Tom pressed Harry's neck down as he hammered into her from behind. His head tilted back in ecstasy and he let out a soft groan, tightening his grip around her throat.

Harry's moans were louder and freer than his. He looked back down to see her face turning a deep red and released his hold. It didn't faze her in the slightest, except she moaned louder as she reached her climax.

He fucked her through her orgasm, right until he reached his own. Collapsing next to her, his heavy breathing matched hers and he was left to wonder if sex had always been this great or if it was only because this time his partner was carrying a piece of his soul.

Tom ran his cool fingers up Harry's hot arms until he reached her head and tangled them in her hair. Her eyelids pulled apart to reveal the bright green irises he couldn't get enough of. Then she did something he wasn't expecting: she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. He frowned down at her, which only made her chuckle and look away.

He wasn't stupid. He knew small gestures like that were often more intimate then the raunchy sex they constantly have. Tom was only surprised that she initiated them.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest, locking her in for another night in his bed.

No, sex had never felt this great.

He never participated in sex as much as other men of his power and popularity would. The simple reason for that was because he didn't like people. He hated them specifically for their emotional neediness.

There was never any shortage of people who would bed him, so in his youth when he got curious, he gave it a shot. His dormmates had always prattled on and on about how wonderful sex was, but he was left less than impressed after his first time and only initiated it when he saw a promising outcome.

Then there was a time during the First War. He was at the height of his power and only growing stronger every day. Lord Voldemort's influence had spread and Tom Riddle was completely gone. There was a new generation of minds to influence, he had some of the most skilled witches and wizards working for him, and he was so feared that people wouldn't even utter his name. He was drunk on power.

Bellatrix joined his ranks then, absolutely enthralled with him. The obsession she harboured was far from annoying back then. Quite the opposite, it amused him a lot. He liked having the power to string her along and a few times he granted her permission to sleep with him.

She was wild in bed, but she was wild outside of bed too so it was not that surprising. He was quickly bored.

Then he was defeated by the girl currently in his arms, rendering him an evil spirit at best until he returned to his body. He never gave the idea of sex a thought again. He was too busy rebuilding his army and too angry at the fact that he lost so many years and followers to even entertain the idea. He didn't indulge Bellatrix once since she was released from Azkaban, though he was starting to believe that gritting his teeth and getting it over with to satiate her was worth it. The woman was shameless with her flirting and overly clingy. Not at all close to the more sophisticated woman she could be before Azkaban.

But that was when Harry came along. The marriage proposal had surely solved several of his problems at once. He had the woman destined to be his downfall in his house under his control, and thus his final Horcrux was safe. The best part was that he snatched Dumbledore's prized soldier out from right under his nose before he could use her against him. Or rather, she was handed to him—as per her own request.

Now Voldemort was truly unstoppable.

He didn't show it much, but he was riding out a high like no other ever since he married Harry Potter. There was nothing Dumbledore could even do, short of outright forbidding them from getting married which he had no authority to do seeing as Harry was of age and she made it clear in that meeting that she was going to see this plan through.

Such a noble heart, such a brave girl…

He trailed his finger across her bare shoulder, listening to the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing. He was going to do whatever it took to show her he was a worthy husband and to keep her by his side.

She trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him, she trusted him enough to have sex with him, she kissed him for absolutely no reason except to just do it.

She dressed up for him, she wore every piece of jewelry he gave her, despite having not liked jewelry before. She wore his locket, the symbol of his unique heritage and his immortality, around her neck with pride and took care of it.

Harry Potter was the complete opposite of him.

Where he didn't feel, nor care, she felt too much and cared too much. Her soul was so pure that not even the shred of the evil Horcrux in her was able to taint it. She was so kind and caring that she was able to make space in her too big heart for the killer of her parents. First, it was to protect lives that hardly cared about hers. And then slowly she began to see something in him that justified sharing her love and affection.

Affection that he had no regrets in basking.

Despite being complete opposites, there were similarities that tied them together. The biggest one being the lack of affection growing up. And until he held her wrist at their wedding ceremony, until he felt the rush of warmth course through him from their first touch, he never craved touch.

He remembers wrapping his arm around her waist as they stood for pictures, how comfortable and secure she felt at his side. Something inside her called out to him, wanting him to stay close.

Evidently, she didn't feel the same because she was uncomfortable the whole time as they danced. Unless she did, but she was better at pushing that part down.

Once they started living together, he saw it. She craved his touch as much as he craved her. Every brush of his fingers against her skin nearly sent her reeling. Still, he preferred it for her to come to him. He always liked it better when girls came to him, unable to resist his good looks and charm, begging for some of his attention.

Harry didn't beg for his attention, she unashamedly took it. She boldly grabbed his face and without preamble, kissed him. In two instances before the ice between them melted.

Her touch was always going to be different.

Perhaps it was the familiarity of the Horcrux in her that made him comfortable around her. Or maybe it was her pure soul that attracted his dark one. Whatever it was, she breathed love and comfort into him. Regardless of how miniscule it was—because what they shared was certainly not love—it was more than he was ever given or willing to accept.

He had never felt so much around anyone but her. It would make sense that he only ever cared about sex and truly enjoyed it with her too.

Besides, he smirked to himself, there was nothing more arousing than dominating the witch that fate and everyone else believed to be his downfall.

Harry woke up at peace and refreshed from her wonderful sleep. It was like this every time they slept right after sex.

Tom's arms were still enclosed around her body. Unwilling to detach from his warmth just yet, she ran her fingers over his hand, feeling the groves and knuckles and surprising soft skin for a man so rough.

Her lips pulled into a secret smile at the thought of his roughness. Harry didn't know it could be so enjoyable, but it was. He liked to assert his dominance in everything he did and sex was no different. Any time he wrapped his slender fingers around her neck or held her down as he plowed into her, she was embarrassed by how much it aroused her and how loud she could get.

Turning around in his arms—which he tightened the moment he felt movement—she couldn't help but wonder how lucky she got.

Don't get her wrong, she knew perfectly well how this was not an ideal situation nor would she have ever tied herself down with him if she had a choice.

(A better choice than the one she had.)

But as far as arranged marriages to your enemy go, this one was not so bad.

For one, he wanted her alive and that was already a big step forward considering their history and Dumbledore's recently discovered intentions.

Other than that, he was considerate of her level of comfort (so much that he was angry at her when he thought he overstepped her boundaries), he was highly intelligent and willing to lend his knowledge and skills to cure one of her best friends, he didn't brush her off or push her away when she touched him or kissed him, he maintained civility and preferred that over hostility (as did she).

And he was easy on the eyes.

Very easy on the eyes.

She brushed back some of his hair from his forehead, watching as his eyes opened and he instantly scowled, tensing. Patiently, she waited a moment, still smiling, as he relaxed and then snuggled closer to her. Harry giggled when his lips brushed against her neck, peppering her with kisses.

Who would have thought a mighty and powerful Dark Lord would be so affectionate?

"Good morning," she smiled, still a little sleepy.

Harry wrapped her arms around his neck as he flipped them over so he was on top of her, his cock slipping inside her again. Her eyes rolled back and closed in ecstasy.

It was a level of affection and comfort she had never experienced with anyone, and she was loving it. To be on the same page about their wants, for the sex to be so good that both of them were eager to get right back at it first thing in the morning… Never did she think she'd experience something like this with him but that's probably what made him so enticing. They were not supposed to be like this. They shouldn't like this so much.

Harry was taking a regular contraceptive potion everyday. There was a time when they only had sex a couple times a week, and Harry would take her potion before it. Now it was nearly everyday. More than once a day, if she was lucky. It was easier to just consume the potion and be safe.

His seed exploded inside her just after she came herself, with a soft smile on her face.

He brought his head back up and looked down at her, his hand brushing some strands of hair away.

"Morning," he responded, his voice hoarse, which made Harry bite her lip.

He smirked before pulling away to get up.

Harry missed his warmth and sighed as he walked off into the bathroom.

He didn't like sleeping in and preferred to be up and start his day early.

Whereas Harry loved to sleep in, especially when she was as relaxed as she was now.

When Tom returned from his shower, Harry had dozed off again. Deciding to leave her be, because he had a lot to do today and couldn't be distracted by coaxing her out of bed when she was as naked as she was, he quickly got dressed and headed downstairs.

Breakfast was a quick affair and then he was off straight to Malfoy Manor. There he told Lucius what bills to pen and who they needed on their side to pass them. Barty updated him on important Ministry workers who weren't on their side but strongly against Lord Voldemort. The Auror Department was proving to be the most difficult to manage. Kingsley Shacklebolt was the Head of the Department. He was damn near impossible to shake off or make disappear because after he lost the position as Minister to one of Voldemort's men, he only held onto his Head Auror status that much more.

Around noon, Hilsey dropped in to give her update on Harry, saying that her Mistress just woke up and had breakfast in bed.

Rolling his eyes at her laziness to even get out of bed, Tom nodded and instructed Hilsey to go back.

His meetings with Lucius and Barty ended later than he wished and then he had to visit the cellar to question some questionable people his Death Eaters came across. He kept them at Malfoy Manor rather than his own cellar so Harry doesn't wander down and get traumatized.

It was a little annoying having to factor her into decisions of his life like this. Things were much easier when he could harbour prisoners in his own house, torture them, and then simply head upstairs for dinner. But the cost was insignificant compared to the reward.

Not even the torture could get his mind fully off his wife. It did for a little while. But Tom found himself thinking about her again. He left the cellar earlier than Lucius and Barty were expecting and called for the Death Eater meeting to be pushed up.

Tom Apparated home and went up to check on Harry. This was his first mistake. His second mistake was checking for her in her room.

Upon finding it empty, he frowned and headed back to his own room.

Harry was lying there in his bed, still naked and tangled between the sheets.

"Tom?" she groaned, lifting her messy head up. "Your back already?"

"You're still in bed?" he scoffed, though secretly he was elated at the inviting scene before him. Harry, his wife, naked on his bed and waiting for him after he left her there like that.

"I got up and showered. But then I missed you so I crawled back into your bed," she answered.

His hand ran up her legs and he rubbed her center, eliciting a soft moan. As expected, and feared, Harry pulled him down for a kiss that began to escalate.

Tom spread her bare legs apart and freed his cock with the flick of his wrist, entering her warmth.

"Mm," he groaned, sighing, as he fucked her.

The whole day he waited for this, the whole day he couldn't think about anything more than this. And he was ecstatic that she was the same. She saw no reason to leave his bed and instead stayed in there to be ready for more sex as soon as he returned.

Despite all the work he did, all the terror he instilled, and all the respect he garnered—Tom still could not blow off all his plans to enjoy his wife in peace. He had a schedule that needed adhering to.

He rubbed her clit furiously but still, she didn't come before him. Tom filled her warm cunt again and pulled out to watch the fluids leak out of her. Harry ran her hands up his sides and tried to bring him back.

"Stop," he demanded, pulling away as he sensed his Death Eaters arriving. "I have to go."

"So soon?" she whined. "You just got back."

"I have a meeting."

"But I didn't finish," she pouted.

He glared down at her. Didn't she know he would rather be up here with her, fucking her senseless? How he did barely anything productive today except cook up fantasies he'd love to try out on her? Doesn't she know how many important things he has to do today, how many people are relying on him, and despite all that, he still wants to push it all aside to have his way with her? How could she tempt him like this?

"Just wait until after the meeting, then I'm going to make you come several times," he promised, kissing her deeply.

"How long is it going to be?" Harry frowned in disappointment. Even with her disappointment he was offended—as if she could be more disappointed than him right now!

"About two hours," he sighed in annoyance.

"Two hours?" Harry exclaimed, getting up. "Yeah, I'm not sitting up here for two hours." She climbed off the bed, pulled on one of his discarded shirts and buttoned it up.

"What's two hours after you've spent the whole day here?" he asked coolly. Again, he was actually really delighted that she did so.

"Yes, but now I can think of something to do other than waiting around for you," she answered.

He didn't like that. He liked it when she did nothing but wait around for him. What was more important than him?

"Where are you going?" he asked, following her out of his bedroom.

"I'm gonna go to the Burrow. Check on Hermione."

He grabbed her wrist and held her back. "That'll take too long. You know I fully intend on having my way with you as soon as this meeting is over, right?" he said, hating that he sounded more vulnerable than dangerous.

"I'll be back before the two hours are up," she insisted.

His lips pinched together in annoyance. He didn't want to wait a single minute after the meeting was over.

Taking in his expression, she said, "Hey, I get to have this. You didn't let me finish."

And just like that she got her way.

He should be concerned, he thought, how easily she gets her way around here.

"Harry, dear, I think it's time to tell her," Mrs. Weasley said quietly when Harry entered the Burrow. "She's asking a lot of questions and we can't keep lying. And its best she hears about that from you."

Harry nodded nervously and took her scarf off.

"Harry, is that you?" Hermione asked with a wide smile, hurrying up to hug her. Harry doesn't think she'll ever get used to how wonderful it feels to see her like this again.

"Yes," she spoke into Hermione's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Hermione answered, pulling her into the living room. "Those potions you brought—I think they're helping. I can't exactly be sure if its them or time, but I think it's working."

"Hermione's remembering more and her mind is getting sharper again," Ron grinned, also pulling Harry in for a hug. "Her reflexes, however—"

Quick as lightning, he tossed a pillow at Hermione and they watched it hit her as she blinked, startled.

"But they were never quite there to begin with," Ron finished, making them all laugh. Even Hermione cracked a small grin.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, leaning closer to Harry, who sat on the same couch as her. "You said you would come around often."

Harry shared an awkward glance with Ron, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Hermione's recovery started two weeks ago and since then she's visited twice. That was very frequent compared to how often she visits the Burrow now.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, "I'll try to come around more often."

And hope that Tom doesn't get annoyed by her frequent visits and bans them altogether.

"Do you live far? Are you working? Is that why you can't come?" Hermione asked before glaring at Ron and Ginny. "I've tried asking but they're very mum when it comes to you."

"I'll tell you all about my life in a minute," Harry said, "First you tell me everything about you. You said the potions are working? Do you take them every night?"

"Haven't missed a single dose," Hermione reassured her. "Ron has a calendar that he checks twice every night just to be sure we took it."

"Excellent," Harry beamed. "And you're reading?"

"Not much, it still kind of hurts my head."

"She's got Ron reading out to her," Ginny said. "Which hurts my head."

Harry laughed at the light bickering that broke out between the two siblings. Mrs. Weasley had a similar expression on her face. It was so delightful to have things slowly revert to normal again.

Hermione caught both their looks and could only imagine how different life must have been with her disabled and unresponsive. She was always very observant—this was something Harry didn't miss.

"How-how exactly did I get healed?" she asked Harry. "I've asked everyone this too, and they all said it would be best if you explained."

Harry's smile dropped and she bit her lip wondering how she should explain.

"Are you a Healer now?" Hermione asked quietly, a small smile on her face. "That's why you're always so busy?"

No, Harry wanted to cry, I'm not busy at all. I do nothing all day. Did you know, today I laid around naked in bed waiting for my husband to get home so we can continue having sex because I had nothing better to get out of bed for?

"No," Harry said softly. "I'm not."

"Oh," Hermione said in surprise. "So, erm, how exactly was I healed? I know I wasn't at St. Mungo's either… which by the way, why wasn't I? I mean, we saw Lockhart in the ward being taken care of. Shouldn't I have been put there too while they fixed me?"

"No, erm, St. Mungo's didn't heal you," Harry answered. Ginny preoccupied herself with a Sneakoscope and Mrs. Weasley went to check on something in the kitchen. Ron flipped through the book he was reading to Hermione earlier. "You were there for two weeks after the attack and they said they can't do anything to help. They wanted to keep you in that ward, but that was out of the question. We weren't going to leave you unattended being associated with me and a Muggleborn."

"Right," Hermione nodded. "But the war ended? Couldn't you have put me there then? I mean it would have made things easier around here I'm sure—"

"Hermione, you're part of this family, we're not leaving some low-paid, overworked nurse to care for you," Ginny said. Ron nodded.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. "I-I guess I'm just really confused about a lot of things. How did the war end exactly? And how was I healed? Ron did mention that it was no Healer who healed me… Was it Dumbledore?"

Harry looked up at Hermione. Her face looked like she liked to believe their old Headmaster, the most brilliant wizard of their age, had looked for ways to heal Hermione, one of his best students.

"It wasn't Dumbledore," Harry said with a little more disdain than she meant to. Ron looked at her strangely. "In fact, Dumbledore did nothing. All he did was express his regrets for hosting the meeting at Hogsmeade."

"Harry," Ron frowned, sitting up. "It's not like he didn't try—"

"Did he, though?" Harry snapped. "He researched for a week and came back to tell us there was no answer."

"Because there wasn't," Ron argued.

"Because he didn't look hard enough! I went around to places I'd never imagined for a month because that's how long it took to gather ingredients and plan the—"

"That's different. Dumbledore didn't even know what to look for because he didn't even know what curse she was hit with," Ron scowled.

Harry turned her head away from him.

"You're starting to sound a lot like him with your accusations of Dumbledore," he muttered quietly. Harry glared at him.

It was silent for a moment as Ginny and Hermione stared between Ron and Harry.

"Wait, so, Harry, it was you who healed me?"

"Not exactly," Harry replied, turning her full attention back to Hermione. "I only sometimes assisted in the making of the potion and gathering the ingredients. The actual recipe was far more complex than anything I could plan," she said. Absent-mindedly, she fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Who created the potion then? If not Mungo's or Dumbledore or…" Hermione looked between each of them, before settling her gaze back on Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and extended her left hand, "My husband."

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting up. "Y-you're married?"

"Yes," Harry nodded reluctantly.

"When—how—to who?!"

"It was an arranged marriage. That, well, I arranged myself. But it wasn't originally my idea—it was Bill's," Harry explained, realizing she wasn't making any sense. "But not intentionally, he didn't know what he was implying when he said it."

Hermione's frown was deepening.

"You married Bill? But he's already married to Fleur," she said.

"No, I didn't marry Bill—I married Voldemort."

Hermione froze and blinked a few times.

"What?!" she sighed in confusion again. "I'm sorry, that sentence took a really weird turn. Did I hear you right? You said you married Voldemort?"

"Yes," Harry breathed, now that it was out in the open. "That's what ended the war."

Hermione's expression went from confused to alarmed to disappointed as she realized Harry was telling the truth.

"It's why I looked different," Harry said at the end. "It's why I can't come around everyday. He doesn't like it when I leave the house."

"Harry," Hermione said eventually. "Please tell me this is a sick joke."

Harry bit her lip. "It's not."

"No," Hermione shook her head, looking away. "This is a nightmare, this is a fever dream, it's an elaborate lie—I don't know why but it has to be."

"It's not a lie," Ginny said quietly as tears pooled in Harry's eyes.

"Look," Ron said, handing her pictures of Harry in her wedding dress. Hermione looked at them in awe.

"First of all, you look absolutely beautiful," she said, still believing it all to be a joke, "but it's only you in the picture. No groom. Sorry, I don't buy it."

Ginny pulled out the Evening Prophet from that day, with Harry and Tom's pictures plastered across the front page.

Hermione gasped. Ginny brought her box forward and pulled out copies from different days, all discussing the same topic: the Chosen One marrying the Dark Lord.

"You really married him?" Hermione asked. Somehow, seeing one of the photographs with herself staring into space in the background was what made it all real to her.

"Yes. It was the only loophole to the prophecy."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wept, throwing her arms around her. Harry hugged her close.

"Hermione, don't cry. It's honestly not that bad."

It was far from bad, especially now. Harry felt guilty talking about her marriage as if she wasn't happy right now.

"B-but you had to marry that vile monster!"

"Some things had to be overlooked, others I've made peace with," Harry explained. "In the end, it came down to me preferring to do this than kill him. Which, also, don't tell Dumbledore this, but killing Voldemort is not at all as simple as me going up to him and cursing him. He was practically setting us up for failure and to be dropping like flies going about it the way he did. That's why I don't regret marrying Voldemort because this way I've found a way to achieve peace before we cut our numbers in half."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Still, though, to have t-to live with him and just be his wife—it's horrible that you have to go through that!"

"Actually, no," Harry shrugged, smiling. "Believe it or not, he was very accommodating."

"He was?"

"Yeah, living with him is not so bad. He has a huge Manor that's full of things to explore. He gave me my own bedroom. He left me alone for the most part." Harry checked the time. "You need to take your potion, let's go upstairs."

It was not time for her potion, but Harry wanted to move the conversation somewhere more private because she had to be back home in an hour. Thankfully, Ginny recognized this and distracted Ron before he could realize why they were going upstairs to finish talking alone.

"Hermione, stop it with that look," Harry frowned, shutting Hermione's bedroom door. "It's really not that bad, I promise you."

"How can it not be?" Hermione asked sadly. "He's so much older than you. He's the reason for so many bad things happening to you. And now he's robbed you of a future!"

"He's also the reason for a lot of good things happening to me too," Harry said, wiping a stray tear off Hermione's face. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have you like this. He recognized the curse you were hit with because apparently he was the one who taught it to his Death Eaters. And you know how intelligent and gifted he is—he created the potion that restored his own body. I wouldn't trust anyone else to be able to invent a potion for you. He's powerful, very powerful. And he knows the Dark Arts better than anyone."

Hermione nodded silently.

"Don't worry about me," Harry insisted. "The first few months were the hardest but even then, I got luckier than I expected. He didn't bother me, barely talked to me, I was left alone. He didn't even make me sleep with him. I only did because we had to consummate the marriage—"

"Wait, you slept with him?!" she shrieked.

"Of course, I did," Harry shrugged. "I had to. When you don't consummate a marriage you get this really weird restless, frustrating feeling. It's the magic pushing you to complete the marriage by having sex. Even then, when he was feeling like that, he didn't force me to have sex with him. He's never forced me to do anything. Well, except for having dinner with his closest Death Eaters and being civil."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, infinitely more relieved now that she learned Harry wasn't being abused.

"And he gave me this," she pulled out her locket. "It's Slytherin's locket. It protects me. He makes sure I have it every time I leave the house and return."

"Huh," Hermione frowned.

"I know, it's really weird because it's the last thing you expect from him of all people. But we've found a way to make it work. A nice balance. I… I trust him."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm.

"I know it sounds insane, but so many things have changed. Apparently he hasn't wanted to kill me since fifth year."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a Parselmouth. That makes me important to him."

It was silent for a bit.

"You're not miserable?" Hermione asked her seriously.

"No," Harry smiled genuinely. "He really doesn't want me to divorce him. Because of that he stays good so I have no reason to leave him. He doesn't hurt me, he doesn't make me do anything I don't want to do. Except wear fancy clothes and jewelry. It bothers him when I wear regular Muggle clothes."

Harry decided that should be enough information for Hermione for today, and prepared to leave.

"Try to come again soon," Mrs. Weasley said, hand on Harry's cheek. "We miss you."

"I miss you guys too," Harry said wistfully. "I will try to come again soon."

There was a swirl of dark energy in the Manor. Either there was a new Dark artifact in the house that Harry didn't know about, or Tom was angry and had just Crucio'd someone.

"You're back," Tom stated, emerging from the dark drawing room. Harry gravitated towards him.

"I said I'd be back before the two hours were up," she answered, gazing cautiously into his murderous red eyes.

"The meeting was over fifteen minutes ago," he spat.

Boldly, and really hoping she wasn't making a mistake, Harry placed gentle hands on his chest.

"And was that because I was fifteen minutes late, or did you end the meeting fifteen minutes early?" She ran her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"Doesn't matter, you should have been here," he pulled her into the room behind him, not caring that he was actually doing something important before she arrived.

Harry's eyes darted from the open cabinet to his when he backed her roughly into an antique desk against the wall. Gasping, she rested her hands behind her on the smooth surface. His fiery gaze roved around her face and Harry didn't get the chance to ask him to revert his eyes to their original colour again before she was turned around.

Tom bent her over the desk and hiked the skirt of her dress up, ripping her panties off.

"Tom," Harry gasped again, as she felt his bare cock rub against her center. "Your eyes—"

It became a rule of hers, a major preference, to have his eyes be their original grey colour when they have sex. That was when he dropped the Dark Lord persona and was her husband. That was when she could see him as Tom, the handsome boy with the tragic backstory.

"Shut up," he muttered, pushing her down onto the table and penetrating her cunt. Harry let out an unintentional moan. "Don't make a single sound."

She knew better than to challenge him when he gave commands like this, but this one was hard to follow. He slammed his cock into her repeatedly, rocking her against the desk. Rocking the desk against the wall. His grip on the back of her neck was harsh. Another low moan slipped out.

His hand moved around her throat to cup her jaw and twist her head backwards. Harry almost didn't want to look into his eyes.

She was relieved to see they were indeed grey and it only filled her with more desire. She looked away from him again to control herself.

He curled his hand around her neck, squeezing lightly and then he bent over her body, his other hand clamping tightly over her mouth.

Harry let out a muffled groan, eyes closing as his breath washed over her cheek and his cock rubbed the inside of her walls deliciously.

"They haven't left yet," he murmured in her ear. Harry's eyes blew open. "They'll be up from the cellar soon with more items to put away and unless you want to alert them with your screaming, you will shut up."

Harry pressed her lips together, another thrill of ecstasy shooting through her as she focused on not making a sound. Tom's pounding was relentless, he knew he wasn't making it easier for her to obey with his rough treatment, but he was frustrated and she had the audacity to leave him.

With shaky arms, Harry pressed a hand to the wall in front of them, hoping she could reduce the banging. It didn't do much but it was something.

Tom slammed his hips into her harder, making Harry want to growl in frustration. It's like he wanted them to get caught.

Voices filtered down the hall. Loud voices—arguing.

"Someone's coming," Tom grinned, tightening his grip on her throat and mouth. Harry ground her hips against his with each thrust, praying he would come quickly. It worked—Tom let out a soft groan.

The slick noises of his drenched cock in her wetter cunt was becoming too loud. Harry clamped her teeth together, holding back a scream as her orgasm washed over her. Tom's low grunting in her ear was the only indication she had that he was close too.

He pressed his cock hard inside her, coating her walls with his cum and they both caught their breath for a second before he pulled out and stepped away from her. Harry straightened up immediately, righting her dress and peered into her reflection in a dusty mirror to fix her appearance. She envied the fact that Tom looked effortlessly proper.

"Here they are, my lord," Barty announced, entering the room with a small box. His eyes darted between Voldemort and Harry in surprise before he nodded at her politely. "My lady."

Avery and Dolohov came up behind him, empty-handed but with similar boxes floating next to them and sour looks on their faces. They had a disagreement with Barty.

"Excellent. Bring them over so Harry can see," Tom said.

Harry looked up in surprise. She was thankful that Tom's command instructed them to bring it to her because she didn't think she could walk up with obvious discomfort.

Barty came up and opened the box, presenting Harry with a beautiful diamond jewelry set. It was excessive, it had more jewels than any of the ones in her room.

"What is this?" she asked Tom. He moved closer to her, wrapping a hand around her waist and looking down at the set in appreciation.

"Jewelry sets that passed down the line of notable pureblood families. I had my followers present me with some of their best. For you."

Harry gulped nervously, eyes darting between the three men standing in front of her.

Barty was unfazed, he looked down at the gleaming set in excitement. It no doubt had magical properties that fascinated him and Tom enough to be so taken.

Avery and Dolohov shared an uncertain look between themselves.

"Dolohov and Avery didn't think my lady would like this one, so they brought back ups," Barty said, tilting his head to the men behind him.

"A test," Tom grinned, "This should be entertaining. Let's see who pleases my lady and who disappoints her." He pulled her closer to him, his thumb rubbing small circles at her side.

The way he said 'disappoints' made it sound like he was going to take it seriously if they brought her something she didn't like. And judging by Dolohov and Avery's expressions, they knew it too.

"That's not necessary, I'm sure they're all very beautiful—" Harry said.

"Open them," Tom ordered. Avery and Dolohov opened the boxes to reveal two more sets of jewelry. One with thin emerald stones, and the other a black diamond set. They were considerably less extravagant, to the point that Tom stared at them as if wondering if they had brains.

"I don't need any more jewelry," Harry said, grabbing his attention. She did not want any of his Death Eaters to resent her more than they already did. Taking their precious family jewels when she probably would never even wear it, that was too much. "They're all beautiful, but I have more than enough as it as—"

"It's a gift, Harry," Tom said coolly. "You're rejecting a gift from your husband?"

No, she knew how upset and pissed off he would get if she didn't acknowledge the wonderful and opulent presents he gifted her.

"No, no," she squeaked nervously. He smirked.

"As I thought. Now tell me which you love and which two you hate."

"I don't hate any of them," she said quickly, trying not to notice the subtle breath of relief from Avery.

"Harry, pick one," Tom hissed.

She bit her lip nervously. If these came from the most notable pureblood families, she was willing to bet all the Galleons in her vault that the biggest one, the one Barty brought, was from the Malfoy's. They were the richest wizarding family and they loved to flaunt that.

She also knew Avery and Dolohov hung around Lucius a lot. Lucius would never deny Voldemort anything, but he could persuade Avery and Dolohov to present Harry with other options so as to not hand over the Malfoy set to her.

Tom tightened his grip on Harry, urging her to make a decision.

Harry didn't care for jewelry. The first one was too lavish for her to ever wear, and the other two were too old and just not in a style she preferred. Harry didn't want any of them.

But it was better that at least Barty go unpunished—if that was even what Voldemort had in mind. Whatever it was going to result in, she didn't want Barty to fail this test. He was around all the time and looked up to Voldemort in a way none of the others did, with fascination rather than fear. He was the nicest to her. Avery and Dolohov were two of the people who were disrespectful towards her at the beginning.

She also knew Tom liked the first one. If she didn't pick it, he would likely continue asking Lucius for more things to give to Harry simply because he wants her to have the biggest, the best, the most expensive.

So really, the decision wasn't hers at all, it was Tom's.

"I like this one," she whispered, motioning to the one Barty was holding. He smirked at the other two in victory and closed the box, offering it to Harry.

Harry looked at Tom, waiting for him to nod at her, before accepting it.

"Thank you, Barty."

"Thank Lucius," Barty said, "It came from the Malfoys."

Harry gulped nervously and nodded. She had just been getting along with the Malfoys. Now they were going to resent her again.

"Who did those belong to?" Tom asked, scowling at Avery and Dolohov.

"Greengrass, my lord," Avery answered.

"Parkinsons," Dolohov grunted.

Tom's lips thinned.

Oh. Greengrass and Parkinson? Two girls Harry hated at Hogwarts? Those would no doubt have been passed down to Daphne and Pansy, but Harry could have them instead…

"I want them," Harry blurted, staring transfixed at the sets. "Please, can I have those too?"

She looked up at Tom who frowned at her in confusion. His confusion cleared when she (belated) realized he was looking into her mind. Harry was ashamed she still held a grudge against two school bullies, enough to claim something that rightfully belonged to them. But then she remembered how awful they were to her and especially Hermione.

"You didn't like them," Tom stated, waiting to see how she'll respond.

"No, but if they belonged to Greengrass and Parkinson, then I want them."

He smirked ever so slightly. "You can have anything you want."

Harry accepted the other two boxes too, happy that at least Avery and Dolohov won't hate her more. And ashamed once again that she was abusing this newfound power she had to get back at her bullies.

Harry pressed a kiss against Tom's cheek, thanking him for the presents even though he did nothing to get them but made a simple request that his Death Eaters had no choice but to follow.

She left them in the drawing room and carefully walked out of the room, praying there were no obvious signs of being fucked ruthlessly to the men. Her feet carried her over to Tom's room rather than her own. She was spending so many nights there that it was first instinct to go there now.

He had a desk similar to hers in his bedroom where she neatly placed the stack of jewelry boxes. Harry wondered if it would be taking it a step too far to pen a note to the Greengrasses and Parkinsons thanking them for their generous gift.

She chuckled to herself as she undid the laces on her dress and let it drop to the ground. Harry used a spell she learned specifically to clean the cum out from inside her. Tom loved to come inside her and keep it there. Some nights, he didn't even pull out, just held her close as they dozed off with his softening cock inside her.

Completely bare, Harry crawled on the bed to give Tom the view he wanted at the end of the day.

Tilting her head, she considered an idea she just got.

Harry walked back to the desk and opened the Malfoy jewelry set. This was definitely the most expensive thing she's ever held. Probably worth several of her Firebolts.

With a simple charm, the pieces levitated. The necklace clasped around her neck, fanning across her chest in an array of scintillating jewels. The earrings slotted themselves in her ear with no trouble. It came with a bracelet and a ring that she hesitated on, but ultimately decided wouldn't matter since she was wearing everything else. Harry clasped the bracelet around her wrist and slid the ring on an empty finger.

Giddy, she laid stretched out across the bed, waiting for Tom.

"Oh for Salazar's sake," he groaned, five minutes later when he entered the room.

Harry smiled at him cheekily. "You like?"

His ravenous eyes barely contained how much he liked it. Not taking them off her, he advanced on her and waved his wand to remove his clothes.

And once again, they fell together in passion.