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baba-yaga-s-breadsticks · 2 years

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(Struck by Your) Electric Love -- Songfic

AO3 link: (Struck by Your) Electric Love by aziliero_scorzalisk

Candy, she's sweet like candy in my veins

Draco smirks fondly at Potter as he stalks toward the Gryffindor. Getting closer than is strictly necessary, he licks his lip and gives Potter a once-over, then glances over his shoulder. Shuddering, Draco cries out,

"Dementor, dementor!"

He savors the slight smile that breaks open on Potter's face before he scowls at Draco and stomps away with Granger and Weasley at his heels.

Drowning, you make my heart beat like the rain

Draco gasps for air, blinking water out of his eyes as he takes in his surroundings. He is in Harry Potter's arms, in the middle of the Black Lake.

"Really, Potter? I'm who you would 'sorely miss'?"

Potter lightly glares at him, but at the same time squeezes Draco's hand under the water. He pulls them both to the shore where Madame Pomfrey descends upon them in a flurry of towels and Pepperup Potions.

Before he's pulled away from Draco, Potter gives him a tiny smile, and that sets off a blush and a party of butterflies in his belly.

Rushing through me, feel your energy rushing through me

Draco sneaks out of the Great Hall and into one of the courtyards, sighing in relief as the pounding music from the Yule Ball dims a little. He sits on one of the benches and closes his eyes.

A hand on his arm startles him, and he turns to find Potter standing in front of him. Not wanting to be at a disadvantaged height, Draco stands and finds himself centimeters from Potter's face.

Potter smiles at him, which causes a whole flurry of emotions to explode in his chest. Managing to find a trademark scowl, Draco says,

"What do you want, Potter."

"Would you like to dance?"

Draco is struck speechless by Potter's bold request. The Golden Boy, Triwizard Champion, dance with him? He must be out of his mind!

But...

Draco inwardly shudders at the thought of him being brave enough to accept the offer, and takes Potter's hand.

"It would be my pleasure."

Several hours later, they tumble back into the Entrance Hall, laughing their arses off at who-knows-what. Stopping at the corridor that leads to Slytherin, Potter turns to face Draco.

Slowly, he reaches up and cups Draco's face in his palm. Eyes wide, Draco leans into the Quidditch-roughened hand, closing his eyes briefly. Potter shifts closer and Draco can feel his breath on his lips. Inhaling shakily, Draco whispers,

"Where's that Gryffindor bravery, Golden Boy? Are you going to kiss me or not?"

In response, Potter presses his lips to Draco's, and all the air punches out of his lungs in a gasp. His hands wind themselves around Potter's waist, while the Gryffindor's fingers entwine in his hair.

Lips hesitantly part and mold around each other, tongues flicking out to get a tiny taste of the other. Huffed breaths and words echo in the space between them only to get swallowed in another kiss. Draco boldly swipes his tongue into Potter's mouth, delighted when their tongues meet and swirl in a dance not unlike the ones they shared in the courtyard. Potter melts into Draco and makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat.

Eventually Draco breaks away and finds Potter beaming at him.

"I wasn't sure if I was reading this right, but it seems like I've nothing to worry about." Potter murmurs. Draco shakes his head, ducking down to press a chaste kiss to Potter's lips.

"Would you like to go with me to the next Hogsmeade weekend?" Draco replies. Potter positively lights up.

"Yes, yes, yes! Absolutely!"

Draco laughs and pulls away regretfully, hanging onto Potter's hand until the very last second. Potter gives him a fond look.

"Sleep well, Draco."

Draco smiles, surprised at the use of his first name.

"Sleep well, Harry."

Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle, I can't let you go now that I've got it, and all I need is to be struck by your electric love

Draco leaves the Prefect's meeting as quickly as possible, wanting to get away from Granger's knowing eyes. She'd been flicking him glances the entirety of the meeting, seemingly considering him in a new light.

He stomps down the stairs to the dungeons and straight to his dorm to begin packing for the trip home for the holidays. It's not something he is looking forward to, now that Lord Fucking Voldemort has taken up residency inside his childhood home.

Shuddering, Draco inhales deeply after yet another nightmare starring Voldemort, Harry, and a Killing Curse. Swiping at his brow, Draco quietly gets out of bed and treads lightly to his bathroom.

Hands gripping the marble sink so tightly it almost hurts, Draco stares at himself in the mirror.

He can't keep doing this to himself. He can't pretend to bow down to the maniac in his house any longer.

Just before they had left for the winter holidays, Harry had given him a piece of paper with an address on it.

The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters can be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

Draco had memorized it, then promptly burned it.

Now, he knows it is time to ask for help.

Getting his mother out of the Manor without being caught is tricky, but Draco manages it. They Floo to Hogwarts, stepping out of the grate into Severus' office. The Potions Master startles at their sudden arrival, but one look at both of their faces and Draco can tell that he knows.

Severus takes them to Grimmauld Place immediately and sets them up in two bedrooms side-by-side.

Before Draco can escape into his own room to begin unpacking, his mother hugs him tightly, whispering,

"Thank you, Dragon."

Neither of them mention the tears in each other's eyes.

At the next Order meeting, Severus introduces Draco and Narcissa to everyone.

There are varying levels of distrust, but when Harry attacks Draco in a bear hug, everyone seems to come to the conclusion that the Malfoys can be trusted.

While the adults all file into the meeting room, Harry drags Draco up to the second floor sitting room where many of the Weasleys and Granger are sitting on the floor and playing a game of Exploding Snap. Ronald is the first to notice Draco, and he's Disarmed Draco before he even sees him draw his wand.

There's a moment of stunned silence, and then Harry starts laughing. He wordlessly Summons Draco's wand and hands it to him, still chuckling. The rest of the Weasleys are staring at Ronald in amazement, who blushes and ducks his head.

Turning to Harry, Draco asks,

"He learned that in your Defence group, didn't he?"

Before Harry can answer, Granger asks incredulously,

"How do you know about that?!"

Draco shifts uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

"I, uh, I knew about it before you made that enchanted parchment."

"I told him," Harry supplies helpfully. Granger stares at him for a few more seconds, then shrugs and says with a small smile,

"Welcome, Draco."

Draco walks confidently into the Great Hall, almost all of the Slytherins following behind him. He pauses just inside the door and lets the rest of them enter the Hall. The conversation coming from the other three Houses stops as the Slytherins continue past their table and head straight for the Gryffindor table on the other side of the Hall.

The members of the Hogwarts Alliance stand and welcome them with smiles and handshakes, and other members from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff wave over some of the Slytherins to join their tables.

Draco chances a glance up at the staff table and snorts at the look of utter fury painting Umbridge's features an ugly shade of puce. When the last person has settled into place, Draco continues towards the Gryffindor table. Somewhere, probably Pansy's doing, music startes playing. Draco rolls his eyes fondly when he realizes that it's his and Harry's special song. Mouthing along to the words, he sees Harry stand and start walking towards him.

They stop in front of each other and Draco tugs Harry closer by the waist while the Gryffindor slides his arms over Draco's shoulders, looking up at him with a soft expression.

They sway along to the music, foreheads pressed together, singing along under their breaths.

"Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle-" Draco sings, pressing a kiss to the lightning scar on his boyfriend's head.

"I can't let you go now that I've got it-" Harry nuzzles into Draco's neck, pressing featherlight kisses to the sensitive skin of his throat.

"And ah ah ah all I need is to be struck by your electric love..." They sing together, and then Harry takes Draco's lips in a searing kiss, leaning up on his toes to match Draco's height.

In the background, fireworks explode, firecrackers sizzle, and cheers from the other students shake the Hall.

Breaking apart, Draco and Harry watch in awe as Fred and George Weasley mount their brooms and taunt Umbridge, throwing more fireworks into the air. The twins rile up the whole student body, and they sprint in all directions to wreck havoc in the school. Draco tugs Harry close when he sees him tearing up at the twins leaving Hogwarts. With a parting shout of,

"Give her hell from us, Peeves!"

The twins shoot out the doors in the Entrance Hall, waving merrily back at them all as Peeves salutes the twins. Fred blows a cheeky kiss to Harry, who laughs through his tears.

Harry buries his face in Draco's chest, sobs shaking his shoulders. When his tears are reduced to hiccups, Draco tilts Harry's face up and wipes away the salty tracks with his thumbs, then kisses him deeply.

"I love you, Harry." Draco murmurs, and Harry's head snaps up.

"You do?" Harry sniffles.

"Yes, I do."

"I love you, too, Draco."

Draco beams and hugs Harry tight into his chest again.

"We will win this war, Harry. I promise."

"Together. All of us will win this war." Harry promises back.

....................

uh. I guess this just happened? I was listening to "Electric Love" by BØRNS and it *drarrified* itself in my head so i decided to write it out.

and it's harry's b-day, so i guess this is a birthday fic???

AO3 link: (Struck by Your) Electric Love by aziliero_scorzalisk

16 notes · View notes

skyebounded · 2 months

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Pacify Her

Masterlist .Harry Potter Universe Masterlist.

premise: The devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him.

pairing: Professor Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

warnings: dark elements, toxic obsessions, possession (but not the scary supernatural kind) smut (p in v-fingering-etc) tom riddle (his own warning) there is probably a lot more...

wc: 4.2k

a/n: this is beautiful and I don't care if you don't agree. shoutout to @demiguisemoon for keeping me company throughout this ride.

enjoy the playlist that I made for this story!

He never truly knew what you were capable of, or more so what his influence would do to you, and that was the problem. He had completely underestimated you, and that would be not only your downfall, but his as well. Pretty and pliant, that's what you were to him, the perfect match, not only intellectually, but emotionally as well. You suited him. From the moment you stumbled into his compartment on the train, down to the moment that you sat down in front of him, not a word muttered, but yet a conversation was had. You understood him, and quite frankly, he understood you, or so he believed.

No one understood him the way you did, the way that you clung to his every word like gospel. Feeding into his absurdities, but never once looking at him as if he was wrong. You supported him. Truth was you were obsessed. Incomplete and broken without him, much like a wounded bird, someone he could fix, take care of, mould into something he wanted, and you lived for it. Lived for the moments that he taught you, helped you, controlled you. The moments where he needed you and only you. At his beck and call in the late hours of the night, or for the favours that could ultimately get you expelled, for anything he wanted, and you’d do it, obediently. You were his. You belonged to him from the first moment, and though neither of you knew it, he belonged to you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, slipping into the compartment faster than he could respond, but he didn’t. He pulled his nose from the daily prophet to study you. He had never seen you before, which was odd considering you were in his house, the green and silver snake adoring your breast, a Slytherin, and a pretty one at that, an old soul and kindred spirit…of sorts. There was something in the way you looked at him, that dutiful look in your piercing eyes, a look as if you could see into the deepest darkest depths of his soul, something he was certain he had well hidden, and yet what you saw didn’t alarm you. Somehow it didn’t scare him, it intrigued him, you intrigued him. He watched as you slid the door closed behind your back, before sliding into the seat across from him, hands trapped behind your back, and your head cocked to the side as you studied him. The slightest of smiles on your face. He should have known then, known what you would become to him, but he could never have suspected you to be as such.

Frail and malleable, obsessed and devoted, and you were his. His star, his pet, his property. You grew to need him, unable to do without the moments you shared with him. You found yourself lingering in the back of his classes, hoping that he would catch a fleeting glimpse of you, needing you for something, anything, to utilise you, need you. For the moments that he’d call for you in the late hours of the night, for the small favours that could leave you expelled or worse, with the promise that nothing bad was going to happen to you, he wouldn’t let it. The hours that you spent with him, soon turned to days, weeks, stealing away any moment that you could, eager to please, to be close. Somewhere in the dim candle light of his office, stolen glances, gentle touches, words exchanged. Finding yourself desperate for the after hours of study in the library, the ones where you could find him making his way from the restricted section, his pretty nose stuck within the pages of his books. Knowing you were there, dutifully watching him, waiting for the right opportunity to seek him out or for him to call for you.

Your life had become dull. Classes lacked challenge, you found little to no enjoyment in day to day activities, your friends became distant memories, dramatic, but even your mundane routines lost flavour. All you had was him, and the little periods of time you spent by his side. At his beck and call, seduced by the ways he consumed you. Your mind, your body, and most definitely your tainted soul. He knew it too, knew that he could use you for anything his heart desired, that you would do nothing but obey him, follow blindly if he requested it of you, no questions to be asked. A perfect pawn, follower. The more eager you became, with the incessant need to do more, be more for him, he took to it. Giving you more and more to do. It had soon become a list of tasks, simple favours as he would call it. Hide this, seek out this, do this…And you did, you did all of it.

Your blood rushed as you closed the office door behind you, back pressed against the firm wood, hands clasped behind you, as your eyes scanned the dimly lit room until you found him. In the centre of the room, sat plainly in his chair, eyes roaming your eager figure. He looked as though he sat on a throne, one of his own creation, his arms extended out on the sides of the chair, comfortable and yet cold, observant. “Did you get it?” was all he said, leaning forward over his desk, the faintest traces of a smile on his face when the stifled giggle of yours fleas from your lips. You held it up, in the palms of your small hands presenting it to him, the book he had sent you to find. Restricted, forbidden even, and you had managed it, with his help of course. “Of course.” you whispered. He beckend you over with the bend of two slender fingers, and you moved on your own volition, approaching him with such eagerness. He took the book from your palms, his fingers ghosting over your soft skin, and you wonder if it was on purpose. “Good girl.” There it was, the praise you strove for, the praise that came from him and him only. The slightest flick of his wand had the door clicking locked, as his eyes came to study you once more. There was a fascination in his gaze, the way his eyes softened to you, desperately trying to hide the hunger that he felt towards you. You had something that he had never quite found in anyone else, something that made him crave you more than he had for anyone else…and there it was, the thought that you were his and only his.

His eyes left you, meeting the pages of the book you had stolen for him, consuming every word on the stale worn parchment. While he was entranced, devouring the text, you were devouring the sight of him, leaning over the desk, eyes droning over the pages. He was stunning this way. The crease in his brow, eager to learn, and you were right there with him, desperate to know just what held him so captivated, leaning over his desk in hopes of catching the slightest bit of the contraband he had tasked you with stealing, no concern for what could have happened to you if you had been caught. But you knew that somehow, if that had been the case, he would have protected you, always, he would be there. His eyes darted up from the page, a lustful hunger to them, but for you or for the knowledge he had been enthralled with, you weren’t sure. “Look.” he instructs, slumping back in his chair, gesturing to the page, the hints of a smile on his lips. Clasping your hands behind your back, you leaned over the mahogany desk, feeling the hem of your uniform riding up in the back, exposing yourself to him as you did your best to read what was before you, eyes focussing on the text of ancient runes. It wasn’t of much use, you simply couldn’t read it. “I can’t read it, sir.” you mutter, chancing a look back at him. His eyes were shamelessly crawling up the length of your bare legs, and to the swell of your ass. He had looked at you like this before, that strained look in his eyes, like he was in deep thought but those thoughts were ones that he would never quite say aloud, the smallest of smirks on his lips, as he dragged his tongue along them. “I see..” he remarks, slowly pulling his gaze away from your ass, to meet your much more innocent gaze. It was one of his favourite things to do. To teach you, to watch you learn from him. It gave him the sweetest sense of power and meaning. “And what would you have me do about that, darling?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold and narrowed, but that flick of amusement dancing across them.

“Read it to me?” It was a simple request, your voice strong and confident. You wanted to know, wanted him to show you, and he seemed to like the idea. Tom hummed, a sweet sound of satisfaction, as his slender fingers wrapped around your dainty wrist, pulling you down onto his lap, a gesture he had never quite done before. He was confident in his motions, calculated and collected. He knew what he wanted, and that was you. His hands remained on your hips, fingers drumming on your thighs. “Read it to you, hmm?” He hums, delicately brushing a strand of your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your throat. Goosebumps lining your skin, while his other hand trailed slowly up your bare thigh. Gentle touches that were purposeful, and well measured. Even in this, he was in control. In control of himself, and of the situation. “How will you ever learn if I just read it to you?” “Teach me then..” you blurt, your voice had never been so soft, so demanding and yet desperate. “Sir..” you add, looking back at him. His thumb had started to draw soft slow patterns on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. “Teach you….” You could see that he was mulling it over…”teach you…” he cooed in approval, a sinister grin consuming his face. “Very well, darling, teach you, I shall.” He gave a hearty squeeze to your thigh, your breath hitching and your body tensing for a brief moment in his lap, shifting your attention back to his face. Pretending as if he couldn’t see the way your eyes studied him, the way they seemed to have heart shaped iris that were only for him.

His own gaze was casted past you, eyes scoured the pages before him, looking for something suitable to turn into a lesson. His hands still wandering aimlessly on your skin. “Here…let's start simple…” He leaned back enough, turning to look at you, his breath fanning across your lips from being so close. His eyes trailing up your features until his eyes met yours. “This rune here…” he starts, grasping your jaw with his index and thumb, turning your face, back to the book. “This rune…’othilia’ corresponds to the Latin letter…?” “o.” you state, looking to him for approval, his approval. A soft smile was all he gave you. “And what do you think it means…” His hand, resting under your skirt, had found its way to the crease of your hips and thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh, while his thumb thrummed against your clothed cunt. You found it hard to concentrate, to really look at the shapes on the page, but you had to. “Um…power, wealth?” you tried, letting out a breathy sigh, when his thumb found its way into the damp fabric of your panties, rolling soft circles into your swollen clit. You felt his lips against your ear, your head lulled back against his shoulder. “It means, heritage, possession..” he punctuated the last word with a flick of his thumb, a gesture that had a sweet moan falling from you. With precision he gently rolled his finger over your bud, nipping at your ear with each sweet sound you let out. “Focus….” he coos, drawing your half lidded eyes back to the book. “This one, ‘mannaz’, tell me its correspondent…” Your mind was muddled. He had pulled the wet fabric away from your cunt, traipsing his slender fingers through your folds, collecting your sweet arousal, teasing your entrance as he waited for your response. “Go on…what is it.?” You hummed softly, searching your mind for what it could possibly be. “Um..it’s ‘m’ the latin ‘m’..” you whimpered, feeling the intrusion of a single digit slipping into your sopping heat. He was rewarding you, with each correct response you gave him. “And what does it mean?”

You weren’t sure how much of this he really thought you could handle, not with the way that his finger was slowly thrusting in and out of you, his thumb languidly massaging your tender clit. He was watching you, his own gaze lidded, dark. Hungry. He was enjoying this, enjoying the way that he had you, pulling answers from you with simple touches. “Don't make me stop, what does it mean?” he teases, and yet somewhere in the pit of your stomach, you knew that he would. That he would leave you high and dry at a moment's notice. Your eyes had fallen closed, summoning all of your strength to answer him, as he slipped another finger into you, curling them against your sweet spot, just to feel your breath hitch and your body shutter in his grasp. You could feel the way that his cock had hardened beneath you, kept from you by the confines of his trousers, and it did little to help you focus any, it was cruel. “It means…ma-man?” you gasped out, his pace increasing. His lips met the side of your neck, tenderly kissing every bit of exposed skin that he was presented with, careful not to leave a single mark on that delicate skin of yours. “Very good..” he coos, his hot breath felt on your neck and ear. His fingers toyed relentlessly with your aching cunt, his thumb circling your clit gently, and his lips littering chaste kisses to your exposed skin. He had quickly given up on the lesson at hand, now far too consumed in the way that you were writhing happily in his grasp, soft sweet sounds escaping past your lips. Your back arched into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you lost all coherency. Lewd sounds left you like a sinful prayer, trickling past your lips with no real power to stop them.

You whined, feeling the emptiness in your cunt as he pulled his fingers from you, only to have them brought up to your chapped lips, as he slid not one but both fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the pad of your tongue. A silent order, to taste yourself, to clean up the mess that you had made, and you did without hesitation, closing your lips around them, letting your tongue lap up any and all of the arousal that coated his fingers. He cooed, sweet and simple praises, between delicate chaste kisses to your neck. His free hand wanders the expanse of your neck, down to the top of your blouse, deftly popping the buttons one by one. His touch was featherlight, a mere ghost over your skin, and such a thing allowed for goosebumps to litter your skin. His thumb circles your nipple through your thin bra, smiling against your neck as it perks at his touch. He loved the possession he had over your body, the way you would let him do whatever to it as if it was his own, and you would argue that it was. That it belonged to him, that you belonged to him.

You weren’t sure when it changed, the suddenness of it all, but you found yourself being gently laid down against the hard polished wood of his desk, your back draping over the materials he had been studying, and your skirt pushed up your waist. His body hovered over yours, his hands gliding up under the blouse that he had worked open, greedily exploring the exposed skin, his head ducked and lips ghosting over the spot his hands had touched mere seconds ago. Your eyes had fallen shut somewhere along the way, relying on your other senses completely. Gentle kisses, soft bites, and languid movements of his tongue as he dragged it up your sternum and neck, taking in the sweet smell and taste of your delicate skin. You arched into his touches, soft sweet sounds escaping you at every one. Each of your senses flooded with nothing but him. His lips were pending over yours, a silent acknowledgement, that everything would be on his terms, and you were okay with it.

He didn’t bother to kiss you, and you didn’t request it of him either.

Tom made quick work of removing his trousers, before his hands slid up your thighs, fingers ghosting over your cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you present in the moment. He hooked his fingers over your panties and pulled them aside, the cool air hitting your bare cunt, a soft hiss escaping your lips. With his free hand, Tom wrapped his slender fingers around your chin, using his index and thumb to pull your face up to his. His eyes were cold, animalistic desire dwelling past the dark shade of brown. He tilted your head down so that you could watch the way his swelling cock slid into your tight cunt, forcing you to understand that he owned you, now in body as well.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, the unrelenting feeling of him stretching you out was nothing shy of pain, but a sweet sweet pleasure. He watched your face, mocking the way you fell silent, with a sly smirk to his perfect lips. He forced you to watch every sinful inch of him disappear deep into your greedy cunt, time and time again. He wanted you to understand, to grasp the claim he had on you. You were being rewarded for your diligence, for your obedience, and he wanted you to know that you were his, only his. No one else could touch you like this, that's what he was saying to you.

Tom let go of your face, as he gripped your hips, jerking you towards the edge of the table. Your hands fall back to support you, arching your back slightly as you watch him with lidded eyes. As he moved, his pace picking up with each passing moment, you began to lose yourself to the delicious drag of his heavy cock, your sinful mantra of moans and whimpers filling the dark empty spaces of his office. His fingers gripping onto the soft pliable flesh of your thigh and hip was bruising, another simple yet effective reminder of who you belonged to.

He watched each little tick of your face, each pleasure filled twitch of your lips as you fought off a smile at the feeling of him, taking in each little puff of air that left your parted lips, each pant and moan of satisfaction. He coaxed nothing but the best out of you, building your release at his own desire, his own pace. Your head fell back, your eyes falling closed as you did. You were consumed by the feeling of him and your body was reacting to it in the only way it knew how.

You felt his hand leave your thigh first, before feeling it wrap around your throat, his long slender fingers wrapping around the curve of your jaw, as he willed you to look at him once more.

“You keep those pretty little eyes of yours…on me,” he whispered forcefully. There was no room for mistake, you would watch him as he possessed every part of you. He controlled it all, and you’d let him, you’d let him do it forever.

That's when it all changed.

He had been sweet seduction, and the thought alone drew you closer….until she came along. Professor. Hawkethorn had never been his match, not the way you were. She didn’t understand him, she didn’t see him for what he truly was. She had fallen trap to his charm, and that was only the surface. You watched it happen, your late night sessions with him faded, he seemingly didn’t need you as much, and he gave not even the slightest inkling why. He said nothing, entertained nothing, did, nothing. His time seemed occupied, but not by you, by her. Selvine Hawkethrone, the new history of magic professor.

Fine, checkmate. He didn’t want to see you? then you would make him. See you at your fullest, see that you were always there, that you had never left, and more importantly, that you were still very much his to possess.

He needed to see you, not her. He had no business with her, she wouldn’t do the things that you did for him, you were certain of that. She was only a disruption, a threat to what you guys shared, and she had to go. You wanted to show him your devout loyalty, the extremes that you were willing to go to keep him, to protect him, to *serve* him, and so you would.

You sat in *his* chair, his office dark and cold, nothing that you minded, as you waited…waited to hear the sound of polished heels clack on in the smooth stone outside the door. You pulse steady as the door opens, a small sliver of light filling the room.

“Tom?” her soft voice echoed off the shelves of books, as she warily stepped inside. Once the door was shut, you waved your wand lazily, the candles that surrounded his office springing to life with a dull crackle. Her eyes met yours immediately, and they widened almost as if they had seen something they shouldn’t have. She looked fearful. You had a crazed look in your eyes, as you looked over her in silence. She was pathetic, dressed in her best clothes as if she was expecting to meet Professor Riddle, and that's exactly what you had told her, in your little letter. Told her to meet you here, that you desired to see her, all pretending to be your dear dear professor, and she fell for it. Pathetic.

“You don’t deserve him….” you said, your tone hollow, as you watched her flinch slightly. “Did you really think that he would want you? Send for you? Come on Selvine…you have more sense than that…” you continued, pulling yourself to stand up, walking around the desk, your fingers taunting the flame of the candle. “Professor…you were never going to be his match, his equal…he is destined for great things and you were never going to be the one to help him fulfil that…your just….” You gestured to her with the tip of your wand as if to say something cruel, your face contorted in disgust. “Weak, you're just plain….ordinary…” you said, a mock tone of pity, your face in a frown.

Selvine said nothing, but reached for her wand slowly, not sure what to expect from you, but you saw it…”ah ah ah, don’t do that..” you warned. You were now pointing your wand directly at her, your grip firm and unwavering. You take a deep breath, tired of this moment…Selvine opened her mouth to say something but you were quick to silence her, ”Save it professor, you shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours.”

You flicked your wrist and a green jet of light bursted out of the tip of your wand without remorse. You watched with glassy, transfixed eyes as her lifeless body crumbled to the floor with a thump. The simple unforgivable curse stealing what small pathetic life she had out of her. She was gone. Dead. you lowered your wand to your side, and stood there, slightly shocked by what you had done.

Tom had slipped out from a dark corner of his office, one where he had stood, watching the entire thing transpire before his eyes. His cold gaze watching you as he approached. Your eyes snapped up to meet him, startled, and unaware that he had been watching the entire time..but that meant that he had seen it, seen the lengths you would go to just for him. You had used the unforgivable curse, for him, something that you had never done before.

You felt yourself soften, at his appearance, as he stepped over the lifeless body like it was nothing but scum beneath his foot as he approached you. Gripping your chin like a child as he pulled you to meet his gaze. He almost looked pleased, a small sense of approval in his tepid gaze.

“You can't tell anyone, Professor, I did this for you...she was a threat, and I took care of it, I killed her for you...for us.” you pleaded softly, scared that you had upset him.

The darkness he lurked in had always been seductive, and when he held out his hand to guide you, how could you say no. You followed, eyes never leaving his, entranced by the beauty of it all, the beauty of the power and knowledge that he possessed. And he was going to share it all with you. It was then that you knew, the devil was real, and you were prepared to do anything for him. “I won’t tell anyone, it's our little secret.”

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