you're falling in the trap!! it will be read by many people, many times, and it will live on in their memories. and maybe no single other human will match you in time spent dedicated to your story, but as a collective we will outlast you. acts of creation only grow when they are shared
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: none, finally
Word count: 1.3k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 16
Part 17 - Epilogue
The year after the incident at the chapel in Ramsbury went by very uneventfully compared to your last year at Hogwarts and the weeks after, even though so much was changing. Boring was certainly not the right word to describe it. Everyone involved had wished for a bit of peace and was more than happy to live a quiet life for a bit.
Marvolo’s body had been buried appropriately. A small bribe had been enough to make the Mediwizard who had examined him confirm that he had died naturally, of old age. He had been right after all, they must have really been a bunch of quacks in St. Mungos.
Morfin wasn’t to be found anywhere. Gaunt Manor had been empty, apart from the two house elves, when Tom and you had gone there. He must have apparated to the manor after Nagini had attacked him, however. A great amount of Galleons and some potions were missing when his chambers were searched. Hokey and Scrook wouldn’t tell anyone what they had seen - they were still loyal to their Masters. They didn’t want to be freed either, even begged not to be given proper clothes. So Tom gave them to Hepbzibah Smith, an old witch who was known to be an avid collector of magical antiquities and was looking for elves to serve her.
Since Morfin wasn’t there to inherit any of Marvolo’s riches, they were passed down to Tom directly. He owned Gaunt Manor now, as well as the mountains of Galleons that were locked up in the Gaunt’s vaults at Gringotts. While Gaunt Manor had been tempting to pack your bags and move into, neither of you fancied the thought. The house was linked to countless haunting memories for Tom and despite its enormous size, it was way too cold and rigid for your liking - too stark a reminder of the Gaunts themselves.
So Tom sold it to a wealthy family, muggles as far as you were aware, which must have made Marvolo turn over in his grave one last time.
Tom bought a house in your home town shortly after, smaller yet still as boastful as you had expected it to be. It even had a telephone installed, which you didn’t mention to him after you had given him a look when you had seen it, to which he had just shrugged and rolled his eyes.
You didn’t move in with him immediately, as your parents didn’t allow you to leave your home unmarried. They allowed you to visit him, though, and you did so as often as possible.
Life had gone on as it always did and you had gotten a job right after school. The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers had reached out after they had seen your grades and had received a letter from Professor Slughorn. They had asked if you wanted to be trained to become a Potions Master, which was an honour, not many witches and wizards were granted with. It hadn’t taken long for you to accept, so you were in close contact with one of their tutors, a witch by the name of Guiliana Toffana.
Tom had taken on a desk job for the Ministry, which paid well even if it wasn’t the most exciting work to do. He had plans though, wanted to work himself to the top one day. And for all you knew, there was no one stopping him from doing so.
Camille had started working as an assistant at Ollivander’s Wand Shop in Diagon Alley. The year had been hard to bypass for her, as she wasn’t able to see Ben as often. They sent each other owls almost daily and the only thing you worried about was that none of you were in Hogwarts anymore to help Ben out with Herbology. Tom had suggested that your little sister Elsie could help him study, as she had started her first year and had been sorted into Gryffindor.
On 1st July 1946, one year and one day after your almost-wedding, Tom invited you over to his house. You would have lied if you had said you weren’t expecting it. And he met your expectations by getting down on one knee. He asked you to marry him again, 366 days after he had done so the first time. And your answer was different now.
Just a few weeks later - you would never have thought it possible to organise a wedding so quickly, well, what a bit of pocket money can do - the big day had come.
It couldn’t have been more different from the day in Ramsbury. Your whole family, even the distant aunts and cousins, as well as all of your friends had been invited. Everyone gathered in a small castle north of the Peckforton Hills in Cheshire, where the ceremony and subsequent celebrations were to take place. Even muggles would have described the place as magical. Its old walls and lush, green lawn inside the courtyard reminded you of Hogwarts a lot.
You wore an elegant white dress, not Mother’s, but one you had picked out yourself. One last look into the mirror before the ceremony would begin and, you even had to admit to yourself, you had never looked better.
Father had to help to calm you down before you entered the chapel with him. Walking down the aisle with the music playing and all eyes fixated on you was scarier than fighting the Gaunts had been. But Father was there by your side, leading you up to the altar safely.
And the moment you spotted Tom waiting for you there, all nerves were soothed. He bit his lip while you approached him slowly, his eyes wandering up and down your figure. A smile, one that even reached his eyes, formed on his face and didn’t seem to leave after he had taken in the sight.
Ben, his best man, stood behind him, and only watched Camille, your maid of honour, from the side as tears of joy ran down her face.
The officiant’s speech got drowned out by your thoughts, as you lost yourself in Tom’s eyes, standing face to face with him in front of all of the guests. The way he looked back at you, deeply but still collected, sent your mind drifting.
Love surely wasn’t like it was described inside a book, no, but when the people involved were honest and trusting, it could turn out to be even better than words were able to ever describe it. You both had changed so much since you had gotten close. And you were going to change with every day that you would spend together. There was much work to be done still, many compromises to be made and a lot of healing yet to start. But you were sure that with an open heart and a tiny bit of luck, you were going to make it. And you couldn’t wait.
Time had passed by so quickly until now and it would pass by equally as fast from now on. Every day was just another grain of sand falling down the hourglass that was life. But now that every grain had Tom in it, they seemed to drop differently. Happier, more meaningful and full of expectation for what’s to come. Every grain was to be cherished and the two of you promised that to each other when you both said the words. “I do.”
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Links for other platforms: AO3 | Wattpad
Part 1 - Dinner Guests
Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts
Part 3 - Parallels and Potions
Part 4 - One and the Same
Part 5 - Making believe
Part 6 - Of Vows and Wrangles
Part 7 - Gift Giving
Part 8 - Slughorn's Party
Part 9 - Never trust a Snake
Part 10 - Mors Grano
Part 11 - The Earth's Centre
Part 12 - Pillow Talk and Butterbeer
Part 13 - Pranks and proper Paybacks
Part 14 - Gaunt Manor
Part 15 - A Dagger for a Devotee
Part 16 - 30th June 1945
Part 17 - Epilogue
Find the sequel to Promised here.
Moodboards:
Camille Kegley
Benjamin Hilt
Freda Morris
Bonus (blurbs and drabbles, sent in by readers or answered by me):
Hi there! Haven’t been back on tumblr for long, but I just stumbled across your blog and remembered we used to follow each other yeaaars ago, glad to find your new one! Anyway, I read Promised for the first time, as apparently I’m in my Tom Riddle era, and you best believe I gobbled it all up in one sitting. What a journey! And to learn that there’s a sequel?! Here’s to tomorrow filled with pure goodness. Loved it, just loved it. All the best xx
hey, oh yes i remember! :)
heheee i’m glad you’re enjoying promised, thank you so much! going back over old stuff is nostalgic and cringe at the same time, it was fun to rewrite and change bits of the story.
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!
Word count: 4k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 15 | Part 17
Part 16 - 30 June 1945
The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.
Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.
Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.
Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.
And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them.
The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of people, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.
“You alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror.
You watched him as you approached the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but still, not everything was about looks.
“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”
“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute.” He turned to the table in the corner where a few things had been gathered, including a box he had put there. “I brought someone.”
He pulled off the top and you peaked inside. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”
“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”
“I see,” you said as you reached out your hand for the snake to smell you. “Well, at least one of my friends is here.”
Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”
“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss.
“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”
When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hanger with force, put it on and used your wand to adjust it here and there to make it fit better. When you looked into the mirror, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t come close to what a happy bride should look like. Hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. But what had you expected? It was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little. It didn’t have to be like this though. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.
Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”
Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”
Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.
Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You‘re a beautiful bride, darling. What do you need help with?”
“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”
The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.
“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”
Elsie's eyes widened as Mother put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.
“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”
Mother gasped faintly as her hand wandered up to her chest. “You mean…”
“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so we would agree to their pact.”
“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.
“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”
You nodded.
“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”
“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let her drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”
You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and examined it for a moment. “You brewed that?”
“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.
“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”
“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.
“Quick Elsie,” you urged. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”
Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small sip. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Gross.”
“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”
Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.
“Excuse me, ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”
The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.
“Just her vitamins,” you said. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”
“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”
Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely.
“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”
Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth, “Mors Grano antidote.”
Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, though his eyes had turned dark.
“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”
Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.
Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.
“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately.
“How dare you, Gaunt,” Mother screamed, voice breaking, as she approached Morfin. “Let my daughter go!“
“Oh please,” Marvolo merely sighed, raising an eyebrow. With a swing of his wand Mother was knocked out as well, her body crashing to the ground with a thud. “I would have spared you, woman,” he said and shook his head. “Forced me to do it.” His eyes met yours as he used his wand again and with one swift motion, whisked your parents’ unconscious bodies to the corner of the room. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”
Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.
Marvolo noticed the looks you exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime? And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”
You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”
He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”
You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.
“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your bride.”
Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.
“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”
Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.
“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”
Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”
The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. Falling to your knees, you opened your mouth to scream but couldn’t hear the sounds that escaped you over the static ringing in your ears. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.
“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.
Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.
“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.
“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”
Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your legs were still shaky from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.
Morfin winced in pain and held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own. “Father,” he whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”
Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”
“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”
Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”
Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.
“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”
Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.
“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”
“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”
Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought - there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”
And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his Grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.
“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo collapsed.
Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands over Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.
“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”
Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes.
“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my Father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”
Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.
“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”
It took a while until you all had collected yourselves. Mother and Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves would take care of it.
Mother joined Elsie and you in the chapel, so you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open did you notice that you were still wearing the white dress, now spotted with deep red stains. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die by your groom’s hand on your wedding day. The door behind you opened again when Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than the rest of you, despite what he had done.
He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.
You nodded. Physically, at least. “I think I am.”
Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?”
You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”
He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for hours. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”
A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”
Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”
There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?
“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. You pulled the engagement ring Marvolo had sent off your finger and handed it to him. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly, I mean.”
Tom’s smirk vanished. He took your hand in his, holding the ring as he inspected you. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked, “Do you want to marry me?”
A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said, closing his palm.
Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held onto your hand but you could feel him trembling.
“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.” You leaned forward, kissed him once and said, “So, ask me again in a year or two?”
And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he pulled you in.
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Word count: 1.8k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 14 | Part 16
Part 15 - A Dagger for a Devotee
Now that all the ingredients for the antidote were gathered and added, the potion was as good as finished. It just had to simmer on for a while. If the instructions were correct, it would be finished on June 29th, the last day of school. Graduation day. One day before the wedding.
The wedding. Tom thought about it a lot. It would happen. That, he knew. The plan was to give Elsie the antidote on their wedding day so that she would be completely healed and they could still keep a low profile towards Marvolo and Morfin. Their wish would be fulfilled then, and even if the Gaunts were going to ask for more, they wouldn’t know that Elsie wasn’t under their might anymore. Tom was sure they were going to try to pressure him by threatening to hurt Elsie someday, even when he was married. That was just in their nature. They would never be satisfied.
He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that she had been healed. Weeks, months, years? And how they would react then.
Were they going to take out their anger on him? The more he thought about it, the less he cared. He had even fantasised about it if he was honest. That Marvolo would lose his temper and would attack him. Tom had waited so long enough for an excuse to pay his Grandfather back, his fingers were itching just thinking about it. Oh, the things he would like to do to him were unspeakable and the grin on his face only widened the longer he envisioned them. He would welcome the opportunity with open arms.
Some nights, when he lay awake and couldn’t just fall asleep yet, Tom wondered if his life would have been different, if he had turned out to be another person, had he not been brought up by the Gaunts. He didn’t wish for it, like his fiancée had mentioned so often, no, but he still couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a possibility for a different Tom Riddle to exist? One that would live with parents, one that wasn’t as cold and narrow-minded, one that could crack a real good joke to his friends? A funny, warm, kind version of him? His stomach squirmed at the thought. Disgusting.
He could have turned out like Benjamin Hilt. Merlin’s sake, what a nightmare that would be. To act like him, so loud and bothersome. Head in the clouds, mouth always open and never thinking about any consequences. Hilt had it so easy. But nevertheless, Ben’s attitude was intriguing. Annoying yes, but intriguing. Tom wouldn’t have thought Hilt would be able to keep his muggleborn mouth shut and keep the pact a secret, but he hadn’t told anyone about it yet.
And he didn’t seem to keep his word out of fear, but rather out of belief. Ben wasn’t the type to have deep thoughts, by the looks of it at least, but he had his priorities set. And for that Tom respected him. Everything Ben did seemed to come so easily from within, not wasting one too many thoughts. It was something so deeply ingrained that it must have come naturally.
He was so different compared to Tom’s friends. Or whatever word one would use for people like Avery, Lestrange and the others. They were nothing more than followers, blind and mindless. They wouldn’t just offer their help to be a good person. They always wanted something in return, even if it was just Tom’s recognition. And he knew, if someone else were to take his place, they would drop him in an instant. Their loyalty was superficial and egoistic. Just as his own. He would drop them too if someone more useful were to show up and solicit themselves.
That was how it always had been. How he had thought friendships were meant to be. A mutual agreement, quite similar to business. Be polite, make use of a person as much as you can, make sure they’re intimidated enough to keep their knowledge to themselves and wish them well on their way out. Simple, beneficial and most importantly efficient.
But what his fiancée, Ben and Camille had was so different. He had waited for Camille and Ben to ask for something in return. Weeks had gone by, where he had anticipated for them to come up and ask for a favour. A note from the head boy to get out of detention, a favour by putting in a good word with a teacher. But they hadn’t. They had helped to steal the Banshee tears and were still tending to the potion in the Come and Go Room every day. For nothing? He couldn’t fathom it at first, and only when he thought about it again, it came to his mind that this could be what real friendship was like.
He didn’t like how much it churned him, how much consideration it had taken to come to this conclusion, when apparently for other people, that was the most natural thing in the world.
Tom obtained a much greater deal of wit than Ben, without a doubt, but yet, Hilt possessed so much more emotional intelligence than Tom could ever dream of. And he was jealous of him. That Ben could just walk through life, listen to his gut and trust that whatever it would tell him would be with good intent. Tom could have made real friends too then. He could have developed that trust to his gut, if he hadn’t been fed those vicious thoughts by the Gaunts his whole life. He could have even gotten to know a muggle for all he knew, if he hadn’t been told, day after day, how worthless and irrelevant they were. That’s what they had always said. But the Gaunts had lied so often, maybe they had lied about that too. He had believed them for so long that he couldn’t even tell which opinion was his own and which one had been planted in his head by someone else.
And then came three people who acted against all his values, showing him a glimpse of what life could be like. Everything he knew, his view of the world, as well as his belief, had collapsed in a matter of months. He had learned so many new things, he wasn’t even sure if he knew himself anymore.
Had he changed? He must have, somehow at least. It was ironic, how the Gaunts’ plan to marry him off to a pureblood witch, who they thought would bring their family safety and respect, turned out to result in the complete opposite. Nothing, not even Marvolo’s paranoia and obsession for being a step ahead had come of use. They all had turned against them in the end, and for what? The faint idea of power and reputation? What worth did those things even have when everyone who bowed down to you only did so out of fear? They would take the first chance they got to stab you in the back with the very dagger you had given them. If you can’t trust your devotees, why bother?
Trust was something he thought of a lot, too. Did someone truly trust him? His fiancée for instance. She had put her faith in his hands several times in the past, yes. But would she trust him with her life? Had he done enough to earn her deepest trust yet? Or would she let him fall too when the opportunity arrived? When the deal was sealed, her sister was free and the Gaunts were powerless. Would she leave him, or would she stay? It kept him up at night when he thought about being alone again. Not because he depended on someone to be there, he was fine on his own. But he couldn’t change the fact that he wanted her to stay. And only her. No one else would do.
No one else had ever awoken that part of him before. That part that wasn’t as selfish, as calculating and cautious. And he knew no one else could. There was something about her, that slight brush of a hand when she touched him, or that unintentional notion of a smile she wore so often that broke out a whirlwind of emotion inside of him again and again. And he still didn’t even know what it was that he felt. It was nerve-racking, this mixture of nervousness, excitement and joy. If he had been able to, he would have buried those feelings long ago, deep down somewhere where they could have never disturbed him again. But he hadn’t. And he was glad about that. No matter how irritating it was, he craved it now.
He craved to see her as often as possible, the sound of her voice, the touch of her fingers on him. Her mind, her body and everything in between had him longing, thirsting for even more proximity. He ached for that bond so much, it had become a hassle and he needed to suppress it to prevent himself from shying her away.
But it was hard to feign composure when all he wanted was right there before him and she was so willing to accept his bid. It took all his might not to do what he most wanted and lock her up in a golden cage, where she would remain for him alone. His secret, his very own jewel. But most importantly his.
He couldn’t do that to her, he knew, she wouldn’t allow it. And he wouldn’t dare. He would never dare to add imbalance to the fragile structure they had built over the last year. She had come back to him eventually, day by day. He just needed to remind himself of that. Wait and improve his patience. Trust that she desired him as much as he did her. And by all accounts, she must have. Why else would she treat him the way she did? The idealist in him feasted on the way she acted towards him. How fearless and comfortable she was. How her mood could swing from gentle to feisty in a second, never dreading his reaction. Her honesty, which was the easiest, as well as the hardest thing to give someone, was what he most cherished her for.
Never before had he experienced something so close to perfection. The purity of emotion, so vibrant and raw it nearly hurt. But its absence was even worse, like a bottomless hole that sucked him in and ate him up from the inside. He had become addicted to the feeling and he would do anything to keep it.
He would marry her, yes, and willingly so. He would do anything she asked from him. But if she was to leave him then, if she would take that dagger and push it into his heart, he knew it would destroy him.
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Word count: 3.6k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 13 | Part 15
Part 14 - Gaunt Manor
The weeks after Nagini had shed and you had added her skin into the antidote got more and more exhausting. The potion needed tending up to twelve times a day now and unfortunately, you didn’t own a time turner. Both Tom and you had not gotten a full night’s sleep in a while and it started to show. Every day that went by seemed to last for an eternity while the circles under your eyes carved deeper and deeper by the minute.
The curriculum had gotten more challenging, as the teachers were preparing their students for the N.E.W.T.s. Homework was harder and more time-consuming than in the years before and you had to study for hours afterwards as well. These things alone were enough to wear out most students from year seven. Because of that, thankfully no one got suspicious of how drained you looked. Except for Camille. She had started to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions whenever you had left to take care of the potion. She knew you too well. Sneaking out every two hours to go to the Come and Go Room on top of your studies and school work had drained you to the point where you must have looked like a walking corpse.
One day, when Professor Leveret dismissed you after an exceptionally long Astronomy lesson in the late evening, you had reached your breaking point and were on the brink of tears, pondering about failing every single subject at the end of the term. There was little to no energy left inside of you. So little, you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry, but merely stared into space with reddened eyes and parted lips. Tom brought you to his room that night and went to the Come and Go Room alone. And when you were in bed, you were too tired to fall asleep. You never knew that was even possible. But once you weren’t distracted anymore, your mind started to wander. It was impossible to keep up with everything at once. You would either fail your N.E.W.T.s or spoil the potion. The latter would be worse of course and for no price would you let your sister down, so you mentally prepared yourself to leave Hogwarts without graduating. Oh, there were the tears. Finally. They ran and flowed along with hollow sobs and wouldn’t stop now that they were coming.
What if the Gaunts were so appalled by your failure that they would call the wedding off before you could cure Elsie? They could easily paint you as a disgrace for not completing school and make your sister pay for it. No matter how it would turn out, they would take it out on her. The plan had worked so well until now and yet you were still desperately trapped inside Marvolo’s web.
Half an hour must have passed when Tom came back. The cushion beneath you was damp from the tears that had rolled down your cheeks and you held your breath to prevent another whimper from escaping your mouth. You hastily wiped your face and turned your back on him, trying to breathe slowly and act as if you were asleep. But he noticed, of course. And even his well-chosen words of comfort couldn’t ease your mind. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his touch and allow yourself to drift off to sleep because you knew that in two hours, the circle would start once again.
The next day, when you sat on Tom’s sofa together to study for Transfiguration, and you had just started reading the same paragraph for the third time since you just couldn’t concentrate, it just rolled off your tongue.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Tom looked up from his book. “What, the twentieth chapter? I just-”
“No, not this,” you sighed and threw your book on the coffee table. “I mean everything. This whole situation. It’s too much.”
“Well,” he said and laid his book aside too. “It certainly is a challenging time. The N.E.W.T.s, the schoolwork and the antidote.”
Challenging was an understatement. “I just need a full night’s sleep, or two. And you do too. We need help, it’s inevitable.”
“Help?” he asked, brows raised. “What do you have in mind? Ask Hilt to look after the potion?” His expression changed once he had seen how you shifted. “No. Don’t tell me that’s what you were thinking.”
“I thought about asking Camille for help. She wouldn’t tell anyone and she’s always been great at Potions,” you explained. “And then I thought, Ben would ask her where she’s going all the time. He wouldn’t leave her alone anyway. So I considered telling them both.”
Tom looked like he had been petrified for a second, not moving a muscle. “But you’d have to tell him about the pact.”
“I know.”
“That’s what he was after since the beginning.”
“Yes. But I think we can trust him.”
“You think?” he asked. “Why, because he’s stopped Freda’s quill? That’s enough to gain your trust?”
“It’s not like we have a lot of options, Tom,” you replied, slowly but surely getting annoyed by his constant suspicions. “Camille wouldn’t be with him if he was a snitch.”
“We will just plan better. It won’t be easy, but we-”
“No. This is too much work for two people. Just look at us. We’re both barely keeping up. It won’t be long until we’re completely worn out. We need help.”
Tom’s brows were furrowed, still not convinced even if he understood. You stretched out your hand towards him and waited for him to hold it. “If we don’t ask for help we’re going to mess up. I’ll either fail my N.E.W.T.s or the antidote won’t be finished. No matter what happens, Elsie will pay for it. Please.”
Camille and Ben looked at Tom and you like you had both lost your minds when you took them to the seventh floor. They had asked so many questions on the way there, but you were far too tired to answer them all. Besides, they would just be able to see for themselves in a bit.
When you arrived, you said to them once more, “I’m going to show you something now. And it is unbelievably important that you understand this needs to stay between us. No one else must know.”
Camille and Ben nodded, both with serious and still confused looks o n their faces.
“And might I add,” Tom said as he looked directly at Ben. “That my memory charm is very powerful. If you can’t keep your mouth shut I’ll obliviate you and I might even make you forget that you have magic running through your veins.”
Ben nodded again. “Alright mate, I got it.”
The door to the Come and Go Room appeared and the two wore the same expression that you must have had when you had first seen it.
“Come in,” you said as you opened the door.
The room was a bit tight with the four of you in there. You stirred the liquid inside the cauldron like you did each time while Ben and Camille looked around curiously.
“A potions room?” Camille asked once the door had been closed. “Now, can you please tell us what’s going on?”
You looked at Tom, who stared back at you, lips pressed together and still unsure if what you were about to do was a good idea. But still, he nodded. He had every right to be suspicious, you had to admit now that you had brought them there. But Camille was to be trusted and frankly, you were far too tired to think of any consequences.
So you began to tell them everything from where it all had started, a day before the school year, at your house. Camille knew half of the story already, but once you told them about the Gaunts and that they were the ones who had cursed Elsie, she stood there wide-eyed, just like Ben.
“And this is why I wanted to ask you both for your help with the potion,” you said once you had told them every detail. “If you don’t mind of course. If you’re willing to help, everyone would just have to come here three times a day. That would make our lives a lot easier.”
They didn’t even need to look at each other and nodded right away.
“Of course,” Camille said. “It all makes sense now. Oh, you must be exhausted. Twelve times a day?”
“I can come more often if you want,” Ben chimed in. “I don’t have as much to do as you, my N.E.W.T.s are still a year away and I wouldn’t have bothered studying much this year anyway.”
“What a surprise,” Tom muttered, even though there was a hint of a smirk on his face.
“One more question,” Ben said. “What about the last ingredient? Banshee tears you said, right? Where are you going to get those?”
“Well. That’ll be the final obstacle.”
“My uncle owns a flask,” Tom explained. “He and my Grandfather will be out next week and we’ll go and try to get them. Our house-elves will be on high alert however, so it’s going to be risky.”
“So,” Ben said. “When are we going?”
“We?” Camille and you asked simultaneously.
“You can’t sneak your way in anyway with the elves around, right?” he said. “Four people are a better distraction than two. I’m in.”
“You weren’t even invited in,” Tom said.
“I don’t care,” Ben shrugged. “I’m still in if you need me.”
Tom sighed as he walked in circles around the cauldron, his hand covering his mouth while he considered Ben’s offer. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he then said. “I think you might be right. A distraction could be of benefit.”
“See?” Ben chuckled. “The muggleborn isn’t that dumb after all.”
“Oh brush off the arrogance, Hilt. We don’t have the flask yet.”
“Boys, please. Let’s discuss that another time and let me show you how to tend to the potion.”
You spent the following week planning for Saturday, when the Gaunts would leave their manor to attend the honouring of the Order of Merlin. You had also gotten some most needed hours of sleep. Not only that but just knowing that Camille and Ben were taking some weight off your shoulders made it much easier to concentrate on school and homework as well.
On Saturday evening, when you met at the school‘s fireplace connected to the Floo-Network, you went over your plan again.
“And don’t forget,” Tom said. “There are two house-elves. They’re loud, but not very bright. Much like some Gryffindors.”
Camille stifled a laugh and looked over to Ben.
“Mate,” Ben replied. “Can you stop bullying me? I’m helping you out here.”
“Sorry,” Tom answered and bit the inside of his cheek. “I was just joking.”
“Oh yes. Riddle’s first joke in eighteen years and of course I take the fall.”
“Guys,” you scolded. “Get it together. Do you remember everything?”
“Yes,” Camille replied. “We are Theresa Carrow and Connor Prewett, your new and very pureblooded friends. We’ll be distracting the house-elves while Tom and you look for the flask. Once you got it, Tom will obliviate them and we'll come right back here.”
“Alright then,” you said as you watched Tom disappearing inside the fireplace. “See you there.”
The green flames consumed you whole once you let the Floo Powder fall and transported you swiftly to Gaunt Manor, where you found yourself in a dark hallway, the reception hall, perhaps.
Tom was there already and offered his hand for you to step out of the fireplace. Camille came next, followed right by Ben. Before you could say anything, you heard two raspy, high-pitched voices coming your way.
“Who is it?” one voice asked. “Master? Is it you?”
“Show yourselves,” the other voice croaked and the elf snapped her fingers, making all the candles around the room light up. It still was dim, but you could see them a bit better now. Both of them were wrinkly and old, their faces scrunched up in suspicion. They didn’t look like the elves at your home but were hunching and worn out, completely different to Tummy. The male elf, Scrook, missed a large piece of his left ear and the female one, Hokey, walked with a severe limp.
“Master Riddle,” Scrook said once he had detected him and bowed tediously. “What do we owe the honour? Master Gaunt didn’t tell us you would visit today.”
“He didn’t?” Tom asked. “He must have forgotten. I told him that I’d come by today. Isn’t he here?”
“No Master,” Hokey answered. “They just left thirty minutes ago. Should we inform them for you?”
“Not necessary. I just wanted to treat my friends to dinner, you see. May I introduce you to Miss Carrow, Mister Prewett, and my fiancée.”
“Oh, networking, yes,” Scrook said and bowed once again. “Welcome to Gaunt Manor.”
“Shall we prepare some food for you, Master?” Hokey asked.
“Certainly. Bring my guests to the sitting room, will you? I’ll join in a bit.”
“Of course, Master. Of course.”
The two elves escorted Camille and Ben to the back, bickering and wrangling like an old couple.
“Quick now,” Tom whispered to you and walked the opposite way, towards the basement. The whole mansion was cold and dark, mahogany bleakly spread across the floors and even on some walls. The marble staircase in the entrance hall might have looked impressive, but only added to the frigid aesthetic of the house.
“Allow me to ask, Mister Prewett,” Scrook said while Ben and Camille took a seat. “What magical family do you belong to? I’ve never heard your last name before.”
“I, uh. I’m related to the Black family,” Ben said.
“The noble and most ancient house of Black,” Hokey crowed. “What an honour.”
The corridor to Morfin’s chamber was long, you had walked there for at least a minute, and it got even colder with every step you took. When you finally reached the door at the far end, Tom halted and you took a deep breath. He turned the doorknob, but the entry remained closed.
“Locked,” he said. “Alohomora.”
The door stayed shut. Tom frowned. That would have been too easy.
“A different spell?” you asked. “Or is there a key somewhere?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s a charm.”
Merlin’s beard. What could it be? What could Morfin have done to lock the door? Something that only he or Marvolo would be able to use.
“What about Parseltongue?” you asked. “Does Morfin know it too?”
“Yes,” Tom answered and proceeded to speak unfamiliar words in the language. The doorknob clicked and sprung open by itself. “There we go.”
Meanwhile, in the sitting room, one of the elves got more and more interested in Ben and Camille’s backstory. “Can Scrook offer you a drink Miss? Sir?” he asked, while Hokey was busy in the kitchen. “Please, if you don’t mind, Mister Prewett. Would you tell me how exactly you’re related to Arcturus Black? Master Morfin is on good terms with him and I wonder why I’ve never heard of you before.”
When you entered Morfin’s chamber you were surprised by its size. It was almost as large as the entire Potions classroom in Hogwarts. Dead bats and shrunken heads were hanging down from the low ceiling here and there, along with strange feathers and strings that must have been some creature’s strands of hair. Despite its size, the room was crammed with bottles, finished potions and ingredients of all sorts. It wasn’t messy, not at all, but very chaotic for anyone unfamiliar.
“Morfin arranges everything by type,” Tom said. “Liquids from living creatures must be in this corner then.”
You both started opening one drawer after another and looked for anything that could possibly be Banshee tears.
Ben and Camille still got cross-examined by Scrook. “Interesting, interesting. Mister Black is your great-uncle, you say. Have you met him lately?“
In the chamber, you had searched for over ten minutes already, and gone through hundreds of little flasks. The number of different liquids in this room must have been in the thousands. Slughorn’s stock was absurdly small compared to this.
“Can’t we just use a summoning charm?” you sighed, going through your fifteenth drawer of vials filled with animal blood.
“No,” Tom said while closing a drawer. “The elves would notice it immediately.”
You shoved yet another drawer shut. “Bloody hell. What if it’s hidden?”
“That’s possible,” he mumbled, still scanning over all the flasks inside the cupboard.
“Wait,” you said. “What if we’re looking in the wrong place?”
“All liquids are here, as I said.”
“Yes, but I just remembered. Slughorn said this years ago. Banshee tears when stored, turn into tiny, pearly white crystals.”
Tom lifted his head to look at you.
“Where are the solids stored?”
He pointed at the opposite corner of the room. “Over there.”
At the same time, Hokey brought appetisers into the sitting room. “Enjoy,” she grumbled, her tone not fitting her kind words.
“Thank you,” Ben said after he and Camille had taken some canapés from the tray.
Both elves froze, deeply offended. “Sir, you have not just thanked Hokey, have you?” Scrook asked.
“Of course not,” Camille answered, holding her head high. “What are you thinking? He thanked me for handing him a canapé.”
“I see,” Scrook said, eyes narrowed. “I’ll go and look for Master Riddle now. He’s taking awfully long, whatever he’s doing.”
“No!” Camille and Ben shouted which led the elf to turn back around.
“No,” Camille repeated, her voice a lot calmer. “I’d like to know more about this house. Can you tell us how long you have worked for the Gaunts?”
In the chamber, you went through the flasks and glass containers on the other side of the room, where the solid ingredients were stored, while Tom still roamed the liquids. And finally, between fairy wings and unicorn liver, lay a tiny flask of Banshee tears.
“Got it,” you called. “There it is.”
Tom walked right over and checked out the flask too. “Very smart thinking.”
“Let’s go.”
Scrook had gotten disturbingly close to Ben. “I’ll gladly tell you all about this house, Miss,” he said, not taking his eyes off the boy. “When Mister Prewett reveals his real name.”
“My real name?” Ben asked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not a pureblood, are you?” the elf hissed. “I can smell it.”
“Excuse you, elf! I must have misheard you,” Camille bellowed. She was a much better actress than Ben. “You surely didn’t mean to insult Mister Prewett in that way. Now apologise.”
Before they knew it, Scrook had gripped Ben’s hand and pulled it towards himself, sniffing at the inside of Ben’s underarm. “I knew it!” the elf yelled. “Mudblood! Hokey quick, alarm the Masters!”
Hokey came running in from the kitchen at the same time as Tom and you arrived in the sitting room. All three of you stood there in the archway and looked at Camille, Ben and Scrook in disbelief.
“Traitors!” Scrook screamed and accidentally knocked the tray of canapés off the table. “What have you done, Master Riddle? Bringing a mudblood into these halls.”
Ben had finally wrenched his arm away from the elf, holding on to it tightly while standing up straight, his chest heaving.
“The Masters must know,” Scrook whined and turned around. “We have to tell them immediately, Hokey.”
“Enough,” Camille said as she rose from her seat. “Stupefy!”
In an instant, Scrook fell to the floor without another word, completely unconscious. Hokey let out a yelp at the sight, turned around and ran toward the kitchen.
“Quick, before she apparates,” you shouted.
“Stupefy,” Tom called with his wand pointed at Hokey. “We don’t have much time. The charm wears off on elves much quicker than on humans.”
Ben and Tom dragged the two elves to the entrance hall and dropped them next to the fireplace, while Camille cleaned up the mess on the floor, where the canapés had landed.
When you had gathered by the fireplace again, Scrook already opened his eyes, blinking slowly.
“Leave,” Tom urged and pointed his wand at the elves. “Obliviate.”
Camille went first and disappeared into the flames, followed by Ben and you.
Back in Hogwarts, when Tom stepped out of the fireplace, you finally felt like you were able to breathe again.
“We did it,” you said and fell into his arms. “I can’t believe we really did it.”
Tom held you for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, then moved his head and looked at Ben when he let go. “What happened?”
Ben still hadn’t calmed down. He rubbed his hands on his trousers and shook his head. “I don’t know. They were shocked when I thanked them for serving us food. Then the elf said he could smell that I’m not a pureblood.”
“You thanked them?” Tom asked. “Elves don’t accept that.”
“How am I supposed to know that? I’ve never seen a house-elf before.”
“Forget about that now,” Camille interrupted. “Did you get them? The Banshee tears.”
“Yes,” you said and pulled them out of your pocket. “We got them.”
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Word count: 3k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 12 | Part 14
Part 13 - Pranks and proper Paybacks
The quill in your hand scratched lightly over the parchment as you were taking notes for Astronomy in the library. It was quiet, as usual, except for the occasional questions and thereof resulting explanations between Ben and Camille. She helped him study for his upcoming Herbology exam, for which he clearly hadn’t revised enough yet. Silly boy.
Tom was there too and sat next to you, completing the quartet round the table. He tried his best not to hiss at them every time Ben asked something. You noticed from the corner of your eye, how he gulped down every thought that built up in his head when another word poured from Ben’s mouth. It was amusing seeing Tom battling with himself to keep his cool. He still didn’t like Ben very much and would much rather study with you alone. But the fact that he had voluntarily sat down with the three of you, tried to behave and didn’t yell at Ben whenever he opened his mouth, was a sign that he probably didn’t hate him as much as he pretended to.
“So, about the Fluxweed again,” Ben whispered, browsing through his book. “How many days does it have to grow?”
Camille was about to answer when Tom pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled dramatically. “Sixteen, Ben. It’s sixteen. She’s told you that three times at least.”
Ben took a quick look at Tom, while still fumbling through the book. “I know, mate. I just can’t memorise it. Why do I even need to know that?”
Tom flung a piece of parchment toward him, pointing at the empty sheet. “Write it down, then. There are some things you must know. Get over it.”
“Alright, alright,” Ben grinned, apparently not caring about Tom’s tone at all. “I’ll write it down, see? Fluxweed takes thirteen days to grow. Happy now?”
“Sixteen,” Camille, Tom and you sighed in unison.
“Oh.” He crossed out the number and sloppily wrote the correct one above it. “Sixteen then.”
Camille and you chuckled to yourselves while Tom only shook his head slightly, his eyes back inside his own book. Ben certainly was careless, or to be more precise, a lot more careless than Camille, Tom and you when it came to grades. The way he talked about homework and even exams was astonishing. He hadn’t even studied for his O.W.L. in Care for Magical Creatures in his fifth year, and he still got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’. Or so he had told you. He'd always found a way to talk his way out of things, unsurprisingly. Teachers really seemed to like him. Or rather do anything to stop him from talking once in a while.
“Oh, wait,” Ben said again.
“Just read your book,” Tom grunted.
“No, hang on.”
Ben stood up and stretched his arm out quickly, reaching and grasping for something to your left. You all turned your heads and saw him catching something that had been flying right at you.
“I might be bad at Herbology. But you’re lucky I’m a bloody good Seeker,” he said and twisted the thin thing between his fingers.
“What is it?” Camille asked. “Let me see.”
Ben put the thing down on the desk, still pressing his index finger on top of it. “It’s a quill. I think it’s jinxed. It was flying on its own and headed right for your face,” he said and looked at you. “Still wants to, I can feel it moving.”
The grey quill twitched eagerly beneath Ben’s hand, trying to escape and pointed its sharp tip right at you, ready to pierce into your skin.
“Not again,” you mumbled.
“Again?”
Things, odd things, had been happening during the week. Someone had played some pranks and antics on you. You hadn’t found out who it was yet, but it certainly had become pesky. On Monday, someone had left you a note that said Professor Merrythought wanted a word with you. Once you had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, however, you were met with a confused teacher and had a hard time explaining yourself. Tuesday, someone had poured Rash Powder over your dinner. You had almost taken a bite but thankfully had noticed the unfamiliar smell in time. Wednesday was more subtle. There had been puddles and slippery spots everywhere you stepped. Avoiding them had been a tedious task. And now, on Thursday, this. The quill didn’t look like it could badly injure you, but its vivid nature was a sign for a hex, rather than a jinx.
No matter who it was, all those things did tear on your nerves. Not only because the pranks got to you, but because there was a possibility someone had been following you without you noticing. Every time you had gone to the Come and Go Room you had turned around and checked if someone was behind you, just in case. That was the exhausting part.
“Just some pranks,” you explained. “I don’t know who or why, but it’s getting fairly ridiculous.”
“Could someone”-Ben puffed-“stop this thing? It’s trying to escape.”
Tom pointed his wand directly at the quill and rolled his wrist. It lit up for a fraction of a second and crumbled to dust right after.
“Ouch,” Ben yelped and fanned his hand through the air hastily before putting his index inside his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”
Tom smirked, partly for the spell he had just cast and partly for burning Ben’s fingertip. “Anytime, mate.”
Camille dragged her finger through the ashes, took a good look at them and rubbed it off between her index and her thumb. “Who would do that?”
“I don’t know,” you answered.
“Avery and Lestrange again, perhaps?”
“Unlikely,” Tom said. “I checked on them some days ago. They’re still with Carpe most of the time, scrubbing the floors and polishing trophies. And besides, they wouldn’t dare.”
“Who else could it be then?” Camille asked as she blew the remaining ashes off the desk with a quick cleaning spell.
The four of you exchanged looks around the table. “To be honest,” Tom began. “I was suspecting you for a while, Ben.”
“Me?” Ben asked wide-eyed. “Why would I do that? I just stopped that quill.”
“‘I’m aware, I’ve seen that now.”
Camille hummed, deep in thought. “Wait,” she said. “What about Freda? Freda Morris.”
“The head girl?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” she said. “She was so jealous at Slughorn’s party, wasn’t she?”
Tom looked at you, biting on the inside of his lower lip, then nodded. “That doesn’t sound too far-fetched.”
“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be so creative,” you said while picking up your books. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her then.”
Once you had gathered your things, you got up and waited for Tom to do the same.
“Where are you going?” Camille asked. “It’s not even seven yet.”
“I have to,” you stopped yourself. You had to tend to the potion in the Come and Go Room again. Needless to say, you couldn’t tell them that. “I have to go and look after Nagini. The snake. She’s shedding at the moment. Talk to you soon.”
“Let us know if something else happens,” Camille said and waved you goodbye.
Tom followed you silently. Of course, they didn’t ask him why he had to come and check on Nagini as well. The perks of being intimidating. Apart from this, Camille and Ben surely didn’t mind studying without him nagging all the time.
On your way out, right when you left the library and headed toward the grand staircase, Tom and you were halted by another student. Platinum blonde and blue-eyed, Abraxas Malfoy, who was one of Tom’s ever so devious sycophants, locked eyes with him.
“Tom,” he greeted and stopped right in his tracks.
“Abraxas,” Tom replied.
Oh, what did he want now? There wasn’t a lot of time until the potion had to be stirred, so hopefully Malfoy wouldn’t keep you from going any longer.
“So,” Abraxas began. “I’ve seen, you like to keep new company these days.”
Tom frowned and looked over his shoulder. Clearly, Abraxas didn’t mean you. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything,” he said and chortled a sour laugh. “I’m just observing. You’re dealing with mudbloods now?”
He was talking about Ben. Malfoy and Tom’s other ‘friends’ had probably seen you in the library together. Or in the Three Broomsticks, some weeks ago. Abraxas must have felt really brave to talk to the head boy in this way. His chest was swollen with pride and the glint in his gaze spoke more than he could have ever said. He was out to get something from this conversation.
Tom only exhaled sharply and stared back at Malfoy, unconcerned about his reproach. “And how come that’s any of your business, exactly?”
“Oh, it isn’t of course,” Abraxas answered. “I was just surprised. Shocked even.”
“I do apologize,” Tom sneered, clicking his tongue in fake sympathy. “That the gathering of other people, who don’t concern you in the slightest, has ruined your precious day.”
Abraxas stared back at him, obviously trying hard to keep calm. His smile still sat neatly on his face; it was his eyes that betrayed him. “No need to worry about me. I merely started thinking, daydreaming, that your Grandfather might not appreciate that.”
Tom took a step closer, his nostrils flared for a moment and a vein on his neck stood out. “Abraxas,” he whispered so spitefully, it almost sounded like he was talking in Parseltongue, words spilling out of him like pure venom. “I’d advise you to worry about your own life. Because if you don’t, wouldn’t it be tragic if your Mother found out what happened last year at your house? When the maid left and never came back? What was the reason again? If only I remembered. Oh, I do.”
Malfoy’s expression changed momentarily, his head sunk and his eyes darted across the floor, trying hard to think of what to answer.
“Do we understand each other?” Tom asked.
Abraxas nodded, lips thin and full of fury. He instinctively retracted and took a step back, keeping his head low and looked up at Tom through knitted brows.
“Good,” Tom said and left Malfoy standing there.
Continuing to walk to the grand staircase, he appeared like nothing but a casual chat between two friends had just happened.
“Well,” you said after Abraxas was out of earshot. “That was interesting.”
“They’re all so stupid, sometimes I wonder how they’ve lived this long,” Tom replied. “I have dirt on every single one of them. And they try to blackmail me. Ridiculous.”
“Idiots indeed,” you shook your head. “Do I want to know what happened to the maid?”
“You don’t. It’s a long, repulsive story.”
No doubt it was. Abraxas was known for his dreadful ways and how he had tormented younger students ever since. He wasn’t like Avery or Lestrange, a dumb follower, who had Hippogriff crap for brains. No, he was mindful, awfully aware of his surroundings and constantly seemed to brood about his next step. He reminded you of Marvolo, they both had the same aura, cold and demeaning, always looking for ways to take advantage of other people’s misery.
It was no surprise that he had tried to intimidate Tom, maybe even pass him in their hierarchy by threatening to tell everyone about his association with a muggle-born. But he hadn’t thought it through. Tom Riddle wasn’t one to mess with and he had just made that crystal clear. Ben might have not been his friend, but still, he hadn’t let Abraxas speak ill of him.
“I wouldn’t have thought you liked Ben,” you said once you turned another corner.
Tom opened his mouth and looked at you in disbelief for a moment, as if you had just insulted him, before he started talking. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it just seemed like it. You came to his defence so quickly. That’s why I assumed.”
“This wasn’t about Hilt. It was about me, Marvolo and that bootlicker Malfoy.”
“Whatever you say,” you grinned while Tom rolled his eyes.
Friday evolved to be the worst day of the week. Not only had you almost gotten detention for falling victim to a Knockback jinx during Defence Against the Dark Arts if Camille hadn’t come to your rescue. Professor Merrythought still hadn’t forgotten about your visit on Monday and thought you were trying to disturb her lesson again.
But in addition, your curriculum almost hindered you from tending to your potion completely. It had become nearly impossible to handle everything at once. Your classes, homework, studying for the N.E.W.T.s, taking care of the antidote and on top of all that, those stupid pranks. It had been draining and your body ached for a bit of rest.
On your way to Tom’s dorm, when the sun had already set and you were finally done with everything for the day, you heard the clink of a door handle turning behind you. It almost had gone overheard, the only thing you wanted to do was sit down for a moment and unwind, even if only for an hour.
You had already reached the door to Tom’s room and could have just entered to forget about the world for a while. But there was this unsettling feeling inside of you and Camille’s words from the library ran through your head again. You turned around. And thank Merlin you did.
Freda Morris stood in her door frame, smirking with her wand pointed right at you. She must have been taken by surprise, it didn’t seem like she had expected you to look at her. Her wand sank in an instant before she hid it behind her back.
“You,” you muttered, taking some steps her way. “It was you all week, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, mocking you with a smile.
“Just admit it at least. Coward. You know exactly what I’m talking about and you were just trying to do it again, weren’t you?”
Freda shook her head and put a strand of hair behind her ear with her skinny fingers. “I’m head girl, dear. I would never do anything to harm another student if that is what you’re implying. I don’t know what could have given you the idea.”
“Oh shut up,” you spat. “Head girl, yes. An awful excuse for one at best.”
The door behind you opened and Tom appeared from inside. He looked out into the hallway frowning. “What’s all that noise about?”
“Your fiancée’s throwing a fit.”
“Camille was right,” you said, still not taking your eyes off Freda. “It was her. The note, the quill and everything else. I just caught her right in the act.”
Freda heaved one single, shrill laugh at your words and straightened her posture. “I just told you, I would never do such things.”
“What were you doing then? Pointing your wand at me, when I have my back turned on you.”
She pondered, taken aback, while she looked at Tom beside you until her grin appeared back on her face. “You’re imagining things. I was just leaving my room to go and talk to Professor Dippet. That’s when you started to yell at me for no reason.”
“Liar!”
She didn’t lower herself to even look at you anymore. Instead, she looked at Tom. “Is this really what you look for in a woman? Hysterical and hostile? I would have thought you had better taste.”
The need to go up to her and slap her across the face seemed almost unbearable. Your hands were balled into fists and it took all your might not to take out your wand and pay her back everything she had done to you, times ten. Tom on the other hand stayed calm and smiled weakly while looking back at her.
“Don’t worry about my taste, Freda,” he said. “I’d rather worry about your memory. Maybe you haven’t been informed, which would be very unfortunate seeing that you are head girl, but Professor Dippet isn’t in Hogwarts today. He’s been called in by the Wizengamot. How could you have been on your way to him then?”
Freda’s smile faltered, her eyes darting back and forth between Tom and you. “I must have not gotten his owl then.”
“Certainly,” Tom said. “I want a word. Now.”
“No,” you intervened and he stopped his movements to look at you. “I can do this myself.”
Tom stepped back with a small smirk on his face. Freda was in for a treat. You walked up to her until there was only a hand’s breadth of space between your faces.
“Listen now,” you said, your heart pumping strongly inside your chest. “I don’t know what you were thinking. If you were thinking. But I swear, if you ever play another of your pranks on me again, I-”
“You what?” she asked and shoved you by the shoulder. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”
The moment she had touched you, you felt something moving by your feet. Nagini had slithered out through Tom’s open door and hissed louder than you had ever heard before. Freda gasped and took several steps backwards, startled by the snake. Nagini placed herself between the two of you and reared up, looking as huge and aggressive as ever. Her hisses were meant for one person only and when you looked back at Tom, you recognised that he wasn’t talking to the snake. She had come to your defence on her own.
“Take that thing away,” Freda yelled. “Make it stop.”
“Or what?” you asked. “You might have not been scared of me yet, but I promise you, give me one more reason and you will be.”
She didn’t dare answer, still looking down at Nagini in utmost panic and trying to foresee every move the snake was about to make. You savoured on the sight for a moment, fervently enjoying how Freda fumbled for the doorknob behind herself.
“Come Nagini,” you then said as you turned around. “Leave her alone. For now.”
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage, a bit of spice
Word count: 2.6k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 11 | Part 13
Part 12 - Pillow Talk and Butterbeer
After buying the Foxgloves in Diagon Alley, all you could do for the antidote was to wait. Wait for Nagini to shed and wait for the end of March to arrive, so you could go to Gaunt Manor and look for a flask of Banshee tears. Meanwhile, the cauldron simmered safely in the Come and Go Room. You had to stir it frequently and skim off the foam that built up, so it took up a good deal of time, which was rather worrying. How would you be able to keep that up when school would start again and you were busy attending classes? Of course, Tom and you could take turns, but you didn’t want to bother him with all that constantly. He had to attend to his duties as head boy on top of everything, after all. Well, there had to be a way. It would be manageable somehow.
Even though Hogwarts was almost empty and there weren’t many people around, you hadn’t felt lonely. Not even a bit. Tom and you had grown closer over the week. Even closer than before, and he still showed no signs of annoyance towards you. Which was surprising. You would have thought that he liked to keep to himself a lot, and wouldn’t want to spend much time with someone else, regardless of who it was. But that suspicion turned out to be untrue. Tom had followed you to tend to the potion every single time you had gone there, even if you hadn’t asked him to. He stuck to you like a magnet, which was strange at first, but once you had figured out that he just seemed to thoroughly enjoy your company, you let him.
When the two of you weren’t in the Come and Go Room, or studied for the upcoming semester, you spent your time in bed a lot. The meaning of ‘enjoying the holidays’ suddenly had a different ring to it. You still had not gotten used to his touch, his scent, his faint whisper in your ear. But if you were honest, you didn’t want to ever get used to it. It was too exciting to get that rush, the way your heart started racing, every time his fingers brushed across your skin. Every time your name fell from his lips and when his eyes lingered on your figure when you lay beneath him. Those smiles, rare and subtle, he graced you with between the sheets. No, you would never get used to that.
And Tom had started to talk more. Granted, still not as much as any other person you knew, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. One rainy day, he even opened up and talked about his family.
You held hands beneath the blanket, your leg was sprawled over him and you had just put your head into a comfortable position between Tom’s shoulder and the cushion, when he just began, out of nowhere.
“Do you remember when you asked me about my parents?” he said. “In your room, at Christmas.”
Your head propped up again so that you could look at him. “I do. Why?”
“Well,” he paused and looked back into your eyes, his voice low and plain. “Do you want to know what happened?”
“Of course. Tell me.”
He laid his head onto the pillow and looked up towards the ceiling while he bit the inside of his cheek.
“My Mother,” he began. “She fell in love with him, Tom Riddle, when she was seventeen. He was a muggle. Filthy and worthless, even though his family was rich. Merlin knows what she saw in him.”
The fact that he was a Muggle didn't define his Father's worth, you thought, but it wasn’t your time to speak now.
“He didn’t love her back,” Tom went on. “At least not as much as she wanted him to, apparently. Morfin, her brother, had just finished his schooling for Potion’s mastery, so she snuck into his chambers one night and stole one of his love potions.”
This story wasn’t going to end well. Most love potions, the ones that weren’t sold in joke shops, which were diluted and only meant to last for a few minutes, were illegal. You had learnt about the most dangerous ones in Slughorn's class in sixth year, so you were able to recognise them. One of them, the most powerful one, had attracted everyone’s attention back then. The potion alone was infatuating, even if one had not consumed it yet. Its scent had drawn in every person in the classroom, as it smelled different to everyone, based on one's preferences. You still remembered that striking feeling of needing to take the potion yourself. Obsession was the best way to describe it. All rationality had left you once Slughorn had lifted the cauldron’s cover. No one seemed in their right mind anymore. And the mere thought of being at someone’s mercy, without even knowing it, was frightening.
“Amortentia?” you asked.
Tom nodded and you could feel his leg bouncing up and down. His voice still was indifferent, as if he was telling you just another irrelevant story.
“She drugged him with it and didn’t tell her family. They wouldn’t have tolerated a muggle as her husband of course. But they secretly got married and when she was pregnant, she broke the charm, thinking he would love her anyway.”
“And?” you asked, hoping that the answer would be different from what you anticipated.
“He didn’t love her. Obviously. And he ran from her. Left her. Can’t even blame him.”
“He left her when she was pregnant?”
Tom nodded and your heart sank for him. Even though his Father’s actions were understandable to an extent, it was unimaginable what it must feel like to be so unwanted by one of your parents that they would have left before you were even born.
“What happened to her then?” you asked.
“She died while giving birth to me. At least that’s what Marvolo told me.”
“You don’t think she’s dead?”
“Oh, yes I do. I don’t think she died from giving birth.”
“Do you think he… That Marvolo… Killed her?”
Tom shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling. “Possibly. I could see why he would have done it.”
Everyone who knew Marvolo could probably see him do that. That man was evil, to say the least, and seemed to enjoy it when others suffered. But killing his own daughter was something you hadn’t thought anyone, not even the worst person on earth, was able to do without hesitation.
Silence had fallen over the room. Tom breathed collected and slow, unlike yourself.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered for lack of a better word and held his hand tighter.
“It’s alright,” he answered, his voice sounding like he was the one consoling you when it should have been the other way around. “I have no memory of them. It’s not like I miss her.”
Could you miss someone you never really met? Probably not. But it was definitely possible to know you missed out.
“And your Father?” you asked. “Do you know where he is now?”
Tom let out a sharp breath as if he was suppressing a laugh. “I don’t think he’s alive either. They never told me, but I assume Marvolo took care of him as well.”
You sighed at his response, turned to lie on your side and rested your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hand leaving his, to hold on to his upper arm.
There had been so much harm, so much betrayal in his life, even before he could have done something to prevent it. No wonder he behaved the way he did. There had never been hope. He never stood a chance.
“I don’t even know what to say,” you mumbled. “Do you wish it could have been different? If you had gotten to know them.”
“You and your wishful thinking,” he said and you could hear the smile in his tone. “I never thought about it. It wouldn’t change reality. It would just make me mad.”
You nodded as a silent way of approval, your fingertips tracing patterns on the curve of his shoulder.
“I do wonder, however,” Tom said and lifted your chin with his hand, so he could look into your eyes. “What my Father felt when she put him under her spell with Amortentia.”
His gaze darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his fingers still holding up your chin when you blinked.
“The closest thing to love, I assume,” you answered, a breath stuck in your throat. “The replica of it at least, as hollow as it may be.”
Tom still looked at you with a glare as sharp as a butcher knife. He sucked in a breath, pondering, and parted his lips, about to say something. Before he could though, he leaned closer, pinned you down to the mattress and kissed you, his hand wandering from your chin to your neck.
An owl from Camille arrived on one of the last days of the break and you smiled reading it, as you walked across Tom’s room.
“Camille wants to meet up on Sunday when she gets back,” you told Tom, still skimming across her lines. “They are official now, Ben and her.”
“Alright then,” Tom said absentmindedly, his nose in one of the books from the library.
“She asked for you to come too.”
His head rose in confusion. “Me? Why?”
“I think she wants us to go on a double date,” you grinned. “To the Three Broomsticks. Sunday at five.”
No matter how sure you were of how much Tom enjoyed your presence, he absolutely wasn’t entertaining the idea of spending time with Ben Hilt. And about that, he was very clear. He had asked you a couple of times if you were sure that Camille meant for him to come and had tried many ways of escaping that date, but alas, you dragged him there.
“Four Butterbeers,” Ben ordered after you had sat down at a table together.
Ben sat across from Tom, who was more than obviously annoyed by the fact he even had to be there. You patted him on the thigh, ordering him to behave, to which Tom eyed you seriously. Camille and you both bit back the smirks on your faces, while Ben tried his best to be friendly.
“So,” he said, looking at Tom and you. “How were the holidays?”
“Mind your own business,” Tom murmured, which luckily no one but you had heard.
“Good,” you spoke over him and pushed your elbow against Tom’s side. “Quiet. Not many people around.”
“Oh, you stayed in school, didn’t you?” Ben asked. “You both?”
Tom didn’t answer and looked back at Ben without a hint of emotion on his face. You nodded and smiled.
“How about you?“ you asked. “What have you done? Have you met up?”
“Oh, yes we did,” Camille said. “Ben introduced himself to my parents and then took me to the cinema.”
“Cinema?” Tom and you asked simultaneously.
You had heard of cinemas before of course. But you had never been. Movies were a muggle invention, and although it sounded tempting, you had never had the chance to go.
“Yes,” Camille confirmed. “We watched ‘Dead of Night’. That’s what it’s called, right?”
Ben nodded as he swung his arm around Camille’s shoulder. “Horror movies. My favourite.”
“Why would you do that?” Tom asked and took his cup from the waiter. “Go to the cinema. That’s such a muggle thing to do.”
“Oh, you’ve never been, huh?” Ben asked. “None of you have, have you?”
“You should have seen his face when I told him,” Camille laughed. Like you, she had grown up in a pureblood family.
“And you should’ve seen mine when I went to her house,” Ben added. “I’m still not used to wizard’s homes, you know. They’re so different. I like them.”
Tom stiffened next to you.
“You’re muggleborn?” he asked, his mouth agape.
“Indeed mate. Didn’t you know?”
“You’re a mu-… muggleborn,” Tom stammered and looked over to Camille. “But you, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Camille said, a baffled smile on her face.
Tom still had a hard time believing what he had just heard. “And you… You two. Even though…”
“Tom,” you whispered, trying to escape both Camille and Ben’s amused looks, and patted him on the thigh again.
“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat and motioned with his hand. “I just. I didn’t know.”
“Well now you do,” Ben shrugged before taking a big sip of his butterbeer. “Best of both worlds, am I right?”
“Right,” you said when Tom didn’t answer.
Changing the subject seemed necessary, but you couldn’t think of anything worth talking about. The only thing you had been doing was tending to the potion, and that was something you would rather keep a secret.
“The worst thing is that none of you folks have phones at home,” Ben went on.
“Phones?” Tom asked.
“Telephones. You can call other people and talk to them.”
“I wish I had one,” said Camille. “I told my Father about it and he thinks it’s a great idea. Maybe we’ll get one of those ‘phones’.”
That was interesting. To talk to someone directly, even if they weren’t there? No apparating, no Floo Network. Muggles might have been weak, but they sure knew how to handle their handicaps.
“Why would you need to do that?” Tom asked. “Talk to someone on the phone.”
“Well, it spares a lot of time. No need for owls or letters. You just pick it up from the hook and speak.”
Tom seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But owls do the job just fine.”
“Not as quickly,” Ben grinned.
“Well, then I’ll send an urgent owl if I need my message to arrive sooner.”
Ben stifled a laugh and took another drink. “I mean, of course, mate.”
“I think it’s interesting,” you said. “And you only hear the voice of the other person? You can’t see them, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Fascinating,” you mumbled. “What other things do you have that we don’t?”
Ben looked into his cup for a moment and hummed. “Well, muggles invented the train, which we all use to go to school.”
“Oh,” Camille gasped. “Wait until he tells Tom about cars.”
Tom clicked his tongue. “Of course I know about cars.”
“Have you driven one?” Ben asked.
“Obviously not.”
“You should one day. My Father got a 1943 Bentley recently. Technically I’m not allowed to drive it, because I don’t have a license. But I’ve seen Father drive a lot. So I borrowed the car one night and it was life-changing.”
Tom took a drink and raised one brow. “I’d rather just apparate.”
“Yes, that’s great too. But it doesn’t have the same feeling. It’s really liberating. And much more comfortable than brooms. I could take you all on a ride someday in the summer. The car fits four people.”
“Why?” Tom asked before you could agree.
Ben raised his eyebrows again, a smile still plastered on his face. “For fun?”
“For fun,” Tom repeated and looked at you as if to ask you what Ben was trying to tell him.
“You should do more things just for fun, mate,” Ben chuckled. “Might help against that constant frown.”
Camille and you laughed quietly, both turning your faces away from the boys and you bit your tongue. Tom straightened his posture, his eyes darting across the table, apparently thinking hard.
“We’ll see about that,” he said and raised his glass. “Mate.”
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage, an unholy amount of fluff
Word count: 2.3k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 10 | Part 12
Part 11 - The Earth's Centre
Starting to brew the antidote for Mors Grano proved easier than anticipated. The potion’s base was quite similar to any other healing draught, and so was its production. You had decided to begin the tedious process, even though the Banshee tears were missing. According to the recipe, they were the last ingredient to be added, so you had plenty of time to find them, even if you didn’t know exactly how.
For the first few weeks, there was nothing to do but the Moondew cook, stirring it frequently. The cauldron stood in Tom’s room, its content simmering steadily, ready to be examined at any moment by one of you.
Professor Beery had denied you the bonus points for the N.E.W.T.s after you had told him that the Moly had unfortunately died. Those points were the least of your problems, however.
The plant had, in fact, bloomed beautifully, ready to be added to the potion.
And that was when the difficulties began.
As soon as you dropped the blossoms into the cauldron, the potion started to smell. Very strongly. The mixture reacted in a way that wasn’t described in the book and started to produce yellow steam, as well as a sour, headache-inducing odour, which reached beyond the walls of Tom’s room. The fume filled up every last inch of his dorm and even seemed to creep out into the Slytherin common room. Other students had begun to mention the weird smell and even Dippet, who had paid Tom a number of unfortunate surprise visits, was beginning to grow suspicious.
You had sent your parents an owl to inform them you wouldn’t come home during your semester break. They weren’t exactly happy about it; you had never stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays after all. But you had insisted, telling them there was so much studying to do until they finally let go. That wasn’t even a lie. There was a bunch of work to do. Granted, not all of it was related to school, but you still had a lot on your plate.
Tom stayed in Hogwarts for the week as well. You weren’t sure but highly doubted that he had notified his own family about it. And to be fair, they wouldn’t really care about that, would they?
Although the school was practically empty, with only a fraction of the students staying with you, those who remained complained of the pungent smell in all the Slytherin dormitories. On Sunday evening you heard that the housekeeper had been sent to find the source, and Tom was informed that Mr Carpe would begin his search the following morning.
So there you were, worrying about what to do, stirring the cauldron for the twentieth time within the last minutes, hoping it would steam less, the more you whisked through it. No matter how hard you concentrated, how many options you took into account, there was nowhere to take the cauldron where its smell would go unnoticed.
The Potions classroom was off-limits, even though it was much better equipped for the fumes. Slughorn would spend a lot of his time there, to prepare tasks for the upcoming semester.
You had even considered taking it home and telling your parents about it. But using the Floo-Network with an item this heavy wasn’t possible, and taking the train with a simmering cauldron seemed ridiculous. Besides, the antidote still took months to finish, so you would have to take it back to Hogwarts a week later anyway.
Hell, you had even thought of taking that damned kettle out onto the Quidditch pitch or into the forest, so no one would smell it anymore. But you couldn’t leave it out in the open, of course.
Just when you had given up hope and realised that you couldn’t go on brewing the potion in Tom’s room, or anywhere else, he had told you about another possibility. There was this room on the seventh floor that he had discovered in fifth year. He called it the Come and Go Room and was positive that no one but himself, not even the teachers, knew of its existence. The room must have been enchanted, according to Tom, and only appeared when one was in dire need.
So the two of you went there that same night, in a cloak and dagger operation, levitating the cauldron behind you. You had covered it with a white sheet so that if someone saw you, they at least wouldn’t know initially what you were doing. The disguise was weak and you knew if Dippet or any other teacher would spot you, you would be screwed.
Luckily none of them were around when you rushed through the halls, aside from Warren O’Connor, a Ravenclaw fifth year, who patrolled a corridor next to their tower. He was too far away to detect the poorly hidden cauldron and didn’t even seem to look at you once he recognised Tom.
When you had finally arrived, chest heaving, thoughts rushing from relief and tension, Tom instructed you how to summon the Come and Go Room. You walked past the stone wall three times and imagined, very carefully, what you needed. An airtight room that allowed you to keep on brewing your potion in peace, that no one would be able to find unless you wanted them to. Suddenly, a door appeared. You looked at Tom and he nodded before you took the handle and opened it.
The small room behind the door was, simply put, perfect. Your very own Potions laboratory. Dark and nifty, it offered enough little cabinets to store all the ingredients for the antidote, as well as a worktop to put the cauldron on. Everything looked as if it had been custom made, just for this purpose. Which it was, you had just created it all yourself.
Now that the cauldron was in a safe place Tom felt more at ease and even thought that the semester break could turn out to be enjoyable. Why did that relax him, though? A question he had asked himself more than once. He didn’t have to care, nor did he have to help his fiancée to save her sister. Then why had he done it?
He didn’t have a logical answer to that question, even though the illogical one seemed to grow stronger, slowly putting down roots and beginning to blossom. He shrugged it off. But there were so many questions of the same kind running through his mind. Why did he care? He had never cared before. For anyone. That girl wouldn’t bring him where he wanted to be just by marrying him. Sure, her family was respected. Of course, they were purebloods, which was why his Grandfather had taken notice of them. But it had never been Tom’s wish to marry her. So why didn’t he mind the thought anymore? The idea of watching her walk down the aisle had repelled him immensely when he had found out what Marvolo’s plan had been. And now it didn’t. He must have gotten used to the idea. It even bugged him to think about the fact that the marriage wouldn’t happen by chance if the antidote was finished soon enough. Then why did he help her?
There was something inside of him, something he couldn’t just pinpoint yet. Something that made him do the things he had done, even when it had gone against his own benefit. Something that made him care less and less about himself. It must have turned all of his morals upside down, because somehow, and he couldn’t explain why, the most important thing was to see her happy. He didn’t even know when his priorities had changed. When he had stopped putting himself first. But it had happened. And that irritated him beyond belief.
She had been so easy to dislike. Back then, when they were sitting in her dining room alone. When she had stared at him, eagerly waiting for him to pity her. So conceited. Desperate for his attention. But then again, she had been so easy to like. When had he started giving in? At first, he had felt nothing more than disgust, appalled by the turmoil inside his head. That nasty feeling in his chest and his weak knees. But once he had surrendered, it had begun to feel good.
All he wanted - no - all he needed now, was to make sure she was safe. Protect her. Help her. That wasn’t just an act of kindness though. He had figured out that apparently, he mirrored her emotions. When she was pleased, he was too. When she was angry, he couldn’t help but feel furious as well. When she was sad, his chest stung with her.
It felt like a purpose. Like she was the earth’s centre and everyone else, even himself, merely spun around her. She had his full attention now and he didn’t plan on taking it from her anytime soon.
If someone were to ask him why, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one even begin to describe such an embarrassing accumulation of emotion and weakness alike? If he had to, he’d start with her glow. That devotion she seemed to radiate anywhere she was. Her relentless spirit and how ready she was to combat anyone with it. How tender she was with people that deserved it. And how ruthless she could be with those who didn’t.
The way she moved in her sleep, slowly and gently, turning over and unknowingly stealing his blanket at least twice a night. The way her chest moved up and down when she lay next to him. How her eyes seemed to light up when she awoke and looked at him. The hours he had watched her. Held her. Felt her skin brushing against his own, just like in this moment. How could anyone experience that and not have the urge to keep it? To freeze those moments in time and lock them up, safely, for nobody to see.
Tom wasn’t sure if she was aware of how nervous she made him. He knew how to hide it, but was ever so annoyed at how much he depended on being close to her. And he usually wasn’t the one to become jittery. That was the response he normally got. Freda Morris, for example, couldn’t seem to think straight when he had taken her out once, during their sixth year. Merlin’s beard, that lass was nerve-wrenching.
Quite contrary to her. No one had ever done that to him. She had crawled under his skin and into his head, drugging his mind until almost every single thought he produced revolved around her. But he knew his place. She hadn’t befuddled him just to make him her pawn. He knew, because that was what his family had done ever since he could remember. She had never done him wrong. Maybe that was why he had helped her. And why he was willing to do anything for her, even if it meant for him to suffer. He was the antagonist in their story, he knew. And if he was poison, she was the remedy. If he was the villain, she was the treasure worth saving.
Tom’s pitiful monologue was interrupted when she woke up, opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Morning,” she said quietly and smiled.
He looked at her for a moment. If only she knew.
“Morning,” he replied.
She stretched her arms in the air and yawned, then turned towards him and ran her fingers along his jawline. Bliss.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, staring at the stubble on his chin that her thumb had just touched.
“Not long,” he lied. “Just a few minutes.”
She grinned and placed a kiss onto the left end of his lips. “I have to get up and stir the potion. Care to join me?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Oh, and I think I’m going to go to Diagon Alley in the afternoon. To buy the Foxgloves. I have to add them next week.”
“I’ll come.”
She exhaled and pulled him in, nuzzling into his neck.
“Do you think we should go to Knockturn Alley as well?” she asked, her voice muffled. “While we’re there. I want to see if any store offers Banshee tears.”
“I don’t think they do,” Tom said and she lifted her head to look at him.
“But where else then?”
“I think I know where we could get some.”
She nodded, urging him to tell her.
“Well, I’m sure Morfin owns a flask. He had to get it if he wanted to brew the antidote, didn’t he?”
“But if they never planned on curing Elsie entirely, I don’t think he would have gotten them.”
“Marvolo never planned on curing her,” Tom said. “Morfin did. He’s a Potions master. One that doesn’t care about legality. He knows every last person that deals with ingredients like that. Even if he never intended to free her, I’m sure he got them just in case he ever needed them for himself.”
Her eyes roamed his face as she pondered. “So what do we do now? Go to your house, search his chamber and steal the flask?”
Tom shook his head. “That won’t be as easy. They’re always home, Marvolo has his eyes everywhere. Even the house-elves would alarm him.”
She frowned, brows furrowed while she lightly tugged on his hair.
“They’ll be gone,” Tom went on. “In late March. The Order of Merlin gets honoured and they are both invited. We could go then and try to find it.”
There it was again. That spark in her eyes.
“Okay,” she answered. “Let’s do it then. But for now, let’s stay here for five more minutes.”
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Word count: 3k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 9 | Part 11
Part 10 - Mors Grano
The days after Avery’s poor attempt to gather 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, 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 wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up.
Even if they wanted to, their new schedule didn't give them enough time to follow you 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, was a reminder that they deserved it.
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 fortunately hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going around 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 have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to Tom’s.
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 set 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. “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 keep the giggle that was building up inside you from bursting out, you took Tom's hand, tugged lightly on it and gestured towards the couch where you wanted to sit. He closed the potions book but kept a finger in it, taking it with him as 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?”
He nodded in agreement.
“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 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?”
“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 sighed. “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 DeathThe 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. The 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 to read the list of ingredients, your hands shaking too much to make out a word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Binns had mentioned it in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1650. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to find out what had caused such an increased number of deaths, all of them male wizards. The potion and most of its ingredients had been banned, and no cases had been reported since.
Until now. Suddenly it all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and covered it in Mors Grano. They had known all along how to cure Elsie and had waited patiently, days and weeks, letting your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given her the letter, even though it was addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten-year-old, innocent, little girl.
Nausea hit you like a brick, coupled with the immediate need to punch something as your stomach twisted and turned in ways 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 rising and threatening to break as you tried to get up.
“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 on your hand tightened 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, his 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. But even when I started to care, 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. 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 by 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.”
Slughorn's office was on the sixth floor, so it took a while to reach it. 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.”
Everyone who knew them longer than a minute had to be aware of the fact. 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.”
A sour smile had formed on your face as you thought about what to answer. 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, stepped closer and you pulled him in further. With his arms around you and your head pressed against his chest, you shut your eyes for a moment, feeling his lips on your forehead for a fraction of a second. When you looked up at him, his mouth parted, then closed again, stopping himself from saying something. His eyes, dark and restless, searched yours for a moment before returning to their usual deadpan state.
“Believe me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than me. If I can make their lives more difficult, I’ll gladly do it.”
There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words when you separated. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.
“Get behind me,” Tom instructed. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”
You did as he said, your back against the stone wall, watching from a 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 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 drawer was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even contained finished potions, but you still hadn't seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly while remaining quiet and ensuring 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 the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Finally, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mandrake, Maw, Mistletoe berry, Mollowsweed ... 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.”
my bf and i talked about love languages and i jokingly said he never gets me flowers bc his love language isn’t gift giving and that that’s obvious to me. he was seriously confused and asked what he would get me flowers for (he’s gotten me flowers before, but that‘s not the point).
i said because it makes me feel like he thinks of me and that i consider it a romantic gesture. he looked at me, dumbfounded, and proceeded to loudly tell me that he would never think of me when he sees a bouquet of flowers because it’s not what our relationship is. we are not flowers, we’re not frail, we don’t wilt. we are a rock, we‘re sturdy and unrelenting, we never split and we‘ll still be one when the world ends.
i just wanted to say i love your work, been a fan since before the re write (in ye olden days when i was still wattpad active) lol and i just discovered your tumblr today! great joys!
anyways, having lots of fun booping you
happy april fool’s 🫶✨
hii :)
thank you so much, welcome back to the good old days lmao.
i’ll boop you back in a second. have a great day 🥰
Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)
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.
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Word count: 3.4k
Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 8 | Part 10
Part 9 - Never trust a Snake
Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward for their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.
Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But it certainly felt special when you thought of it from where you had started, as a fiancée that he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place. It also felt like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.
And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance.
Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.
Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.
And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep.
You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts to get up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”
“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”
“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”
You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed?
“Did you-”
“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”
“Noble,” you quipped, causing him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”
He shrugged as he turned to face you. “You slept through it. I wasn’t aware that was possible either.”
Oh. An image of Tom picking you up from the couch and carrying you across the room flashed through your mind. He must have tucked you in too; the heavy duvet was still wrapped around you. “Come here then?”
Tom looked at you, scepticism thick on his features, before you reached out for him, holding a hand in the air and waiting for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, lifting the duvet, until he lay down next to you. Cautious fingers went up to his face and ran through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while.
Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.
“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.
His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”
“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his mouth. The touch was still unfamiliar, a great deal of uncertainty as to whether he would reciprocate spreading in your veins. But he did, soft lips meeting yours, lingering as he exhaled and parting only in reluctance. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”
“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.
Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth now and again, but she seemed calm. She had curled up like a cat seeking warmth. The only thing missing was for her to start purring. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.
“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.
“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’ll earn those extra points from Beery.”
“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.
“No, it’s alright.”
He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”
“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”
“Have you read through it? All the way?”
“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”
“Which one?”
“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”
He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”
“But it looks fine, why-”
He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”
“Okay,” you muttered. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”
“That’ll do,” he said, finally sounding satisfied.
It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been lovely, despite you having had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked completely fine.
Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You walked over to the desk where the Moly was standing and put the book down. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:
“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”
Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.
“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.
He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.
“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.
Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “Thanks.”
Slightly concerned, you frowned, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”
Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply.
“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?”
His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”
Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down you saw Nagini, who had slid over. She was on the floor between you and Tom, hissing quietly.
“What does she want?” you asked.
Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.
“Tom?”
“Hm?”
“What is she saying?”
“She’s hungry.”
“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”
Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.
“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.
“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go ahead then.”
“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Well, it was an arrangement between our families,” he stated.
“Yes?”
“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”
Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.
“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”
He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”
You blinked, irritated. He had not just said that.“Are you serious right now? You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”
He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”
“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”
“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”
“A fuss! You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“We’re done here,” you snapped, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.
“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”
“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.
Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.
You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.
“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”
Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he pulled out his wand and dashed into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tom demanded, glaring at both Avery and you.
Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.
“He… You,” you stammered.
“You two? In my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “You must have lost your damn minds.”
“I can explain.” Could you, really?
“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”
“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded.
Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. What would his next move be? Beat Avery to a pulp, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room?
“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”
Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.
“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”
They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say.
“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.
“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”
“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.
“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”
“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”
“I don’t… But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”
He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”
Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.
“Did he touch you?” he asked.
“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”
“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”
“No. He didn’t.”
Silence. Nagini's quiet hisses interrupted your thoughts while Tom watched her.
“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.
“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”
“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”
“What did Avery ask you exactly?”
“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”
“Idiot.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents to punish them.
“Oh, and another thing,” you said. “Avery stinks.”
Tom, to your surprise, stifled a laugh. That was unexpected, so you turned to him and asked, “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
He did? You looked at him, taken aback.
“Nagini,” Tom said to you, taking both your hands in hiss. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.”
“Good girl,” you said, to which she offered a small his. You really had to get her some more mice.
Closing the gap between you, your arms wrapped around Tom’s neck and pulled him close. With his hands firmly on your waist, he rested his head in the crook of your neck for the duration of the embrace, breathing you in.
“Thank you for letting me explain,” you said, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jumper.
Tom nodded, pulling back to look at you. He brought his hand to your cheek, his eyes still alight from the argument. “When Avery held your hand I nearly killed him.”
“I know,” you whispered as you laid your hand upon his. “I saw it in your eyes.”
He pulled you back into his arms and sighed deeply. The hug lasted for a long moment before you separated, almost having forgotten that the two Slytherin boys were still there.
“Now, what were they thinking?” you asked. “What point were they trying to prove?”
“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.
“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”
They both nodded.
“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.
Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.
“Where did you get that from?”
“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.
“Speak up!” Tom ordered.
“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”
Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.
“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”
“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”
“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.
Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”
“We thought-”
“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”
Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.
“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.
“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.
“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”
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