Okay so while I was writing this chapter, I realized just how OOC Marvolo is. Since this is my creation, and I'm going for something very specific, I don't particularly care, but just so you know: Marvolo is different in this story, he is an asshole with Amarantha because he doesn't know any better. For now.
She will gradually teach him how to treat her, how to be kind and so on.
It doesn't mean a rainbow will be shining out of his ass, he won't turn into a saint, and he certainly won't stop with the war.
Amara will for him, because of her abandonment issues, and her starvation for affection, just as he will for her for similar reasons.
Keep in mind that this is my first genuine story and that I look forward to any moderately helpful comments. Hate for no reason will not be accepted. Yes Amara is underage. Yes Tom Marvolo Riddle is older than her. Yes, they will engage in sexual activities before she reaches her majority. No, I am not encouraging anyone to do so. This is a pure work of fiction. That means: If you like the things i just told you, keep reading, no one is going to condemn you for it. If you don't like it, close the tab, forget this work has been published, and don't take any of the written things personally. Keep on with your life, and find another story that suits your tastes.
Thanks for 'hearing me out'
Have fun reading!

I don't own the fandom, or any or the characters.


Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the Devil personified had attempted to spend any time with her, and despite feeling lonely for most of the time, Amara was grateful for any respite that was offered.

She spent her time exploring the manor, looking for any clues that might explain why she had been brought here if the Dark Lord didn't plan on executing her.

Though none of the books in the Library had been any help in that area, she had to admit that they were beyond interesting. Aside from the library, which had become one of her favourite places in the manor, since it exuded some sense of privacy, Amara genuinely enjoyed the Garden and its tasteful design. Though some places were very uniform and symmetrical, Amara found herself gravitating around the parts that were wild, covered in stubborn vines and magical flowers that climbed on the wooden columns of the white pavilion, consuming anything noteworthy in their path.

These were the times she felt nearly peaceful if it wasn't for the underlying nervousness of not being free to do whatever she wanted. And though she felt betrayed by herself whenever she reflected on it, she knew that it wouldn't take much for her to come to love such a calm environment in the lap of luxury. Here she was served 3 meals a day, was given access to tranquillity, books and her dear Hedwig. Here she had no obligations except for good behaviour. She was allowed to wear fitting clothes, to relax in the sun without having to work as a slave for an ungrateful couple and their overweight offspring.

But still, could she really allow herself to find peace here?

It was depressing to realize just how starved for a comfortable life she was. Well, she'd blame the Dursleys. After all, they had been the reason for her subpar childhood. Still, she resigned herself with the knowledge that despite their attempts to make her into the criminal they told everyone she was (St. Brutus School for the Incurably Criminal… Really?) Amara turned out pretty well.

Even though she had listened to talks that were supposed to discourage her like the famous "The girl is a Freak Dudders! Don't play with her or she will infect you with her freakishness" – one of her aunt's favourite sermons- Amara had always believed that she could be everything she wanted to. No matter how many floors she had to scrub, how many beatings she had to endure, and how many times Petunias would jealously shave her head to make people forget about the beauty of her niece, she would stand up, and proudly keep living, if only to spite her tormentors.

But still, sometimes, Amarantha found herself pondering the unusualness of a grown couple showing such hate and ill-intent to a child of their own blood. How could someone justify depriving any child nourishment and affection because of some 'freakishness'. It had to be a very sad existence.

And Amara was sad. Sad that, because of the sheer ignorance of her uncle, and the burning jealousy of her aunt, the witch had had a violent childhood. If she had been raised like a normal child - because Dudley was not normal, despite what his parents wanted to believe - she wouldn't struggle with many basic things, like affection and managing her anger to name a few.

Depression and Boredom were a very bad combination, Amara concluded after shaking herself out of her deep thoughts. Deciding to occupy her time with something more captivating than moping around, the petite witch stood up from her laying position on her bed to walk to her windowsill bench. The reflection in the window showed a thin, pale vision of a girl, her long black hair draped over her right shoulder, like a cascade of the darkest shadows. Her almond-shaped eyes, of a vibrant green colour, were angry, despite the melancholic thoughts that plagued her mind. She was always angry when she thought of her Childhood. Who wouldn't be, considering?

Now, even as a child, she had been blessed with the good genes her parents had – as one could see from the pictures in her photo album – which had irritated her aunt further. In an attempt to make her unattractive, the adult had decided to bestow her niece with the ugliest and baggiest clothes her overweight son owned. Many times, she tried to shave the girls head, to get rid of the dark tresses that invoked such envy in her, but every morning they had grown back.

Amarantha was aware of her beauty, but unlike that Greengrass girl, she refused to flaunt it or to use it to her advantage.

She had always believed that beauty was a quality that brought more negative experiences to the holder than good.

The slender witch sat down with a sigh, grabbed a book, and was about to resume reading where she had left off last time when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Enter, please." There was only one person in this house that would think of knocking on the door. The elves had other ways of making their presence known.

There was a small creak, and the door swung open to reveal Marvolo, as she had predicted. He wore one of his open robes today, with black well-fitting slacks, and a white long-sleeved shirt. Just as formal as ever.

"Amarantha." He said her name with a weird undertone, one that made her turn around and raise her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, Marvolo? Can I help with something?" Her answer seemed to have shaken him out of some thoughts, and he sent his usual infuriating smirk at her. That didn't bode well. Every time he looked at her that way he came up with some strange ideas and punishments.

The last time he had made her look for all books that mentioned the word 'androgynous' in a specific area of the library. Thankfully, he had refrained from ordering her to look in the entire room. Amara would have likely died of old age before completing the task since the library was so large and took up almost a third of the manors space.

"No, I just came to see how you were doing. Can't have my favourite witch cooking up some escape plans, can I?" The teen bristled at the mocking tone, but instead of lashing out (she knew better), she breathed through her nose, counted to ten in Latin, and smiled stiffly at the Dark Wizard.

"Don't worry Marvolo, as long as you hold the threat of hurting my loved ones over my head, I will not attempt to escape. Besides, I know how and when to pick my fights."

He barked out a laugh, and strode over to where she was sitting, the same expression in his eyes she had seen at the first dinner she had attended in his house two weeks prior.

"Right you are love. Well, I won't bother you any longer, I just wanted to inform you that I will be spending more time here starting tomorrow and that I expect you to keep me company in the library or my office if I need you to." Just what she had dreaded. Entertaining the murderer of her parents… how quaint.

To be honest, she would rather kiss a troll than spend even a second voluntarily in his presence, but needs must, right?

Amara hadn't even seen it coming. The Dark Lord's face paled with rage, and before she could comprehend it, he had grabbed her right wrist and pulled her close to him again, just like the first time she awoke in this manor. The force of his tug was so strong that she let go of the book she had been holding until now and was pressed against his chest. Marvolo's other arm now circled her waist, both of his hands holding her body in a bruising grip.

"You will obey me love or suffer the consequences." He hissed in her ear, and she tried escaping his painful hold, but he was too strong.

She was afraid again. Amara feared what he would do next. She was right to.

Marvolo, instead of acknowledging that he was terrifying the teenage witch in his arms, saw her struggling as a show of defiance. So, he did the only thing he could think of to punish her without actively cursing her. The only thing that would match the offhanded comment his legimency had revealed from her mind, he bent down and crashed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss.

Teeth nipped at her lips, this kiss wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. One that Amara felt as deep in her bones as the fright that filled her mind to the brim. It was full of tongues, anger and saliva. She felt faint and weak, because despite the pain in the small of her back from the bruising grip his hand on her, and the twinges from his teeth as they bit into her soft lips, there was an energy building up in her belly, one she couldn't recognize. Her knees buckled under her, but Marvolo was holding her tight enough to be some sort of support. But when she tasted blood on her tongue and realized that he had been so rough as to make her bleed, she gained back her senses. The brief pleasure that had come from this involuntary kiss still didn't change the fact that she didn't want it. And so, Amara did what she did best. She shut of her mind until the punishment was over, so as not to feel too bad after it was done.

Marvolo knew instantly that something was wrong when instead of struggling, his girl went limp in his arms. Then he tasted the blood on his tongue, and he knew it was his fault.

He didn't let go immediately, but he removed his lips from hers as soon as he had come to the realization that his vigour had hurt her. The dark lord looked in her eyes, attempted to use legimency to know what she was thinking but he encountered a mist as soon as he entered her mind. He wasn't really keen on breaking up her barrier and causing her any more pain, so he exited her mind quietly, so as not to provoke another argument between them.

Still, he couldn't really bring himself to regret it. She had brought it upon herself. And as he kept reminding her, there were always consequences for one's actions.

(Marvolo didn't realize in that moment, was that this action had set of a specific chain of events that would make him suffer the consequences too. After all, the rules of the gods didn't make exceptions, not even for handsome British dark lords.)

"Well, that was certainly better than a Troll could have ever managed. Don't you think so too, dear?" there was some amusement in his voice, and Marvolo stared at her fair face, the trembling, bruised lips, the red cheeks and the long, lowered eyelashes.

He let go then, and the girl fell to the floor with a thump, in a heap of limbs and dark tresses, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks as she tried to scramble away from him.

"No matter, I'm sure you will learn to appreciate it. I will see you at dinner."

With those parting words, Marvolo strode out of the room with long strides, and as soon as his tall silhouette had left her room and closed the door behind him, Amarantha broke into loud, heart-wrenching sobs, cursing his existence.

She felt dirty. She felt used. She felt ill. The only saving grace was that he had only wanted to kiss.

Had he taken everything her young body had to offer, Amara was sure she would have lost her mind.

She could only hope that he had no interest in her body and that if he did, she would either manage to escape or die before he took her.

She knew with certainty then, that her Beauty hadn't been gifted to her as a blessing, but as a curse.


Dinner was a quiet affair. Marvolo observed the subdued girl directly, not bothering to hide his dark gaze from her eyes. Not that he needed to since she had stubbornly refused to even glance in his direction since they had sat down.

Amara wasn't even hungry, he noted with no small amount of worry. The aimless pushing of her food on the plate wasn't that unusual, but she had made no effort to even eat a bite. He wouldn't tolerate this behaviour under normal circumstances, but the paleness of her skin and the slight tremble of her lithe body made him refrain from giving her any orders.

She looked sick, to be honest. As if she was on the verge of a fever. But Marvolo figured that if she didn't tell him of her health the elves soon would.

Having lost his appetite, the wizard was about to excuse himself from the table, when a final glance in the direction of the girl told him that another scheme would be appropriate.

"Come with me, Amara. Let's have a drink before going to bed." She stood slowly, the white dress clinging to the chair in an artistic manner. She was a vision in white. He was glad that he found the other prophecy before his final plans for her destruction came to fruition.

"Yes Marvolo."

He took her arm in a soft grip, so different from the one that had left a rainbow of colours on her wrist and waist, that she was left wondering if he and the man that had bestowed the brutal kiss upon her lips only hours before were the same person.

Upon arriving in the darkly lit room, whose only source of light was the crackling fire roaring in the fireplace, the wizard led her to an elegant armchair, and he kissed her hand before asking her to sit.

From any other person, Amara would have taken it as a romantic gesture, but she knew him well enough that this was an automatic mechanism on how he treated women.

"I haven't found the time to ask you this, but I hope that the lifestyle here is to your liking?"

Amara smiled stiffly and nodded.

"It's been a long time since I was pampered like this. For an imprisonment it is very luxurious." Marvolo smiled slightly and called a house elf. The one that came was the newest addition to the household, the one he had purchased to be the personal elf of Amarantha as soon as she accepted her position. Finny was a bouncy little thing, very cheerful and already enamoured with her mistress.

"Bring the Cognac and the bottle of Rosé that was set to chill earlier." The creature popped away, and instead of returning, the desired drinks materialized on the small table separating the wizard and the witch.

Amara's small hands grabbed the bottle of wine, the tremble still prominent in her movements as if she was afraid someone would strike her. Marvolo realized that the kiss from earlier had scared her more than she let on. So there was an underlying fear of physical contact.

How bizarre.

"1926?" The teen's soft voice questioned, and the wizard poured some of the ichor-coloured alcohol into a snifter.

"Very good year. For the pickings and other things."

"David Attenborough was born that year."

"So was I."

She went silent, and he took the bottle from her hands, opened it, and filled the crystal glass to the middle. Silently nodding her thanks, she took the glass from his offering hand, and her fingers brushed against his.

Marvolo raised his eyes to look at her properly but was surprised to find a small blush covering most of her face. He had to admit, despite the sickly complexion she sported at this moment, she still was an exquisite beauty. Like a white rosebud, shortly before opening and revealing its true appeal to the world.

"Forgive me for seeming rude, but this is something I simply need to ask. Why are you so afraid of physical contact?"

The content of her glass, which she had been gingerly sipping only moments before, was covering him as soon as he finished his question.

Shocked at the audacity of the girl, he went to stand and punish her when he noticed that her pale skin looked like paper.

She was quick to jump to her feet, her small frame shaking now in anger, not in fear, and she looked positively captivating in her fury.

"Don't even think to presume that you can help or judge me, you piece of shit. A heartless bastard like you would be entirely incapable of understanding the feelings of a person like me. So keep your nose out of my business and leave me and my mind alone." At the end of her empowered words, he could see small glistening tears in the corner of her eyes and resigned himself with letting her be if he ever wanted any sort of peace in this household at all.

"Now, may I be excused, Marvolo?" The dark lord knew that she would be unbearable otherwise, so he nodded, and she spun around, her dress spinning at the sudden movement, and she stomped away. To find the comfort of her room no doubt.

As soon as soon as Amarantha entered her room, the tears she had been fighting to keep in flowed freely down her face.

She hated it here, she decided. No matter how much luxury or comfort a single man could offer her, no one could attempt to defile her mind or body without her express consent. A consent she had never giving to anyone.

Not to Dudley or Piers when they attempted to discover the female body by forcing her to the ground and touching places they had no right to.

Not Lockheart when he used the detentions to petrify her, undressing her, kissing and nipping at the skin he could reach.

No boy or man was ever going to make her feel that powerless again.

She would make sure of it, even if she died trying.

Sleep would have been easy to take him if it wasn't for the sounds of retching coming from the connecting room, and the hushed voice of a house-elf.

What on earth could have traumatized her so thoroughly that a simple kiss and a question made her vomit? She wasn't sick, his elves had been able to confirm that much.

No matter, he would find out soon enough. And when he did, he was going to extract revenge for her by doing what he did best.

Killing, maiming and torturing.

He looked forward to it already.


Hey guys, gals,

Here's the second chapter. I know I said that I would update next weekend, but I was so excited that I just had to write more. A big thanks to all the reviewers and the followers and favouriters(?) that left me out of my mind my happiness. I'd love it if I could see more reviews!I've decided. One chapter each Saturday and Sunday.
How does that sound? Fucking great I think!
Have a nice week,

Valery

PS: Pleaaaase I need a beta!