Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me.

A/N: Ever since I came up with the idea for Tease, I knew a one-shot would never be enough for me. Updates will be sporadic, and the chapters won't be in chronological order, so make sure to read the dates on top of each chapter.

***Unedited***

The Heir

Saturday 23rd December 1995

She was stunning truth be told; his father had excellent taste in women – his mousy mother not included, but their relationship was not really one based on love, or even mutual attraction, – and his wife was the epitome of female beauty, pose, and grace.

The dress she wore was fashionable cut, showcasing her flawless figure without being overly provocative as was befitting a mourning woman of her stature. Her hair, so black that almost looked blue, was twisted into an elegant chignon, her swan neck adorned with a pearl necklace that probably cost more than his dear old mother made in a year and a matching bracelet was around her wrist.

All in all, she looked beautiful and fragile, even more so when she lost all colour in her face at the sight of him. Horrified realisation slowly settled on her lovely features and her tempting mouth parted in soundless shock.

There was no doubt in his mind that she knew who he was; even if she'd been ignorant of his existence, in his impeccable tailored navy pinstriped suit, his black hair swept to the side, and his cobalt blue eyes, he was the spitting image of a younger, handsomer Tom Riddle Sr, her late husband.

Undoubtedly, his father had done his best to ensure his indiscretion with the lowly maid that had captured his interest in a whim had no impact in his personal and social life by keeping it a secret, but unfortunately for him, secrets had a tendency to reveal themselves, especially when there was a child involved.

Perhaps Mrs Sarah Amy Riddle, nee Fuller, wouldn't have looked so dumbstruck if she knew of her husband's liaison with Merope Gaunt, but even if she had known, the truth of what his presence meant would have been enough to struck her mute.

With no living relatives, and no children of their own, Mrs Riddle was the sole heiress of her husband's fortune… or so she had thought.

Tom smirked. Things were about to get really interesting.

xxXxx

Sunday 31st December 1995

Tom watched her dark hair spilling on his lap as her head bopped, her pouty lips glistening with saliva as she sucked him; Merlin, Mrs Riddle had a very talented mouth when she wasn't talking.

When she licked the small slit on the head of his penis, he hissed, hips arching of the arm chair he was sprawled on, and his hand fisted in her long hair, twisting the strands around his wrist and pulling.

Her moan sent vibrations across his length, and he shut his eyes in ecstasy. When he felt his orgasm rushing, he pushed his cock as far as he could in her mouth, almost choking her, and held her head there with his fist, snapping his hips violently as he came.

She gagged, and choked, tears forming in her eyes as she struggled to breathe.

When he was finished, he pushed her away, and relaxed back in his chair, eyes closing in satisfaction.

"You could be a little more gentle," she admonished hoarsely.

Lazily blinking open his eyes, he regarded her coolly.

"I could," he agreed, smirking when he saw her eyes darting to his softening cock. He knew she was unfulfilled, but he didn't feel particularly inclined to return the favour. "But I'm not going to."

At her frown, he reached out and gripped her chin.

"I thought I was perfectly clear, Mrs Riddle." He sneered. "In exchange of your… services, I'm going to ensure you continue to live the way you are used to."

"I'm not a whore!"

A short, cruel laugh.

"Aren't you?" he asked, smiling pleasantly. "You crawled into my bed in the middle of the night, and woke me up with your mouth wrapped around my cock, and then proceeded to beg me to fuck you. Your husband's son. If you aren't a whore, what are you?"

Flushing, she clenched her jaw.

"And what are you then?" she demanded. "If I'm a whore, what are you? A man who has no issue with sleeping with his late father's wife?"

"I? I'm the one in power, Mrs Riddle. You might want to remember that in case your position ever slips your mind." He withdrew his hand, leaving her unbalanced. She stood up, body shaking as she tried to maintain her composure. "Now, why don't you show me how grateful you are for my kindness?"

xxXxx

Wednesday 2nd July 1997

Tom stared at the letter in his hands unblinkingly. He couldn't quite believe his eyes.

Hogwarts had always been the one place where he had felt at home; away from the poverty of his childhood, away from his mother's bitterness at his father's abandonment, and the distaste he faced for his unfortunate background, he had the opportunity to make something great for himself.

And he did.

Genius, greatest wizard of his generation, prodigy.

He was hailed as the smartest student to grace the halls of Hogwarts since Headmaster Dumbledore, and it was fair to say he earned that recognition.

Being sorted into Slytherin had been tough when his surname was so obviously Muggle; but after he cursed an older student bloody for mistreating him, they learned to respect him.

Finding out his bloodline though, now that had been a game changer.

The snotty purebloods practically bend over backwards to serve him; the heir of Slytherin, the last of his line!

When Dumbledore refused to hire him, he used Malfoy's alliance to get an Apprenticeship under a DADA Master in Egypt; completing his Mastery in just three years, he got Bellatrix Lestrange – an occasional lover of his, – to pay for an Apprenticeship under an Arithmancy Master, and one under a Transfiguration Master, both residing in China.

He earned favour and admiration whenever he went, and learned that with his intelligence and good looks, he could one day rule the wizarding world.

And such plans had already begun forming in his head; a vision of his future, where everyone bowed down to him, and called him their Lord…

But this letter changed everything.

In all honestly, he had never been particularly fond of teaching; after two years in Durmstrung, Tom knew he was not meant to be a mere teacher, but the chance to return to Hogwarts was tempting.

Toying with the letter in his hands, he stared at the scenery outside of his window; he could hear Sarah entertaining some of her lady friends in the upstairs drawing room, and knew she'd be over to see him when they left. Their arrangement had continued without issues; she enjoyed a life financed by him, and he enjoyed her whenever he desired.

He had a suspicion that she was growing fond of him – obviously, she was physically attracted to him, – so he made a mental note to warn her accordingly; he didn't do relationships. Many had tried, Bellatrix included, to change his mind, but he had seen what love did to his mother, and abhorred it.

He was no fool. He'd never allow a woman to control his life.

"Tom? Why don't you join us? Mrs Reese says you are worse than a recluse, and I'm inclined to side with her!"

Arching a brow at her, he trailed his eyes over her form; the dress she wore had cost a fortune, made from the finest silk and tailored to fit her like a glove. He'd enjoy ripping it away from her body later.

"I am not interest in your little town gossip, Sarah," he murmured, hand tightening on the letter. Watching her eyes darken, he smirked. "I won't act the clown to your satisfaction. So why don't you go tell your little friends to mind their business? In fact, why don't you take yourself out? I won't be requiring your… services," his smirk widened at her angry flush, "until later tonight. Feel free to entertain yourself elsewhere until then."

Ten minutes later, his answer had been penned, tied to Salazar's – his owl – leg and send on its way.

Dumbledore,

I accept.

T. Riddle Jr