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The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 7/7
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)
The Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort (the second coming)
The final installment will explain some of Voldemort's odd behavior in the books themselves — from the ludicrous plan that was Goblet of Fire, to why he wasn't involved in the war and what he actually was trying to accomplish.
Alongside that, I want to make note of a few other interesting facets of Voldemort's character by the time we meet him in the books.
What the Hell was he Planning in GOF?
So, a lot of fans poke fun at Tom for the over-convoluted mess that was GOF. Because, really, there are so many moving parts here and so many failure points... and there's literally no reason to wait the whole year when Barty (Moody) could just pluck Harry whenever. I mean, it would've been better to just kidnap him on one of the chances Barty had access to Harry alone throughout the year, why the wait?
Well, I believe the plan in book 4, was not Voldemort's plan, but Barty's. And I have some evidence of what Voldemort had planned:
There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again. “My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?” “A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer…
(Goblet of Fire, page 23)
Early on in the book, before Barty returns to his service, Tom makes the above comment. He isn't planning on staying in Riddle Manor for long. He's talking about a week, maybe a month, not a whole year. Whatever plan he had to retrieve Harry was not a year-long plan at the beginning of the book.
“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.”
(Goblet of Fire, page 24)
And the reason for this few weeks' wait is the World Cup. Voldemort planned on waiting until the Quidditch World Cup was over and then had Pettigrew kidnap Harry somehow before Hogwarts (this conversation is in early August).
“I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective.
(Goblet of Fire, page 26)
And he makes it clear the plan is to use Harry for the ritual, but he's still talking about a few months max of delay, not a whole year. So what changed?
Barty did. Barty came along after the Quidditch World Cup and changed the plan to retrieve Harry. And why would Barty take this long?
Well, I have a post in the works about Barty Crouch Jr. that would explain just that and more. But for now, what I can say, is that the GOF plan was more Barty's than Voldemort's.
As for Voldemort's reasons for using Harry in the ritual, well, there are two reasons here:
Lily's blood protection - which Voldemort wishes to circumvent
His unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter that I talk about more in this post.
Objective in the War
So, as I covered here, Voldemort wasn't really taking an active part in the Second Wizarding World (if he was Umbridge wouldn't have been able to strut around with Slytherin's locket). So if he isn't involved in the war, what is he doing? Why did he start the war?
Well, in the first war, Voldemort's objective was magical experimentation and discovery, in the second his goals are quite different. It's seen in how much more chaotic the war is. Voldemort's goal is so much more personal and emotional to him, that he doesn't care how much collateral damage his Death Eaters cause in the second war. Because of the second war, Tom is less mentally stable than the first one. But not due to some Dark Magic bullshit, but due to his actual psychological state.
As I already covered in the past posts in this series, Tom is a perfectionist. Tom Marvolo Riddle doesn't do failure. He had 12 NWETS, all Os, he was prefect and head boy. Saying he doesn't like failing is an understatement. Honestly, I'd say failure is the one thing this man fears and hates more than death.
And what is his one failure in his perfect track record of Os and victories?
It's Harry Potter.
Harry Potter, whose very moniker: "The Boy Who Lived" mocks this very failure. Failing to kill Harry Potter.
This leads us to what Voldemort is doing in the second war: Attempting to kill Harry Potter like nothing else exists. Which leads us to the next section:
Obsession With Harry Potter
I don't feel like people realize just how obsessed Voldemort is with Harry. How much Harry is literally the only thing Voldemort cares about in the second war. More than his Death Eaters, more than the ministry, even more than his life.
Throughout his resurrection scene, we have a few interesting moments, I'm not going to cover all of them, but I wanna talk about these two:
“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”
(Goblet of Fire, page 661)
“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died. . . .
(Goblet of Fire, page 662)
Both of these are moments I call: "playing with his food". He's playing with Harry, toying with him, and actually seems to honestly enjoy himself playing around and torturing and terrifying Harry. This is interesting because Voldemort doesn't toy around with his enemies, like, ever. He tortures and gloats in front of his Death Eaters, but not in front of enemies, with enemies he does the logical thing — try to kill them as quickly as possible.
Except with Harry. Why?
Because Harry is different. He's a whole different category for Voldemort.
Voldemort doesn't really see Harry as a person, not really, he sees him as a failure. His own failure. Harry Potter, to Voldemort, is that one slightly wrong answer in an exam that lost him the two points he needed for that perfect O. Harry is a stain on his perfect record, and therefore Voldemort treats him as such, and not as an actual person.
“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.
….
Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .
(Goblet of Fire, page 664)
This is when Voldemort starts taking Harry seriously. I mentioned he didn't really believe the prophecy, well, he didn't until the graveyard when his and Harry's wands met. That fear, that's real, this is when Harry becomes a threat and not only a failure.
Additionally, we see here something Voldemort will continue doing throughout the war. Harry — well, killing Harry — is the only thing Voldemort cares about in the Second War, but it's more than that. because Harry is his failure only he is allowed to kill Harry. He doesn't care who kills Dumbledore, but only he is allowed to kill Harry even in the later books.
In OOTP, what is Voldemort doing? He's sending Death Eaters to retrieve the prophecy. Why? Because now he knows it and Harry is a real threat. It's not about the war, it's all about Harry and the prophecy connecting them. He hopes it'll tell him how to kill Harry.
In HBP, Voldemort isn't really present either. He doesn't care what his Death Eaters do, he isn't expecting Malfoy to succeed in killing Dumbledore. He only cares about figuring out what happened with his and Harry's wands because Voldemort needs to be the one to kill Harry Potter with his own wand, otherwise, he wouldn't really be rectifying his failure. In his mind.
“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.” The interest around the table sharpened palpably; Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort. “Saturday . . . at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze.
(Deathly Hollows, page 9)
Even when the war is in full swing by Deathly Hollows, Voldemort doesn't care for the war. He wasn't even in Britain for most of it. But when it comes to Harry Potter, a chance to kill Harry potter, for that Voldemort would grace his followers with his presence. But if it has nothing to do with Harry, he just won't be interested.
Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “ I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.” The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, but his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter’s continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him. “I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”
(Deathly Hollows, page 11)
here, again, Voldemort explains what I just said. He sees Harry as his failure, his error, his mistake, And Tom Riddle despises nothing more than a mistake.
And he explains why that, the fact Harry is alive is due to his mistakes, that he has to be the one to kill him. Voldemort doesn't care about winning the war, or the ministry, or his followers — he just needs to cast a killing curse at Harry and kill him. To rectify that one mistake.
More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time. . . . You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. . . . Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!”
(Deathly Hollows, page 152)
Again, Voldemort isn't in Britain, but when his followers informed him they had Harry Potter, he dropped everything and arrived in Britain. Because killing Harry is literally the only thing that matters to him by this point.
“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you should be rewarded. “You have until midnight.”
(Deathly Hollows, page 516)
And we see it again, nothing matters, no victory matters, besides killing Harry Potter.
“My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’s wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.”
(Deathly Hollows, page 553)
Here he describes what he's been doing for the entirety of books 6 and 7. Trying to find a wand so he could kill Harry with it. Because that's the only thing that mattered to him. It's why he kidnapped and tortured Ollivanders. It's why he traveled to Germany to track down the Elder Wand. It's why he's killing Severus in this above scene.
And here again, there is an emphasis on failure, mistakes, that his wand failed him. Because that's what Harry is to him — a failure.
Because he wants to kill Harry himself with a wand. This obsession is the thing fueling all his actions in the Second War.
And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth. “Harry Potter,” he said very softly His voice might have been part of the splitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.” None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his— Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded.
(Deathly Hollows, page 593)
And when he finally does get what he wants, he's happy, curious, and warry. He doesn't fully believe Harry would actually die (which he doesn't).
I just love this description, his head a little to the side like a curious child. Because he is childish in a way at this moment. He finally can rectify the one stain on his perfect record and he could barely believe it really is happening.
Unlike in the graveyard, here he isn't gloating. Contrary to his words, about how Harry only survived by luck, he does fear Harry. Well, his survival. Voldemort actually does believe the prophecy by this point, that there's something more than his own failure stopping him from killing Harry — and keeping him dead.
Because it's easy to believe, almost comforting even, that it's not just his mistakes.
“Yeah, it did,” said Harry. “You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done. . . . Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . .” “What is this?” Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contact to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. “It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again. “Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.” Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.
(Deathly Hollows, page 625)
Right before his death, Harry gloats at him about his mistakes, and how wrong he got it all.
And there is nothing Tom Riddle hates more.
Other Notes
Now, I want to cover a few other smaller notes about Voldemort's character that just didn't really fit anywhere else:
Voldemort in the books almost never shouts. He is described as speaking: "softly" because he doesn't need to be loud. He's intimidating just by his presence alone, when he speaks, everyone shuts up and listens:
“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed.
(Goblet of Fire, page 662)
2. As I mentioned before in this series, Voldemort is sentimental. His own past and family, even when they hated him, he cares. He cares so much that his father's abandonment still hurts decades later:
“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . .” Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. “You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn’t like magic, my father . . . “He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . . .” Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. “Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”
(Goblet of Fire, page 646)
3. He loves to monologue. I think he just honestly enjoyed hearing himself talk:
“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?” No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm. “And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . . “And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? “And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?” At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. “It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed. . . .”
(Goblet of Fire, page 648)
Also I can't help but find this scene funny. "And I ask myself" — "and I answer myself", Tom's just having fun toying with his followers and their fear here (pulse being dramatic). He, in general, does have a sense of fun. He even makes stupid puns:
“I knew that to achieve this — it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight — I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant. . . .
(Goblet of Fire, page 656)
He's way funnier than we give him credit (and dorkier).
4. I mentioned he didn't plan to truly live forever in a past post, after all, if he did, he would've hidden his Horcruxes better. And yet, he despises the very idea of death:
“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?” “We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —” “There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.
(Order of the Pheonix, page 812)
Voldemort is still, at this moment, is still the orphan at the bomb shelters who doesn't want to die. Death is the worst thing to him because death means everything is over, that he had his chance at life and that's it. Death is the end of the road. It's the ultimate failing, the ultimate loss — something to overcome. At least in Voldemort's mind. Because Tom doesn't do failure. His hatred of death is exasperated by his perfectionism and because of how he sees death.
But even so, he made sure to leave an opening, a chance for him to die if he ever desired it.
Conclusions
The only thing Voldemort cared about in the Second War was killing Harry. Killing Harry Potter was the end goal that motivated all his actions.
He's a perfectionist more than anything else. Dumbledore said Tom feared death the most, but I disagree. What he feared most id failure — his own failure — death was an extension of that, in a way.
Voldemort doesn't need to raise his voice, the fact he speaks softly is a testament to how terrifying he is to others.
He's quite sentimental. I mentioned it before and I'll mention it again.
He has a sense of humor and actually loves to talk and hear his own voice.
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hotdudes-games · 3 months
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old stuff)
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semina-art · 6 months
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papercorgiworld · 3 months
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The Death Eater Drabbles:
Untie me
Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Draco and Blaise
A certain death eater ends up being your prisoner and he is being a bit difficult.
Warning: suggestiveness
A/N: Apparently drabbles are supposed to be exact 100 words long, so let’s call this the drabble+ version because you get extra words for free. Yey!
Also, like technically I wrote a part 2, but I don’t really like it cause it’s a tiny bit angsty and feels boring. But then again, I’m pretty sure there’s a braincell working on part 3. So I really have no idea where this is going. But for now this is just a short fun thingy on its own.
I added part 2: Cuts and bruised egos
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The war against Voldemort and his deatheaters was lasting longer than expected. Somehow you had ended up in charge of the top secret safehouse of the order of the phoenix. Only a select few members knew about it. It was a place of refuge in case of emergency, you had permanency there in case of medical emergencies and to study books to find out more about horcruxes.
You were brewing wiggenweld potions to be prepared for the next wounded person that might be brought in. Then suddenly you heard a lot of noise and grabbed your wand, pointing it towards the door. Thankfully you heard Harry say the password and the door swung open revealing the golden trio and someone else whose head was covered.
The mystery person struggled as Ron and Harry dragged them inside. It was then that you noticed their hands were tied behind their back. Hermoine saw your confused and worried expression. “Don’t worry I enchanted the ropes. It’s safe.” The mystery person snorted at Hermoine’s words. You nodded but that wasn’t on your mind at all. “Who is it?” You asked with urgency. Ron pushed the person into the guest room and pulled off the bag covering the mystery person’s face.
Your eyes widen.
“Mattheo Riddle.”
It takes a moment before you proces what Hermoine said and what you’re seeing, but it is true. The golden trio managed to capture the dark lord’s son. “Look (y/n), we gotta leave now. You have to watch him. But be careful. You can’t trust him.” You stare at Harry as he gives you your orders. You would much rather have an explanation. However there seems to be no time for that, because they’re already at the front door again. “Be safe.” You whisper and the three grimace before shutting the door.
You turn around and make your way to the guest room where, believe it or not, Mattheo Riddle is still standing with his hands tied behind his back. His face is bloody, clothes dirty and hair messy. Clearly he didn’t go down without a fight. But, apparently he wasn’t slapped around enough since his arrogant smirk was still ever present. “Aren’t you going to untie me?” He asks like you were being a little slow. You frown. “No. Of course not. I’m not stupid.” You say, annoyed with his attitude. He smiles wickedly and licks his lip taking a small step towards you. “So, does that mean you’re going to feed me? And wash me?” You’re baffled and your mouth falls open for a moment. “Looking forward to it, love.” Mattheo adds taking another step in your direction. You huff and turn around, closing the door behind you. Oh dear, this is going to be something.
“Theodore Nott.”
You turn to the trio with a questioning look. “Long story.” Is all Ron says. “We need to leave now.” Harry announces. Hermoine grabs you while Harry and Ron leave the room. “Be careful. He’s a death eater. You can’t trust him.” You nod and watch as she hurries to follow her friends. When you hear the front door close you turn to your prisoner. Some of the cuts on his face still bleed, but what is utmost worrying is the bloodstain on his shirt indicating he might have a serious injury. Theo just gives you a smug half smile that makes you feel like he’s in charge. “Mind helping me out?” Theo asks as he turns his head as a way of motioning to his tied hands.
You raise your eyebrows at his ridiculous question. “Oh yes. And shall I also offer you my wand.” You return sarcastically. He huffs like you're being childish and difficult. He takes a seat at the end of the bed and you turn around heading to the door to get rid of his demeaning presence. “Are you going to hold my dick when I have to pee then? Because in that case I might make some extra suggestions. I bet you’re real handy.” His grin shows how much he enjoys playing with you. You throw him a dirty look, but decide to leave it at that and close the door. He’s clearly not that hurt. I’m sure he can bleed for a little longer.
“Enzo Berkshire”
You frown confused. All his friends are death eaters but Enzo as well, that’s a bit surprising. “He attacked us.” Harry explained seeing as you were clearly surprised. “This is a big misunderstanding. I’m a peace negotiator.” Enzo quipped, taking a pleading step towards you. Ron pushes him back immediately. “The bloody worst one ever.” Hermoine shifts her gaze from Enzo to you. “Don’t believe a word he says and make sure he doesn’t escape.” With a dumbfounded expression you watch the trio leave. Zero explanation. It’s always the same with them.
As soon as Enzo hears the front door close he walks towards you. “This is all a big mistake. I’m innocent.” His sudden closeness startles you. For your own safety you have to assume the worst, that he just like his friends serves Voldemort. He ignores the fear in your eyes and pushes on. “(Y/n), please untie me. You can trust me.” You take a step back and shake your head. “Not happening, Enzo.” His face gets desperate as he continues pleading. “But what if I get an ich? Or other things?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Will you come help me?” Not really realizing how dirty Enzo’s suggestion was, you nonchalantly answer: “Sure Enzo.”.
He’s a little surprised by your answer but he isn’t going to let the opportunity pass by. “I guess in that case I’m most definitely a dangerous man, you can never let me escape.” He winks at you and it is only then that you realize what you agreed to. His cheeky smile gets brighter as he sees your face fall when the realization hits you. “No. Whatever you’re thinking Enzo, no.” With that you quickly exit the room with a tomato red face. Great! I’m in charge of a horny death eater, just my luck.
“Draco Malfoy.”
All your curiosity was instantly replaced by annoyance. “You brought Malfoy here. What a blessing.” The words leave your mouth with a thick layer of sarcasm. Draco completely ignores you. “You will pay for this, Potter.” Harry looks at you and smiles while wiggling his eyebrows. “Have fun babysitting him. I would say be careful that he doesn’t escape, but I’m pretty sure the death eaters will bring him back.” A faint laugh escapes you and you walk the trio back to the front door to say your goodbyes.
When you turn around Draco is standing in the doorway of the guest room, now a prison room. “Fucking untie me.” Malfoy demands with venom in his voice. You push against his chest and make him take a few steps back into his new room. “Since you asked so nicely: no.” You answer with fake kindness. “Who do you think you are?” He snaps taking a step towards you. Though you’re slightly intimidated now that he’s towering over you, you manage to keep your cool. “Pretty sure I’m the one in charge here.” Draco huffs, but before he starts snapping again you push his side. He winces in pain and takes a step back.
Just as you thought, the dirt on his shirt indicates a bad fall on his side, probably some painful bruises. “How about you calm down and I will come back later to check your injuries.” He narrows his eyes at you in frustration. “You won’t untie me and now you’re planning on undressing me. Sounds like a bad date.” You roll your eyes and leave the room. A bad date is an understatement.
“Blaise Zabini.”
A small gasp escapes you as you make eye contact with the man under the hood. “You brought Zabini here?” You ask, not ready to process what your eyes are seeing. “We kinda stumbled into him. He was difficult to catch but having one less deatheater on the streets was well worth the work.” Harry explained. You scan over Blaise’s face, immediately noticing several bruises. When he looks up to you, you quickly look away. “Keep your distance. He’s no good.” Hermoine says as the trio leaves the room. Ron pats you on the shoulder as a way of wishing you luck. You watch your friends close the front door as you lean against the doorframe of the guest room.
You turn to Blaise and offer him an awkward smile. He’s the first one to break the silence. “I’m going to be honest. Normally I would find this all very kinky but right now I would really appreciate it if you untie me.” You roll your eyes at his playful tone. “How about: no. And I suggest you keep quiet or I'll tape your mouth shut.” Blaise looks frustrated with your lack of cooperation for a moment, but then his smirk returns. “Even kinkier. This should be fun.” You regret saying anything. “Nothing kinky is going to happen, since I’m leaving.” Blaise is annoyed that you don’t entertain him and go along with his joke. However as he watches you leave he panics. “Hey, I was being serious! You can’t leave me all tied up.” You ignore his frustrated voice and close the door. Seven years at Hogwarts and now I’m stuck with him again. Absolutely lovely.
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karinagiada · 2 months
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Probably can’t fix this one. 🐍
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myers-meadow · 8 months
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Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader: That which isn't taught in books
Title: That which isn't taught in books
Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x female librarian reader
Summary: Draco complains about you, the Hogwarts librarian, to his father. This results in the beautiful Lucius Malfoy paying you an unexpected visit. He is rather taken with you, and he shows you things you can't simply learn from books: your place.
Warnings: smut, blowjob, cum, spit, vaginal fingering, degradation, rough kissing, use of 'slut', praise, gloves, Lucius is Lucius and a that's a warning on it's own, consent isn't discussed but reader is into it, manhandling, (suspected) cheating, hair pulling (assumed reader has hair that can be pulled).
Wordcount: 3699
Dividers by by animated-glitter-graphics-n-more and delishlydelightfuldividers.
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“Miss __, you must to lend me this book. I need it for class.” Draco Malfoy ordered, pointing to the book on top of the stack on your right.  Third years aren’t typically allowed to borrow advanced books on dark magic, so it wasn’t on the shelves for him to take with a reason.
“No,” you simply replied, removing book from the stack and sending it to the topmost shelf with a wave of your wand. “That’s a restricted book and you need a permission slip from the headmaster before borrowing it.”
Draco scoffed. “I know you let Granger use the library outside the allowed hours.”
How could the damned kid know about that? What a menace.
“The book is still restricted.”
“Do you know who my family is?” Draco said, tapping the desk impatiently.
“Yes, I know your parents quite well. We are old friends, in fact,” you said, which was a lie. The Malfoys are well-known, and you’ve run into them before. Unpleasant was the best word for it, and you were glad the moment you didn’t have to deal with them anymore. Narcissa was alright, perfectly poised and therefore polite – but still raised rich and pureblood. Lucius, on the other hand, gave you nightmares that night. Even worse that you woke up wet between your thighs.
Draco scoffed, sending you a nasty look. “We will see about that, miss __.”
You sighed as he turned around and marched away.
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It was later that week that the Hogwarts library had a surprise visit from a tall, white-haired man that reminded you so very much of the pest that was Draco Malfoy.
“So this is where the students are expected to borrow their books from,” said the cold voice, heavy with poorly veiled contempt. “Hogwarts seems to spend their funds… otherwise.”
“Good evening, sir,” you started, tone flat. “Have you come here to take a look around? I assure you our collection is larger than it seems here at the front desk.”
He raised an eyebrow, only now looking at you. “Miss __,” and even that alone sounds like he chastised you, “I’ve come here because of what my son told me of your behaviour. You pick on him and single him out, while the rest of the students are allowed to break school rules at will.”
Your shoulders tensed. So he was really here because of that small ordeal. And above all, it pissed you off that he didn’t even feel the need to introduce himself properly. Of course you knew who he was, but that he expected you to still remember him was infuriating.
“I see. Then you should be pleased to know that I don’t allow any student to break the rules, which includes your son. I do not play favourites.”
An amused smile played at the corner of his lip. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Your tone remained flat. Despite that, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander. Gods, did he dress up this fancy just to give you a stern talking to? He was delicious. With the snake tie pin mirroring the glittering of his cold gaze, the full three piece suit that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, and the leather gloves he wore even though he had to cross half the castle to get here.
You continued, taking a deep breath to steel yourself – he noticed, his gaze flickering to your chest. “You may be under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that professors of this school are easily pressured by empty threats, to give your son a leniency that I refuse to show him. This visit won’t change that, so I’d suggest you save yourself the time.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you past his nose. You were glad for the library desk separating the two of you, or you’d back away from him like a scared animal.
“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, each word perfectly measured, low and menacing. Your adrenaline spiked, and your knees trembled. He leaned forward, and you fought the urge to take a step back. Even just that thought, of backing of, of yielding to him, he must’ve seen it cross your face, and smirked in response, clearly enjoying the hold he had on you.
A group of Hufflepuffs entered the library, giggling to themselves, until they saw the standoff you were in. “Let’s just come again later,” one suggested, and they left quickly, whispering to each other. You nodded at them, and moved your gaze back to the imposing man in front of you. From this close, you could smell the perfume he wore. Something warm like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Fuck, he was insanely attractive. Touching him would feel like the most luxurious velvet.
“I suggest,” he leaned in even closer over the desk, you felt the warmth of his breath fan your face, “that from now on, you make sure you assist in Draco’s education and let him borrow whatever books he wants.”
“If he has the right permission slip from the headmaster, Draco can borrow any book he likes. Without it, he can’t.” You could barely focus on his words with how close he was. “If you knew the book in question, you’d agree with my approach and be glad that I didn’t have a conversation about Draco’s interest of late.”
“And what book may that be, miss?”
“Forbidden hexes and curses. And he’s practiced some too, already. One may think he’s… a bit too interested in the Dark Arts.” You clacked your tongue and pushed yourself off of the desk, trying to clear your head. “It wasn’t a beginner’s book either.”
Lucius quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter somewhere more… private.”
His velvety voice made your insides flip in nervous anticipation, which you attempted to calm with little success. So, that approached worked. The value purebloods place on image was such an easy win, but it felt good to hear his tone soften.
“My office is there.”
He moved around the desk and went first, waiting for you to move around him and open the door for him. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, and with a quick wave of his wand, the blinds shut themselves. His small smirk as he looked at you then was nothing short of predatory.
“Draco told me so much about you,” his voice was even more hypnotising than before, and he knew the effect he had on you as you breathed in sharply. He walked around you slowly, taking you in completely. Surely this was another intimidation technique of his, so you force yourself to stand your ground.
“He has?” you echo, not seeing the point of it, but wanting to delay the threats and the fight – and that deliciously wrong feeling of anticipation was building steadily inside your lower belly.
“The librarian,” his voice was smooth as silk, “who is so attractive that it keeps the students from their studies. A Slytherin, but surprisingly, you don’t know who or what is good for you.”
It sounds like he’s insulting you again. He stood still right in front of you, a finger coming to rest on your cheek. The contempt has returned to his expression, along with something else.
“You dress… well. Draco said you looked inappropriate, but he is just a boy. He gets silly ideas too quickly.” Lucius’ voice has softened considerably. The way you looked up at him made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to fight, flight or fawn – and the result is that you did nothing.
“Your concern for my appearance is noted, sir,” you managed to say. “Is that why you really came all this way? To make sure your son’s librarian dresses appropriately?”
A small chuckle broke the silence. “I must admit, you are more alluring than he said you were. Perhaps we can solve this disagreement in a more pleasurable manner. If you can learn your place, that is.”
You stared at him. The gloved finger tapping your cheek moved to your lips, slipping between them. The smell of the leather was strong and made your head swim.
“Or should I make it clearer for you? On your knees.” His condescending tone was unlike anything you’ve heard before: alluring, yet cruel. The velvet softness of his voice contrasted with the way he looked down at you past his nose. Such a regal face…
When you didn’t immediately obey, he pushed you down by your shoulders. The floor was cold even through the fabric of your skirt. The tip of his cane tapped your cheek lightly, but it was threat enough.
You gulped. Looking up at him from this angle was a sight to see, his amused expression, the smell of him, the texture of his glove in your hair were as intimidating as they were arousing.
“What’s the matter? I’m sure a big girl like you knows what to do.” His leather clad hand tugged open his belt and ripped open the buttons without a second of hesitation. His eyes glinted darkly with lust. Only when he tugged his cock free from his underwear, did you look away from his eyes. He was gorgeous, pulsing, rigid, the head flushed with blood, with just one teardrop of precum at the slit. Doubting your actions, you reached a hand up to grip him. Warm. Thick, too.
“Are you just going to sit there? Open.”
You obeyed, instinctively, and he groaned lowly as he slid his cock in your waiting mouth. Wetting the underside of his cock with your tongue, you teased the bit of skin just under the head, making it bounce against the roof of your mouth. His breaths came sharply, slowly turning to soft sounds of pleasure. He slid in and out as you sucked him, moving your lips along his shaft. Clearly he held back in showing just how good you made him feel – and your determination grew. You teased the head with vigour, and before you could settle on a rhythm, he forced himself in deep. Gagging and trying to swallow around him, he groaned, and the sound went straight to your core. Shifting your thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache wasn’t close to enough. Lucius set a punishing pace for himself, deep and fast. In and out, and his length grew wetter and wetter with saliva and precum.
“What a pretty girl you are,” praised Lucius, in between hissed breaths and stifled groans. He held your head back by the hair then, and pulled your lips from his cock.
“You were made for this. Know just how to please your superior.”
A cruel gleam shone in his eye as he looked down on you, and he rubbed his cock over your face, coating it in your spit. His words rang true in a way that made you whimper pathetically. The humiliation burned. You broke out in a heated sweat, but the terrible empty throbbing of your cunt was enough for you to stay put. He pulls your head back on his cock, immediately pushing into your throat again.
“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans. The satisfied sadism in his expression has you dripping. “What great things even you can accomplish if you receive the right guidance.”
His ‘guidance’ came in the form of an insistent hand fisted in your hair as he fucked your face, without any care for your comfort. Now that his length was wet and slimy, it went in easier, but it still made you gag. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks, wanting to prove to him how good you could be. A small part of you, at the back of your mind, was disgusted by your actions and more so by how easily Lucius exploited your submissive streak. Yet, when you glanced up and saw the pleasure etched into his face, that voice quieted down. He looked sinfully good from this angle, and you enjoyed it through tearful eyes as he pushed at your gag reflex once again. In, out, slower, feeling the drag of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and moaning filth behind clenched teeth. Then, having enough of your tongue, his pace increased, pushing into your deeper and without mercy.
Eventually he let out a satisfied groan, and he pulled out from your mouth, drool spilling onto your blouse, and he stroked himself to completion, groaning harshly as he came. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your face. You gasped at how unexpected of and end it was, face burning at how degrading it was to sit there and take it, stunned at the audacity of this man. It may be true that you craved this from the moment you first met him, but that didn’t change that it made you feel both disgusting and desired like nothing else could.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, filthy girl?” His gloved hand twisted in your hair, angling your face so he could admire you. “You will leave this as it is. Merlin, you enjoy this, don’t you? Made such a mess of yourself. Filthy fucking slut.”
His words came through gritted teeth, and you feel the strength he’s holding back as he forced you to stand by your hair. You yelped. The cum left a nasty pulling sensation on the skin as it started to dry. You felt used, so used, and his disgust showed clearly on his face. Nevertheless, he pulled you close, forcing your head to his and he kissed you, with open mouth against your cum covered lips. Without a care that his cum smeared his face as well as yours, and the bitter aftertaste that it left in his mouth, he devoured you hungrily.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice rough. You obeyed. The moan he let out as he pressed his lips to yours again was the most lewd sound you’d ever heard. Your tongues entwined, the taste of his seed mingling with saliva. It was gross, but in the best way. You made him like this, was the thought that shot through your mind, you made him gross and lose control. And you did all of that just by being you.
Teeth clashed and you winced, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so rough, so uncoordinated, yet it was the hottest thing you ever felt. Spirals and sparks of heat radiated in your belly. The hand in your hair let go, to great relief, and wrapped around your throat instead. The kiss grew fiercer still. He consumed you. All of you. His teeth tugged at your lips, nipping harshly enough for small stings of pain, but they were soothed over with the warmth of his tongue. His nose pressed against your face with how far he leant into you, how harshly he pulled your face against his.
This hunger was a world away from his earlier disgust.
When he let go, his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, passionate and heated. He wiped the cum from his nose and lips, and licked it from his gloved fingers. Your eyes fluttered just at the sight of him. And it was you who caused this, who brought out this side of him, all dishevelled, messy, stained… All for you.
“It seems you do know your place well, dear librarian. How about a reward, then? Do you think you deserve one?”
All you could do was nod.
He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk, and he lifted you up until you were seated. “Legs wide. Good girl.” He spread your thighs as he stood between them. His gloved fingers dragged over the sensitive skin of your innermost thigh. You were positively throbbing. Have you ever felt arousal this strong while completely untouched? You hated him for it.
“Please, Mr. Malfoy,” you whimpered, already growing impatient.
Tugging at the cotton of your panties, he said, not a question, but an order: “Why don’t you take those off for me.”
You stumbled to comply. Before you could say anything, he silenced you by sliding two fingers in your mouth, and you wet them without being prompted to. The leather tasted like his cum, bitter. The texture was pleasant on your tongue. He hummed, pleased, as he slid his fingers out.
“Who knew you’d be such a quick student? But then again, they do say librarians have a wide variety of knowledge.” And his finger found your clit. “How’s that?”
You whined sharply as he increased the pressure, but didn’t move his fingers, still depriving me of the friction I craved.
“Or rather here?” and he slid his fingers to your slit, dipping in, before moving back up, bringing the slick with them. “Aren’t you a wet little slut.”
His middle finger slid in to the knuckle, with embarrassing ease. You moaned softly, brow furrowing. It felt right. So right. So perfect. This is what you were made for, for such a feeling, of being filled, of being used by a man as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy. Your eyes locked and your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.
“What a sensitive young woman you are,” he said, voice soft, yet with a darkness to it. “No one’s touched you this good before. And no one will, after.”
He pulled his finger almost out, then pushed it back in, setting himself a slow and deep rhythm, curling it deep inside. Each time he hit that spot inside, your gasps and moans became a little higher, a little more desperate. You clung onto his shoulders, and he leaned so close your noses touched.
“You look quite beautiful like this… Who knew it would be this fun to put a librarian in her place?” it almost seemed he talked to himself moreso than to you. One finger became two, but his pace remained the same. Steady, in, out, in, curling, out. The drag of his gloves made it even better, and when you looked down, they were wet and creamy from how wet you were. You whimpered as he followed your line of sight, and slammed back in harder. And harder. Now that his pace was steadily increasing, so were the sensations, growing hotter quick. He tipped you over the edge and you nearly screeched – but he kept going, the orgasm prolonging itself until you reached a second high, so high it was painful - and he moaned along with you, slowing but not pulling out. When he finally stilled, both of your breaths were sharp, as though you’d just ran up five flights of stairs. He kissed you again, messily, as he pumped in and out just a few more times, enjoying the twitches of your aftershocks.
“What a good girl,” he purred, and he pulled out. The feeling of emptiness was jarring and you clenched around nothing. His fingers slipped past your lips, and you sucked them clean obediently. “What a good girl,” he repeated, with emphasis and a fond undertone. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”
Even after coming down from the orgasm, the hazy feeling stayed, making your head swim as you looked at the man in front of you. He kissed you again, and it was borderline uncomfortable with the drying cum still on your face. He was softer, a wet kiss, he was savouring you.
“I dearly hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you, my sweet librarian,” he said, and before he left, with a wave of his wand, he grabbed your panties and left with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. “Although I expect you to behave from now on.”
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Before you went to sleep that night, you replayed what happened over and over again, and despite the unsatisfiable desire, there was also anger. This man has a wife! You were livid. How could he do this? Not even the degradation – but that you let yourself be treated like that by a man who has a wife!
The next day, during your lunchbreak, the largest bouquet of roses you had ever seen was delivered to the library. There must’ve been more flowers in it than in the entire flower shop in Hogsmeade. The ridiculous arrangement sat on the desk, crowding over all the books. The delivery witch had you sign for them, but refused to tell you who they were from. You shook your head, as you sank down on your chair, staring at them. You didn’t have a vase big enough.
While you were preparing and cutting the stems, you found a note. ‘L. M.’ Was all it said and it filled you with annoyance.
Lucius. Your eyes shot fire at the mention of his name. How dare he play this off in this way. What a condescending gesture, to buy you roses just to stake some sort of claim on you. To remind you of what the two of you did the day before, to keep you in line. Resolutely, you throw the note in the paper bin. Perhaps you should send him a note too, and tell him to save those roses for his wife.
Now what? This many wouldn’t even fit in any garbage bin - not without attracting a horrible amount of attention. Perfectly pristine flowers thrown away would cause enough drama, more than keeping them would. So you, sigh, and continue trimming the stems, getting your anger out with each snip. There was enough to set a few flowers in small vases, or mugs, when those ran out, on each table in the library. The anger had faded by the time it was done, and you looked out over the suddenly very colourful library. Who will water them each morning? You’d never get around to your actual job like this.
What was left of the encounter, was that nagging feeling, of being special. Special enough to have watched such a powerful man as Lucius Malfoy become undone. You smiled softly as you stacked several returned books in your arms. Perhaps this wasn’t over yet.
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chocoramo-cow · 3 months
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Bellatrix: why do you always miss out on field missions?!?!
20 year old Deatheater Snape:
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sweetiecutie · 1 year
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You’re sad bc Draco cheated on you so you fuck his dad instead💖
Warnings: NSFW, infidelity, straight up nasty but hot lol
- Does it make you feel better, honey? - Lucius’ velvety voice droned on, his pale eyes watched you bouncing eagerly on his cock, big hands running up and down your sides, caressing your skin with skilled touches.
- So much better, thank you, Sir, - you stammered out, voice strained and trembling from all the pleasure rolling over your body in hot waves.
Lucius’ thin lips curled into a smug smirk at your breathless reply, and you exulted internally - how easy it was to manipulate this man into doing whatever you wanted just by pouting your lips prettily and looking up at him with those sad puppy eyes. Like father like son, you guessed.
Lucius’ hands came to gently cup your bouncing tits, thumbs flicking the nubs of your nipples lightly, making your head loll back at added pleasure.
- Never considered Draco an idiot, but he surely must be one if he let go of a woman like you, - you smiled coyly at older man’s words, masking your sneer skillfully. And that says a husband of Narcissa Black - the most precious woman in the world, and you would actually feel guilty and sorry for what you were doing right now if you didn’t know that there were no love between them from the very beginning.
So you just wrapped your arms around man’s strong neck, leaning closer in for him to pepper kisses all over your neck and chest, speeding up the snapping of your hips, impaling yourself over and over again on his throbbing thick cock. You could feel the tight knot starting to unravel itself in the pit of your stomach, hands gripping tightly on Lucius’ biceps and moaning out his name so sweetly as he thrusted up into your squelching pussy from his position underneath you, you body oh so soft under his fingers.
Malfoy crashed his lips onto yours, both your moans and heavy breathing mixing together as you reached your orgasms - strong shudder running through your tired body as Lucius spilled deep inside your pussy, coating your plushy walls with his spent.
And you were sure that you heard a door creaking open quietly through your orgasmic delirium and could almost physically feel a pair of grey eyes, resembling his father’s ones so closely, staring onto your back fiercely.
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Give writers some love - feedback is the thing that inspires us on creating more new content💖
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crysttalsblog · 1 month
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WELL YOU HAVENT SEEN MY MAN.
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myrows · 10 months
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Sirius Black - Azkaban- 1981
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merriweather-boat · 4 months
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Tom Riddle is literally a theatre kid??? This bitch named his Evil Plans Club for World Domination the Knights of Walpurgis. Then he thought really hard and named himself "Flight from Death" in French. That bitch was on Google translate for at LEAST three hours translating different death-related phrases until he found one he liked. He probably had a monologue memorized for when he got to kill Albus Dumbledore. You CANNOT convince me otherwise and actually if I wrote him into a theatre au he would be playing the female lead bc let him gaslight gatekeep girlboss
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mrsmikaelsxn · 11 months
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What Did You Do
masterlist
pairing: tom riddle x female reader, voldemort x female reader
warnings: angst, tiny bit of fluff
summary: throughout your years at hogwarts, you and tom were inseparable, now as a professor you see what happened to him at the battle of hogwarts - requested by anon
a/n: i'm going to age down voldemort and the reader (meaning because mcgonagall is a little younger than voldemort, the reader would be so old lmao. so i'm just imagining the reader is like remus' age, it wont affect the time line, idk if that makes sense sorry)
song: the night we met - lord huron
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Tom was brilliant, so were you. You were both the top of your classes since your first year at Hogwarts.
That's how you two started talking. You would be partnered with each other in most of your classes, you made an excellent pair.
Throughout the years there, you two had grown a bond. Eventually, you both had feelings for each other.
You knew of your affections towards him, you didn't tell him because you didn't want to ruin your close friendship. But Tom had been in a sort of denial, seeing as how he was conceived under a love potion, he didn't think it was possible.
Around your sixth year, he had come to terms with how he felt. You two had confessed to each other after one of Slughorns dinner parties, he had attended as your date.
It came as a shock to most students when the news of you getting together spread.
They had know he had a soft spot for you, but he had never shown any romantic feelings towards anyone before.
It was seventh year and Tom had confessed to you of his plans and becoming Lord Voldemort.
He asked you to join him and be his partner but you couldn't. It was wrong and you knew it, he knew it deep down too.
You figured this was caused by his horrible childhood at the orphanage, he told you all about how he was treated.
He asked you one final time to join or he would have to continue without you.
You stood there in front of him with tears streaming down your face as you shook your head.
He wanted to wipe the tears from your beautiful face, but he knew it would make him tempted to give up the plans he worked so hard for.
So he turned his back on you and left you behind while you cried and begged him to stop what he was doing.
After that night, you hadn't seen him again.
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"Harry!" you call your student, a student who was like a son to you.
You knew of how he got his scar, as did everyone else. It broke your heart each time you thought of what had caused it.
"Harry, be safe, I'll be right behind you," you kiss his head. He goes and runs off to find Voldemort as students and staff start to fill the courtyard and go into a circle.
You quickly walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, making sure there were no student that needed help.
You finally went outside and saw Harry and Voldemort in a duel.
You gasp at how he looks, this wasn't your Tom. You hadn't seen how he looked since that night so long ago.
You rush over ignoring the calls of people to stop.
"Tom! Stop this!" you yell with angry tears forming in your eyes.
Voldemort blocks Harry's spell and sends one to knock him out for a little while he drops his arm to look at you.
People watching were frozen in their places as they took in the scene in front of them. There were very few people who were aware of your past relationship with Tom.
"Y/n."
"What did you do," you cry. He almost winces at the pain in your voice.
He slowly walks over to you and stops about three feet from you.
"I got the power I've always desired," he explains in a monotone voice.
"Tom... we could have had a future together, look what you've become," you whisper.
"You didn't wish to join me, you didn't expect me to drop everything I've worked for, did you?"
"Yes, I did, because you could have and I would have done the same for you," you try your best to keep your voice from cracking.
He knows you're right. He couldn't look you in your eyes. He looks around at the faces watching as he tries to not think about how beautiful you still are.
You had grown into a stunning woman, and well, he felt embarrassed by what he had come to.
"Stop!" Voldemort shouts, annoyed at his now conflicted emotions.
He feels tempted to stop and apparate you and him somewhere to stay, like how you always dreamed of.
He couldn't, not now. He decided an apology was the only thing he could do, as he went to apologize to you, he suddenly felt pain all over.
He turned his head to see Harry with his wand pointed at him. It was then you both realized he was truly gone.
As he starts to turn to stone, he uses all the energy left in him to look at you, in the eyes this time.
He watches as so many emotions flash through your eyes. He memorized your features in the few seconds he has.
You look at Voldemort on his knees, almost all stone. You see him mouth something, it looks like 'I'm sorry', but you can't be sure.
You watch as he looks you dead in the eye, finally turning completely to stone and dissolving into nothing.
People around you start cheering and hugging as they all celebrate.
Harry turns to you and sees the devastated look on your face.
"I'm sorry that you lost him," Harry says as he hugs you, "not Voldemort, but Tom," he continues.
"I'm sorry too, but you're safe, along with everyone else," you sigh, "that's all that matters," you kiss his forehead and hug him back.
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It took you a while to finally accept that Tom- Voldemort, was gone.
Things slowly got back to normal. Hogwarts was rebuilt and repaired. You continued your teaching career there.
You were sat in your room, in a cottage where you and Tom were supposed to be living.
You decided that if he couldn't be there to live life, you would do it for the both of you.
You pick up some letters he would send you when you were dating, you had saved them all. You look at the box and see one that hasn't been opened. Your eyebrows furrow as you open it. Then, a tear slides down your face as you read it.
My y/n,
If you are reading this, that means I have become Lord Voldemort, and am likely dead now.
I need you to understand that I am not the Tom you once knew. I also need you to understand that I have regretted walking away from you each and every day since I did so.
You were my family, my love, my everything.
I'm sorry I threw that away for power. I know now that it is far too late to go back.
I wish I could though, and spend life with you in that place you always use to tell me about. Unfortunately, it isn't possible. But know that if it was, I would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.
Stay true to yourself, don't turn your back on the people you love, I regrettably made that mistake.
You are a beautiful person, my love, I hope you accomplish all of the things you use to rant to me about.
Please forgive me.
Yours always,
Tom Riddle
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romerona · 4 months
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Can we appreciate this man for a moment? Death Eater vibes.
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leafiloaf · 10 months
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I cannot get enough of this man--
Voldemort: "Every single one of you is useless! Get out of my sight before I lose my temper!"
Death eaters scrambling to the nearest exit.
"Except you, Harry, you're precious and I'm glad you're here. ◡‿◡ "
Harry, bound to a chair: "I'm not glad to be here!"
Thankyou @racfoam for helping me with this idea ♡ ~('▽^人)!!!
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mrsriddlenott · 2 months
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Ex!Mattheo Riddle x Muggleborn!Reader
Angsty asf,Break Ups, Language, Voldemort, Wizarding War.
Summary: You and Mattheo were just wrong for each other, destined to be ripped apart. He hurt you trying to protect you, and even apart is trying to protect you still, but he can’t think of everything.
“We’re done okay, I am done. I don’t want this anymore Mattheo,” You screamed as he stopped, shocked in front of you, “I can’t keep doing this.”
“What are you- you’re not saying….” You scoffed as he approached you again, stepping back so he couldn’t touch you like he so desperately wanted to. “You can’t be serious y/n we basically just started.”
“No we didn’t! That’s the fucking problem, we’ve been doing this for months and I thought it meant something to you and then I find out your friends don’t even know who I am??” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as he tried to speak, “You wasted my time, if you wanted to just be fuck buddies I’d have been fine with that and I would have kept it a secret for you if you asked but you made me feel like…..” You laughed at your own stupidity as you turned away from Mattheo’s pleading eyes.
“Princess I didn’t just-“ You cut him off before he could finish, turning back around yelling as tears welled in your eyes, “You lied to me Mattheo, you said you wanted something real, you told me you wanted someone you could trust and that you had finally found someone and all along you were the untrustworthy one!” Mattheo’s hands fell to his sides as he tried to form words, but nothing would come out.
“Were you embarrassed of me?! Is that why? Did you feel like all your rich, perfect friends would hate you for being with me or did you just want me for fun until you needed to find the pureblood future wife your father expects you to have!?” You breathed heavily as you registered your words, his eyes shone with tears at the mention of his father and only locked on yours for a second before turning to your door and tugging it open.
Mattheo stopped, weighing the odds before turning back to you with tears in his eyes, “I’d much rather marry you….but that can’t happen because he won’t allow it. I guess we did waste our time after all.” And in a matter of seconds he was gone, from the dorm, the school, from your life, no one actually knew were he went but there were rumors he left to join his father’s cause, which you just couldn’t allow yourself to think were true.
It had been weeks since you last saw his face or heard his voice, after months of seeing each other in every second of free time it hurt to wake to the reminder that you were alone. But today was different, when you dressed and returned to your bed after a morning shower a neat envelope awaited your arrival, you recognized his hand writing immediately and tore it open.
Y/n, I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I’ve done now, when you hear it you’re going to hate me and the thought breaks me. Please don’t blame yourself because I had to, I could never let him hurt you and despite everything I did to keep you safe he found out about you. He made me do things I can’t say here, things I see in my dreams on nights you stray from them but I promise one day you will be happy and safe. I will give up my life to make it so.
Tears blurred your vision as you tried to fathom what Mattheo had done, what his father could have forced him to do. What he had done to protect you. You crashed to your knees, sobbing and wishing you could somehow get a timeturner to go back to that night, beg him to stay, apologize for being so stupid. Of course he had kept you a secret for your own protection, the son of Voldemort couldn’t be walking around with a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who could barley pass by. He had kept his friends in the dark so they couldn’t tell anyone, he had snuck you around the school, not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted you safe. You had to get him back, no matter what he did in his father’s name he was yours and you were his, always.
By the next week everyone had heard the stories, Muggle and Muggleborns being tortured, “traitors” to the cause being executed, you didn’t know if he was involved, not for sure but a part of you knew. There were signs, people whispering about a new lord in training, a new way for Voldemort to gain power using his son as a weapon. It wasn’t long before most of Mattheo’s friends had gone too, making it all the more obvious where he had gone. It hurt you more to know he was doing it for you, every name of the missing and dead reminded you it was all to protect you. You began to lose hope that you’d ever see him again, that he was lost, forever his father’s minion.
You sat with your back against the cold stone wall of the astronomy tower, letting the smoke of an un-hit cigarette waft past you as you lost yourself in a deep thought. You had been having trouble sleeping, imaging the awful things being done to Mattheo and by Mattheo was bad enough but it only got worse at night. You’d found yourself gravitating to Mattheo’s spot often these days, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what life would be like in a few months. You’d be gone from Hogwarts for good, and who knew what that meant for you now, you had just begun to imagine leaving into the world alone when the sound of rushed footsteps caught you off guard, but not more than the voice that came with the halt of shoes on marble, “What the fuck are you doing here?! I thought you’d be in your dorm,” He spun around to watch the door, cursing to himself as though a plan had gone terribly wrong, and you supposed it had.
He looked tired, his hair disheveled with large bags under his eyes and his voice seemed different, harder, “You need to get the fuck up now and run, just go hide somewhere please if they see you they’ll” He was cut off by the sound of more boots quickly ascending the steps up the tower before he was grabbing you and aggressively trying to shove you into a closet too late.
“There’s the girl,” a gruff male voice shouted as the door swung open, “Knew if we followed you we’d find her.” Mattheo’s head hung as his voice broke, “no, no, I didn’t do it all for nothing.” He turned quickly, his arms out and blocking you body with his, “He can’t have her, I did everything he asked.”
“Clearly not since you’re here,” a second, larger man, cackled out, “Didn’t Daddy tell you to sit tight up in your mansion Pretty Boy.” The man laughed as though he was the funniest man alive as everyone stared back and forth, recognizing all four of us wouldn’t be leaving this room if things didn’t go as planned. “He can’t have her.” Mattheo spat again, with less conviction.
“Well you know the deal Handsome, and the Dark Lord is tired of waiting on your decision, you take the mark, we leave this pretty little thing alone and you never speak to her again….if not we have orders to make her death last awhile.” You flinched behind Mattheo’s muscular frame, not at your impending, excruciating death, but at the thought of Mattheo officially joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. If he had the mark there was no way out, no convincing the courts to spare him, even if he survived after all he had done that mark is a one way ticket to a Dementor’s Kiss. “No Mattheo you can’t”
Mattheo turned to you as your voice shook, tears falling down both your faces as he grabbed your cheeks tightly, kissing you as though you were air and he was hyperventilating. His head rested on your forehead as he thumbed your tears away, “I don’t have a choice Baby, I love you and I always will.” He tugged you into his arms, his lips next to your ear as he whispered low enough just for you to hear, “I am going to do everything in my power to come home to you, but I want you to live your life, when you get out of here run and forget me, become a Healer like you wanted and know I’m looking out for you.” He slipped away from you, leaving one final kiss on your temple before he was tugged from the room and from your life.
And you knew, from your safety, that he had taken the mark and would eventually take his father’s place as the Dark Lord if the war didn’t end soon. Maybe then, with all that power, he could end the war and return to you, a fantasy that gave you hope in the darkest days of the war.
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luv4freddie · 2 months
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The Mark - D.M
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Reader comforts Draco after he gets the dark mark
Exactly what you think it’s gonna be like. Tragic backstory, mentions of voldy and war, so sad, angst/comfort, 776 words
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Draco Malfoy was tired.
He was exhausted, yes. But he was tired of being the man of the family. He was tired of being a Malfoy heir, of being forced into boxes in order to make his family proud.
And now it was too late.
He laid in his four poster bed, fighting against the tears blooming behind his eyes and the stinging sensation on his forearm.
He shivered— he felt dirty. Disgusting in a way that wouldn’t wash out no matter how many times he scrubbed the spot where bony white fingers had grasped his arm.
He wanted to kick and scream like a toddler, but even now he couldn’t express the emotions building up in his chest— adrenaline, shame, fear, all joining in on his downfall.
He laid unresponsive, too tired to move but unable to fall asleep.
He can still hear his mother crying downstairs. She hadn’t stopped since the Dark Lord had left the manor, and taken her sons innocence and choice along with him.
Draco faintly registers the smell of smoke and a tumbling sound, but he makes no attempt to investigate, chalking it up to a clumsy house elf.
At least until he hears your voice.
“Dray?” It’s gentle in a way that makes all of his emotions perk up, fighting their way to his face as he finally moves; sitting up to face where you stand, freshly out of his fireplace.
He wants to talk— ask what you’re doing here, how you got there, if you still love him— but instead the most embarrassing thing happens.
Draco Malfoy starts crying.
Draco has not cried since third year, but a single look at you has him sobbing out into the stillness of the house.
Within seconds you’re next to him, pulling him into your chest and stroking his hair while you mumble reassurances into his ear.
He cries for a long time, giving his mother a run for her money with the his sobs echo off the walls, the silencing charm you’d put up to shield him from Narcissa’s ears only making them reverberate louder.
By the time he’s finally calmed down his voice is raspy and his eyes are bloodshot.
“They’re monitoring floo.”
“I know,” you hush him, “but that’s for the order members. They won’t care about us. They probably think I’m just sneaking out to smog you.”
He lets out a chuckle, but it’s airy and there’s no real humor in it.
He wants to tell you. But at the same time, he’s terrified that you’re going to be disgusted— that you’d get up and leave him just like everyone else when he inevitably disappoints.
You notice he subconsciously fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, and you grab his hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on his fingers.
“I know already.”
You want to cry with the amount of fear in his eyes when they meet yours.
“You- how?”
“Your mom was talking to mine about it.”
He lets out a scoff, “it’s a miracle she can get anything out with the way she’s been crying.”
You sigh, “can you blame her?”
“I’m the one that got branded, why’s she crying?”
You smooth a gentle finger over his sleeve, hating the way he flinches.
“Because you’re now a part of this war, a bigger part than anyone your age should ever be.”
He buries further into you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and appreciating the way you wrap your arms around him, squeezing just enough to press your bodies into each other.
“Do you still love me?”
His voice is so small and hidden from where he’s laying, but you hear it nonetheless, and your heart shatters into a billion tiny pieces at the vulnerability and disappointment in it.
He’s expecting you to say no.
Instead, you grab his arm, bringing it up to where you can see it. At first he refuses to let you move his sleeve, but he quickly tires, watching your every move with droopy eyes and resigned interest.
He inhales sharply when you do it— roll his sleeve up and press a soft kiss directly onto the middle of the mark, right where the snake winds around the mouth.
“The Dark Lord himself couldn’t make me stop loving you, Draco Malfoy. This doesn’t change who you are.”
He breathes a small sigh of relief.
He was still a death eater, still an heir, and still guilty—but you loved him, and you weren’t going to leave him because of it.
So maybe— just maybe— he could survive this war. As long as you were here
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