after him.

My heart pulses in my throat and the moment I lose sight of him, I stupidly call out his name. My voice echoes and he's suddenly in front of me, halting within arm's reach, freezing me entirely. He's breathing heavily, eyes scanning his surroundings.

I open my mouth to say his name again, but another voice beats me to it. It calls for him - sweet, melodic, and eerily familiar. When his name is said again, the voice shocks me to my core… because it sounds like my voice.

My jaw stays dropped as his head snaps in the direction the voice came from. It calls for him again and this time he doesn't hesitate, spinning on his heel and launching into the trees in search of its source.

I follow him through the brush, quickly losing sight of him, but still picking up the sound of his hurried steps. When I emerge into a clearing, I see he's stopped and I have to step around him to find out what he's staring at.

It's a mossy, Roman style gazebo. It's white marble shines like a pearl, giving it an ancient ethereal look, and right in the center, draped on a chaise covered in flowers, is a goddess of some kind.

"Thomus!" the goddess calls, spotting him.

After the encouragement, Thomus' feet carry him across the small clearing in three long strides. He immediately kneels at her feel, burying his face in her lap, hands tightly gripping her hips. My approach is much slower, totally disbelieving what I'm seeing.

The goddess is… me. Well, she certainly looks like me with her bright pink hair curled in abundance around her. She's definitely me at first glance, but the closer I look at her face, the more uncanny it seems. My guess it's probably because it's a dream.

He got the body right though. There's absolutely no hiding it's shape in the dress she's wearing. The dress is white, long, and so sheer every curve is on full display, even the ones that I try not to remember exist. God, even the pink of my nipples is clearly visible.

The goddess runs her fingers through his hair and gazes lovingly down at him. He nestles in closer, rubbing his face up over her fupa and stomach. He says something, but it's too muffled for me to hear. She responds anyway.

"Yes, my love?"

My love?

I once again stare at them in shock as he takes her hands in his and raises his head back to her eye level. Thomus brings his lips to her fingers before he murmurs, "You are my sun, my moon, my star-lit sky." Then one of his hands dips down to her ankle, slipping fingers beneath the hazy hem to glide slowly up her calf. "Without you, I dwell in darkness."

I'm trying so hard to control my breathing as if it alone can stop this avalanche of emotions. His hand disappears between her thighs and her smile grows as his words continue.

"Your power has enchanted me," he declares sincerely, "and I am helpless against it." When his voice drops in tone she gasps, her full pouted lips parting slowly, in sync with her knees. His arm moves between them and wet noises drift out into the silence around us.

I've never had a more strange out of body experience as this one. And I thought the time-travel was weird enough.

His other hand releases hers, moving to her shoulder where he guides her to lie back along the chaise. Settled, he buries his fingers into her plush form, molding her to his touch.

Her arms reach out for him, able to cup his face and grab his shoulder. "Come to me now," she begs breathlessly. "Let me worship you in my arms."

The rhythm of his arm suddenly intensifies and her back arches in ecstasy as she cries out. His free hand pushes back the flowing dress over her knees so she's suddenly exposed before him.

"I can't stop," he gasps, his lustful gaze jumping from her face to her puss - oh, my god. "The beating of my heart - it pounds like never before."

There's something else the goddess has that I don't. Pubic hair.

And it's bright, fucking, pink.

My hand shoots up to cover my mouth before I spew out a cackle that could possibly wake him up. I silently shake with laughter as the steamy dream continues.

"Death makes the lover's a trivial thing," he whispers as he lowers his face closer between her thighs and to the glistening pussy he's still fingering. He gazes reverently at her body as a hand runs down her inner thigh, and he gives the most malleable bit of flesh near her pussy an appreciateive squeeze.

Before he can dive for her, she cradles his face once more. He fully leans into it, sighing heavily. "Your touch is worth a thousand deaths," he murmurs.

The hand over my mouth goes from holding back laughter, to holding back a pathetic whimper. His declaration has tears flooding my eyes and the air disappearing from my lungs.

I'm not crazy? Of course this is a dream, but this is literally a peek into his sub-conscious. It's proof that he's been telling the truth.

The tidalwave of emotions that come with that realization are far too overwhelming to experience while in someone else's head. So I back out, opening my eyes to shift back to reality. In it, tears have already escaped and pool by my cheek on his shoulder.

I shift onto my elbow, blinking and wiping away any remaining tears. Anxious to know if I've woken him, I stare at his face while my eyes readjust to the lighting. When it seems like I haven't, I slowly roll over until my feet touch the floor. Snatching my hoodie from the foot of the bed, I shrug it on and leave through the bathroom.

Internally I'm already chastising myself for even getting out of bed as my toes nearly freeze before I manage to pull on socks and a pair of undies from my wardrobe.

He loves me and the first thing I do is run from him? What am I doing?

I know I have a clean pair of sweatpants in the dryer, so I grab a laundry basket and silently tip toe downstairs. Setting the basket on the floor, I use Accio to quickly locate my pants. While I shrug them on, I cast a house keeping spell that has my laundry folding itself.

As I sort through the folded clothes, I think I hear a faint meow, so I pause, and when I hear it again I'm already turning towards the kitchen. Peeking out the back door window, I see Caelan staring up at me from the patio.

Why wouldn't he just use the cat door? I tap it with my foot to find it won't budge. Either way, I open the door and he quickly glides past my ankles. By the time I turn around, he's shifted to his less feline self.

He looks exhausted. Dark shadows form around his eyes and look stark compared to his alabaster complexion.

Caelan gives me a half-smile and looks sheepish. "Got time for a Floo call?"

"Yeah, sure," I nod. "With who? Thomus is asleep upstairs."

"Kyle. There's been some news."

I push my eyebrows together. "I'm guessing bad news?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure, really."

We quietly step into the livingroom. Caelan sets up the fire while I start up the TV and cast Muffliato, hoping both will mask any talking. By the time I'm kneeling next to Caelan, Kyle's face flickers in the green fire.

"Look, I'll just cut to the chase," he starts. "Eric Roosevelt's dead."

"Oh my god, that's awful," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Aye, same here mate. How long ago?"

Kyle takes a deep breath. It's hard to read his expression when it's only peaking through the flames, but it looks like he's pretty shaken up. "A few days. Alder, we found the recipe you wrote him at the Christmas party among his notes."

"Yeah?" I ask. "Why's that important?"

He pauses a moment before saying, "We need you to continue his work."

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