AN: nobody said anything, but I'm sorry if I've been overdoing it on the italicized words. I noticed I do them a lot, be getting a little happy with it sometimes.
just_someone11 – thank you for your comment! I'm so glad you like the story. No, unfortunately I don't have a set schedule (inwardly cringing at self) I just basically get these updates out as soon as possible! Sometimes it could be once or twice a week, maybe every other week or could even stretch to a month long wait or more. I do apologize for any late updates in advance, but I am doing my very best :0)
Would you lot hate me if I gave this a super sad fucked up ending? I kinda really want to. A happily ever after just doesn't quite suit what I have in mind… it needs to be more bittersweet. I want this story to still feel mostly canon. I'd like to feel like, this all really could have happened to Voldemort in his young years and you'd never really know because he didn't talk about it, swept this part of his life under the rug. Yips. So don't hate me if something bad happens… it would make the story so much better. I'll change any *tags* and *warnings* as I see fit, but as a pre-warning, I'll say there could very well be *violence* & a *major character death*
I know I didn't really have plots planned at first but things change, ay.
The Seventh
Chapter Six: Firefly Falls
- : o : -
Carol Clearwater had talked her ear off and asked too many jarring questions on their way back to the dormitory, mostly about Riddle. Just like everyone else, she was desperately curious to find out more but Anemone simply told her what she told all of them.
She didn't bloody know.
It was strange how nice Carol was being, and Anemone figured that it was only because: A. she wanted to know more about her and Riddle, and B. because she had been grateful Dickon Weasley was back in her clutches.
Saturday came and went. Anemone's time for rest and relaxation inside the safety of her rooms in Ravenclaw Tower had disappeared all too soon.
There was a routine prefect's meeting on Sunday after lunch. It would take less than an hour, but she would have to endure Tom's judgmental eyes.
After the 'stunt' he had witnessed, Willoughby's arms around her… she hoped he wasn't angry. She shouldn't have allowed Tyler to be so touchy feely with her.
After she had felt woozy, they'd sat down and for the most part, he hadn't talked more of Riddle, nor alluded any more to that of his own feelings.
It wasn't until right around the time Goat Marshall came into the picture that Tyler had felt confident enough to begin flirting with her again.
It had been most inconvenient for her to have been so thoughtless at the precise moment Tom showed up. If Tyler tried getting to her again, Anemone would have to put him in his place for good.
The Head Boy barely spared her a glance the entire prefect's meeting but by the end of it, he'd pulled her aside, waiting for everyone to leave.
"So, first Dick, then Willoughby the Wanker?" He chided, hands on his hips as he stared her down with a professor's stern demeanor. "Any other Gryffindors in the lineup? And here I was actually thinking you had more sense." Tom knew she genuinely couldn't be interested in anyone else, but he did not refrain from giving her sass for it all the same. She deserved it, at this rate, for making him feel even an ounce of insecurity.
"It wasn't like that!"
"Oh really? From where I was standing, 'couldn't be too sure."
"It wasn't like that for me. He… Willoughby stepped over the line. I should have said something to make him stop and, and get off me but I just… I wasn't in my right mind, I swear, I – I – " Anemone could have retched from the swelling panic within. What had she done?
Tom had stepped closer, looming unto her as one of his hands came up, coiling gently a lock of her hair, holding it close enough for him to smell the sweet peony of her shampoo. "It's a likely story, but… I do believe you." His face neared, black gaze flashing under the candelabra. "I could forgive you for it."
"You could?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, I… I am sorry. Truly."
"And?"
"What else should I – er, would you like me to say?"
He growled, overcome, feral. "You're supposed to promise me not to let any of these third-rate wizards," Tom snickered darkly, "Wizards, if you can even call them that, to-to – " He was becoming too irate and so steeled it back, leaning into her small body, sighing in her flowery hair. He was not supposed to show such possessiveness. That would most assuredly scare her away. "I'm… can't I have you all to myself?"
He wanted to hear it from her, hear her say that he was the only one she desired.
Anemone chose her next words as carefully as possible, a ball of nerves caught in her throat. "Y-You do. You do have me to yourself." Tom's eyes, full of longing, found hers and her glittering stare did not falter. "I swear it."
There was a pause, a one of a kind, authentic joy seeping into his cold heart. He hadn't thought he'd had one, but there it was, beating right below his chest, slow but steady. Sometimes, he couldn't feel it, and he would worry that he was already dead, and he would try to cry when he felt that way, or those moments he was occasionally sad, but Tom never could.
Just then, a feeling. A bad feeling, an intuition.
Frightened.
Losing her, no matter which way, would kill him in all actuality.
What if she decided he was no good? He wasn't, so that was extremely plausible.
What if something happened to her, or he got her in harm's way and she was hurt or, or killed?
Tom wouldn't be able to come back from that.
And all of this horrified him more than he ever felt in his life. He had to go back to the safety of his chambers.
"Why are you leaving?" She was saying, calling his name in the most sweetest voice, and then an irritated one.
He just couldn't look at her right now. She was tearing his world apart, and it was definitely his fault.
- : o : -
He'd made rules for himself. One of the most important ones, was to never get attached.
She was only supposed to be a number, a special number, to him, yes, but just a number.
Instead she, she…
Tom sighed. He didn't want to think about the consequences. He loved being who he was, but every once in a while, when he knew even whatever gods there might be couldn't hear him, he'd secretly wish for a taste of a normal life.
Easy and carefree could never be his to hold.
A real, true blue girlfriend, a happy little wife.
It was an endearing thought, maybe, but Tom would never be able to live up to what that meant.
He shook his head. Tom had to focus. He had no real time to worry about his burgeoning feelings anymore. He would act now and worry about the outcomes later. If he wanted that taste of normalcy, then now was his one and only chance.
It was time.
Tom was going to give Anemone something she would never be able to forget, nor regret. Tom felt he had to make his mark on her, claim her properly.
He had already embarrassed himself, little by little, as it were. How much more harm could really be done? If anything, his idea would turn everything around.
If she refused him, Tom would understand, but she wasn't going to. He all but made her jelly-legged whenever he was with her, laid his hands on her. There was not a chance he didn't have this in the bag.
- : o : -
He'd levitated Anemone a note in Ancient Runes on Monday morning when their professor wasn't paying attention.
On the outside, it read:
Open alone.
When she got back to her dormitory and unfolded the one-sentenced letter, she studied the neat but sprawling cursive. His calligraphy was not unfamiliar to her. Tom's letters leaned to the left, almost an angry undertone amongst the spiraling loops which Anemone could not describe.
Meet me by Firefly Falls at twilight.
Firefly Falls, though? Anemone gulped, her chest heaving as her mind whirred at the implications. Distressed but undeniably excited, her belly twisted up, a wild rabble of unforgiving butterflies.
That was the equivalent of a 'Lover's Lane' at Hogwarts. It was a beautiful, semi-overgrown nook, a near private oasis half a kilometer deep into the Forbidden Forest. There was, naturally, a waterfall and just enough trees to block any wandering eyes. In the darkness beneath the canopies, fireflies coasted the area day and night.
Anemone had never seen Firefly Falls for herself, but she'd been told of its quaint wonder.
She really hoped Tom wasn't going to, to… that he didn't want…
Anemone was aware she didn't feel ready enough to take that next step, however, if she were to take that leap, if it had to be anybody, obviously, there would be no other choice but him.
She gazed somewhat guiltily at the giant snowdrop flower. It had begun to wilt slightly by the corners of the petals.
Anemone really didn't want to miss her chance.
Maybe he wasn't even going to request that of her. Perhaps he just wanted to snog until dawn, which wouldn't be so terrible. She could think of worse things to be doing with her time, than becoming ensconced in Tom Riddle's kiss again.
She hadn't been able to stop thinking of their moment in the library.
There was no way she was going to ignore this, to let this opportunity pass by her. She had to at least go, and see what he had to say for himself, what he would try to do. Anemone wasn't completely inept. She knew the spells, charms and jinxes; she was familiar enough with dueling. She could fight him off if she had to, couldn't she? No, probably not. Tom Riddle was an innately powerful wizard, it was known. Still, though she had never been in the official dueling club, Anemone had held her own in Defense Against the Dark Arts when it'd called for it.
There was nothing to worry about.
Tom wouldn't hurt her. Not physically.
He wouldn't.
She was sure of it. She just was.
She could deal with emotional mind games, but if he took it too far… that was something she wouldn't be able to live through.
Maybe she would don the new cloak she'd just splurged on the weekend before.
Anemone pressed her beloved snowdrop between the pages of her journal, sighing in reverence.
It was settled, then. She'd made her decision.
- : o : -
Anemone and her wand had been ready for anything as they flitted through the forest. Thankfully, she only had to turn around and retrace her steps once or twice. She had never been the greatest navigator, for shame.
As she finally neared the private little oasis, there having been a sign reading 'Firefly Falls' with an arrow pointing the way, she eyed the tall, slender figure of Tom suspiciously.
He was in casual clothing, a semi-rare occurrence for Tom. He usually wore his official uniforms, his button-ups, robes, or all black suits and Slytherin jumpers. This time, he sported black trousers and boots that made him look so rugged, military almost, or maybe pirate-like. He donned a tucked in, heather-grey tunic that looked from a different time, medieval. It had untied strings at the top that dared show a bit of the dark tufts on his broad chest, and the loosened sleeves were rolled to his forearms.
"There you are." He breathed as he saw her approaching. "I'm glad you made it." Tom had attempted to retain his mysteriousness by inviting her to venture out here to find him, but he had since then worried himself ill that it might've been a mistake, that he should have escorted her here.
She shrugged, a small smile, nonchalantly sashaying closer so she could see his face more clearly. He looked so good, his handsome smirk and dark eyes, that perfectly cut jaw with the slightest stubble. He looked like, like such a man.
Tom's gaze swept along her physique, ever surreptitious.
Her black velvet cloak, despite its lusciousness, looked lightweight and breathable. It was long, reaching her ankles, and cascaded flatteringly around her. It was cinched at the waist with a matching velvet belt, giving only a flirtatious glimpse to the beautiful, sky blue sundress underneath.
Her coppery blonde hair cascaded behind her in soft waves, pulled together loosely by a large white bow. She had white, ruffley ankle socks to match, and black Maryjane's.
"You look ravishing." He stated and she appeared very timid, like a big-eyed doe as she stared around at both Tom and the beautiful surroundings.
"So do you."
"I can tell you're scared, scared of me," said Tom lightly, taking one of her hands in his. "I would never hurt you."
Anemone could have rolled her eyes. Tom Riddle was going to break her heart. It was so obvious, but she did not want to leave him all the same. "I-I don't think you would."
"We're not going to do anything you don't want to," he made that clear as day, his eyes unwavering.
"Okay," she squeaked.
Suddenly, Tom seemed to pull a bottle of wine out of nowhere, but Anemone saw he had a rucksack sitting nearby. "Pinot noir? It's my favorite." He conjured two glasses, waiting for her answer.
"Is it poison?"
"Technically, yes. Alcohol is poison."
"Haha, well, alright," she laughed and he poured them each a couple of fingers. Anemone cleared her throat. "Lovely little spot," she said earnestly, taking in the sparkling rush of water at the falls, the small, lily-pad speckled pond and the mellow yellow glow of the thousands of fireflies. It was all very romantic. No wonder this was the chosen 'Lover's Lane' of Hogwarts.
Anemone secretly hoped he'd never brought other witches here before her.
Tom nodded in agreement. "It is lovely, isn't it? But before you ask, no, you're the only one I've ever been here with. I mean, I've seen this place before, in passing, but that's it,"
She really had to wonder how it was Tom always knew what she was going to say, or what she was thinking. It was seriously like he could read her mind! Was she just that obvious? It was driving her mad!
"That's good," she said, unsure exactly how to respond. "I've never been here, of course."
"Of course." He parroted, and Anemone began sipping the tart, heady liquid from the glass.
"This is very good," she told him, despite how strong it was, and the dry taste.
A little smirk played along Tom's now reddened lips. He looked like a beautiful vampire, which was somehow appealing. Anemone guessed hers looked just as red now, from the wine. She pretended for just a second, that they were vampire lovers hundreds of years ago, drinking chalices of blood from a fresh kill.
Vampires now, are we? Tom was chuckling to himself. Hers was an uncharacteristically morbid notion. He couldn't hate that her thoughts were dark, but he definitely did not want to be a vampire.
"Let me see your dress," He requested, feeling more hungry for her by the second, absolutely buzzing in his boots.
Anemone obliged, setting her almost empty glass down onto a nearby boulder and slowly unwinding the sash of her cloak. Tom's eyes flashed, deviant, as she allowed her outerwear to fall from her shoulders and gently lay it across a differing boulder.
The poufy, cap-sleeved, cotton blue dress she wore was tight at the waist, the skirt sleek, flowing prettily over her hips and past the knee. It had a somewhat ruffled, sweetheart neckline, like two soft seashells in a form-fitting bodice that tied crisscross at her heaving bosom. Tom chewed his bottom lip, his towering form circling her to see at every angle.
"A princess caught in the wood,"
Anemone giggled, "Oh?" She delicately took her skirt in her hands, making a show of girlishly twirling herself around for him. "And so what are you, the prince come to help me find my way?"
Or was he the big bad wolf? She shivered internally at the thought, but he was snickering, tucking away more of the red alcohol. "I thought I was the King, no?"
Anemone laughed again, heartily this time and Tom's mouth pulled into a genuine grin. "That's right, yes. You're the King, how could I forget?" She curtseyed, her demeanor dripping with sarcasm. "My lord,"
Tom's face fell slightly, swallowing thickly as the jesting words reminded him of the Knights of Walpurgis, and his true self. He shook his head, "Well, as it's known, the King needs a Queen."
"Ah," Anemone inwardly grimaced. "I wonder who'll she'll be."
Tom set his own empty glass down, and stepped so close she swore he'd be able to hear the thump of her wild heart. "She'll be you."
"Ooh. So I no longer have a say in the matter?"
His hands came around her middle, squeezing her, thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts. It tickled slightly, Anemone quaking but enraptured in Tom's mesmerizing gaze. "No," he returned firmly. Then without effort, lifted her up eye-level, pressing her tiny frame against a large megalith.
Her breath hitched as he had, but her gasp was instantly covered with his demanding kiss, Tom's plush and pliant lips capturing hers. The sour wine on their twining red tongues enhanced the euphoria, Anemone's fingers twisting into the ends of his long dark tresses. His soft, feathery hair felt amazing.
She could not be sure what she'd gotten herself into, but something about Tom made her want to trust him, made her feel protected in his presence. It was clear to her, in some way, that Tom would have thrown himself before danger to keep her safe.
There were surely more blossoming bruises along her skin as Tom skimmed ferociously his biting teeth, his perusing mouth sucking over her throat, across her collarbone. He pressed his wet kisses to the tops of her bosom and little moans escaped her.
Anemone was so responsive to his touch. Tom was reveling in it, undoing the ties of the seashells. He stared up at her but she did not protest, and soon he was pulling down the front of her dress, revealing to him her pretty breasts. She was taut and tight and perky, but pillowy soft too – exactly how he'd imagined.
"Seven hells," he hissed as he squeezed the mounds, thumbs and fingers rolling over and pinching her hardening pebbles. "You have perfect tits, did you know?"
"I – "
No, Anemone most certainly did not know.
"They're small, but big too," Tom purred in delight, suckling in one of her puffy pink buds.
"Mmf," she mewled, whimpering in his grasp, his unmerciful lips and teeth chewing and ravaging her peaks, ruthless in his caliber. "I – you're – "
He quickly unlatched himself from her. "I'm sorry, is this too much?"
"No! I – it feels good, r-really good." Anemone did not want him to stop, the secret place between her thighs was throbbing. She'd never been handled in such a way. Everything Tom did was so effortless, so dominant. It made her feel completely overwhelmed, she had no clue how to react, how to feel.
"The only thing you need to do, is relax," he cooed, breathing in her scent, his nose careening ever so gingerly over her breasts. "And I'll do the rest."
She gave him a nod, and her form was being lifted a bit more, Tom's face dipping down her torso, her belly, further and further away. His hands scrunched up her skirt, bunching it above her hips, his heated gaze taking in the sight of her. He could see soft gingery curls beneath the tight, but modest, white cotton undergarments. She was incredible.
Anemone braced herself above, eyes wide and wild, frightened but excited.
Enchanted, Tom allowed his face to fall before her, nose inhaling, grazing her thigh, up her dripping folds amid her soaking wet panties. Anemone squirmed under his ministrations, her pelvis rocking against his jutting mouth. Over the white material, he latched onto the tiny buzzing bundle of nerves nestled at her mons.
One of her legs kicked out against her will as she cried out, thighs falling open to give him better access. Tom's tongue tasted her roughly, electric friction as he laved it straight up her center before pulling the ends of her panties to the side.
He held her there by the undergarments, lifted in place with one fist as he delve into her again. Anemone was all gasps and groans and sighs while he feasted upon her, a barbarian, as if she were a seven course meal when he hadn't eaten in a week.
"Delicious." Tom praised, stimulating vibrations as he moaned against her. This was the most erotic happenstance of Anemone's life so far.
His wolfish mouth was claiming her, tongue firm and steady paced against her swelling bud, then pushing inside her entrance where he drank in all of her flooding nectar with the thirst of an animal. Tom was covered in her juices, it'd turned him on more than anything.
Then he was suddenly gone from her womanhood and staring above so he could see her face, his long middle finger pressing up into her slippery tightness. "Good god," he murmured under his breath, teeth bared slightly, a furious arch to his brow, twisting into her as deep as he could go. He wriggled sensually within, rubbing around her walls, her overflowing wetness, and Anemone's eyes saw the back of her skull.
She sobbed at the delectable torture, gripping every part of him she could hang on to. He withdrew, slow at first, in and out as she got used to the feeling of him before he picked up haste.
The feeling of him pumping into her, smacking against her clenching mound with great ferocity was just too good. It wasn't long before Tom was slyly adding a second of his digits and she found herself seeking all of him, pushing herself tight against his viciously fucking fingers. Then, he was curling inside of her to a place she never realized existed.
Anemone gasped and groaned lewdly, her small frame writhing, world spinning. "Ooo fr… yes, yes!"
Somehow, whatever he was doing with those agile fingers, was reaching a spot that hit so wonderfully the sensitive button, the nerves up front. Anemone could not describe it. She never knew this was possible, her toes flexing, blinding sensations of a white-hot ocean oozing over her body like riptide lava.
She, she couldn't see. She couldn't hear anything, her body uncontrollably shaking. The shameful sounds falling from her mouth were untamed, full of carnality, the salacious wetness of his fingers pelting into her.
So dexterous, Tom rolled his thumb onto the peak of her and the perfectness of it ignited her; she was finally unraveling at the seams. Anemone could have sworn her soul left, crashed into the ground and then up, way up, leaving the atmosphere into space before slowly floating back down to her quivering form.
It took several moments for her to regain her conscious, her clarity.
What the hell had he just done to her? She could not believe she'd just had her first orgasm, and by Tom Riddle's hands. She was never going to forget this. He had planned to do this, hadn't he? The beautiful blighter.
Coquettish and bashful, Anemone watched his smirking face gazing in reverence at her, proud by his accomplishment.
"You're incredible, you know," he whispered, his voice light. There was an uncharacteristically loving warmth in his eyes, it'd startled her. "Are you alright?"
She nodded dazedly, biting her lip and going in for a kiss. Tom welcomed it, embracing her completely, wrapping his arms around her middle; hands sweeping her back, grabbing into her hair.
He'd never kissed another so passionately, never felt passion so sternly as he did for her. It was bloody barmy. He was bloody barmy, barmy for Anemone, but he couldn't show that too much. He couldn't.
Anemone tasted herself on him, taken away by how arousing it felt.
"Did you like what I did?" He queried, wanting to hear her confirm it and she smiled.
"What do you think? I mean, honestly." Their heads pressed together, unable to look away from each other. "That was just… ugh," she laughed. "It was splendiferous, if I had to choose a word. I didn't even know it was truly possible."
She was so gorgeous, his eyes heavy as he crushed his lips onto hers again.
After a couple of savored savory seconds, Anemone had to ask, "So… now what?"
"Now, I walk you back to the castle."
"What?" She practically screeched, comical. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"But… I just thought, I mean, it's alright, but, I…"
"What are you trying to say, love?" His teeth scraped against her pulse point, then suckling in her tiny earlobe, pinching one of her tits. How was she supposed to formulate coherent sentences when he was doing these things to her?
"I'm just a little relieved that you… that you don't expect more of me." Not that she didn't want to do more, at this point. Anemone's desire for him had escalated at an extreme rate. "I had wondered if we were going to… you know, do it."
Tom was chuckling darkly, "Oh no. For that, we'll be in my exclusive chambers. That way, I can take you properly."
"Take me?"
"Take you."
"Take me where?" Anemone joked and Tom smashed his hips hard against hers so that she could feel the raging stiffness of his arousal poking out slightly from his drawers. "Oh!"
Tom growled by her ear, curling gently a hand around her neck as he rocked and ground himself into her with the blatant promise of what was to come. Anemone suddenly felt she did not want to wait. She needed more of him, needed this, wanted him to 'take her' right now, not later.
"You'll find out soon enough," he answered verbally, coy as ever and then he sighed, reluctantly releasing her from his grasp.
Anemone scowled as her Maryjane's returned to the forest floor and though unsteady on her jelly legs, she managed to fix her clothing, retying the front of her dress and smoothing out her skirt.
"Are you done with the wine?" He asked. She nodded and he vanished the glasses away, stashing the half empty bottle in his rucksack. He threw it over his shoulder. "Ready to head back?"
She wasn't. She'd stay here with him all night, but she said, "Okay," and Tom twined his fingers with hers.
The whole way through the forest, they were inseparable. Their mouths kept reconnecting in clandestine kiss after kiss, taking their time, making the trek back take entirely much too long. They couldn't get enough of each other.
One moment they would be talking, idling by and the next he had her up against a tree. His hungry mouth was bruising. At one point, they were snogging fully where any passing being could see them, stark in the middle of the path. He'd had Anemone's thigh lifted high onto his torso, grabbing her by her bubbly arse as she grinded with him, attempting to get her hot center as close as possible onto his hidden, stiff prick again. She felt like a cat in heat.
"My, my," he scolded, "Don't make me fuck you right here, because I will, right into the dirt,"
"Oh, Tom!"
His mouth took hers, again and again, unable to get over how good and special it felt, how perfect their lips and bodies fit together. She was fully enjoying all of it. This was everything to him. Tom couldn't wait to get her in his bed, and it seemed she couldn't wait either. He'd been dreaming of this.
It was all a matter of when.
As he dropped her off to the Ravenclaw common room, he gave her one lasting kiss goodnight. Words he didn't want to say almost left him as he watched her back away and turn to answer the riddle. He hadn't even heard what the eagle had asked. Anemone's answer was, "They exist only in thy mind's eye." She was so clever, and then in her sweetly nurturing voice, she bid him farewell. "You sleep well now," and she was disappearing through the door.
Sodding shite, Tom was in over his head. He leaned against the wall, giving himself a second of quiet repose before he took the walk back to his own rooms. He breathed in through his nose, exhaling slowly.
Act now, consequences later.
- : o : -
AN: write now, repent later.
