Occlumency and Obedience

February 28, 1945

With a stack of his five best books on the topic of Occlumency in hand, Tom strode across the hallway to Rosemary's dormitory and gave the door a knock. He waited impatiently for her to answer, frustrated and quite honestly a bit disappointed that she had failed to come to his dormitory at ten the night prior as he had specified. After his Knights meeting, he had meticulously gone through all of his texts pertaining to Occlumency and Legilimency and marked the most important five hundred or so sections for her to read. And then he had waited for her a mortifyingly long time, finally retiring to bed at one in the morning. He assumed that she was just being stubborn and likely still upset about the strategy he had employed to distract her thoughts during their meeting with Dippet and the Heads of Houses. Even so, her refusal to make an appearance flew in the face of his previous beliefs that she was under his complete control. But no matter: she would be justly punished and learn that she would do well to yield to his every call from that moment on.

Tom knocked again, more persistently this time, and pressed his ear to the door. When he didn't hear her rustling around inside, he shifted the books into his left arm and drew out his wand with the right. Clearly she had learned nothing from the evening after the Quidditch match when he invited himself into her room to wait for her; the locking charms on her door were precisely the same. He disabled them easily and slipped inside.

As Tom sat the books down on her desk and took a seat in her chair, an impressively detailed ink sketch of a girl surrounded by a thick forest caught his eye. The girl's long hair covered one of her breasts, wore knickers made of leaves, and a small flower crown of roses rested atop her head – besides these minimal exceptions, she was naked. Her expression was shy, but playful. It was beautiful and Tom knew instantly that the girl depicted was Rosemary.

Where did the drawing come from? Did she have some sort of artistic talent she never told him about?

At the bottom of the page, there faint evidence of ink that had bled through from the other side. He flipped the page over and saw in the right corner:

To the girl lovelier than a million roses.

Love,

W

He gritted his teeth and fought the instant urge to gag. 'W' – Warren.

Tom was instantly bothered for several reasons. For one, he couldn't get over how egregiously tacky it was for Cramer to use her name in such a banal way. And clearly Cramer had seen her naked in order to draw her form so accurately. While Tom had certainly suspected they had been intimate, his stomach twisted in discomfort at this confirmation. But he was irked most of all by that one, simple word:

'Love.'

Did Cramer say this to her regularly? Perhaps the more important question was: did she say it back?

And then it hit him. She had been with Cramer last night…she had gone to Cramer instead of meeting him at ten like he told her to. Tom felt an all-too-familiar spark of jealousy within him. No, not jealousy…that was far too simple and would require him to admit that he felt anything remotely emotional toward her. It was much more akin to the feeling of being cheated, as though Cramer had stolen one of his most prized possessions, if only for a few long hours.

Though even Tom had to acknowledge that his response was rather ironic, given the circumstances.

He suddenly heard footsteps approaching from down the corridor and he quickly returned the drawing to her desk, only to realize that he had crunched the sides with his hands in his moment of pure rage. Tom drew his wand and muttered, "Constratio."

The page was still flattening when Rosemary arrived at her door, but thankfully she was too distracted by his presence to notice.

"What do you fail to understand about the concept of privacy?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I see you have yet to improve your charms work." He nodded in the direction of her door, maintaining his cool composure even though he was still boiling internally about Cramer's sketch and the fact that Rosemary had surely spent her evening with him. "I thought I might bring over my books regarding Occlumency," he told her. "Seeing as you apparently lacked the motivation to begin yesterday."

"Sorry," she told him shortly. "I was busy."

His irritation continued to build, taking far more of his willpower to hide it. "Well then I hope you're ready to begin now."

"You can't honestly believe that you can just barge here anytime and expect me to drop whatever I'm doing."

"What am I keeping you from?" he asked her, daring her to mention something about Cramer.

She glared at him. "It's the principle of the thing."

Tom smirked, his irritation fading just slightly. "Need I remind you that I'm the one doing you a favor?"

Rosemary rolled her eyes but seemed to resign to her fate, closing her bedroom door behind her and shedding her black school robe as she said: "It's as much of a favor to you as it would be to me. It's not as though you care about my secrets – only your own."

"Then the necessity that you cooperate without hesitation should be perfectly apparent to you." Tom watched as she removed her hair tie and allowed her dark red locks to cascade around her shoulders which were rising and falling just slightly with a sigh.

"Alright, fine. Let's begin."

"No need to thank me," he said sarcastically, and then added with a smirk: "After all, I am certain you will find a way to thank me later."

"Unbelievable." She shook her head, though he was almost certain he saw the shadow of a smile pass over her features.

"Anyway, seeing as you neglected completing any reading on the topic, I suppose I will begin with an overview of the theory behind Legilimency and Occlumency."

"I know the theory behind it," she rolled her eyes yet again and Tom clenched his jaw in frustration at her blasé attitude.

"I certainly hope you aren't referring to that brainless, uninformative lecture that Dumbledore gave on the topics earlier this year."

"Of course not," she said haughtily.

But he knew this was a lie – how would she possibly know more, unless she had taken up the hobby of studying the dark arts in books outside of Hogwarts? Eager to thwart her arrogance, he looked at her with a small, sly grin. "Tell me, then: in Ancient Greece, from what magical law did Videtious Glavano derive the principles of Legilimency?"

She was silent for a few moments as a hint of scarlet spread across her cheeks, but finally told him an exasperated sigh, "I can read about the theory later."

"Very well." Tom was confident that the embarrassment she experienced in admitting to him she didn't know this admittedly insignificant tidbit would be more than enough to prevent her from skimping on reading the material he provided. That was the Ravenclaw in her. "Let's get straight to it, then." He gestured for her to sit near him on the side of her bed as he turned her desk chair in which he was seated to face her.

When they were settled, he said, "Occlumency is often easiest to learn with your eyes closed first. As you may know already, the goal is to empty your mind of everything – emotion, stress, thoughts of any kind. If you wish, you can picture some sort of object instead of a completely blank state, though whatever you choose should obviously have no connection to your memories. That is the first stage of learning and then you can progress to a blank state. The third stage is complete control of your thoughts – you will be able to divert an invader to any thoughts you wish, even if they are a lie. It is through this means that you can escape the effects of Veritaserum and if you possess true mastery, even the Imperius Curse."

Rosemary nodded in comprehension, apparently abandoning her attempts at playing a know-it-all.

"Are you ready to try?"

She nodded again, but her eyes showed hesitation.

"Nervous?"

"Sort of." She looked away from his eyes and played with the hem of her skirt. "What if you see something that, er..."

"That you don't want me to see?"

"Well, yes."

Tom thought about this for a few moments and realized the full extent of her vulnerability in this situation. While he doubted she had anything to hide that would actually surprise him, there were surely embarrassing memories and other thoughts she didn't wish for him to see anyway. He couldn't imagine knowingly opening his mind to another. This clearly meant one thing: she trusted him…though only Merlin knew why.

Of course, her vulnerability certainly appealed to his power-hungry inclinations, which urged him to plunder her mind for something to use against her later. But in truth he had no desire to violate her trust and their precarious affiliation along with it. He didn't want things to end here, with Occlumency; he would teach her a whole array of dark magic, if she only let him.

Without much thought, he reached out and ran his fingers along the back of her hand. "There is no way to know what you will or will not reveal. However, I can assure that whatever it is will stay between us."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," he nodded.

She smiled and he found himself smiling back at her.

What in the hell was that?

He suddenly jerked away from her and coughed, at a complete loss as to what it was that had just come over him. Why had he felt the need to be so kind to her? How absolutely mortifying…

"Now close your eyes," he abruptly commanded her, desperate recover at least a small portion of his lost pride. He watched as her eyelashes came to rest just above the top of her cheeks. "And clear your mind." He waited about ten seconds before asking. "Are you ready?"

She nodded.

He entered her mind without the verbal incantation to avoid disturbing her and saw the flicker of a flame she was picturing. Tom pushed a bit harder into her thoughts and the flame flickered, but she quickly recovered it. Harder still, and the flame suddenly extinguished in a gasp of smoke and the floodgate of her thoughts opened.

Tom was hit with a string of memories that seemed quite arbitrary until he realized that fire was present in every single one of them, which he assumed must have stemmed from the flame she had visualized.

First he was sent back to what he instantly recognized as their first-year Charms class, when they had learned the Fire-Making Charm, 'Incendio'. He spotted his much younger self in the front row seated alone, painfully ignorant of the utility provided by making (or at least pretending to make) friends. A fleeting thought told him that, if he had only started sooner, he would have been much further along in his agendas by now.

But this was Rosemary's memory, not his. Tom looked around the room until he saw her seated three rows behind him, next to Donohue. While her blonde friend looked twig-thin and almost sickly, a quality that she eventually grew out of, Rosemary simply appeared to be the tiny, more-cute-than-beautiful version of her present self. She also appeared to be incredibly bored and the only other student besides Tom to perfect her charm within the first fifteen minutes of class time.

Donohue was chatting away about something as inconsequential as ever (some things never change), and he could tell Rosemary was only pretending to listen. But her attention was quickly earned when her friend asked, "So, who in our house do you find the cutest?"

Rosemary turned a deep shade of red. "Oh…I, er…I dunno…"she stammered.

Tom smiled in amusement. He had no clue that she was ever this shy, though quite honestly he hadn't paid much attention to her at all until the beginning of their sixth year anyway.

Donohue continued to pester her for an answer, but if she ever gave one or not he wasn't sure; he was being pulled abruptly into her next memory.

This one seemed much closer to present day, as evidenced by the full-scale version of Rosemary. He was now at the Horton mansion, where she and her parents sat in silence at their long dinner table which was lit by tall, white candles.

Rosemary sported a look of complete disbelief and it was she who broke the silence initially. "You would honestly keep me from Hogwarts if I don't get back together with Markus?"

Her mother. "We'll do what we have to." She looked at her husband for support and Basil nodded reluctantly at his daughter.

Tom watched the fury spread across Rosemary's face, until the moment that finally unleashed it on her mother: "YOU ARE A COMPLETE FUCKING BITCH!"

"Rosemary Alana Horton! Go to your-"

"Already going!"

Then her memory shifted again, this time to the Slytherin common room. As evidenced by the sizable crowd and copious amounts of alcohol, they were apparently in the middle of one of the Slytherin parties hosted throughout the years – not that this narrowed down things much. But apparently it was within the last year, as Tom spotted himself with Rosemary on his lap, snogging drunkenly in the corner near the crackling fireplace.

As he was beginning to become rather turned on at the sight, Tom figured it was finally time to leave her thoughts. She was looking at him expectantly when he pulled away and into the present moment.

"Well? How did I do?"

"Very well," he nodded in approval. He was quickly reminded of the reason he had resisted performing Legilimency on Rosemary – her mind was addicting. Just looking into her dark blue eyes made him want to pour himself back into her all over again. "Let's try again," he suggested. "Try to picture something a bit more permanent than a flame this time."

After ten further attempts at Occlumency and considerable improvement after each one, Tom had to admit that he was impressed – he hadn't even picked up on Occlumency this quickly. Then again, he didn't have the advantage of assistance from a skilled tutor. Perhaps it was time to present her with a bit of a challenge.

She flinched at his sudden touch as his fingers ran down the side of her face and along her jawbone until they reached her chin. Then she felt them slide down her neck and begin tracing her collarbone in gentle strokes.

He watched her thoughts spiral through a variety of explicit sexual acts that they had accomplished together. "Focus," he said in a scolding voice, though he was really quite pleased at how quickly her thoughts had wandered to such graphic scenarios.

Even though Tom had chastised her for getting distracted, his own thoughts were beginning to wander as well. The sketch on her desk and the cloying message on the back continued to haunt him. Did she tell Cramer she loved him? Had they done all the same things together that she and Tom had? Perhaps a peek into some specific memories wouldn't hurt…

Or maybe they would. Literally.

"Ouch!" she shrieked, as she suddenly tucked into a ball on her bed and held her head in her hands.

He pulled himself from her mind immediately and conjured some water into an empty glass that happened to be sitting on her nightstand. "My apologies," he told her. "A migraine can occur when a Legilimens becomes a bit…overzealous."

"May I remind you that this is my first time attempting Occlumency? Would it kill you to control yourself?" she snapped, slowly rising back up to a seated position. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

Not surprisingly, her comment set off his temper. "I admit I am finding myself distracted. You see, I am very displeased with your recent behavior," he told her heatedly.

"Excuse me – my behavior? You're the one giving me migraines and taking the liberty to break into my room twice in the last week," she retorted.

Tom ignored her. "I do not appreciate the fact that you wasted my time last night," he snarled. Then he took a few moments to compose himself before adding calmly, "And you will receive punishment accordingly."

"Punishment?"

"Yes. Now undress, Miss Horton," he told her simply.

She jumped from her bed and stormed across her dormitory to open the door. "Get out."

He stood from her desk chair, drew his wand from his pocket, and casted two spells – one to slam the door closed and the other to place a complex charm on the lock that would take her at least five minutes to undo. "Undress," he repeated, more forcefully this time.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?"

He found himself annoyed with her feisty disobedience, but also quite aroused, knowing that it would make claiming her far more satisfying. Tom eyed her warningly. "Do not test my patience. I have made every effort to be agreeable up to this point."

Rosemary snorted in apparent disbelief. "You call the last couple of months being agreeable?"

"Yes. Considering the full scale of my abilities, I have been exceptionally merciful to you. Now undress. I will not ask you again." He made a motion as though he was going to grab his wand once more and he saw a glimmer of fear dash across her eyes.

Apparently, she seemed to come to her senses. She scowled at him in both fear and loathing as she hesitantly shed layer after layer. He swallowed as he examined her naked form, taking a few seconds to collect himself. "Very good," he praised her with an air of condescension. The sight, combined with her eventual submission to him was more than enough to make his trousers suddenly uncomfortable to wear.

Tom strode over to her and she continued to glare up at him. He clucked his tongue in disapproval and put a finger under her chin. "I suggest that you reform your attitude immediately," he told her as he began to shed his layers of dress as well. "You will only make things worse for yourself."

As if it was even possible for her to make things worse for herself. Once again, she was torn between guilt and desire. Of course, she hadn't truly believed that she would stay away from Tom – in her heart, she knew that any resolve to keep away from him she had felt after her surprisingly pleasant interaction with Warren the night before had only been painted on in a thin, transparent veneer. But she certainly wasn't about to tell Tom that.

Especially not now, when he was being such a prick about it. Despite his current prick-ish behavior, however, he had truly been quite sweet with her earlier that evening. Once again, she had caught a fleeting, precious glimpse of the 'old Tom'.

But honestly, the 'new Tom' wasn't really so bad either. She couldn't quite get over how sexy it was when he acted so authoritative toward her. Somehow she felt safer letting him at least think that he had control of her; after all, it would be foolish to pursue a situation in which she would be at complete odds with him. She would resist slightly, maintaining some semblance of her pride, but eventually allow herself to fulfill both of their desires. It was truly her choice in the end, regardless of what he believed…right?

Rosemary supposed there was no way to know for sure; nothing between them was black and white any longer. In fact, she wasn't sure that it ever had been. All she knew was that once again, her guilt would take a backseat to her desires. She was weak, but who would ever know besides Tom?

He led her back to the center of her dormitory. "Get on your knees, you filthy harlot," he ordered her as he pushed her down to the floor by her shoulders. It was all she could do to keep a smile from appearing on her lips as she readily obeyed his orders.

Tom reached down to bury his hands in her hair and pressed her head against him. He felt her gag slightly and let out a small whimper as he pushed himself all the way into her mouth, relishing its warm wetness. He guided her movements and she continued to look up at him with those magnificent blue eyes just pleading him for reprieve, but he wasn't about to let her go that easily. She needed to learn who she truly belonged to…him. Not Cramer.

Plus, he could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was enjoying this. She liked submitting to him.

"Touch yourself," he commanded her, curious about how far he could actually take things.

When she hesitated, Tom told her, "You'll only make it more painful if you don't. I need you to be ready– you won't be wasting my time any longer."

He watched as her hand slipped between her legs, an ungodly attractive motion. He reached down to play with her perky nipples, delighted with the way that they firmed even more under the touch of his fingertips. She closed her eyes and let out a deep moan, the vibration of which reverberated down his cock and dissipated through the rest of his body. It felt divine, but he knew he needed to put an end to it soon before he lost himself completely. He supposed this was the trade-off of being in complete control; he got far too turned on far too quickly.

As Tom pulled himself from her mouth, he noticed that her lips were swollen just slightly. He ran his thumb along the bottom one, growing even more aroused at this evidence of her obedience. "Good girl."

He yanked her to her feet and bent her over the bed. "Spread your legs." Rosemary did as he said and he reveled in her glistening wetness; she was so desperate for his cock that he could see it.

"I hope that I have made myself clear that, in the future, you would do well to not keep me waiting." He pulled her hair, forcing her to arch her back, and pressed his cock against her opening. "Have you learned your lesson, young lady?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Are you absolutely certain?" He smirked despite himself, as he slowly began to press into her.

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Good. Next time, I will not be nearly as patient or forgiving."

Rosemary moaned pure lust and he finally began to fuck her. Hard. She muffled her screams and moans into a pillow, an incredibly arousing sight and sound that only spurred him to go faster and harder. He grabbed onto her hips roughly, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh, and moved her over himself again and again.

As he finished, he fought the urge to kiss her greedily. Now was not the time to show weakness of any kind, including such tender affections. Still, when she collapsed into bed and tugged his hand as a signal to join her, he couldn't resist obliging her.

She rested her head against his chest and he stared up at the ceiling, feeling satisfied but not wholly so. Her Occlumency lesson had gone quite well...and so had her punishment. What he couldn't quite get out of his head, however, was that four-letter word scrawled on the piece of parchment that sat innocently on her desk: 'love'.

"I don't want your apology. I want your obedience." ― Tara Sue Me

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