All things considered, it wasn't surprising that Slytherin won the second Quidditch game of the season; just as easily as they won the first one. Ravenclaw was good, but who could beat a Seeker like Andrew Rosier? A Keeper like Felix Lestrange and a Chaser like Abraxas Malfoy? There was simply no match for their ambition and never-ending determination.
Alina wasn't into Quidditch, but as she had no better things to do on this unusually sunny and warm early November morning, she attended the game. She couldn't deny: it was fun watching their boys sweeping the pitch up with the Ravenclaw team, and all that clapping and roaring made her blood quicken. It reminded her of those less lonely times at Durmstrang, the friends she had to leave behind, and all the joy-filled days they would spend together.
Once, not even so long ago, Alina was sure she was going to live the rest of her life as an outcast, but now, she saw a flicker of hope. As solitary as she was, deep down, she desperately wanted to belong somewhere, to someone. She was jealous of those students in her year who didn't lose their family, who had devoted friends, and those who had already found their significant other. Alina knew her focus should be elsewhere, because with enough ambition, she had the potential of becoming one of the most influential witches of her age… but how could she deny her heart's deepest desire?
After the game, while most of the Slytherins filed onto the field to congratulate the team, Alina walked back to the castle to use the bathroom. It was half past three o'clock and she really needed to pee, but she hated going together with the other girls, as most of them used that time for unnecessary gossiping. Besides, her housemates wouldn't stop asking her about Felix, which started to thoroughly annoy her.
Of course, Alina didn't do much to prove them wrong. Her roommates noticed her disappearances, and she wasn't sure it would be a good idea to tell them the truth. The girls were convinced she was sneaking around with Lestrange, and she didn't confirm or deny. For the time being, it was for the best to let them think what they wanted.
When Alina stepped into the bathroom on the ground floor, however, she wasn't alone. She heard someone's quiet sobs, but before she could slip out of the room, the girl with short, thin blonde hair caught her eyes, startled. She was gripping the edges of a sink, staring at her own exhausted reflection in the dirty mirror. Alina recognised her as Olive Hornby, a seventh year Gryffindor: a loud and boisterous witch who always wanted to be the centre of attention. Fortunately, they only had Care of Magical Creatures classes together.
"Are you okay?" Alina asked. She didn't care much, but it would've been quite awkward ignoring the girl once she had already noticed her.
"Yeah. Sure. Wonderful," she said, rolling her greenish eyes. Alina scowled at that, but before she got a chance to snap back, Olive went on, "Sorry. I just—she's driving me so mad!"
"Who?"
"Myrtle, who else?!" She shouted, but seeing Alina's confusion, she turned her voice down. "Right. You're new." She paused, wiping tears away with the end of her sleeves. "Well, maybe you've heard of the girl who died last year."
Alina took a step closer, now intrigued. "The mudblood that was killed?"
Olive furrowed her perfectly shaped eyebrows. "What's wrong with you?! Don't use that word!"
"I'm sorry. My English still isn't perfect," she said, tapping a finger against her chin, as if she was trying to find the right expression. "What's that word again?"
"Muggleborn," Olive replied, now calmer.
"Yes. Thank you," she said gently. "So, were you two friends, or…?"
Olive sighed, crossing her arms over her chest, but it looked more like she was trying to hug herself. Alina was sure she used to be a really pretty girl, but now her hair was almost always dishevelled, her face grey and sunken, and the dark circles under her eyes never seemed to disappear.
"Well, Myrtle and I… we weren't on the best of terms. She was kind of a hopeless case, you know?" She half-whispered the words, as if scared someone would hear her. "And, well, I used to tease her about those ridiculous glasses of hers. I mean, come on, we're witches! Why did she even need them?"
Right, Alina thought, restraining the urge to roll her eyes. Can't use the word "mudblood", but feel free to make fun of them for using anything connected to muggles.
"And now that bitch acts as if I am the one who killed her!" She yelled. "I just wanted to watch this stupid Qudditch match, but she pulled my skirt off in front of everyone! And my hair—look—she put something on my hairbrush because it keeps falling out!"
"Wait." Alina stopped short. People talked about Myrtle every now and then, but somehow, no one mentioned that not-so tiny detail. "She's still here?"
"Yeah," Olive said, looking like she was about to cry again. "I was the one who found her body. In the first floor bathroom. It was so horrible! She was just lying there and she—I mean her ghost—was right there, sitting at the window, laughing at me! Can you believe it? And she was saying I was the vile one. Ever since she died, she keeps torturing me!"
"So how did she die, really?" Alina asked, ignoring her wailing. She'd heard a thing or two, even back at Durmstrang, but it never hurt to listen to more people's point of view.
"There were rumours about the Heir of Slytherin, but that's obviously bullshit. I mean, probably those mean Slytherins made that up to scare muggleborns. No offence," she added. "Then Riddle caught Rubeus with his pet Acromantula, and the attacks stopped immediately, but… I don't know. Okay, Rubeus is kind of a loony, I mean, he was keeping werewolves cubs under his bed, but I don't think he could actually hurt a fly."
Alina sighed. Why did everything always have to lead back to Riddle?
"Well," she said, stepping into one of the stalls. "Good luck with Myrtle."
Olive snorted. "Thanks a lot."
Instead of returning to the common room, Alina walked up to the first floor girls' bathroom. She wasn't sure what she was looking for there, but she couldn't help her own curiosity. The story of Slytherin's Heir and the promise of such a chamber captivated her from the first time she heard about it, even though she was sceptical. Could it really exist? The castle was centuries old and Alina was sure a lifetime wouldn't be enough to discover its every hidden corner, but how did no one find it so far? Nevertheless, now that she was here where it all happened, she might as well dig a little deeper. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, after all.
"If you came here to mock me, feel free to leave," a sulky voice somewhere above Alina said. She looked up to see Myrtle's ghost floating in front of the window, arms crossed over her chest.
"I didn't—"
"Don't think I didn't hear you gossiping about me with Olive!"
"But I didn't say a word against you, did I?" Alina asked, and for a moment, Myrtle fell quiet. She decided to take advantage of her silence and said, "Olive is so, so very cruel. She truly deserves your wrath."
Myrtle lifted her chin. "She does, doesn't she?"
"Of course," Alina agreed with a tiny smile. "Imagine if it was the other way around? She wouldn't be crafty enough to come up with those smart pranks. She isn't like you."
"Because she's stupid."
"Yes." Alina paused, looking around the bathroom. She wondered why the killer chose such a place to catch the girl; after all, it wasn't particularly hidden. Someone could've easily walked in and caught them in the act. "I just wish I came to Hogwarts a couple years sooner, so the two of us could've met."
"Right, because I'm not good enough like this for anyone!" Myrtle shrieked, floating far away from Alina. It wasn't easy finding the right words with her, and frankly, she didn't have much of a patience for an overly hysterical dead girl.
"Myrtle," Alina said gently, approaching the stall where the ghost was hiding. "Do you remember how you died?"
She gave a long, sorrowful hum. "No, not really. It happened so fast," she said. "I heard a boy's voice, but he spoke some very strange language. I stormed out of the stall to tell him to get the hell out of here, and—and then I died."
"Just like that?" Alina asked, confused. Even if someone used wandless magic, Myrtle should've seen at least a small flash of light. "You didn't see anything?"
The ghost shook her head. "No. Nothing except a pair of huge, yellow eyes."
Alina's head was full of thoughts. A pair of huge, yellow eyes—so it was indeed a creature that ended Myrtle's life. But it couldn't be an Acromantula, as the spiders had black eyes, and not to mention, more than one pair. It had to kill quickly if the girl didn't even have a chance to catch a glimpse of it. What kind of beast had that power?
As Alina left the bathroom, deep in her thoughts, she nearly bumped into none other than Tom Riddle.
"Merlin, Tom," she gasped, putting a hand over her chest to try to still her hammering heart. Tom, as always, looked completely calm and collected.
"What are you doing here?"
His accusing tone startled her. "I needed to use the bathroom, Head Boy."
"That one's out of order," he said calmly, his dark eyes boring into hers. His hair was tousled by the wind from sitting at the Quidditch pitch all morning and most of the afternoon, and Alina's fingers itched to run them through his locks.
"So I've noticed. There's a very unpleasant girl in there."
Tom's lips twitched into a smile, but he quickly wiped it off, looking as innocent as ever. "Don't let her catch you saying that. She's very… sensitive."
Alina remained silent, wondering… Tom was the one who caught the boy with the Acromantula, saving the rest of the mudblood students. But was that really the truth? Alina was a hundred percent sure there was more to the story, that Tom knew something no one else did. Was he covering for someone, maybe? She was dying to learn more, but she knew it wouldn't be easy to make him talk.
"I guess I would be too, if I was killed by a monster," she said, never taking her eyes off him. "Those poor muggleborns are so lucky you were there to catch the culprit."
Tom was silent for a long moment, and Alina could read nothing off his beautiful, cold face.
"There's a celebration tonight," he said, changing the subject, and Alina knew she wasn't going to pull anything out of him today. "Will you be joining us this time, or do you want to hide in the library again?"
She arched an eyebrow, stepping closer. Tom didn't move as she reached out, adjusting his silver and emerald striped tie. "You know what? I think I'll go. Maybe I'll even dress up."
Riddle smiled, then leaned down to whisper into her ear, "I like the colour green."
After dinner, Alina returned to the dormitory with the girls, and started getting ready for the party. She had the perfect dress for the occasion: a simple one with a wide, flowy skirt that ended just an inch above her knees, clinging perfectly to her hips and emphasising her waist. Its colour was scarlet, the shade they wore at Durmstrang, but she solved that with a simple spell, turning the fabric poison green.
After that night in the common room, Alina promised herself over and over again that she wouldn't give herself to Tom so easily, but it seemed she broke that promise just as easily as she broke it the first time. He didn't even have to try hard to woo her: his intense eyes and his charming smile was enough to make her go weak in the knees. It was the aftermath of that night, Alina assumed, still getting all hot and bothered each time she remembered. Never in her life had she let anyone order her around the way Riddle did, but there was something in the way he treated her that made her throw her own principles out of the window.
So what if she gave in? Alina wanted him, and she always got what she wanted.
"Who are you two trying to impress?" Walburga asked, sitting at the edge of her bed. Her grey eyes flickered between Alina, who painted her lips cherry red with a spell, and Eleanor, who struggled with the zipper of her midnight blue dress.
"Can't a girl dress up without trying to please a man?" Alina asked, but Eleanor was silent; her cheeks flushing red.
Walburga shrugged. "Oh, why the hell not. I wanted to try this on anyway," she said, pulling a beautiful black dress out of the wardrobe.
Alina slipped her feet into a pair of black kitten heels, stepping closer to Eleanor to zip her dress up.
"This colour suits you so well. I'm sure Andrew will love it."
Eleanor spun around, her mouth hanging open in a silent gasp, while Walburga's eyes widened.
"Merlin's beard, Ellie. Rosier?!"
Alina smiled, gathering her flaming-red locks up into a bun, then securing it with her wand.
"I was the two of you stealing a kiss before the game."
The blonde girl flushed an even deeper shade of red.
"Seriously, Ellie," Walburga sighed. "You could do so much better than him."
Finally, Eleanor found her voice. "Oh, sod off. I really like him. He's… different."
"If you say so," Walburga said, shaking her head. "And what does your father say about it?"
"He doesn't know," Eleanor said quickly, suddenly looking frightened. "Please, Wal. You can't tell him!"
Walburga rolled her eyes, then smiled fondly at her friend. "Of course I won't, silly."
Alina tilted her head. "What's wrong with Rosier? Isn't he pureblood, too?"
"He is," Eleanor replied. "But my father wants me to marry Orion."
Alina didn't know much of Orion Black, except that he was a sixth year Slytherin, and Walburga's cousin. He was just as beautiful and graceful as the rest of the Blacks, but unlike Walburga, he was more of a loner.
"Well, my father wants me to marry Orion as well, so you'll probably get lucky."
"Your own cousin?" Alina asked.
Walburga shrugged. "Isn't that how it goes in Russia? You're pureblood, too." That was true, but thankfully, there were enough pureblood families left in Eastern-Europe that they didn't have to marry such close relatives. Alina believed that they should keep the bloodline pure, but she wasn't sure how she would feel if she had to marry a cousin. "Speaking of which… Don't take it as an offence, but… you don't have much of a family left, do you? So… Well, who are you hoping to marry?"
Alina understood what Walburga was trying to ask. She'd lost her family, most of her wealth, and the little good reputation they had left—there was no decent pureblood wizard who would want to marry her. She had nothing to offer but a name, and even that didn't worth much in times like these. Frankly, her only hope was the Alliance; if Grindelwald won, none of his followers had to hide anymore.
But even then, why should she wait for a man?
"I am the daughter of Anatoly Belov and Ilse Gregorovich. I don't need to marry anyone."
Eleanor and Walburga exchanged a glance, but didn't say a word. A witch who tried to get by on her own was a foreign concept to them.
When the girls finished getting ready, they left the dorms together. The common room was noisy and filled with Slytherin, and even with a couple of Hufflepuffs here and there. Alina caught Tom's eyes and his satisfied smile in the crowd when he saw her in the green dress, but they didn't talk or even got too close to each other throughout the evening.
When the younger students returned to their beds and only the usual gang of sixth and seventh years occupied the place, it was time for the real party to start. Alina seated herself next to Riddle, who wore black dress pants and a matching button down, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked so effortlessly good, she needed every ounce of self-control not to drag him to somewhere private and throw herself at him.
"Now that the kids are finally sleeping…" Walburga said, then started pulling bottles out of her small handbag. She must've used an extension charm on it.
"Ooooh." Felix rubbed his palms together. "What do we have?"
"Elf-made wine for me. Touch the bottle, Lestrange, and you'll lose a hand," she warned, and somehow, no one doubted her. "Gillywater for my lovely Eleanor, because she's a lightweight."
"Ha-ha." Eleanor rolled her eyes, but accepted the drink. She sat as close to Rosier as she could without touching him.
"Firewhisky for the boys," Walburga went on, handing two bottles to Felix, who started pouring the drinks into goblets. "And, for our sweet Russian friend…"
Alina reached out to take the large bottle of vodka, smiling. "Now, you speak my language, Black."
Walburga winked at her, taking a sip of her blood-red wine.
"Can I get a taste, doll?" Felix asked while Alina poured some of the clear drink into a small cup. Now she wished she wasn't sitting next to Riddle, because this way, she couldn't see his reaction. She saw his hands though, one gripping a goblet and the other resting in his lap, fiddling with his ring.
"What exactly do you want a taste of, Lestrange?" Malfoy asked, which made most of the boys laugh and all of the girls groan.
"Well," Felix started, grinning, looking into her greenish-blue eyes. "That depends entirely on what she's willing to give."
From the corner of her eye, Alina saw as Riddle clenched his fist. She tipped her head back and downed her drink without blinking an eye.
"And what if I'm not willing to give you anything?"
He shrugged. "I love a good challenge."
"Then I hope you enjoy disappointment."
"Aw, baby. Why are you being so cruel to me now?" Lestrange asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He indeed loved a challenge.
"Cruel? I'm just being straight with you. I don't want to waste your time," she replied, pouring herself another shot of vodka. "You could make both of our lives easier if you just gave up."
Felix hummed, then said, "That's a pleasure I'm incapable of giving you."
"That's not the only pleasure you'd be incapable of giving me."
While everyone cheered and laughed, Alina risked a small glance at Tom. He watched her with a satisfied smile, dark eyes burning with such intensity it spread warmth through her body.
"You're such a funny witch," Lestrange said. He didn't look hurt, or angry; he was still grinning like a child who was playing his favourite game. "But trust me—"
"Okay, Felix," Walburga cut him off. "No one wants to hear your sad attempts to try to charm her knickers off. Literally no one. Let's drink."
And they didn't hold back. Walburga seemed to have one sole mission: to refill anyone's goblet the moment it was empty. It had its effect, because soon, there wasn't a sober person in the dimly lit Slytherin common room. Most of them tried to keep their voices down so their head of house wouldn't march in and found a group of intoxicated teenagers, but some of them had completely lost control after a couple rounds.
Like Eddie Nott, who still didn't dare to look into Alina's eyes for more than a short second. He was clearly the drunkest of them all: he stood up on the table and sang silly songs, then talked so loudly and incoherently the others constantly had to remind him to keep quiet.
Or Eleanor, who surely couldn't hold her liquor and became a giggly mess, practically glued to her boy's side.
Or Rosier, for that matter, who turned out to be just as much of a lightweight as his girlfriend. He was usually quite reserved, but now, under the influence of the firewhisky, he wouldn't stop talking. Andrew shared a few more innocent secrets, such as his love for Ellie and his plans to run away with her, or some deeper ones, like Vinda Rosier. His cousin, apparently, was Grindelwald's closest and most loyal acolyte.
That piqued Alina's interest and she was just about to pull more out of him, but then Abraxas started talking about some other dark wizard he had high hopes for, and she lost interest.
Lestrange, of course, didn't stop flirting with her all night, but Alina either ignored him or rewarded him with a snarky remark (which, sadly, only made him try harder).
Alina wasn't drunk, perhaps tipsy at best, but there was a pleasant buzz in her blood and a light spin in her head throughout the night. She talked and laughed with the boys and danced with Walburga, until her feet went sore and she had to kick her heels off. She wasn't sure how much time passed while they twirled and swayed to the music in front of the fireplace, but the next time she stopped, Rosier was already fast asleep with his head on Eleanor's shoulder.
While Walburga seated herself on Malfoy's lap, arguing about something Alina was too exhausted to pay attention to, the redhead girl plopped down on the sofa and leaned against Tom.
Perhaps he looked the most sober one out of them all; the only sign of that he also had a few goblets of alcohol was the sweet pink colour that tinted his normally pale cheeks. The rest of the young witches and wizards were still talking loudly when Tom leaned down, whispering into Alina's ear,
"You've been such a good girl tonight."
"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at him with doe-eyes. "Don't you think I deserve a little reward, then?"
Tom's lips curled up into a smile. He waited a few seconds, then he stood up, reaching his hand out for her. Alina gladly took it, letting him pull her up, following him through the common room hand in hand, barefoot. Before they left, though, Tom stopped in front of Felix and bent down to whisper,
"Make sure no one comes into our dorm for a while."
Saying Lestrange looked stunned would've been the understatement of the year.
"Poor Felix," Alina said once the two stepped into the boys' dormitory. Her eyes quickly found the bed the farthest from the entrance, tidy and neatly made. "Let me guess," she said, hurrying closer and falling down onto the mattress while Tom closed the door. "This one's yours."
He didn't say a thing while he leaned against the bedpost, hands in his pockets, looking down at her. Alina was fully dressed, but she felt naked while he watched her as if he was ready to eat her up. She looked away, because she couldn't stand that heavy, hungry stare without blushing, and her eyes fell on a book resting on his nightstand. It had his name on it, and she picked it up without a second thought.
"Oh, are you writing a journal?" Alina asked mischievously, but as she touched the small, leather-bound book, she felt a familiar tingling in her fingertips. Her smile vanished and she immediately sat up, suddenly feeling more sober while she flipped through the pages. They were all empty. "What's this?"
Tom swallowed hard, but otherwise, he seemed unfazed. "What do you mean?"
"This book… it's practically oozing dark magic."
At that, Tom stepped closer and sat down next to Alina. "How could you possibly know that"
She almost flinched when she looked up at him. He seemed much more serious than mere seconds ago, dark shadows passing over his face.
"At Durmstrang, we learned how to recognise cursed objects," she explained quietly. "It's not that hard. Magic, especially dark magic, leaves deep marks. And this…" Alina paused, lifting the book. She felt a tremendous urge to throw it away and steal it from Tom at the same time, and she silently scolded herself for being so careless. If the book was truly cursed, she could've lost a hand by only touching it, been possessed, or even died.
Riddle was unfazed, eyes flickering between hers. Then, after long moments, his features softened.
"Well, it's my diary. Why would I want anyone to read it without consequences?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Perhaps you can fool other girls with this kind of talk, but I'm not that dumb."
He clenched his jaw, then slowly took the book from her. "I thought you came here for a reward, not to talk about a stupid diary."
"But, you see, I'm quite fond of dark magic. Maybe telling me your secrets could be my reward."
Riddle hesitated, seemingly considering her words. Alina would've given many things to look into his mind, and since he had at least a few rounds of firewhisky that night, she decided to try her luck. She was a skilled Legilimens and used her talent on many people before, but never once had she seen such strong walls around someone's mind. Each time she tried to navigate through his thoughts, she crashed into darkness, as if there was nothing in there.
"You have to try harder than that, sweetheart," Tom said, putting the diary into the drawer of his nightstand. "Stand up and take your dress off."
Alina blinked. "I thought you were going to reward me."
"That was before you so insolently tried to peek into my mind," he said, gently grabbing her chin. His touch and his commanding tone sent a shiver down her spine. "But, to see how generous I am, I'm willing to look away this time. All you have to do is apologise for being such a naughty witch."
She felt torn. One part of her wanted to argue, to rile him up and see how far he can go. Alina was used to ordering people around, to see them watch her with fear in their eyes, and it excited her that there was one person who wasn't afraid. She enjoyed the way he made her knees wobble, his praises and honeyed words; but, if she wanted to be honest, she loved even more so when she heard his derogatory tone, when he hurt her, when he took absolute control and acted as if she belonged to him only.
But tonight, she wanted to be his good girl.
"I'm sorry for trying to use Legilimency on you," she said, giving him her most innocent eyes. "Please, forgive me."
"You really want that prize, don't you?" He asked, brushing his knuckles down her neck, along her exposed collarbones. "Then tell me, Alina: what do you want?"
Her head filled with hundreds of thoughts, each one filthier than the previous one. Alina had plenty of time to come up with ideas, when she couldn't sleep late at night in the silent dormitory and all she could think was Riddle and his skilled hands. She felt her freckled cheeks going red and she had to squeeze her legs together to relieve some of the tension.
"I can do any of those things you're thinking about," he said, and Alina's eyes went slightly round. She didn't even feel him entering her mind. He gently pulled her wand out of her hair then, letting her locks fall heavily on her back. "You just have to ask."
Riddle placed her wand on her nightstand, then idly fiddled with a stray strand of her hair. Alina felt tongue-tied, and she cursed herself for it. She was never scared of speaking her mind; why was it so hard to say these things out loud?
"No?" Tom asked, sounding disappointed, his hand falling back onto his lap. "If you don't want to do anything, we can just go back to the party."
"Wait, no," she said hastily, before he could make a move. "I—do I really have to say it? You already know it."
Tom smiled at her fondly, brushing his thumb across her warmed cheek.
"You're quite adorable when you're being so shy."
"I'm not shy."
"Then prove it."
"Fine," Alina sighed. "I want—" she started, then decided to rephrase her sentence. "Can you please use your mouth on me?"
"Use my mouth how, exactly?" He asked in a low voice, leaning closer. "Do you want me to kiss you?"
"Well…" Alina couldn't help; a small laugh escaped her lip. "Yes."
She felt him smiling against her jawline, before he started kissing her neck. "And where do you want me to kiss you?"
"My…" Alina paused as his lips found a sensitive spot under her ear, sighing with bliss.
"Go on."
"My pussy."
Tom sucked on her neck, then pulled back to look at her. "See? Was that so hard?"
Yes, it was, Alina thought, but kept it to herself. She was quite sure her face was deeply flushed by now, but she didn't care much while she was eagerly waiting for what was about to happen.
"Take this off, sweetheart," he said, tugging on the hem of her dress.
On weak legs, Alina lifted herself from his bed, and stood between his legs. She reached back and unzipped the dress, letting it fall off her body and pool around her feet on the hardwood floor. Riddle's eyes darkened even more, if that was possible, while he drank in the sight in front of him. She had nothing on but a pair of white knickers, and she had to fight hard not to cover herself with her arms.
"You're so gorgeous," he praised, placing his hands on either side of her waist, then slowly running them up her body. Alina wanted to thank him for the compliment, but the words got caught in her throat when he cupped her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thumbs played around with her nipples, sending shockwaves through her, straight down to between her thighs. Tom's hands wandered then, pulling her down until she sat in his lap, straddling him. She was so close like this, pressed up against him, Alina felt a rush of delicious heat washing over every inch of her.
"Shouldn't we lock the door?" Alina asked, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said, catching her chin and turning her attention back at him. "I told them not to disturb us."
"And why are you so sure they'll listen to you?"
Tom smiled devilishly, then started kissing her jaw. "I can be very persuasive."
With that, Alina couldn't argue. She wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the noises that streamed in from the common room, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her neck. He licked and bit on her soft skin, leaving angry, red marks all over down to her sternum, sucking a sensitive nipple into his mouth. His hands roamed her body, trying to touch more and more of her.
Then, suddenly, Tom flipped her around, laying her down flat on her back. Alina watched him with a blazing look in her eyes, already missing his touch. He kicked his shoes off, but he was still fully dressed when he climbed onto the bed.
"Spread your legs for me."
Alina did as he said so, spreading her legs wide enough so he could fit between them. He lowered himself on top of her, kissed her lips once and twice, then dragged his lips down on her neck. She was tingling all over, the heat between her thighs already throbbing, yearning for his touch. Alina lifted her hips, almost involuntarily, desperate to meet his solid body. She felt the hard outline of his cock through his pants, and at unison, they both released a heavy, lust-filled sigh. She moved again and again and again, bucking her hips up into him, and it felt oh so wonderful—
But then Tom lifted himself, just enough so he could slip a hand between them and into her underwear.
"Look at how desperate you're already," he said, drawing slow circles with his thumb. She was so wet, so ready for him, she would have been willing to do anything for him to keep going. "You've been waiting for this for quite a while, haven't you?"
Alina nodded, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stifle the noises that threatened to escape. He sat up then, grabbing the hem of her knickers and pulling them off. Instinctively, she wanted to close her legs once the garment was thrown away, but he caught her calves and forced them open, climbing back. Alina felt warmth creeping up her neck while he kneeled there, staring at parts of her no one had ever seen before. When he finally lowered himself, his lips were immediately on her thighs, kissing his way up and up, before he reached the spot where she wanted him the most.
"Oh," Alina breathed out, gripping the sheets.
"You taste so good, sweet girl," he said, swiping his warm, wet tongue across her clit. "Such a sweet, tight pussy, and it's all mine."
Alina never thought something could feel so good, and soon, she lost any control she had left over her own body. She was a moaning mess, writhing on his wrinkled sheets, her fingers grasping his dark hair and her nails scratching his back through his black shirt. A string of Russian curses fell from her lips, and Alina felt his silent laugh, vibrating through her whole body.
"Do I need to remind you again to keep your voice down?" He asked, slipping two fingers inside her. If that was his attempt to quiet her, he wasn't successful. "Quiet now, darling. I don't want them to hear how good you sound."
His words drove her crazy, but she tried to turn her voice down. Faintly, she heard voices, loud chattering and cheerful laughs from the common room. For a second, she wondered whether they could hear her as well, but she couldn't pay much attention while Riddle started sucking on her clit again.
It was too much, yet not enough. The feeling of his soft tongue and the stretch of his fingers, bringing her nearer to her release, but not close enough. Her skin was on fire, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and she wanted more.
"Please, Tom," she panted, eyes meeting his hungry gaze as he looked up at her through his dark lashes. "I… I want you inside me."
He smiled. "Patience, darling."
Alina whined, then closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the pillow. If he wanted to get her off, he could've done that long minutes ago, but he kept dragging it out. Her voice went hoarse and her fingers numb from digging into his shoulders so hard, and distantly, she heard her own, desperate words,
"Please," she said, half-moaning, half-crying. "I'll let you do anything to me. You know I'll let you, please, just—please, fuck me—"
His grip tightened on her hips, but suddenly, he stopped, lifted his head up and away from her, then slapped his palm across his swollen pussy. She yelped and jolted as the mix of pain and pleasure sent a shudder through her limbs.
"I told you to shut up."
"Please—"
"Alina," he said her name with a dark, warning tone. "Another word and we're done."
A whimper escaped her lips, but didn't say anything else, too scared he would really stop. Her brain was all fogged up and she couldn't think of anything else but the deep, intense desire she was experiencing. She lifted an arm and bit the back of her hand while Tom pleasured her, seeing stars behind her closed eyes. It seemed like he stopped holding back, because he didn't stop or slow down anymore; not even when she felt her walls fluttering around his fingers. Her back arched, her body jerked, but he kept her firmly down on the mattress, drinking her up.
Alina was quite sure she blacked out at least for a few seconds, because the next time she came back to her senses, Tom was already kissing her. She tasted herself on his lips, salty and sweet, and somehow, it only made her want him more.
When he pulled back, only enough to take a look at her, she couldn't do anything but to stare at him.
"You got so quiet suddenly," he said, and Alina let out a shaky breath, too exhausted to speak. "Such a pathetic witch. Aren't you ashamed, begging me like that to fuck you?"
Now that Alina came down from her high, her mind less clouded, she did feel ashamed. She wished the mattress would open and swallow her whole, but Riddle's gaze was firmly on her, and there was nowhere to hide.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make you mine any way imaginable," he said gently, kissing her lips, and the promise sent a shudder through her. "But I like to take my time."
His soft lips met hers once more, kissing her deeply. She was still so sensitive, so wound up, Alina couldn't help but wrap her legs around him, bucking her hips up into him. At that, Tom stopped kissing her.
"What a greedy little girl you are."
Alina let out a trembling sigh, her skin flushed. "Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Teasing me," she said, her heart nearly beating out of her ribcage. "Just fuck me already or stop playing around."
"Maybe you should be more careful about what you wish for," he said ever so patiently, pushing her legs off him and kneeling up, unbuckling his belt. "Because maybe, I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to leave this bed."
Alina swallowed, eyes flickering down to his fingers that played with the button of his pants. "Are you going to talk about how you'll fuck me all night, or will you finally do it?"
So much of being his good girl.
"I told you—I like to take my time," he said, pulling his cock out of his pants. "But I think I'm going to fuck your filthy mouth."
Alina wasn't against that in the slightest. She moved to sit up, but Tom pushed her back on the mattress, climbing over her.
"Open up," he said, and the moment Alina's lips parted, Riddle slipped himself into her mouth. He moved very slowly at first, letting her swirling her tongue around his leaking tip, tasting it. "You're so eager for it, darling," he slurred, his voice filled with desire.
He pulled back then, taking a small break only to give her a deep, searing kiss, before he drove himself back into her mouth. This time, he didn't go slowly, nor was he gentle: he pulled out only to slide back in, repeatedly hitting the back of her throat. Alina tried to take small breaths while he ravished her, hard and fast, holding the back of her head with one hand to keep her in place. His moans were music to her ears, lighting fire deep in her belly. He came like that, cussing and breathing hard, twitching and throbbing in her mouth.
"You did so well," he said, panting, slowly pulling himself out of her mouth. He gently patted her cheeks, then gave her a soft kiss, before he sat on the bed with his back against the headboard.
Alina shifted closer, resting her head on his thigh. "Can I stay here?"
"Of course," he said after a moment of hesitation, running his fingers through her hair. She wanted to stay awake for some pillow talk, but she was exhausted, her thoughts messy and incoherent. And soon, within minutes, she fell into a deep slumber.