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colorsunimaginable · 2 years

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the spare // chapter seventeen // darkwizard!tomhiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

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

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

words for this chapter: 5.9k warnings for this chapter: drugging, mild violence, fingering, i wanna say dubcon but eh

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Seventeen:

The bedroom Astor directed us to is probably the fanciest I’ve ever been in, pure opulence of a bygone era. After Thomus shoves me in, my eyes quickly take in the luxurious four-poster bed that takes up most of the space. My heartbeat quickens and I turn to Thomus, eager and dripping with anticipation. He flicks on a light switch, and the lamps in the room turn on.

I’m not too far gone that I can’t recognize the anguish on his face. He leans in the alcove of the doorway, his face partly in shadow as he looks at me. At least I think it’s anguish. It could very well be disgust. My teeth sink into my lower lip before I turn away from him. I shove my fists under my arms. If I get naked, how can I hide what’s on my arm? That’s a whole other can of worms.

“I’ll just – “ I speak quickly, stumbling over my words. “I just need to have an orgasm, right? I can just do it myself. You don’t have to touch me.” I lean against the bed post, fighting my desire for the opposite of what I’m saying. “You can go back downstairs.”

He sighs heavily in annoyance. Great. This is an annoyance. An inconvenience.

“I can’t do that,” he hisses. “You’re my Lot. I’m supposed to be fucking you. If I show up downstairs without you after merely five minutes – “

“Fine, then!” I start towards the bathroom door on the other side of the bed. “I’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He leaps forward and grabs my arm before I’ve made two steps. “The fuck you will.”

“What’s your solution then?” I almost yell. “Are you gonna call some random asshole to come up here and fuck me when you can’t bear to do it yourself?” I yank my arm out of his. “Or should you summon a paper bag or a Polyjuice potion to make things easier? We might be able to find one of Bellatrix’s hairs on you or maybe even Cassie – “

“Who?”

“ - would love to donate one of hers for your little problem.”

He scowls. “I don’t have a problem,” he bites out, taking a step towards me. “We’re doing this. Right now.”

The anger and frustration leaves me in a split second. They’d just been masking the hunger and lust that I truly felt within my chest. My eyes rake him from top to bottom, my tongue coming out to wet my lips. My hand reaches out to glide over the bed’s soft velvety duvet.

“The bed?” I suggest. He could do me on the bathroom floor and I wouldn’t complain. For my first time though, the bed is merely a preference.

Thomus sighs heavily, shaking his head. He takes a step forward to slide his hand around my waist. He spins and pulls me until my back is being pressed against the wall across from the bed. “Merlin, no, not the fucking bed.”

Inhibitions definitely gone, the slut in my head makes the decision to launch myself at him. My mouth finds his neck and leaves sloppy, wet kisses as my hands roam his torso. Touching him again is driving my thoughts and body absolutely insane, like a buzzing frenzy as I attempt to plant my lips on his. His face is tilted up, so even on my tiptoes, I fail, and I settle for his jawline. The stubble makes my lips tingle as they brush over his skin.

He wants it against the wall? That’s fine by me. Forget what I said earlier, I want it any way he does.

Thomus grabs my wrists and pulls them away from the buttons they were undoing on his shirt.

“Stop trying to take my clothes off,” he says, his voice is hoarse. He clears his throat, his voice firmer. “There’s no time for that.”

“Right,” I nod. “Your meeting.”

I should be relieved we don’t have to get naked. That solves one of my problems, but I’m still disappointed that our bodies aren’t going to touch like I want them to.

He pushes me back again and I’m flush against the wall. “And besides, this is not happening for your pleasure.” He talks as he raises my hands above my head. “This is will be a punishment.”

“Punishment?” I breathe, unable to stop the tick of excitement and fear in my voice.

“You,” he says. His hands slide down my arms, one cupping my face, the other resting on my waist. I try to touch him, but something is keeping my arms to the wall. Damn Death Eaters and their sticking charms. I didn’t even hear him cast the spell. “- got us into this situation. Again.”

“Again?” I ask, my chest rising and falling more rapidly now that his hands were on me again. “What do you mean?”

“The first night in Edinburgh,” he answers simply, his face close to mine. “You made me act on something I did not wish to. And here we are again –“

“Don’t blame me,” I say sharply, my irritation speaking over my lust. “How else would they have believed the story you concocted if I didn’t act on it? You had every opportunity to stop and I even asked if you were sure it’s what you wanted when we got home.”

He scowls down at me, but doesn’t respond. Now is when I know I could convince him that he doesn’t have to touch me, but I want this. I really want this. After a moment I sigh with longing, remembering that night. I lean into his palm cupping my face.

“Please,” I hear myself whisper breathlessly, desperation making me brave. “I didn’t know about the lust potion. I’m sorry.” My voice is so quiet I wonder if he even hears me. “I want you.” I try to turn my head into his palm, intending to kiss his hand, but he grips my jaw, keeping me still.

His gaze, which had been staring at me intensely, drops when his thumb finds its way to my mouth, tracing their shape. My tongue comes out try to moisten the dryness, but I maybe not so accidentally come into contact with his thumb. With my lips parted, his thumb slips inside, and instinctively I clamp down on it, sucking it in further. My tongue swirls and traces it. He leans into me more, chest against mine, and so I feel when his breath catches at the sight of me sucking his thumb. For that moment, and I can’t be sure I’m reading it correctly, but I think I see longing in his face. Maybe a mix of desire and fascination. Maybe I only see it because it’s what I want to see.

Thomus drags his eyes away, finding my gaze on him. When our eyes meet again that expression disappears so quickly I’m not sure it even existed, probably a figment of my imagination. He pops his thumb out of my mouth, and takes a deep breath, a frown returning to his face.

I don’t have the capacity to think about that further because the hand on my waist slides down over my hip and thigh to grab behind my knee. He props my leg up and open, my foot resting on the seat of a chair. His eyes leave my wide ones briefly, watching his hand glide back up my thigh, this time slipping under my short dress. Without teasing or hesitation, his fingers find the thin material covering my center and he runs his fingers along the length of it, no doubt noticing its soaked. His eyes come back to my face when I audibly gasp at the feeling.

When he pushes the damp fabric aside, I close my eyes and whimper. I quickly adjust my stance, hips pushed forward in an attempt to give him better access. Feeling his fingers dip between my folds, my head falls back and I bite my lip to keep from moaning again. The little slut in control of my mind right now is losing her fucking shit.

I feel his hips jerk against my side as he touches me there for the first time. He gathers some wetness, pressing circles around my clit and I can’t help but squirm. My hands strain against the sticking charm.

“Why can’t I touch you?” I whine, as if having his body pressed up against mine isn’t enough. Which it’s not.

I feel his heavy warm breath drift to my ear, his mouth hovering over my cheek. “Because I need to be in control.”

I can’t stop the dry laugh that breaks out from my mouth. “Of me? Or you.”

“You’re talking too much.” Why does him sounding annoyed only make this so much hotter?

The hand still cupping my face moves to the back of my head, threading his fingers into my hair and tugging my head to the side. He gets to work setting my neck on fire again with wet kisses and nibbles from his teeth.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you –“

Without warning, he moves his fingers from my clit to my entrance, preventing my brain from forming speech. My jaw drops at the feeling of him tentatively slipping in one finger and then another. After a few slow pumps, he pulls them out entirely to circle my clit again. My hips won’t keep still. They rock with his movements, trying to follow and match the strokes.

He repeats these steps, and I want to say that they’re building up for a great finish, but it feels more like teasing. I can’t orgasm on penetration alone and he stops rubbing my clit just when it starts to build. I guess a lust potion doesn’t change the way my body has always worked. No matter how attractive I find the man or how wonderful he feels or how fucking horny I am.

“Can - Can you,” I pant softly. He pulls his head back and my eyes flutter open just in time to meet his. I’m immediately embarrassed for what I’m about to ask. Why does he have to look at me like that? “Do this.”

I look up at one of my hands curved above me. “Thumb on – and fingers in – “ I mimic the movement with my wrist. My eyes travel back to see him studying my hand, an eyebrow raised. The hand between my legs copies what he sees. Two curved fingers in, a thumb pressed onto the hood. When his wrist starts to move, everything gets rubbed in tandem with each other.

“Fuck,” I moan as my head falls back, eyes closing again. He releases his hold on my hair and slides his arm down around my waist, somehow pulling me closer than I already am. Somewhere through the pleasure coursing through me, I notice the bulge where it’s pressed into my hip. His face returns to being buried in my neck. His mouth isn’t gentle when it bites down and sucks anywhere it likes.

I just want to touch him. My arms long to be wrapped around his strong shoulders, my fingers buried in his soft hair – I’m being greedy, I know. I should be grateful I’m getting fingered by him as myself and not someone else. And this is way better than doing it myself. So much better.

It only takes a few long moments of feeling him move against me, fingers right where they need to be, for me to climax. In the brief seconds between hearing myself pant and moan, the wet noises coming from between my legs sounds absolutely sinful. I’m sure he notices because they only get worse as he ups the intensity. I’m not sure if he does it because he’s responding to the way my body is tensing up, or if he’s the one in control, playing my reactions like I’m an instrument. Whatever it is, he keeps going until my body shatters.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” I barely gasp between my heavy breaths. My orgasm doesn’t go as I expect. It peaks and then when I think I’m falling, I’m actually peaking again, only the next way more intense. My legs shake and my hips meet every movement he makes, practically fucking his hand. I get a third and final peak, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, jaw hanging loose. I can feel my clit and insides quivering and pulsing against his fingers as I come back down to earth.

“Okay, okay,” I whimper when I become too sensitive. His mouth releases my neck, peppering soft kisses down to my shoulder. He wipes my wetness off his fingers and hand onto my thigh.

The next moment he seems to remember himself, his body stiffening. He pushes away, releasing me. I’m left standing there braced against the wall, panting, feeling the rush of cold air hit my body in his absence. He undoes the sticking charm and I sink to the floor, hands covering my face.

“I see why O’Quinn uses that stuff,” I joke, hoping to lessen the tension still heavy in the room. “Cause god-damn.”

I look up in time to see him disappearing into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear water in the sink start to run. He must be washing me off of him. Makes sense. The smell of it in the room is potent.

I shakily stand, walking over to a vanity on the other side of the room. I grab some tissues and awkwardly pat myself dry between my legs, quickly trying to do so before Thomus comes out. My undies are still damp, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I look at my flushed face in the mirror. There’s bottled water on the vanity. I twist the cap off one and dab my fingers into the water. My lipstick is practically nonexistent, so I use my fingers and the water to rub off what remained. Surprisingly my eyes are okay, even with all the crying I did. I give a swipe underneath them to clear away any smudging. It’s then that I notice the dark purple hickies forming on my neck.

Holy fuck. I haven’t had one of those in years. Of course a part of me knew that his attention to my neck would’ve done something… However, at the time I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care about the consequences of any of it.

It’s frustrating that I don’t hate the sight of them. It somehow feels… strangely satisfying. Like I’ve been marked by him.

Fuck, am I sure the effects of the lust potion are over? What’s wrong with me? I have his name fucking tattooed on my arm and I’m giddy about some damn hickies? What was the difference? Is it just because one was willingly taken and the other forced upon me?

I remove the two bobby pins holding the braid of hair on the side of my head. Then I shake my hair out, making sure that the hickies are covered. I redo the braid on the other side of my head.

Still waiting for Thomus to come out of the bathroom, I collapse across the bed. My body is exhausted from the dancing and the stair climbing and the absolute exertion being that horny does to you.

I guess he’s satisfied that he found a way to avoid sullying himself by actually fucking me, even if his hands are now tainted. I’m sure he’ll have a few strong words for Will. Hell, I’m going to have a few strong words for Will.

After a while, the water in the sink is still running. Maybe he just can’t get the smell off? That’s embarrassing. I didn’t think it smelled that bad. I get up, tiptoeing over to the bathroom door.

I knock softly, but get no response. I clear my throat before speaking. “Thomus?”

I’m confused when I hear a muffled grunt come from the other side. “Thomus?” I say again. “Are you okay?”

His throat clears, loudly, and I hear his angry, irritated response. “Yes.”

I step back from the door, sit on the bed, and wait. The water shuts off and he comes out a moment later. His hair is freshly slicked back and his cheeks are a bit pink. His neck looks like it’s been rubbed raw. That’s probably where my lipstick went.

I look at an imaginary watch on my wrist. “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up,” he barks, glaring at me. “Let’s go.”

~*~

When we descend the stairs in the main room the party is still going. In the back corner, Astor is talking to some newcomers. Even from across the room, I can spot her unforgettable wild mane of hair. Thomus makes a beeline around the dancers for them. As soon as he reaches them, she grabs his face in her hands and pulls him down for a kiss. I quickly look away.

I must have been too far gone to have completely missed the part when Astor said Rookwood and Lestrange. Maybe a part of me was hoping it’d be her husband. But no, it’s fucking Bellatrix. And now the image of them kissing is burned in my mind.

Panic driven, my eyes search the room, looking for means of escape. Guards are still posted at the exits, maybe the elves need help in the kitchen?

“Alder! Come clear these glasses!” Astor says. Fuck. My steps towards the kitchen halt and I turn, back towards that corner. I grab the serving tray off the bar on my way. They’re all standing, looking like they’re heading somewhere else. I keep my eyes on the coffee table, trying to clear everything as quick as possible.

“Now that we’re all here, if you’ll follow me,” Astor announces. “I have a private conference room prepared.” They begin shuffling out and I pause to let people pass me. When I straighten, turning to leave, Will is the last one. The clinking of the glass on the tray is loud as my hands tremble. He notices, and makes no move to leave. I grip the tray tighter.

He gives me a friendly smile. “Feel better?” he asks.

My face gets hot and I bite my lip, nodding. He’s still handsome, but the overwhelming desire to be closer, to touch him, is gone. Thank god. I don’t feel as angry as I thought I would have. The anxiety and fear of being around Bellatrix is overpowering.

“I really am sorry,” he continues, sounding sincere. “It could have just as easily been me who drank it. I took two drinks off the bar and didn’t even think about it. I apologized to Isobel, but I should’ve apologized to you.”

“Thank you, but I’m not even upset,” I admit. How could I be upset about getting fingered by Thomus against a wall and having one of the best orgasms I’ve had in my life to date? I give him a small tight-lipped smile. “I couldn’t tell the difference between that stupid ice either.”

As I speak, my eyes bounce between him and Thomus and Bellatrix as the group follows Astor out of the room. Thomus pauses and he frowns, shaking his head at something she says, and rolls his eyes before continuing on. Will has followed my gaze, and turns to look at them, just when Bellatrix puts her arm around Thomus’s waist and looks back at me. Her smirk is undeniably obvious, even as they put more distance between us.

“That seemed purposeful, didn’t it?” Will says as we watch them.

“It was,” I say just as they disappear, unable to hide the bitterness in my tone. I turn away from Will, walking around to side tables to pick up glasses from there as well. He follows me.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night, too, in Edinburgh,” he says. I don’t stop grabbing glasses. “Especially after what happened to you, I… I couldn’t stop thinking about what an ass I was.”

“I really only remember you saying one thing about me,” I say nonchalantly. “Something about how if you knew how much of a slut I was back in school, you’d have gotten to know me better?”

I look up in time to see him wince. “Look, like I said, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. You really think you’re the first one to say things like that? I recall Astor saying some pretty nasty things, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’s just over compensating, trying to put on airs to impress the Death Eaters.”

I stop and he almost walks into me. “Why?” I ask.

He looks around to ensure our area is vacant and leans in before speaking. “Because he’s under a lot of pressure from his family to get into their good graces. The Astor’s are old money and Old Magic. J.J. Astor didn’t die on the Titanic because the boat hit an iceberg. It was attacked when he refused to bow down to Grindelwald. If the Dark Lord’s influence spreads to the US, their door is the first he’ll come knocking on.”

I snicker. “You’re trying to tell me Astor deserves my sympathy because he’s not a blood supremacist?”

“Malfoy certainly is, but I don’t see you shying away from him now, do I?” he bites back.

“Sorry,” I grimace. “And you’re here because?”

“My family immigrated to the US from Germany and we still have familial ties there. I’m supposed to be here to help him out. Show them which Americans they can lean on when the time comes.”

I frown. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I didn’t expect things to be like this,” he admits. “Edinburgh was… a wake-up call, for lack of a better word. Rumors have only just hit the papers that somethings going on here. They don’t know the extent. I’m sure M.A.C.U.S.A knows something, but we both know they aren’t going to act until it directly involves them.” He pauses. “What about you? How’d you get here?”

I can’t be honest with him. I don’t know if he’s just pretending to be nice and open to get me to trust him or what. I repeat the same story I told Thomus. “I had an internship at the Daily Prophet.”

His eyes widen. “That makes sense. That’s why there was that article –“

“Mudblood,” an elf pops next to us.

I sigh in frustration. “Yeah, Bernie, I was just bringing down these glasses.”

“My name is Ernie!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Master wants yous to serve wine to him and his guests.”

I turn my head away from Will and the elf, closing my eyes and fighting to compose myself. I only open them when I’m sure I have my fear under control. Just as I begin to lower the tray of glasses to a nearby table, Ernie snaps their fingers and makes it disappear.

“Now see, why am I here, if you can do that,” I joke, ignoring the shake in my voice. The elf doesn’t reply, just turns and starts walking in the direction Thomus and the rest of them left. “You aren’t coming?” I say over my shoulder to Will when he doesn’t follow.

“Astor told me to stay behind, keep my distance from Malfoy.”

I snort. “Right. Good idea. See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” he says after me. It sounds like a promise.

~*~

No sooner had I slipped into the room, did Bellatrix have her eyes on me. And she drags everyone’s attention to me as well.

“Ah! The piggy’s here!” she says gleefully.

My heart pounds in my chest and I grind my teeth together as I turn to the decanter Ernie said would be just next to the door. They also said to start with the master of the house, Astor.

“Yes, welcome, Alder,” says Astor, his eyes fixed on Bellatrix as I reach him at the head of the table. I fill his wine glass and then go to the next one. It must be Rookwood, because everyone else at the small table I recognize. Rookwood and Eric both flank Astor. Bellatrix is at the other end of the table, facing the head of the house. There’s an empty seat across Thomus from where he sits nearest to her. It must have been for Will.

I don’t look at anyone as I go around, filling their glasses. Then I stand near the door, directly across from Thomus. Honestly I’d rather stand on the other side of the door, as far away from Bellatrix as I could be, but there’s a fucking chair in my way. My hands start to shake while holding the decanter, so I grip it tighter and bring my other hand up to hold the bottom. I stare at the back of the empty chair in front of me.

“So, how many men was it, that you said you have?” Rookwood asks.

“Fifty, at least,” comes Astor’s reply. “Competent, pure blood witches and wizards.”

“And they can all be trusted?” says Bellatrix. Has her voice always been so high-pitched and irritating? I hear her take big gulps of her wine. My eyes flicker up to her. I distract myself by trying to see how well she healed Sam’s attack.

“Yes, I assure you they’re trustworthy,” Astor says.

“And can you be trusted?” she asks him from behind her glass.

Astor opens his mouth, but Thomus beats him to it. “The Malfoys have always been in close confidence with the Astors,” Thomus says, smiling at her. “He won’t let us down.”

She lowers her glass after another long sip and smiles, her teeth yellow and rotting. No doubt from her time in Azkaban. She puts her long nailed hand on Thomus’s thigh, under the table. No one else sees, but she glances at me after doing so. Thomus shifts under her touch, leaning back in his seat, and crossing his arms.

“Excellent!” says Rookwood. “When can we expect your support?”

“My force can be fully ready in two day’s time.”

“We have the perfect assignment to test out your supporters,” Rookwood says. “Isn’t that right, Thomus?”

“Yes,” he says. “We’ve found George Weasley’s safehouse and we plan to strike as soon as possible. We just need the numbers.”

My breath catches in my throat. Oh, fuck.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” responds Astor. “Where is it?”

“A warehouse in Muggle London. It’s been under surveillance for several days now.”

Astor scoffed, sitting back in his seat. “Easy.”

“We don’t know how many others there are under his command there,” says Rookwood. “We have to assume he is in contact with members of the Order still at large.” He pulls out a map, continues spiritedly and goes into detail about their plan of action. He uses his wand to light a spot on the map, presumably the safehouse. I attempt to memorize the safehouse’s location, enough to find it again on a No-Maj map.

As Rookwood talks, Thomus brings his hand up to his face, absentmindedly tracing his mouth. The move draws my attention to him and his long fingers. Fingers that only a mere half-hour ago had been inside me. My eyes linger on him as they move back and forth across his lower lip. He inhales sharply after a moment, through his nose, and I suddenly wonder if he can still smell me on him.

A blush rises to my cheeks at the thought. I try to keep my face blank, knowing where we were, pushing my eyes back to the map. My heartrate speeds up like it’s trying to run a yellow light before it turns red.

Thomus shifts in his seat and the movement distracts me again, thinking about his fingers. It’s kinda hot in all honesty. The bright side of tonight’s nefarious activities is that I have more to fantasize about and reminisce. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll think about it after today, too. If the time spent alone together will mean anything to him like it does me.

My eyes wonder up from his mouth to his eyes and immediately look away when I find he’s staring at me already. I flicker back up to him and he holds my gaze still, breathing deeply through his nose as he does. He might not think about it after today, but he’s definitely thinking about it right now.

Bellatrix clearing her throat tears my eyes away from Thomus. My heart still pounds in my chest as I come back down to Earth. Holy fuck was I just openly gaping at Thomus in front of her? I’m dead. I’m SO dead.

She holds her wine glass out for me, a scowl on her face. I step forward, making sure to pour the decanter with my right arm, holding my left behind my back. Her lips purse and she raises an eyebrow, her eyes going from my arm to my face. As I step back, she drinks deeply again, side-eyeing me still.

The rest of the meeting passes like this, Bellatrix drinking while throwing me dirty looks, everyone else focused on the map and the plan. Thomus is focused, too. The hand that had been on his mouth is resting in his lap. Towards the end of the meeting, Bellatrix ends up holding that hand, gripping it tightly. My heart pounds in my ears when I see her bring it to her lips for a kiss. The moment she does, her eyes snap to me, the expression on her face menacing.

When the meeting ends, Astor gestures for me to clean up, and leaves with Thomus, the two in heated discussion about the next few days. I clear up the glasses, breathing a sigh of relief when the door closes. But that relief quickly vanishes when I find Bellatrix standing in near the door.

“You think you’re a smart little witch, don’t you?” she asks, her head tilted, face barely visible through her hair.

My face is tense and I only blink at her, not replying. My steps begin toward the door, slowly, careful not to turn my back to her.

She steps in front of the door. “You haven’t told him.”

“Told him what?” My grip on the tray is tight, ready to bash her over the head with it.

“Don’t play stupid with me, cunt,” she hisses. She advances, and in the small space, it only takes a few steps before she’s in my face. She yanks the tray out of my hands, the empty glasses clinking, but somehow not breaking as she nearly tosses it on the table.

She grabs my wrist and holds it against the wall, pulling the sleeve down as far as it could go on my forearm to reveal her branding. Her face draws near it, teeth bared, looking like a vampire about to sink her teeth into my wrist. Instead her tongue presses heavily on the scabs. I clench my fist to stop it shaking from the pain of the bruises and the tugging on the cuts.

“Thomus was supposed to be different,” she muses, her breath hot on my skin. “The most loyal of them all, kept coming back to me, long before the Dark Lord’s return.” Her nails press into my wrist. “I thought I had his lovely big cock all to myself.”

I close my eyes briefly when Bellatrix gets in my face, our noses brushing. Her free hand comes up to dig into my neck.

“But you,” her voice is high-pitched, “have come along and somehow managed to get him wrapped around your filthy little sausage fingers.” I hastily start to shake my head, but her grip tightens. “No, don’t lie to me, little pig. I see the love bites on your neck and I smelled your cunt on his fingers.”

Her grip tightens so much that I feel her nails when they pop into my skin. My breath is coming rapidly now. I might be able to shove her back. She’s no taller than I am and I definitely out-weigh her. But right now, I’m terrified, and I need try to get my fucking shit together.

“I’m only thinking of your best interests, darling,” she coos. “He knows what kind of swine you are. As much as you may enjoy his cock, you must know he’ll never think of you as anything more than an easy little whore.”

“He doesn’t!” I manage to gasp. Her expression tilts with interest. “He doesn’t touch me.”

She cackles at my words. “You dare lie to me when I have evidence?!” Her grip slides up under my jaw. “I know a rotten cunt when I smell one.”

“It must have been some other bitch then because it wasn’t me,” I lie. It takes every ounce of rage within me to spit out the words over my fear. “And even if it was, that’s what I was bought for. That’s what we were all bought for.”

“You do not have to remind me of that,” she hisses. “As I told your golden cunt friend, they let their cocks get in the way of what’s truly important.”

“Is that why you see me as such a threat? Because I’m merely a distraction?”

She bares her teeth in a snarl. “You are no threat to me.”

“So am I a threat to Thomus, then?” I spit, my words crackling under my dry throat. “Or am I a threat to your control over him?” If possible, her dark eyes widen even further, definitely from rage and shock. I take as deep a breath as I can before shoving into her hold, my free hand a fist against her chest. She stumbles back a step, her grip dropping from my wrist. “He bought me, remember? Clearly your control started slipping from him long before he ever laid a hand on me.”

With a shriek she shoves me back against the wall, wand at my throat. Her nails dig painfully into my skin again. We have ourselves a little staring competition, chests heaving, but she doesn’t say anything.

“What, cat got your tongue?” I taunt.

On the last word, the door swings open, and Thomus appears. I quickly make sure my sleeve is pulled back down. Neither of us look at him.

“Bella,” he says calmly.

Without looking at him still, she smiles, and for a moment, I can see that she might’ve been beautiful at one point in her life. “Don’t worry, Thom,” she coos again. “We were just having a little chat.” She winks at him now. “Just between us girls.”

Her hand and wand at my throat drops and she steps back. I step away from the wall and grab the tray off the table, doing my best to pretend like everything is normal. Like I didn’t just taunt Bellatrix Lestrange about her lover or an embarrassing defeat. Thomus steps out of my way, his gaze on the older woman in the room. I slip past him and hurry down the hall.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x plus size ofc #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix #death eater #harry potter au #hp ao3 #draco x hermione #dramione #inspired fic #the auction #long reads #the essex serpent #writing

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