dumbledore was so messy for showing harry all those memories of tom riddle. thank god voldemort never heard of it because if i ever heard that my opps were sitting together watching a reel of my Greatest Fails id crash out like ive never crashed out before
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the Sorting Ceremony commenced.
First-years lined up, nervous and eager, while older students whispered amongst themselves, making their own guesses about which house each new student would be placed into.
At the staff table, Professor Harry Potter observed the procession of young witches and wizards with a practiced gaze. It had been years since his own time at Hogwarts, yet some things never changed.
He leaned back in his chair, absently running a hand through his hair as he listened to the Sorting Hat calling out house names.
And then, a name echoed through the hall.
"Riddle, Mattheo."
Harry froze.
His fingers curled slightly against the table as a boy with dark curls and strikingly sharp features strode forward with an air of confidence.
The resemblance was undeniable—he looked just like him. Just like Tom Riddle.
But as Mattheo turned slightly, Harry saw something else, something that twisted his chest in an entirely different way.
There was a spark in his eyes, a smirk dancing at his lips, something that was so unmistakably Y/N.
Harry inhaled sharply.
Y/N’s child.
The realization hit him like a stunning spell to the chest. He felt as though time itself had unraveled before him, pulling him back to that fateful moment in the corridors of Hogwarts—the moment he had lost her. The moment she had chosen Tom over him.
And here stood the result of that choice.
Mattheo sat upon the stool, completely at ease, his hands resting on his lap as the Sorting Hat was placed atop his head. But before it could even consider, before it could weigh his mind, the answer was already clear.
"Slytherin!"
The Slytherin table erupted into cheers as Mattheo slid off the stool with a victorious grin, heading toward his new housemates.
Harry swallowed thickly, his gaze following the boy. He shouldn’t be surprised.
Of course, Tom Riddle’s son would be sorted into Slytherin. But as he watched Mattheo approach his table, a flicker of something unexpected crossed his face.
The boy met his eyes directly, mischief glinting within them as he smirked. "Professor Potter, huh?" he mused, tilting his head slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you."
Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the familiarity in the boy’s tone.
"I’d say only half of it was good," Mattheo added with a grin, crossing his arms as he appraised Harry with amusement.
Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head with an incredulous chuckle. That—that—was all Y/N.
For a moment, he found himself smiling, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. He knew this feeling. He had seen it before. It was the way Snape had once looked at him—not with hatred, not anymore, but with a quiet, solemn acknowledgment of the past.
Mattheo was a living reminder of what Harry had lost. But at the same time, he was a reminder of her.
Tom working at borgin and burkes will never not be funny to me like tjskdkskdksk I've worked customer service jobs since I was 18 and they made me, an otherwise (somewhat) fully functional adult, want to commit acts that violate the geneva convention can you IMAGINE what tom was coming up with for customers he hated? He's already split his soul at that point potentially twice like... there's definitely some bodies buried in the back is all I'm saying
𓂃⭑ a/n. this wouldn’t exist without my love marleen, who first blessed us with the vampire!tom. all credit for this deliciously dark concept goes to her, so go lose your mind over her au + fic. show her all the love and tom might just pay you a visit in the night x
ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝
his breath is cool against your throat, a ghost of a touch that makes you shiver beneath him. ‘pretty thing,’ he murmurs, voice like silk laced with something darker, something more dangerous. ‘mine.’
you whimper, thighs already trembling where they’re spread around him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your slick folds. he hasn’t pushed in yet, just letting the tip tease you, smearing your arousal over himself. he loves this—loves watching you squirm, watching the way your body betrays you.
‘needy little thing,’ he taunts, dragging a single, sharp fang along your pulse point. you jolt, body arching up, but he pins you down, fingers bruising where they dig into your hips. ‘do you have any idea what you do to me? how fucking sweet you smell? i should drain you dry right here, watch you go limp on my cock.’
your breath stutters, a whimper slipping past your lips. and fuck, it only makes him harder, cock twitching against you, precum leaking onto your swollen clit.
‘please,’ you gasp, and that’s all it takes for his control to snap.
he thrusts into you in one brutal motion, splitting you open, a strangled moan tearing from your throat. you can feel him—feel every inch, every ridge, feel the way his cock stretches you, forces your body to take him.
his fingers find your jaw, tilting your head back, exposing your throat. he watches you, eyes blown black with hunger, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
‘so good for me,’ he purrs, rocking into you, dragging his cock along your walls, slow and deep, making sure you feel every fucking inch. ‘so tight. so warm. you were made for me, weren’t you?’
you nod—desperate, delirious, pleasure pooling low in your belly. ‘yes,’ you breathe. ‘yes, tom—’
his teeth sink into your throat.
the pain is sharp, white-hot, and then—bliss. a rush of pleasure so intense your vision blurs, your walls clenching tight around his cock as you cum, a cry tearing from your throat.
he groans, fucking you through it, drinking deep, his hips snapping against yours, chasing his own release. your blood is thick on his tongue, intoxicating, his grip unrelenting as he ruts into you, dragging out every last tremor of your orgasm.
‘so perfect,’ he breathes, pulling back just enough to press his bloodstained lips to yours. ‘so fucking perfect.’
then, with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep, spilling inside you, his body shuddering against yours.
but he’s not done.
‘look at you,’ he breathes, dragging his fingers through the mess between your legs, pushing his own cum back inside you. ‘soaking my cock, full of my cum, and you still want more, don’t you?’
you whimper, but you don’t deny it. can’t. not when your body is still trembling, still burning with the need to be ruined by him.
he smirks—dangerous, sharp. ‘such a needy little thing.’
and then he moves, dragging his cock through your slick folds, teasing your overstimulated clit with the flushed tip before slamming back inside.
the sound that rips from your throat is obscene, high and desperate, tears spilling down your cheeks as he fucks you open again, raw and wrecked.
‘crying already?’ he taunts, thumb swiping away a tear before he shoves it past your lips. ‘s’too much for you, sweetheart? can’t take it?’
you shake your head, tongue flicking over his thumb, sucking it into your mouth.
he groans, jaw tightening. ‘that’s what i fucking thought.’
his hips snap against yours, unrelenting, the wet slap of skin-on-skin filling the room. he’s deeper this time, fucking you rough, ruthless, possessive, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, ruin you for anyone else.
‘you’re mine,’ he growls, fingers curling around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. ‘mine to fuck, mine to fill, mine to break.’
your walls clench around him, drawing a deep, shuddering moan from his lips.
he loves this—loves watching you unravel, loves knowing you can’t get enough of him, loves knowing you’re his.
his free hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, desperate circles over your clit.
‘come on,’ he urges, voice dark and dripping with sin. ‘cum for me again. make a fucking mess, sweetheart.’
your body obeys before your mind can catch up—pleasure slamming into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you cum, clenching down on him so tight he groans, hips stuttering.
but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow.
he keeps going, fucking you through it, dragging out every last aftershock until you’re sobbing, thighs shaking, body wrecked.
and still, he keeps fucking you. keeps using you.
‘one more,’ he whispers against your throat, voice thick with hunger. ‘one more, and then i’ll fill you up again.’
ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝
thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.
author's note: the demons...they're getting loud again. i'm actually so feral for possessive and obsessive tom. I fear I might make this my whole personality now.
obsession.
tom riddle was, in every sense of the word, obsessive. the fixation and compulsion he poured into the things he loved had always been a marker of his character. tom was not the type of person to casually partake in something; for the eldest riddle brother, the best things in life were worth being consumed by.
and he was.
utterly and irrevocably consumed by you.
y/n, mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend. the one whose pretty eyes and lovely smile haunted his every waking moment. the one whose honeyed voice played in his head like a melody and enticed him like a siren’s song. the one whose gentle touch sent his heart racing until he felt as though the damned thing was going to burst out of his bloody chest.
you had no idea what you did to him, but you would soon enough because tom had a plan. for weeks, he had been plotting and scheming. trying to find the right time to finally get you all to himself.
fortunately for him, the opportunity arose one fateful evening when mattheo left his phone unattended in the living room. it was so easy, almost too easy, to guess his brother’s password and open up his most recent text thread with you.
mattheo: come over tonight?
tom watched as three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that you were currently typing a response.
y/n: will tom be there?
now that was interesting. perhaps you were asking because you wanted him to be there. wanted him as much as he wanted you.
mattheo: yes. why do you ask?
y/n: I just don't want to be a bother. I know tom likes to study on tuesdays and me coming over would probably disrupt that.
tom couldn’t help but smile. such a thoughtful, caring girl. he couldn’t wait to ruin you.
mattheo: tom will be fine. so, are you in or not? i'll grab your favorite snacks.
y/n: you had me at snacks.
half an hour later, you were standing in the doorway of the riddle home, dressed in one of those pretty little dresses that tom had imagined ripping off of your body a million times. as the door swung open, those innocent eyes widened at the sight of him. you flushed when tom met your gaze, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks.
"oh. hi, tom. um, is mattheo here? he asked me to come over."
tom casually leaned against the frame, giving you a once over that only deepened your flush. "my brother just stepped out, but he should be back soon."
"o—okay. he's probably out getting snacks."
tom watched as you lingered in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he thought it was adorable that you were still nervous around him after all this time. biting back a smile, tom opened the door to his home a little wider.
"are you coming in?"
“hm?” you asked absentmindedly. “oh. yeah. yes, i’m coming. not like that. I mean, obviously. shit. ignore me please.”
tom raised a brow, but said nothing as he barely gave you enough of a gap to squeeze through the door. he smirked to himself as you maneuvered your way inside, perky breasts brushing against his solid chest. tom could smell the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo as you passed through. he wanted to drown himself in it. you timidly avoided his gaze, choosing instead to follow him into the kitchen in silence.
“would you like something to drink?”
you nodded. “yes, please, i’ll take a —”
before you could finish your sentence, tom handed you a cold can of vanilla cherry soda. your favorite. you thanked him with a shy smile before following him upstairs. instinctively, you turned in the direction of mattheo’s room, but tom gripped your wrist and kept you in place.
“you can wait in my room if you’d like. mattheo might be a while. he reeked of weed when he left."
you chuckled. “it does take matty forever to pick out snacks when he’s high.” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before glancing up at tom through your lashes. “are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“i’m sure,” tom confirmed. “I could use the company.”
with that, you followed tom into his room. unlike mattheo’s, tom’s room was neat and organized. everything was perfect and pristine, much like the man standing before you. tom busied himself by putting away the books and notes on his desk while you fiddled with your fingers, not quite knowing what to do with yourself.
“sit on the bed,” tom commanded. “make yourself comfortable.”
“okay.” you replied in a small, breathy voice.
carefully, you settled at the edge of his bed and crossed your legs. you drummed your fingers against your thigh, pondering how strange this situation was. in all your years of knowing tom, you had never once set foot in his room. at most, you caught glimpses of it when you passed by on your way to mattheo’s room.
everything was so foreign and interesting. that was the desk where tom does all his studying. that was the closet where he keeps all of his clothes. that was the night stand where he places his glasses on before he goes to sleep.
that was the bed that he laid in every night. your mind started to wander through all the things that tom had done in this bed. maybe by himself. maybe with someone else. the intrusive thoughts fired off one by one, leaving you flustered. does he soak the sheets when he gets himself off? does he tie his partners to the bed post when he eats them out? does he push their faces into the pillows as he rails them from behind?
you were so engrossed in your dirty and filthy fantasies that you nearly jumped out of your skin when tom rested a hand on your thigh.
“hm,” tom hummed. “you’re so jumpy, love.”
you held your breath as he leaned closer, his face mere inches away from yours. the tension between you ebbed before he carefully took the soda can in your hand and placed it neatly on his nightstand. tom smirked when he noticed the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.
“do I make you nervous, doll?”
“yes,” you answered truthfully. there was no point in lying. it was written all over your face. “you’re just so…intimidating.”
“am I?” tom drawled as he slid in beside you, scooting in closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. even through his neatly pressed trousers, you could still feel the heat of his skin on yours. “maybe we just need to get to know each other better.”
you bit your lip. “i’d like that, tom.”
“good,” tom drawled. “let’s start with why you think you’d be a bother to me. mattheo told me you were hesitant to come over earlier.”
you flushed as you stared at your shoes, the curtain of your hair shielding you from tom’s intense gaze. “I know you like your peace and quiet, which mattheo and I probably constantly interrupt. i’m sorry if we’re ever being annoying.”
“you don’t have to worry about that. you could never bother me,” tom stated in a silky, flirty voice. “the only thing I find annoying is that you’re always with my brother. I just can’t seem to get you alone, can I?”
you shivered as tom’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “well, we’re alone now.”
“indeed we are.” you held your breath as tom leaned in closer, the bed dipping under his weight. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this. just you and me, without my brother to interrupt. I think about it all the time.”
tom watched your pupils dilate, reacting to his admission. “what do you think about?”
“I think about all the things I’d do to you. I think about the way you’d feel, the way you’d sound. if you’d scream or moan or whimper for me.” you shuddered at the sinful confession, rubbing your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. tom’s green gaze felt like a brand against your skin as a predatory look flashed through his handsome face. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
before you could react, tom’s mouth was on yours. the kiss was neither soft nor gentle, but instead hungry and possessive. the magnitude of his desire took you by surprise. you had always thought that tom viewed you as nothing more than mattheo’s pesky friend, the one that came over unannounced and wreaked havoc in his life, but apparently you couldn’t have been more wrong.
tom kissed you like a man starved. he poured all of himself into the action, tangling his fingers through your hair, yanking your head backwards so he could kiss you deeper. you could barely keep up with the way he was devouring you, his tongue dominating yours while you moaned softly into his mouth.
a gasp escaped your lips as tom picked you up and placed you on his lap. you were dizzy with desire as you straddled him, whimpering when tom bucked his hips against yours which caused his erection to rub against your soaked core. never in a million years would you have imagined tom to be this dirty and filthy as he grabbed and groped and gorged himself on you.
your breathy moans filled the room as tom slid his right hand underneath your dress and squeezed your thigh before palming you through your panties. you melted into his touch, moaning his name softly while he growled in response. as he slid the lace aside, tom kissed your neck and teased your slit with his fingers.
“you’re soaked, doll.” tom said with a dark chuckle. “do I make you wet, hm?”
“yes,” you breathed, eyes rolling back as tom spread your slick ever so slowly.
he seemed to take this as encouragement, taking his time teasing you, rubbing your clit and spreading your folds until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess.
“tom, please…”
“so needy,” tom murmured. “what is it that you want, love?”
“I want…” you bit your lip as tom stroked your pussy. “I want your fingers. I want them inside of me. please, tom.”
“aw, doll, you sound so pretty when you beg,” tom cooed. “don’t worry, I couldn't resist you even if I tried.”
without warning, tom plunged his fingers into your pussy. you groaned at the stretch, face heating from how vulgar the scene unfolding before you truly was. tom watched with rapt attention as you squirmed and panted, drinking in every little moan and whimper like a fine wine. his fingers felt like magic as they curled and scissored and flicked inside your walls. the other hand that wasn’t playing with your pussy rested on your hip, gripping tightly as you grinded against tom.
“that’s it, doll. ride my fingers just like that.”
tom was mesmerized at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend was no longer sweet and innocent as tom fingered and ruined you like the perfect little slut that you were. his perfect little slut.
“are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?”
tears streamed down your cheeks as you rode tom’s fingers like your life depended on it. your mascara and lipstick were both smeared, but you didn’t care as you chased after your orgasm. you gave tom a weak nod, half out of your mind with pleasure.
tom gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. “answer me, doll.”
“y — yes. i’m going to…oh god, tom!” you writhed as tom rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, pushing you over the edge.
the glimmer in your eyes right before you came unleashed something within tom. the flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes; the parted lips and strained scream, it was enough to drive him insane. he wanted to see you make that face over and over again.
“you look so pretty when you cum, doll.” tom murmured as he bit down on your neck, staking his claim on your skin. “you’re fucking exquisite.”
amusement danced in his gaze as you shied away from the attention, cheeks flushed from the praise. tom locked eyes with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean in the most obscene and erotic way you had ever witnessed.
“don’t get all shy now, love. it’s your cum i’m licking off my fingers and i’ll be damned if you ever feel nervous around me again.”
you chuckled in disbelief. the tom riddle in your head was supposed to be prim and proper, but the real tom was salacious and vulgar; a version of him that was better than what you could have ever imagined. still, despite the heated exchange, tom was surprisingly tender as he helped clean you up. you blushed furiously as he pulled your dress down and kissed your cheek.
the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because soon after you were situated, the two of you heard footsteps in the hall. you barely had time to compose yourself before mattheo came barging into the room.
“tom, have you seen my phone?” mattheo paused in surprise when he found you staring back at him. “oh, hi y/n. what are you doing here?”
“you asked me to come over and hang out, remember?”
“did I?” mattheo wondered aloud. “I was pretty baked earlier. guess I must have texted you then. well, i’m free now if you want to watch a movie.”
tom smirked as you shot a bewildered glance at him. “oh, yeah sure.”
“by the way, what are you doing in tom’s room? is he boring you to death about his coin collection again?”
you blushed furiously. “no, uh, we were just…tom and I were…”
“we were discussing the finer points of human anatomy,” tom lied smoothly. his smirk was still perfectly in place as he glanced over at you. “it was a rather…stimulating conversation. was it not, doll?”
the tips of your ears were bright red as you nodded in place of a response, because you couldn’t trust yourself to speak at the moment.
mattheo rolled his eyes. “well, if you’re done being a weirdo, y/n and I will be in the basement.”
you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not quite able to meet tom’s eyes. “um, well, I guess I’ll see you later?”
tom winked behind his brother’s back. “you know where to find me, doll.”
Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut
Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.
Word count: 4’515
Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.
(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))
The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.
Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.
Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.
“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.
He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.
He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.
“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”
“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.
“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”
“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.
“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.
“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”
“I am not.”
“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.
“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”
“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.
“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.
His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.
And now you were going to be one of them.
He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.
Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”
“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..
“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”
You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.
“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”
Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.
If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.
“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.
“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.
“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”
“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.
“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…
So please, say yes.
His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.
By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.
He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.
His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.
He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.
The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.
It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.
Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.
The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.
He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.
“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.
To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.
Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.
“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”
Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.
“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”
You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.
“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.
You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.
He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.
He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…
“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”
You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.
“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.
“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.
He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.
But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.
He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.
“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”
His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.
“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.
“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.
“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.
He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.
He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.
It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.
He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.
The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.
He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.
You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.
He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.
He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.
“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”
Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.
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Next in this series;
Outline: After your arranged marriage and wedding night with Ominis, you found yourselves alone in the Gaunt house for a few days.
Word cou
Outline: Weeks after your arranged wedding, you and Ominis have a few things to confess to each other…
Word count: 3’925
Warnings: arrange
